Me Mam. Me Dad. Me

by Duffy, Malcolm;

He stopped, turned and walked back to me, arms hanging like a gorilla’s.

  ‘What do you want, Croft?’

  ‘I want you to leave Amy alone.’

  ‘I want you to leave Amy alone,’ he said, like he was on helium. Then he put his face up close to mine. ‘You’re wasting your breath. She let me do things you could never dream about.’

  ‘Not what she told me,’ I said, trying with all me might to stop me voice from cracking. ‘If you don’t leave her alone, I’m going to get this bloke to sort you out.’

  With a shaky hand I took the photo of Uncle Connor from me pocket and handed it to Lanky Dave.

  He stared at the picture. ‘Who’s that fat bastard?’

  ‘He’s not fat, those are muscles. Me Uncle Connor is a boxing champion, from South Shields.’

  I didn’t want Big Dave to know that Uncle Connor lived in Edinburgh, and he wasn’t even me uncle.

  An evil grin spread like an oil slick across Lanky Dave’s face.

  ‘I couldn’t give a flying fart about your boxing kangaroo uncle. My brother’s in the army. He’s a black belt in karate.’

  Lanky Dave tore the photo of Uncle Connor into lots of tiny pieces, and walked away, laughing.

  Thirty-Six

  • • •

  Me mam didn’t ask any more questions about the trip. Typical. Just like in class, when you know the answer they never ask you, when you don’t know, they do. I guess she was fed up of talking to me, ’cos I’d always end up asking her the same questions, and she’d always come up with the same stupid answers.

  But there was one thing she never stopped talking about. The wedding.

  ‘Danny, we’d like you to be a pageboy.’

  ‘What’s that mean?’

  ‘It means you’ll be the boy who carries the wedding rings down the aisle on a little pillow,’ said FB, butting in.

  I could tell from their faces it was a big deal for them, but for me it was the smallest deal in the world. It was just wrong. She won’t marry the bloke she has a baby with, but she will marry the bloke she’s had no baby with, and who batters her. Mad.

  ‘No,’ I said.

  ‘Danny,’ said me mam, in her finger-pointing voice. ‘We’re giving you a wonderful opportunity to take part in our wedding.’

  ‘I’d rather just watch.’

  Then I ran up to me room.

  ‘Danny,’ screamed me mam.

  She didn’t follow me upstairs. Neither did FB. Think they knew that nothing in the world would make me carry their stupid rings on a stupid pillow.

  But me mam wasn’t me only problem.

  Amy and me went to McDonald’s one night after school.

  ‘What’s up, Danny?’ she said, taking me hand.

  ‘You need to tell the teachers about Lanky Dave.’

  Amy took her hand back.

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you? I can handle it.’

  ‘But what if he picks on someone who can’t handle it, eh? And they gan and top themselves.’

  ‘Can we change the subject?’

  ‘No, I’m not going to change the subject, Amy. Problems divvent solve themselves. We’ve got an anti-bullying policy at school.’

  ‘It’s not bullying. He’s just being irritating.’

  ‘Yeah, and that’s how it starts.’

  ‘How what starts?’

  Hadn’t wanted to tell Amy. Not ever. But I didn’t want what happened to me mam to happen to her. I needed her to know what you get when you do nothing.

  ‘Domestic violence.’

  ‘What are you talking about, Danny?’

  Was time to tell her.

  Three, two, one.

  ‘Callum hits me mam.’

  Amy put her burger down, and stared at me, open-mouthed.

  ‘Hits her? How? Why? When?’

  All the same questions that had been destroying me brain for months and months. I didn’t hold back. Told her every single thing he’d done to me mam.

  Didn’t think it was possible to look shocked, confused and sad at the same time, but Amy’s face managed it. She pushed her burger away.

  ‘That’s terrible, Danny,’ she said. ‘That’s so terrible. I’m really sorry for you. It must be horrible.’

  ‘Worse than that.’

  And then she put her quizzical face on.

  ‘The school trip?’

  ‘What about it?’ I said, swallowing spit.

  ‘I know what you did.’

  She must be a mind reader, like me mam.

