Not Thomas
Page 3
‘Move yourself,’ he says. ‘Shift.’ He’s pushing me out of the way. ‘I need a dump.’
Mammy’s behind him. ‘I keep tellin’ you.’ She’s saying it to me. ‘Don’ lock the blurry door.’ Brick is going up the stairs fast. Mammy’s all wobbly. She’s holding onto the worktop.
‘The men came,’ I say. ‘The man with the web tattoo and the man with spiky hair.’
‘Blurry Fly,’ Mammy says. She’s lifting up her head. She’s trying to shout to Brick. ‘Fly’s been round ’ere and blurry Psycho.’
‘They want their money,’ I say.
Mammy is shaking her head. ‘You said you paid ’em.’ She’s trying to shout it to Brick but her words are slippy. ‘I don’ want them coming round my ’ouse. I told you.’
‘Shurr up,’ Brick says. He’s shutting the bathroom door. He has banged it.
I say, ‘I don’t like it, Mammy. I don’t like it when the men come.’
I’m helping her to the settee. ‘Blurry Fly,’ she’s saying. ‘Blurry Psycho.’
‘I don’t like it, Mammy. I don’t like them coming when you’re not here.’
‘I don’ wanna think abou’ them,’ she says. Her hand is looking for something. It’s looking and looking on the settee. ‘Where’s the blurry remo?’ I’m finding the remote and I’m giving it to her. She’s trying and trying to press a button. I’m helping her. I’m putting the telly on and I’m finding her favourite programme.
‘I don’t like hiding behind the chair, Mammy. I don’t like the men.’
‘Shurr up,’ she says. She’s lifting her hand. She’s trying to put it over my mouth. ‘Don’ talk abou’ them. My programme’zzzon.’
I’m being quiet. I am trying not to remember the men. I’m watching telly with Mammy and I’m curled up by her side. She’s not cross with the ladies anymore. She’s not cross with the men anymore. I don’t think she’s cross with me anymore. She’s a little bit sleepy. Her head is all floppy. It’s rolling to one side. Now it’s rolling to the other side.
A man is shouting on the telly. He’s in a café and he’s shouting at a lady. Mammy is trying to lift her head. She wants to look at the telly. I am kneeling up on the settee. I’m putting my hands under her chin and I’m helping Mammy to lift up her head.
‘Gerr off,’ she says. Her voice is all muddy. I’m letting go of Mammy’s chin. I’m letting go very slowly. I am putting her chin back down on her shoulder. I’m trying to be very careful because her head is very heavy. She’s opening her eye a little bit again and she’s looking at the telly with it.
‘Mammy,’ I say. ‘I forgot to tell you.’ She’s still looking at the telly but her eye is closing again. ‘Mammy.’ I’m tapping her arm. ‘I’m singing the solo. In the Christmas concert on Friday. Sir said I was good enough.’ She’s moving her arm a little bit. ‘Are you coming to see me?’ I say. ‘Are you coming to see me singing the solo?’
Mammy is making a funny sound. I’m putting my ear right next to her mouth. ‘Yeah,’ she says. She’s saying it very quietly.
‘Thank you, Mammy. Thank you.’
Brick’s coming down the stairs. ‘No blurry bog roll.’ He’s rubbing his hands on his trousers.
‘Whaah?’ Mammy’s moving her head. One of her eyes is open a tiny bit.
‘Used the kid’s crappy comic.’ Brick is lifting me off the settee. He’s putting me on the floor. He’s sitting down next to Mammy. She’s putting her head on his shoulder but he’s pushing her away. He’s finding another programme to watch.
‘Fly,’ Mammy says. It is hard to hear her. ‘Hee waants.’ She’s taking a big breath. ‘Hhhiss maanee.’
‘I’m seeing ’im tomorrow,’ Brick says. He’s still trying to find a programme to watch. Mammy’s head has flopped onto the settee again.
I’m going upstairs. The bathroom door is shut. I am opening it a tiny bit. There’s a stinky smell in the bathroom. There are two bits of paper on the floor. I can see some letters on them. I’m running in. I am picking up the first one. The letters on it are R and D. I’m picking up the next one. It has a M and a A. And two Ls on it. There’s a tiny bit of the colour blue on it too. I know that blue. My eyes are starting to be prickly. I’m putting the bits of paper safe in my pocket. I am running out of the bathroom. I’m going into my bedroom. My pile of magazines has been knocked over. I’m picking them up and I’m looking for my favourite one. It’s hard to look when my eyes are prickly. I keep my favourite magazine on the top of the pile so I can see it when I come into my bedroom. It has a blue train on the front. The train is called Mallard. It’s my favourite train. My favourite train in all the world. On my favourite magazine. And I am looking and looking for my favourite magazine.
