A Cockney's Journey

by Eddie Allen

  “Any post for me, Mr. Parkin?” I asked, excitedly.

  “Not today, son,” he replied.

  My excitement turned to gloom; this always happens to me.

  “Everything OK, Ed? You look miserable,” Tony asked, concerned.

  “No, not really,” I sighed. “My parents haven’t sent me any money again.”

  “Don’t worry. It’ll come tomorrow. Let’s go and play in the woods. Brian and Danny are waiting for us.”

  Half-heartedly I agreed and followed Tony out of the dormitory. As we approached the edge of the woods, Brian and Danny were gesturing us over.

  “Alright, Ed?” Danny asked while he swung to and fro inside a rubber tyre that hung on a thick rope attached to a branch at the top of the tree.

  “Yeah, I suppose so,” I sighed. Brian was sitting on the grass, legs stretched out, leaning back against the tree trunk.

  “I do like Sayers Croft; this is so cool, isn’t it Ed?” he said with a big grin on his face.

  Glad someone’s happy.

  “Yeah, it’s OK,” I said dejectedly.

  “Where is everyone, Danny?” Tony asked.

  “They’ve all gone to the local village fete,” he told him.

  “We might as well go and check it out,” Tony suggested.

  After a few deliberations, we agreed. Most of the objections came from me. I mean, I was skint; how boring was this going to be? As we approached the village green, I noticed Stephanie standing with Prince Charming, Nigel bloody Moorcroft! I remember the day I first met Stephanie at school, my God, what a beauty. I’d been in love with her ever since.

  “Alright, you bunch of losers?” smirked Nigel.

  How I hated that guy. What the hell Steph saw in him was beyond me. We just ignored him and walked into the fete.

  There were rows upon rows of stalls; all types of bric-a-brac, food and games like a mini fairground. It actually looked fun.

  “Come on! Let’s try and beat the keeper!” Brian yelled excitedly. As we approached the stall, I noticed a board displaying that it was 1’6 a go. Tony looked at me and winked; his out-stretched hand contained a ten bob note.

  “Go on, show ’em how it’s done, Ed,” he smiled.

  “Cheers, Tony, you’re a real pal.” At the time I didn’t know it, but this was going to be the highlight of my holiday. I turned round, waving the ten bob note at the stallholder and shouted, “I’ll have a go, mate!”

  Nigel pushed his way past everyone to the front of the queue.

  “Come on, Steph. I’ll show you who’s the best at football in this school,” he boasted loudly.

  I bet the stall holder thought Christmas had come early. The battle of Oliver Goldsmith Junior School got under way. Well, two boys’ pride and passion for the same girl, at least. Although, I was not quite sure the pride and passion was reciprocated; I knew she wouldn’t look twice at me. Mind you, she did take all the presents I bought her with my dinner money every day at school.

  “Four shots ya get,” snapped the stallholder. “Beat the keeper four times and you win this great big teddy bear.”

  Nigel smiled at her and yelled out loud, as cocky as you like, so that everyone in earshot heard his boast, “Good as yours, Steph, trust me, babe.”

  Big-headed sod. Unfortunately for Nigel, the keeper was mustard; he saved all four shots. I was really impressed with his agility.

  “I want another go,” he grunted.

  He handed over his money and proceeded to try his luck again, bang-bang-bang, all three in the net. He stood there with his hands on his hips looking round smiling as if waiting for applause. I looked at him and thought you really are a flash bastard. He put the ball on the grass and took two steps back and pulled the trigger. What a save!! The keeper got his fingertips on the ball and pushed it onto the post.

  “Oops!” Tony said, smiling.

  “Brilliant!” everyone shouted.

  “He moved,” screamed Nigel. “He bloody moved.”

  “Next,” gestured the stall handler.

  “Go on, Ed,” Tony whispered, “now’s your chance.”

  I walked up and handed the money to the stallholder. As I waited for my change, the keeper kept looking at me as though he knew me. But I’d never seen him before in my life. He winked while grinning at me.

  “Here you are son.” The stallholder pushed the change into the palm of my hand.