  ‘You didn’t stay behind because of your gran, did you?’

  Shook me head. Me secret was out.

  ‘You stayed back to make sure your mam was okay.’

  And then she leaned over the cold burger and gave me a kiss on the lips.

  ‘I’m so proud of you, Danny.’

  Thirty-Seven

  • •

  Amy and me agreed to meet in a couple of days to figure out what to do next. She promised not to talk to anyone about it until we’d come up with a plan.

  I felt better having told her. But even though Amy’s dead clever, I didn’t think she’d solve anything. I mean, me mam wasn’t just putting up with FB, she was going to marry him, as if the wedding would somehow solve everything, and the ring would stop her getting battered. Like it would give her magic powers.

  Blah, wedding, blah, wedding, blah. It was the only thing me mam seemed interested in. She’d even cut back on the chocolate biscuits so she didn’t look quite so big on her big day. Tried to look as bored as I could when she talked about it, but it didn’t stop her. Which bag do you think looks best? Do you think veil or no veil? Which song shall I walk down the aisle to? She just went on and on and on, like an F1 car, one that never ever runs out of petrol.

  We went to look at the church, a horrible black building near Blaydon. It was freezing inside, old wooden benches, smelled of damp. But Mam and FB smiled like they’d died and gone to heaven. Then we went to a golf club, where the wedding reception would be. Place was warmer, but still a bit of a dump. FB seemed happy with it. It had a big bar.

  Me mam and me put some Christmas lights up outside the house. FB came back from the pub and tore them down.

  ‘I’m not having my house look like some grotty grotto,’ he steamed.

  Me mam didn’t even bother to argue with him. Like she’d given up. But I hadn’t.

  ‘Why did you tear the lights down?’

  ‘’Cos they’re tacky. When you pay the mortgage, you can put up as many lights as you like, General.’

  FB opened another can.

  ‘So what do you want to be when you grow up?’

  Miles from you.

  ‘Dunno.’

  ‘Danny,’ moaned me mam, who was ironing one of his giant shirts.

  Weird. You get shouted at school for talking, you get shouted at home for not talking.

  ‘Footballer,’ I said.

  ‘Earn a lot of money, those boys, millions for kicking a lump of leather. Still, you could look after us. Buy me a Ferrari and buy your mum a running machine to shift all that meat off her.’

  FB laughed, as though it was funny. Me mam just carried on ironing. Like she’d gone as deaf as me gran.

  ‘You can talk,’ I said, staring at him.

  FB put his can down and glared back at me, face reddening.

  ‘Maybe you’d be better off taking up boxing if you’re going to come out with stuff like that.’

  ‘Gonna hit me as well, are you?’

  Callum looked like he was about to explode.

  ‘Danny, go to your room,’ said me mam.

  Didn’t need to be asked twice. Ran up to me room, and looked out at the street. Saw all the other houses with their twinkly decorations. Ours the only one without a single Christmas light. This was how it was going to be from now on. Until I could get away from here.

  I sat on the bed in the dark. I was glad I’d answered FB back, but scared stiff he’d take it out on me m
am, or me. Needed to cheer meself up, so I put some dirty Amy thoughts into me head. Was just getting to the good part when me mam walked in.

  Me mam’s got six different ways of saying me name, there’s the ‘You’ve-been-good-Danny’, the ‘You’ve-been-bad-Danny’, the ‘That-was-stupid-Danny’, the ‘Thanks-very-much-Danny,’ the ‘I-don’t-know-what-you-mean-Danny’ and the ‘You’re-in-big-trouble-Danny’. This was definitely the last one.

  ‘Danny…’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘… I don’t like the way you talk to Callum. I also don’t like the way you don’t talk to Callum.’

  ‘He threw the Christmas lights in the bin.’

  ‘It’s his place, Danny.’

  ‘Thought it was our place.’

  Me mam folded her arms, the way she does.

  ‘Danny, you can be a right pain.’

  ‘At least I’m not a coward.’

  She stood, watching the twinkly lights down the street.

  ‘Is that what you think I am?’