* * *
I’m peeping through my window. I am pushing my cheek flat against it. The window is cold on my face. My face is very hot and my eyes are very bulgy. When I press my cheek flat I can see Kaylee’s house. It’s across the road and it’s six front doors down. Sometimes I can see Kaylee playing by her gate. I can’t see her playing today but I can see twinkly lights. They’re on a Christmas tree in her window. I can see a tiny bit of the tree and it looks very pretty. There’s a light out in the road too. It’s a yellow light and it shines into my bedroom a bit. It helps me see my books when the lectric has run out. It’s run out tonight. Mammy says she’s going to take the lectric key to the shop tomorrow. She’s going to put more money on it.
I’ve been playing with my train table and I’ve been looking at my book. It’s my library book from school. It’s by someone called Roll. I can’t say the name the right way. Miss can say it. I’m trying to learn it but it’s hard to say. The book is called James and the Giant Peach.
I am going up into my bed now. I’m climbing my ladder. I am pulling some tee shirts over me and some towels and jumpers too. I’m trying to get warm. I am thinking about the pictures in the book. I’m thinking about other pictures too like the ones in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. That is my favourite book. I had it last week from the library in school. It’s my favourite because of the film me and Dat used to watch. We love the film. We used to sit on the settee and watch it in Nanno and Dat’s house. Dat used to call me Charlie and I used to call him Grandpa. And Nanno used to bring us tea and biscuits. I like Nanno’s tea and biscuits. I wish I had some now.
I’m looking at my new favourite magazine. It has a green engine on the front. The light from outside is shining on it. The engine is called The Flying Scotsman. Dat showed me lots of good pictures and words in this magazine. He showed me water tower and signalman and points. I’ve found the pictures but it’s hard to find the words. I am trying and trying to find them. I’ve put the ripped magazine at the bottom of the pile. It’s the one that had the picture of Mallard on it. The picture that Brick used for toilet paper. And my nose has nearly stopped running. But my breath is still bumpy.
The lights have gone off on Kaylee’s Christmas tree. But the yellow light is still on in the road. I am looking through my magazine again. There are pictures of stations and mountains and cities. I am turning the pages slowly. I am looking for good words but my eyes are still watery. Something is in the magazine. It’s a bit of paper folded up. I am opening it. It’s a letter and it says Dear Tomos at the start and it says Lots of love at the end and there are kisses too. I know who this letter is from. It’s a letter from Nanno!
I like Nanno’s letters because they are always good and she liked writing letters to me when I lived in her and Dat’s house and she put her letters in books or under the settee cushions or in my coat pocket and then she said, ‘Can you find your letter, Tomos?’ and I’d look in the cupboard and she’d say, ‘Cold,’ and I’d look in the fridge and she’d say, ‘Warm,’ and I’d look under the rug and she’d say, ‘Freezing cold,’ and sometimes when I looked in my pile of DVDs she’d say, ‘Boiling hot!’ and there it was in the middle of the pile and sometimes Nanno forgot where she put the letters and Dat and me hunted and hunte
d and sometimes we found them but sometimes we didn’t.
Nanno always puts Dear Tomos to start and she always puts Lots of love from Nanno at the end and a P.S. too. A P.S. is an important thing you forgot to put after Dear and before Love from. That’s what Nanno told me.
I’m looking at Nanno’s letter up in my high sleeper bed and I’m making the light from outside shine on it. I’m looking at the words Nanno taught me. I can see the word dinner. Nanno likes telling me about her dinners in her letters and I can see the words rice and pudding. Nanno taught me those words. She makes rice pudding every Sunday and it’s very nice. Nice rice pudding. That’s what she calls it and I can see the word chicken. I like that word. Nanno says it’s clever because it has a baby in it and a baby chicken is a chick.