  I bent down, placing the ball on the ground. I thumped the ball with extreme venom. Unfortunately, I kicked the ground and the poxy ball at the same time. To my astonishment, I sent the keeper the wrong way and the ball trickled into the net. The second and third shots found the net as well. One shot from glory. I was actually shaking with anticipation. Putting the ball down, I glanced up and noticed that Nigel had his arm around Steph. The look in his eyes was frightening; the hatred directed towards me was unbelievable and it made me shiver even more. I was in such a two ’n’ eight that I just spanked the ball in hope. I was convinced I’d blown it. The ball appeared to be going wide and then suddenly it swerved violently, hitting the upright and rebounding into the net. All hell broke loose; everybody started jumping on me. It was fantastic! The stallholder came over with this rather large teddy bear.

  “Well done,” he said, handing me my prize.

  Tony chuckled. “That was some fluke, that last goal!”

  “Cor blimey, you’re not wrong there, Tony,” I laughed.

  Brian and Danny came rushing over; their faces creased with laughter.

  “Top quality, Ed. Did you see old Moorcroft’s face? What a sight! I wish I had a camera,” Danny shouted.

  As we walked back to the dormitory, I was carrying my prize over my shoulders when I heard Stephanie’s voice saying, “Lovely teddy, Ed’. Glancing over my shoulder, I could see her strolling behind us, all alone.

  “I can’t see Prince Charming anywhere,” I ventured.

  “He’s sulking. I left him at the fete with his mates,” she said, disappointedly.

  “Never mind, Steph. Tomorrow is another day,” Danny beamed.

  “What you doing with the teddy?” she asked, looking straight into my eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes were so inviting. I started to melt and my mouth went bone dry. For a second, just a second, I nearly gave her the teddy, and then I snapped out of it. “Danny’s sister,” I informed her. Danny’s sister, Lyn, is wheelchair-bound and a really sweet human being.

  “Oh,” she sort of sighed, looking dejected.

  The following week flew by uneventfully and we were soon on our way home. As the coach left Sayers Croft, everyone was tired and sat in silence. I sat on the coach and, shutting my eyes, I drifted off into a deep sleep.

  When I was fourteen, I was sick and tired of never having any money to go out with my friends. My parents never gave me any pocket money; whatever I wanted, I had to get myself. This had been the case ever since I can remember. Bob a job, washing cars, you name it, I did it.

  One Saturday morning I was strolling up Talford Road, knocking on all the doors. “Bob a job,” I yelled, as the occupants opened their doors. “No thanks,” was the unanimous reply. I approached the top of Talford Road feeling rather despondent. Last door, I said to myself. I looked around and saw a large house on the other side of the street. Looks a bit eerie. There were large trees and bushes obscuring the front door. Approaching the house, I noticed all the walls were covered in some sort of creeping plant. Opening the gate, I walked up the path to the front door and, even though it was a sunny day, I was standing in semi-darkness. All the trees and large ferns had blocked the daylight out. Creepy. I noticed there was no knocker, just some round thing sticking out of the door. I grabbed it and then pulled on it. Nothing happened so I twisted it to the right. It rang twice. I let go and took four paces back. The door slowly opened with a creak.

  I sheepishly muttered, “Bob a job?”

  The door flung open and standing there, smiling, was this really sweet old lady.

  “I
’ve been waiting for you, young man,” she said.

  I was taken back a bit. Waiting for me?

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “It’s all right, sonny,” she said, with a smile. “I’ve been watching you knocking on the street doors and wondered if you would come to mine. I need my garden tidying up. Do you do gardens?” she asked, still smiling at me in a really friendly manner.

  “Of course I do, lady. I can turn my hand to anything within reason.” I remarked confidently.

  “Well, what’s your name?” she asked and I told her. “Well, Eddie, my name is Rose. Come in and I’ll show you the garden.”

  “OK, Rose that’s cool,” I replied. Following her into the house, there was this strange smell; not a nasty smell, in fact it was really nice and fragrant.

  As I followed Rose into the living room, the smell grew stronger and made my nostrils sting a bit. As I surveyed my surroundings, I noticed the room was full of candles and some funny oblong sort of sticks were smouldering everywhere.

