by Peter Martin
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On the day of the move in early January, they were up bright and early to a mild but cloudy morning, having packed the last few bits and pieces the night before. Billy had agreed, under duress, to go to school, and put his uniform on in readiness while his father sorted things at the new house. He’d hoped for a day off, but his dad insisted he’d be better off out of the upheaval.
He watched in horror as their belongings were taken into the removal van, having never dreamt this would happen. At one time it had been such a happy home. Now, having cleared the house, his father stood with Billy, watching the removal men secure the tailgate, ready to drive away.
‘Well, this it, Billy.’
Billy couldn’t answer, for fear he might break down and cry; instead he nodded.
Taking in his son’s mood, his dad said, ‘Buck up, we had lots of good times here, but we’ll be happy again somewhere else, you’ll see.’
He still didn’t comment; deep down he felt dispirited. His father tried to look on the bright side, but it was hard to see where they would go from here. Hadn’t the past year proved that? He’d been wrong about his mum returning, and before that overly optimistic about Katie’s illness, believing she’d pull through.
Before getting into the car they took one last look at their semi and the cul-de-sac that overlooked the canal behind the houses. Billy’s dad didn’t start the engine at once, he just sat staring straight ahead. Billy tried to imagine what he was going through. Although his father was physically strong, emotionally he was weak and found it hard to deal with problems.
‘What’s the new place like, Dad?’
He hesitated before turning to face him. ‘Sorry … there’s no easy way to tell you this, son.’
‘What now?’ Billy mumbled, closing his eyes.
‘It fell through. The people whose house we were buying changed their minds at the last minute. And I couldn’t face starting all over again, so I carried on with the sale. Our things are going into storage until we find somewhere else. And for now, a friend of mine from work has offered to let us stay with him. It’s not too far away: Inkerman Street, the other side of Dexford.’
‘Will I have my own room?’
‘No, you’ll have to kip down on the settee, I’m afraid.’
Billy didn’t want to sleep on a strange bloke’s settee.
His father said, ‘We’ll be happy again, son. I promise.’
Dossing down in a friend’s house wasn’t his idea of fun. ‘Is this a joke, Dad?’
‘No, I’m sorry, but it’s not for long … Only a few days. I’ve got to be careful here or we won’t get a decent place to live. I’m going into work today as well, so I want you to come to the garage after school and sit in the car until I finish.’
At half past three, Billy sauntered out of school, never having met this so-called workmate of his father’s. His mind was filled with dismay, wondering how the next few days would pan out. As usual his dad tried to sound upbeat, thought Billy, but he must be heartbroken.
When Billy arrived at the garage, one of the mechanics acknowledged him with a thumbs-up and pointed to the back of the building where his father worked.
‘Hi, Dad. Have you got your car keys?’
‘Hello, son, all right, are you? They’re in my jacket.’ He indicated with a nod of his head four lockers in the corner of the room.
‘Got them. I’m fine. I’ll get in the car then. The teacher’s given me maths homework, so I’ll do that while I’m waiting.’
‘That’s the spirit. When I’ve finished here, we’ll go for a bite to eat. How’s that sound?’
‘Fine with me,’ came Billy’s reply, knowing that he meant in the Ward Arms pub, where his father would drink as well. One would lead to another, and heaven knows when they’d leave.
He waited for ages, having finished and meticulously checked his homework. Both the maths and science teachers pushed him to do well. Seeing the struggle his father had making ends meet made him determined to do well at school.
He sat back waiting, guessing his dad would try to delay things. The longer it continued, not knowing where they’d live, the more worried he’d get. It crossed his mind that staying with Dave, his mate from work, was pure fantasy, and that maybe Dave didn’t exist. Why was it so hard to find them somewhere to live?
At last his father approached. He looked exhausted. They should have stopped in their old home and told his mum to wait for her share of the money.
Later in the pub Billy had had enough of sitting around hearing his dad and his cronies putting the world to rights, and yawned. He was tired.
‘All right, I can see you’re getting fed up. Come on, let’s find out what my mate has to offer.’