I’m reading the letter now. I’m reading it from the start and I’m pointing to the words the way Nanno taught me. It says Dear Tomos, How are you? Nanno’s letters always start like that. I like questions and I like question marks too because they are curly and I can nearly do them myself now when I’m writing sentences in school. I’m reading some more of the letter. I am well. I am going to make chicken pie for dinner. I like Nanno’s chicken pie because it has mash potato on the top and I like it with peas and carrots because the peas and carrots stick to the mash potato and they don’t fall off your fork and it’s my favourite dinner ever. I am going to make nice rice pudding too. I hope you will like it. I will like it because Nanno’s nice rice pudding is yummy yummy yummy and I am licking my lips. Lots of love, Nanno xxx P.S. I like Nanno’s P.S.s best of all because they are always very good. P.S.I love you. I love you. I love you.
I am reading the letter again. I’m reading the P.S. again and again and again. I’m smiling and smiling. And my cheeks are all wet.
If I had some paper I would write a letter to Nanno and it would say Dear Nanno, How are you? I am well thank you. I am glad you are well too. Thank you for your letter. Yes I did enjoy reading it. I have a lot of news. Sir says I can sing the solo in the Christmas concert on Friday so I will be singing the solo and being a present and before my solo I must say, ‘I have come from the North Pole. This is my gift for you.’ I must not say it after my solo. I must not say it in the middle of my solo. I must say it at the start. It is hard to remember sometimes and on Thursday we are taking a box to school and red or green shiny paper and I am having red shiny paper. Mammy’s getting it from Tesco and she’s getting a box too. We are wrapping our boxes and Miss is cutting holes for our arms and holes for our heads and when we are presents we will sing and dance round the Christmas tree who is Eddie because Miss says Eddie will make a good tree. Miss says he will stand in one place and shake his branches and he won’t have to worry about dancing and you can’t crash into people if you are a tree and you can’t turn the wrong way if you are a tree and you can’t fall off the stage if you are a tree. That’s what Miss says. I’m glad I’m not a tree. I like being a present. Miss says that some of us will have bows and some of us will have labels and the labels will be sparkly and they will say ‘To’ someone and ‘Love from’ someone. A bow is nice but I would like a sparkly label and I would like my label to say ‘To Mammy Love from Tomos’ because Mammy is coming to see me being a present and she is coming to see me singing my solo and I hope you enjoy the chicken pie and nice rice pudding lots of love, Tomos xxx P.S. I hope you like it in Heaven x
* * *
It’s dinner playtime. Wes is by the fence and I am running over to him. I want to tell him about Nanno’s letter.
Wes is making circles in the dirt with his shoe. He likes making circles in the dirt. ‘Wotcha.’
‘Wotcha,’ I say. It’s our new word.
‘What was for dinner?’
‘Meat,’ I say. ‘And carrots.’
‘And mashed potato then, with lumps in. Pukey.’ He’s trying to put faces in the dirt circles. He’s making big mouths. ‘What was for pudding?’
‘Yogurt.’
‘Deeesgusting,’ he says. ‘Did you eat it?’
‘Yes,’ I say.
‘Then you’re disgusting too.’
‘What did you have?’ Wes sits on a special table for children with lunch boxes. His lunch box has monsters on it.
‘Usual,’ he says. ‘Something not disgusting. And crisps. And a chocolate bar. And cola.’
‘Sir says people can’t have cola.’ I’m trying to draw circles with my shoe too. I’m trying but Wes is using most of the dirt. ‘Sir says cola’s not allowed. And chocolate’s not allowed too.’
Wes is rubbing out my circles with his shoe. ‘How would you know?’ he says. ‘You’re on free meals.’ He’s rubbing out his own circles now. ‘You should tell your mam to make you packed lunch.’
‘Maybe.’ I want to tell him about Nanno’s letter. ‘Last night—’
Wes isn’t listening. ‘Nah, she won’t anyway. Your mam’s a lazy cow. Uncle Vic told me.’ He’s starting to run down the playground. I’m watching him. He’s turning round and he’s trying to run backwards. ‘Come on, thicko.’
I’m running after him. I want to tell him about Nanno’s letter from Heaven. It’s hard to catch up with him because he’s very fast. He’s running round the corner. I’m running round the corner too. He’s stopped. He’s waiting for me by the pipe.
‘Last night, Nanno sent—’
He’s still not listening. He says, ‘Uncle Vic knows your dad.’
I am looking at Wes. He’s staring at me. He’s not laughing. ‘I haven’t got a dad.’