  Couldn’t drag the word into the trash. I’d said it. ‘Aye, I do.’ There was just enough light to see me mam bite her lip. ‘What’s happened to you? What’s happened to the mam who shouted at the tattooed bloke?’

  Me mam looked like she’d had enough of arguing. Had enough of everything.

  ‘It’ll be better when we’re married,’ she said softly.

  ‘Will he stop hitting you, then? Not what it said on the website.’

  ‘That website isn’t about people like us.’

  ‘Yes, it is. It’s exactly like us. We are that family. Why can’t you see it, Mam? What’s the matter with you?’

  ‘I love him, Danny.’

  The word gave me the shivers.

  ‘But he doesn’t love you.’

  Me mam said nothing.

  ‘I will never accept that fat bastard as long as I live. I hate him. I wish he was dead.’

  She sat next to me on the bed.

  ‘He says at Easter we can all go to Tenerife. What do you think of that?’

  ‘Just some other hot place he can strangle you.’

  Me mam got up from the bed.

  ‘What am I going to do with you?’

  She left me room and closed the door.

  After what I’d said I waited for it all to kick off downstairs. But instead of shouting, I heard the front door slam. He was off to the pub. Me mam was safe. For a couple of hours.

  Don’t know how I got to sleep that night, but I did.

  Didn’t sleep for long.

  Me bedroom door burst open, and me mam dashed in, turned the light on and shook me awake. I squinted at her. Her face looked like she’d seen a monster. FB must have hit her for what I’d said.

  ‘Mam?’

  ‘It’s Callum, he’s been attacked.’

  Thirty-Eight

  •

  Attacked? Didn’t seem possible. Whickham’s not that sort of place.

  Got dressed, but me mam got dressed even quicker. She didn’t bother with a coat, even though it was freezing outside.

  ‘Come on, Danny,’ she shouted, like the house was on fire.

  I ran downstairs.

  ‘Where we going?’

  ‘The hospital, where do you bloody think?’

  Mam jumped in FB’s Range Rover and we headed off. I’d never seen her drive FB’s car before. He was the driver in the house. Wouldn’t let her near it. Now I knew why. Too fast into the corners, too fast out of the corners, making the engine scream, ignoring all the road signs and signals, generally a nightmare on four wheels.

  ‘What happened?’ I said, gripping the seat.

  ‘No idea. Got a call from the police to say he’s been attacked.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘On the way back from the pub.’

  Gateshead’s definitely gannin to the dogs.

  ‘Who did it?’

  ‘I don’t bloody know.’

  When me mam swears it means shut your gob.

  Didn’t take long to get to the hospital, not at that speed. Tyres squealed all the way into the car park. Mam found a spot, but didn’t bother to park straight, just switched the engine off, climbed out, and dashed off, without even paying.

  I’ve never seen me mam run so fast, in fact I’ve never seen me mam run. I sprinted after her, caught up, and we went through some big doors into the hospital. It was dead busy, a man with blood down his face singing at the top of his voice, a woman in her pyjamas holding a baby, both screaming, two girls in short skirts, wrestling on the floor. It was totally mad. More like a mental hospital.

  Mam ran over to a desk.

  ‘I’m here to see Callum Jeffries.’

  The woman looked at her screen and then a young nurse in a blue dress came over.

  ‘Follow me’.

  The nurse walked that fast I had to jog to keep up. After going for miles down the long corridors I spotted a room with two coppers outside.

  ‘Wait here,’ said the nurse.

  The nurse went into the room while me mam fiddled with her hair. The coppers looked at us as if we were guilty of something. Coppers are trained to have faces like that. Then the nurse came out.

  ‘I’m afraid you can’t see him, Miss Croft. He’s gone to theatre.’

  ‘Theatre?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the nurse. ‘For surgery.’

  I didn’t think me mam’s face could get any whiter, but it did. She slumped in a little plastic chair, put there for people about to slump, and held her face in her hands. Then she looked at the two coppers. Maybe they’d have an answer.

  ‘What happened?’ she said, looking up at them.

  The older copper spoke. He looked like he was the boss. ‘We just know that there was some sort of altercation in the street with another man.’

  ‘Mam, what’s an altercation?’