After leaving the pub, his father drove them the short distance to Inkerman Street. Billy wished they’d walked, since his dad was ‘under the influence’.
‘I’ll park the car here, son. Dave lives halfway up the hill on this side, number twenty-two.’ He nodded to the right. The street comprised terraced houses on both sides, all without front gardens. They got out and crossed over the road. As they neared the property, however, it became clear the house wasn’t just shabby like the rest, but in total disrepair, with one of the upstairs windows boarded up. Billy imagined the inside to be rough and dirty. ‘I know it’s not perfect, but it’ll be warm and dry and it’s only for a night or two.’
He banged the door knocker twice before there was any response. A faint light shone through the cracked glass, outlining the shadow of a large figure coming towards them. An unshaven, heavily built man appeared and from the hallway came a pungent stench. Billy presumed this man was Dave. His dark blue eyes widened with embarrassment on realising who they were.
‘Tom!’ he said, and a nervous smile quickly formed on his face.
‘Dave, my man. Here we are, as I promised.’
‘Yeah, I can see that, mate. Don’t like to tell you this … but the wife says you can’t stay. Sorry, but she’s threatened to walk out if I …’
‘Come on, Dave, I was relying on you. Now what’ll me and the lad do? We’ve got nowhere else to go.’
‘You’ll have to find somewhere, mate. Sorry … it’s not me … it’s the missus,’ and with that he slammed the door shut in their faces.
Billy looked at his dad anxiously. What would they do now?
‘Dad, I don’t like this.’ He grabbed hold of his dad’s sleeve.
‘Me neither. We’ll find a place. Don’t worry.’
After his dad had been driving around for ages, Billy wondered what he was doing. In the end, he said, ‘Sorry about this, son, I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough. I think we’ll have to sleep in the car tonight.’
‘Dad, we can’t,’ Billy groaned.
‘I’m doing the best I can. It’s not my fault those people pulled out, or that Dave won’t stand up to his wife.’ A slight smile appeared on his face. ‘But it was a bit of a dive, that house … and the smell.’
Billy felt sorry for him; he’d made a mess of things, but to be fair the last twelve months hadn’t been easy for him. And this was better than living with his selfish mum and Simpson. He said, ‘Okay, we’ll sleep in the car for tonight, I don’t mind … Honestly, dad.’
Out of Dexford he drove into open countryside, devoid of street lighting, that only exaggerated the dire position they were in. After travelling for fifteen minutes, his father took the turning for Loxley and veered off the road onto a dirt track. He brought the car to a halt slap bang in front of a canal vent, known locally as a ‘pepper pot’. The whole area had dense undergrowth and overhanging trees. No sooner had the car stopped than his dad stretched, yawned and got out, saying, ‘I’ll get us two blankets out of the boot.’
Billy lay down on the back seat, while his dad tilted the front passenger seat back as far as it would go to create a makeshift bed. In the complete darkness they both fell asleep quickly.
Billy woke early in the morn
ing and for a split second wondered where he was. But his memory of the last twenty-four hours returned with a vengeance. He shivered; the car windows were steamed up and he was alone. Straight away he panicked. As he wiped the condensation from the window, he saw the sad figure of his father approaching. His stooped back and unkempt appearance said it all – he’d got the whole world on his shoulders.
‘God, what a night. Didn’t sleep a wink. How about you?’ he said, opening the car door.
‘I did a bit, Dad. But it’s not like being at home.’ But as soon as he’d uttered his last sentence, Billy realised it was the wrong thing to say.
‘It’ll be different tonight. We’ll have a nice warm bed to sleep in, I promise,’ he said. ‘Anyway, we’d better get back to Dexford. I’ve got work and you’ve got school.’
Billy closed his eyes and sighed. The prospect of school didn’t fill him with enthusiasm. His mind wouldn’t be on schoolwork, not when he had no idea where he’d be staying that night.
In Dexford, they found a public convenience to use as a bathroom.