  “What are those?” I enquired.

  “Incense sticks. Lovely smell, don’t you think Eddie?” she asked.

  “Yeah, not bad, not bad at all,” I said, agreeing with her. Looking around the room, I noticed that, in the corner by the French doors, there was a small, round table covered in a green cloth and two small chairs were neatly tucked under the table. Placed in the middle was a crystal ball and funny shaped cards. All the furniture in the room looked antique. The settee and armchairs were covered with multi-coloured cushions and throws. On the walls were strange-looking tribal masks. On the floor next to the open fire was a statue of a large Buddhist monk sitting with his arms crossed. The bookcase was rammed full with hundreds of books. As I looked around, I felt an inner peace settling inside. I can’t explain how great I felt just then. What a spectacular room. I just loved it.

  “Here we are,” Rose said, pushing open the French doors. I stood in amazement; the garden was huge. She tapped me on the shoulder and said quietly: “Don’t worry. I don’t expect you to do it all in one day.”

  Phew! Thank God for that. I was just beginning to wonder what the hell I had let myself in for.

  “All the tools are in the shed,” she said, handing me a key.

  I grafted all afternoon, cutting hedges and grass; the sweat was dripping off my brow like water from a tap. I felt completely knackered. I was weeding the top section of the garden near the shed when I noticed a large black cat, sitting under a bush, peering at me. As I got closer, the cat started to hiss and spit at me.

  “Don’t worry about Prince,” Rose’s voice came behind me. “He doesn’t like strangers. He’ll get used to you, though.” She smiled reassuringly. “Come on inside,” she gestured, “I’ve made some tea and sandwiches. You’ve done well today, Eddie.”

  “Thank you very much, Rose,” I said, feeling proud of my achievements. I sat down, munching on Rose’s delicious salmon and cucumber sarnies.

  “We should call it a day; you look tired, Eddie,” she said, in a concerned voice. She handed me a pound note. I was gobsmacked!

  “Thanks, Rose!” I said, cheerfully.

  “You’ve earned it.”

  I’ve never known anyone who smiled so much; she really was a nice lady.

  “Are you free tomorrow, Eddie?” she asked.

  “Yeah, absolutely,” I informed her.

  “Good. I’ll see you in the morning about nine. Is that OK?”

  “That’s fine with me. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  I left Rose’s and made my way home. The following day, I woke very early; the sun was shining through the window onto my face. How I loved the sun, and I leapt up, all excited. I couldn’t wait till nine. I got dressed and ran downstairs to the toilet.

  “Who’s up this bloody early?” came a growl from the bathroom.

  “It’s only me,” I informed my old man.

  “It’s Sunday morning,” he shouted. “What are you doing up so early?”

  I had to think calmly and quickly, knowing that the wrong answer would mean curtains for me. “Erm, I’m playing in a football tournament for the boys club.” It just came out. I tried to stop myself from mentioning the word football, but it was too late. I’d bloody gone and shot myself in the foot.

  “What have I told you about playing football, you little shit?” he screamed at me.

  The bathroom door came flying open; he stood there in his vest, half his face covered in shaving foam, waving his razor, his eyes glaring with rage.

  “Get back upstairs. You’re going nowhere,” he snarled.

  “But Dad, I promised.”

  The next thing I remember was a painful spank on the side of my face. I fell backwards, hitting my head on the door and landing on the floor. I looked up at him in terror. He stood over me and kicked my leg viciously.

  “Get up,” he shouted. “Get up or I’ll kick your fucking head in.”

  I lay their motionless, too scared to move. He pressed his foot onto my hand, squashing my fingers into the lino. I cried out in agony, begging him to stop.

  “Well, fucking get up then, you asshole,” he screamed in anger. “Get up, now!”