  ‘A punch-up.’ Mam stared at the copper, her face starving for answers. ‘Who with?’

  ‘We’re not sure. All we know is that the man who attacked him had a Scottish accent.’

  Thirty-Nine

  •

  Knew what had happened. Me belly told me.

  He’d done it.

  Me dad had battered FB.

  I slumped down on one of the plastic chairs next to me mam. I felt sick. Then I was sick. A nurse came over with a bucket for me and a mop for the floor.

  ‘You okay, Danny?’ said me mam, patting me leg.

  No, a long, long way from okay. Me dad had come down from Scotland and put me mam’s boyfriend in hospital. He’d finally done what I wanted, even though he said he’d never do it in a million years. Think it was the shock that had brought up me tea.

  A nurse brought a damp cloth and me mam wiped me brow with it. For once the cold felt good.

  ‘Your colour’s come back,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, he’s looking more human now,’ said the younger copper.

  Mam patted me hand. ‘I know, Danny, it’s been a real shock.’

  Aye, but she only knew the half of it.

  ‘I need to speak to the doctors. Will you be okay?’

  Nodded.

  She went off down the corridor to find out what had happened to FB, while I just sat there, thinking. Was it me dad? Had to be. I mean, what’s the chance of a Scotsman battering FB just after I’d asked a Scotsman to batter him? But then I had different thoughts. How did he know where to find Callum? Gateshead’s a big place. Had I told him where FB lived? Don’t think so. Maybe I did. How did he know which pub to find him at? And how did he know he’d go to the pub tonight?

  Maybe it wasn’t me dad. But this thought didn’t last long. It had to be him. Did more wondering. I wondered what he’d used to attack FB – a knife, a baseball bat, a fist? Probably not a fist, me dad’s hands are soft as clarts, and he can only do fifteen press-ups. He wouldn’t last long in a fight with a great fat bloke like FB. He must have used something else, maybe a sword, like a Japanese fighter, or an umbrella with a poison tip, like a
spy, or maybe a bread knife. Yes, he works in a sandwich shop, definitely a bread knife.

  Then I got on to some bad wondering.

  I wondered if they could blame me. What if someone figured out I’d been to Scotland, or if they’d heard what I’d asked me dad to do? But the answer to the wonders was: no. Nobody knew I’d been to Scotland, not even Aunty Tina. I hadn’t told Barry or Carl or Amy or anyone. And no one had been there when I’d asked me dad to kill him, not Megan, not the neighbours, not Uncle Connor, nobody. Not a single person in the world knew, except me and me dad.

  I was starting to hate the hospital now. Even though they’d cleaned the floor, I still got a whiff of pizza-flavoured puke. Then there were all the drunks, like a place full of FBs, the patients with saggy faces and saggy bodies, covered in bandages, and the coppers looking at me, with those copper eyes, trying to see inside me head. I’d had enough of this place. I wanted me bed.

  Waited ages.

  Me mam finally came back. Saw her right down the corridor, head hanging like it was falling off her body.

  ‘Howway, Danny, let’s gan hyem,’ she said. I hadn’t heard her talk like that in ages, like she didn’t care about her words no more.

  We walked back down the long corridors, me mam holding me hand, like I was five. We finally got to the front of the hospital and the doors swooshed open. Good to be outside, even though it was freezing and raining.

  Me mam let go of me hand and we walked across the car park. She stopped and leaned against a ticket machine. I looked at her face. Wet. Couldn’t tell whether it was tears or rain.

  ‘Is he okay?’

  She shook her head and carried on walking.

  The car had got a ticket. Me mam would normally be hacked off about that, but not today. She couldn’t be bothered. Just got in and drove off, dead slow, eyes glazed, like someone in a zombie film.

  ‘What happened?’ I asked, dying to know.

  Mam spoke slow with gaps between her words, like she was speaking to a foreigner.

  ‘Someone had a fight with Callum. He hit his head on the pavement.’

  So me dad didn’t use a weapon, just used his hands, his soft as bread hands.

  Don’t know how he managed to knock FB over with those, but he had.

  ‘He’s in a bad way, Danny,’ said me mam, choking on her words. ‘Callum’s in a coma.’