‘Tell you what, son, just have a cat-lick for now and later, when I find us somewhere to stay we’ll have a proper shower.’
Billy shrugged his shoulders in agreement.
The day dragged, he felt depressed, with his future so uncertain. But at the end of school, walking up to the gates, he was surprised to see his dad waiting, grinning like a hyena, pleased about something. But after recent events Billy didn’t intend raising his hopes.
‘I’ve found us somewhere. Come on, let’s get in the car and I’ll tell you all about it.’
‘Thank God, I couldn’t have stood another night sleeping –’
‘Me neither. It isn’t the Ritz, but I’ve been to see it and it’s not too bad. It’ll tide us over until we find a proper place of our own. Anyway, I’ve got to go back to work. You’ll have to come with me. Maybe you could do your homework in the office. Okay?’
‘Yes, that’s fine, Dad.’
So, after finishing at six o’clock, they drove over to their new digs in the older part of Dexford. But when his father stopped halfway down the street, he couldn’t help questioning where its name had stemmed from. ‘Cherry Orchard Grove’ hardly described the sight before him. In fact, it was barely a step up from Inkerman Street. On either side the old grey terraced houses did nothing to heighten his mood. Each house had a small garden of two square metres fronted by a brick wall, which in most cases had seen better days.
‘Okay, son, perhaps we’ll have more luck tonight than we did last night.’
Billy didn’t answer.
His father walked off, stopping outside number thirty-one for a few seconds, then, taking the few steps to the front door, he rang the bell.
After the dump in Inkerman Street, Billy took in his surroundings, noticing the door had been painted bright blue. On the few slabs between the wall and bay window stood two planters displaying dried-up plants surrounded by thriving weeds.
Billy didn’t kid himself. This was just a cheap bed-sit to tide them over until his dad found them a new home. If that was at all possible.
CHAPTER 4
The door opened almost at once, and an old, short, plump woman stood there to greet them, revealing yellowing teeth. With heavy make-up and a blue bow over the top of her curly white hair, she cut a slightly ridiculous figure. ‘Mr Price and son, I presume,’ she said.
For once his dad seemed lost for words, and nodded.
‘I’m Mrs Dyson. Please come in, I’ll show you to your room.’
The front door closed behind him, and Billy followed his dad inside. Mrs Dyson showed them upstairs. Everywhere seemed clean but shabby, the yellowing doors needing a coat of paint. When she unlocked the door, they saw the decor was much the same. Along one wall sat tatty, white, built-in wardrobes, and opposite stood a large double bed. The bedside table had matching lace covers, which needed ironing. But the overriding feature was the stale, damp smell; it was stomach-churning.
‘The bathroom is two doors down, breakfast is at seven, dinner at six. And if you go out, be back by eleven or you’ll be locked out. Oh, and there’s a washing machine and iron in the kitchen if you need it.’ She paused for a second and continued, ‘And as you know, it’s two weeks’ rent in advance please, Mr Price, as we agreed on the phone.’
He got the notes out of his trouser pocket and placed them in her outstretched hand. She licked her fingers and counted them out carefully. The price she charged for a room of this calibre was extortionate. But what choice did they have?
‘We’ll get our things, love,’ Billy’s dad told her.
‘No problem, Mr Price.’ The woman smiled, handing him the key. ‘Hope you have a pleasant stay.’
When she’d gone, they looked at each other. Billy’s dad said, ‘What an old dragon.’
‘God, Dad, did you see her teeth? And her breath reeks.’
‘I’m guessing she’s a heavy smoker, son,’ he said with a glint in his eye.
He didn’t reply, just smiled at his dad’s last comment before asking, ‘We don’t have to stay here long, do we, Dad?’
‘Only until we find a place we like, which could be difficult because of our money situation. We have to pay rent for this, and for keeping our things in storage. I won’t leave until we’ve found somewhere decent, but it’s not easy. If we’re not careful, we’ll end up in the wrong house or flat and be stuck there. Can you stand it here for a while?’
‘Well, we haven’t got much choice. But I guess anything’s better than sleeping in the car.’