‘Everyone’s got a dad,’ he says. ‘That’s how everyone’s made. Everyone’s got a dad.’
‘I haven’t,’ I say. ‘Mammy told me.’
‘Mammy told me.’ He’s trying to copy me. He’s making his voice sound silly. And he’s laughing now. ‘Your mam had to do sex with your dad, like the people do it in Uncle Vic’s DVDs. That’s how babies are made so you’ve got to have a dad.’ He’s picking up tiny stones. He getting them from round the pipe. He’s putting them in his pockets. ‘Uncle Vic says your dad had your mam behind the leisure centre when she was fourteen.’ He’s putting more stones in his pockets. ‘Everybody knows your dad. He’s that man with the web ta…’
Some girls have come round the corner. ‘Go away,’ Wes says to them. The girls have stopped to look at us. They’re laughing a bit. ‘Go away!’ He’s shouting it. He’s putting his hands into his pockets. He’s running at the girls. He’s throwing the tiny stones at them. The stones are falling in their hair like rain. The girls are screaming. They’re running away.
Wes is rubbing his hands. Some tiny stones are falling onto the floor. He’s wiping his hands on his jumper. He’s looking at me. He’s looking at me from the sides of his eyes. ‘Your dad’s a pervert,’ he says. ‘That’s why you’re weird. Uncle Vic told me.’ He’s bending down to get more stones. He’s putting them in his pockets. He’s running again. He’s running back round the corner. I’m trying to catch up with him. He’s shouting over his shoulder to me. ‘That’s why no one will play with you.’
He’s running very fast. It’s hard to catch up with him. The bell is ringing now too. And I haven’t told Wes about Nanno’s letter yet. He’s shouting. ‘They won’t play with you cos you’re weird.’ He’s very loud now. His shouting is very very loud. ‘You’re weird,’ he says. ‘And you smell.’
* * *
I’m all on my own. I’m all on my own in the house. I’m trying to hide from all the knocking. I’m running round and round the front room. Round and round trying to hide. But the front room is empty. The big black chair has gone. The settee has gone too. There are people knocking on the doors. And on the windows. They are knocking and knocking. And knocking and knocking. The lady with the big bag is here. And the lady with the Gwa name. The men are here too. Their knocking is very loud. They are all knocking on the windows. And there’s nowhere to hide. Nowhere to hide at all.
Nanno and Dat are here now. I’m very happy because I can see Nanno’s
grey hair and I can see Dat’s smiley eyes through the window and they have come for me at last. Dat is trying to open the door and he’s trying and trying. But it won’t open. I’m trying to open the door now too. But I can’t find the key. I’ve lost it. I’m pulling and pulling on the handle. But it still won’t open. And the men have nearly broken the windows. They are nearly coming inside the front room. The ladies are nearly coming in too. The ladies and the men are going to try to grab me.
‘Dat,’ I say. ‘Dat, help me, help me!’ I am crying and crying. There’s a lot of shouting. Lots and lots of shouting and knocking. ‘Dat, come quick, come quick!’ The knocking and shouting is very loud now. The men and the ladies are going to get me.
I am sitting up. I’m sitting up with a fright. I’m in my high sleeper bed. And it’s very dark. I can still hear the knocking. It’s downstairs. It’s very loud. There’s a lot of shouting too. It’s Mammy shouting. I think she’s by the back door and she’s shouting and shouting. I’m getting up and I’m running downstairs. I’m running into the kitchen. Mammy is outside. I can see her through the glass. She’s forgotten her key again and she’s knocking on the door. ‘Why did you blurry lock it?’ She’s shouting it through the glass.
I’m running back upstairs to my bedroom. I’m running to get the key from the pocket in my trousers. Mammy is still knocking. Her knocking is very very loud. I’m running back to the kitchen and I’m letting her in.
‘Stupid kid.’ She’s pushing past me. ‘I’ve told you and told you – don’ keep locking the door.’
‘But what about the men? What if they come round again?’
She’s going into the front room now. ‘I don’ like standing out in the cold, do I? I don’ like waiting for you to let me in.’ She’s going up the stairs. ‘Stop locking it.’ She’s going into the bathroom. She’s getting all her things out of the cupboard. All the things I must NOT touch. ‘Stupid kid,’ she says. ‘Don’ do it again.’ And she’s banging the bathroom door.