  I somehow raised myself up. He grabbed my ear, dragged me upstairs and opening my bedroom door, threw me in and to the floor. I was shaking like a leaf and I felt wet. He glared at me and then slammed the door shut. I lay there for quite a while sobbing. I felt disgusted with myself. I’d bloody done it again. I took my trousers and pants off and put them on the end of my bed. It was already nine o’clock and I was seriously depressed. I looked in the wardrobe mirror at my face, the bright red impression of his handprint glowing furiously. My cheekbone and my jaw were also very painful. I heard the sound of an engine starting up. I peered out of the window, watching him speed off on his moped. I quickly put on a clean pair of pants and jeans. Opening the bedroom door, I legged it down the stairs. Putting my hand on the front door handle, I was just about to leave the house.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” My mother.

  “Out,” I replied.

  “He’ll come looking for you if you’re not here when he gets back,” she informed me, reliably.

  “What time will he be back?”

  “About three for dinner.”

  “OK, I’ll be back by then,” I promised.

  I opened the front door and ran down the steps.

  “You’d better be,” she shouted after me. “Otherwise you’re for the high jump.”

  I was running like a mad dog up Talford Road.

  “Excuse me, you got the time, please?” I asked a woman as she walked towards me.

  She pointed to her watch. “Half past nine,” came her reply.

  “Cheers,” I muttered, running past her. Must get myself a watch one day. I opened Rose’s gate and stood on the pathway, catching my breath. I was just about to ring the doorbell when the front door slowly creaked open.

  “Morning, Eddie, oversleep, did we?” Rose asked, with a twinkle in her eye.

  “Yeah, sort of,” I replied.

  “Come in. I’ve just made a fresh pot.”

  We sat in the living room, sipping tea. She handed me a plate full of biscuits. “Take a couple,” she insisted.

  I gently picked up three chocolate biscuits, gulping them down.

  “Hungry, are you?” she said, putting the plate on the table in front of me. “Help yourself, Eddie.”

  I ate another couple of biscuits. The side of my face was still hurting; it was an effort chewing on the biscuits and it was obvious to Rose that I was in some discomfort.

  “You OK, Eddie?”

  “Yeah, just a bit sore.” I didn’t elaborate further.

  She looked at me, slightly concerned. I got up and walked into the garden, dismissing her concern. I stood on the patio staring down the garden. I noticed this figure bending down by the shed. She’s got someone else. I was only half an hour late. I turned round and mentioned the fact to Rose
. She went as white as a sheet.

  “You can see him?” she gasped. “My God, Eddie, who are you?”

  “What do you mean, who am I? And yes, I can see him. I’m not blind,” I snapped, indicating to the guy near the shed.

  “Come inside, Eddie, and sit down,” she insisted.

  I walked into the house, glancing round the garden. Whoever he was had gone; vanished into thin air.

  “Where has he gone, Rose?” I asked, feeling quite unnerved by his sudden disappearance. I sat down on the sofa looking at Rose for an explanation.

  Now the conversation that followed should have been pretty heavy for a fourteen year old, but not this teenager.

  “Do you believe in ghosts?” Rose asked.

  “Not in ghosts actually, more like spirits or souls of the departed.” I replied.

  My answer shocked her; I could see that in her eyes. They never lie, the eyes.

  “Good grief!” she gasped. “Where did you learn that?”

  “My experiences and my nan,” I said, looking her in the eyes.

  “Do you know what a medium is?” she asked.

  “Not really,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders. “I’ve heard the word mentioned, but I don’t know what it means.”

  “Someone who can communicate with the dead,” she said. “Getting in touch with the other side.”

  Rose had my complete and utter attention.

  “Are you interested in spiritualism?” she asked, looking straight into my eyes, a twinkle still in her own.

  “Yeah, I suppose so. Why do you ask?” I was trying not to give away my fascination with the subject of the afterlife.

  “Because I am a medium. What you saw in the garden was a spirit of someone who died in this house years ago. He’s been visiting me on a regular basis and you are the only other one who has seen him. You must be susceptible to the spirit world, Eddie. Come over here and sit down.”

  She gestured to the small green table in the corner of the room. I duly obliged; how fascinating this all was. I plonked myself down on one of the small chairs, full of anticipation.

  “Don’t be frightened,” she said comfortingly. “There’s nothing to fear from the other side,”