‘See how it goes, shall we, son?’
‘I suppose …’ he agreed.
At one point in his life he’d longed to spend time with his dad, but now he wished it was anywhere but here.
His father brought their suitcases upstairs and they unpacked their clothes into the dusty wardrobes, causing his father to say, ‘Best hang up what we need, and leave everything else in the case.’
‘Yeah, okay,’ Billy said, sitting on the bed. This place was the pits. The carpet was threadbare, the wallpaper so old it was difficult to distinguish the pattern, and grubby nets hung in the window. Then his eyes rested on the empty curtain track above him. But his thoughts were interrupted by the landlady’s ‘Dinner’s ready!’ call and his dad’s yell: ‘Coming!’
They smiled at each other; Billy guessed that if dinner was anything like Mrs Dyson or her establishment, it would be gross.
Downstairs she informed them they were the only guests for dinner; the others – a middle-aged man named Arthur, and a young woman in her twenties called Sarah, were out. She had them to herself.
Roast beef with peas and potatoes was dinner: edible, but nothing like his mum’s cooking, or his dad’s attempts either, but better than being hungry.
‘Delicious, Mrs Dyson.’
‘That’s nice of you to say, Mr Price. How about you, young man? Did you like it? Was it as good as your mum makes?’ she asked, her eyes widening.
He looked at his father, who winked slyly, and replied, ‘Yeah, great.’
‘Glad to hear it. I’ve always said the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and in all the years I’ve been doing this I’ve never had any complaints.’
‘Yes, thanks for everything, Mrs Dyson,’ Billy’s dad said, looking ill at ease. ‘Now, we’d like to go to upstairs. It’s been a long day.’ He yawned and stretched before getting to his feet.
‘Of course, I’ll not keep you any longer. If I don’t see you before, sleep well, and remember breakfast is seven o’clock sharp.’
‘Right, we won’t forget, will we, Billy?’
Back in the safety of their room, they laughed over their weird landlady, so strange and strict with her rules and regulations.
‘She’s an oddball. Don’t you think, Dad?’
‘She is that. Best keep out of her way if we can, eh?’
‘I’m sure she fancies you.’
‘God, I hop
e not, son.’ But Billy burst out laughing, and his father gave him a playful slap that messed up his hair.
For the biggest part of the evening Billy did his homework whilst his dad scanned the ads columns of the local newspaper for places to live. There had already been so many recent twists and turns in his life that he tried not to ponder about where they would end up.
Later, both lying in the big double bed, it seemed neither could sleep. Although the sheets were clean, they had a strange disinfectant-like smell. Billy wondered what the odd woman had washed them in. And the mattress was hard. Again and again he turned over to get comfortable, but couldn’t get to sleep.
How things had changed, so quickly since his parent’s divorce! He loved his dad to bits, but it wasn’t much fun living like this.
‘You all right, son?’
‘Can’t sleep.’
‘Me, neither. Billy, I’m really sorry. I mean about this awful place. I feel bad putting you through this. You deserve better. I’ll do my best to make it up to you, I promise. I don’t know when, but I will.’
‘Did I do anything wrong? Is that why mum left?’
In the darkness Billy just about saw his dad shake his head. ‘Of course not. That’s rubbish. Whatever made your mum do what she did has nothing to do with you. It’s because of Katie’s death; she can’t handle it. One day she’ll get better and when she does, she’ll come back to us. But meantime I’ll do my best for you. Let’s try to make the most of it, eh?’ He moved across to squeeze his son’s shoulder.
At least Dad cares, Billy thought, not like my selfish mother.
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As time passed, Billy tried not to feel down – after all, he still had his mates. But what they’d think of the bedsit he dreaded to imagine, no way would he ask them round to this dump. And while he enjoyed spending time with his dad, he didn’t appear to have made any headway with finding them a permanent home. Although he said he was actively looking for alternative accommodation, lately there were never any property details, or even a local newspaper, to be seen. Were they destined to be forced to stay in Mrs Dyson’s grotty bed-sit forever?
