by Peter Martin
‘Okay, Uncle James.’
‘We’re only doing this for your own good. There’s been too much tragedy in this family. Wouldn’t it be great if you bucked the trend, instead of being sucked into an abyss of nothing? You’ve got to face it, you can’t do anything for your dad at present – but if you did well at school you’d give him a huge lift.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Billy said.
This was what he didn’t like about Uncle James, the constant pressure to do well. It was all too much right now. His dad was never like that. Oh, he wanted Billy to do well, but he never rammed it down his throat. Billy had an idea the two brothers had had words about this in the past and this was the reason why they never saw much of him later.
‘Never mind, let’s forget about it for now, shall we? All isn’t lost. You can turn it all around. I’ll make a few enquiries next week about tuition and such, and see what comes up. Whatever the fees are, I’ll gladly pay.’ Billy listened to his uncle continue with the bit between his teeth: ‘Then come September you’ll be in a much better position, and if you get good results your dad will be thrilled to bits.’
‘Yes, I suppose he will, Uncle.’
When they didn’t mention it again, Billy thought he’d got away with it for now, and looked forward to the peace and quiet of the school holidays.
But his fortnightly visit to see his father in prison was the high-point of his life, overshadowing everything else. Unfortunately, the relationship between them had become strained, always leaving Billy feeling like a stranger to him. Even though Tom was upbeat about his time in prison, he looked a beaten man. The spirit seemed to have drained out of him.
But he showed concern over his son, and just before he left he said, ‘Son, you won’t like what I’m about to say, but our Jim’s right, you do need to get some qualifications. He hasn’t said a lot, only a brief mention of your reluctance to work harder at school in his last letter.’
After a pause he continued: ‘I’ll be here for a long time – when I get out, you’ll be grown up, probably with a family of your own. You’ll have to make your own way in the world. And without a decent education you’ll never get a good job. Forget about me in here, and concentrate on you – messing up at school won’t get me out. Put yourself first from now on. Make something of your life. I’d love to be there to guide you, but that’s impossible. It’s eating me up inside.’ He stopped for a minute to wipe his eyes on his sleeve. ‘It’s best if you don’t visit me any more – it’s too upsetting for both of us. I can’t bear for you to see me like this. Remember me as I was before Katie died. In the meantime, think of me as not there – it’s the only way. But that doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop thinking about you, because I won’t –’
‘No, please, Dad, no. How’ll I live without you?’ Billy buried his face in his hands.
‘Billy, be strong, or else all the sacrifices I’ve made will be for nothing. Promise me, son, there’s no other way.’ As their eyes met, Billy realised what he was referring to: carrying the can for stabbing his mum as well as Jane Simpson.
The buzzer rang, signalling their time together was up. They both stood up. Billy took his father’s outstretched hand, unable to believe what he’d suggested. And with tears welling up, he watched his father walk away. It was too much to take in. How dare he suggest such a thing? Life was difficult enough; this fortnightly visit was the highlight of his sorry life. How would he live if these visits came to an abrupt end?
Billy’s head was down as he came out. Aunt Vi, sitting outside with Uncle James, got up as if she’d guessed something was wrong.
‘What’s the matter, Billy?’
Billy shook his head. He tried to walk away from her, but instead moved easily into her arms. She guided him back to sit with her and Uncle James.
‘He’s told me not to visit him again.’
‘But why?’
‘He doesn’t like me to see him as he is now. I’ve got to think of him as gone.’
Uncle James frowned. ‘Want me to try and reason with him?’
Billy didn’t speak.
Uncle James got up and spoke to someone, but from what he could make out, it wasn’t possible to see his dad again that day.
‘We’ll leave it for the time being, he’s obviously upset over something. I’ll ring before we visit the next time, to see how the land lies. I’m sure he’ll feel differently then. I would have thought you’re all he has to live for right now. Don’t worry, I’ll get it sorted.’ He squeezed Billy’s arm.
But Billy didn’t believe him. All he had now were his aunt and uncle.
On the way home he hardly spoke, angry at his dad and also at his guardians for coercing him into attending the private tuition classes three times a week, with the resulting homework. What a memorable holiday this had been – and for all the wrong reasons. He had no contact with his mates because they lived too far away and the kids in the street were either too young or too old. He couldn’t win; and even when he spent time alone listening to music, James and Vi insisted he join them in the living room.
One night, a Monday in late August, they’d finished their evening meal and had on the end of a test match against Australia, when the phone rang.
‘Isn’t it always the way? Just when it gets exciting there’s an interruption,’ James said.
Billy nodded in agreement and continued to watch, but after a few minutes he glanced up at his uncle to see the colour drain from his face. Billy’s stomach turned over.
Once the call was over, instead of sitting back down, James beckoned his wife to join him in the hall. Something has happened, Billy thought, forgetting all about the cricket.
When they returned a little while later both of their faces bore the same distraught look. Aunt Violet’s red-rimmed eyes gave the show away; she’d been crying. A lump came to Billy’s throat.
‘Er … Billy, we need to talk to you,’ Uncle James said with a tremor in his voice. He switched off the television.
‘Is it bad news?’
‘I’m afraid so. Don’t know how to tell you this …’
‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ Billy blurted out, looking from one to the other.
‘James …’ Violet mouthed.
Nodding, James said, ‘Yes, Billy … he’s gone.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘There’s no easy way to tell you.’ James looked to the floor, shaking his head. ‘They found him hanging in his cell.’
Then, between sobs, Billy said, ‘Why do something like that … Was that why he told me not to come again? He was innocent, and shouldn’t have been in prison in the first place!’ He got up from his seat and ran towards his room.
As Violet made to follow him James pulled her back, saying, ‘Leave him be, love. Only time will heal what’s bothering him.’
Unable to stop crying, Billy lay on his bed, blaming himself for his dad’s passing. Now he had no one. The whole family, Katie, his mum and dad, all gone. What had they done to deserve their end? If God existed, why didn’t He look after them? Perhaps it was his turn next. Why not, what had he to live for now?
After a while, feeling distraught, he dried his eyes.
An hour later, the door to his room opened. Oh no, he thought. For several minutes he pretended to be asleep, hoping they’d leave him alone. After they’d gone he breathed easier, glad he’d been spared their comfort.
<><><>
The funeral took place a week later on a cool, bright Friday morning, and other than Billy and his uncle and aunt, there were few mourners. He recognised two of his dad’s workmates from the garage, including Dave who he’d had the disagreement with; the others must be old drinking mates.
The generous size of the crematorium chapel emphasised the poor turnout of funeral-goers, which led Billy to believe no one cared. When the coffin disappeared, the pent-up emotion caused him to break down.
Later, some of the funeral-goers returned to the bungalow where Violet had prepared a buffet l
unch, and Tom was remembered fondly by all, even Dave. When it was all over, he breathed a sigh of relief. When his sister died, he found her passing difficult to deal with. But to have his mum and his dad taken from him left him close to losing the will to live.
<><><>
For the rest of the holiday his aunt and uncle tried hard to involve Billy, but for him it was too much. They meant well, but all he wanted was peace and quiet.
Then September came and school beckoned. Perhaps his friends had forgotten the problems he’d had and would treat him normally. He dreaded the first day and cried the night before.
In the classroom, before the first lesson started, he sat with Ryan, Danny and Peter.
‘What a holiday I’ve had,’ Ryan said. ‘Went to the Greek islands with my family. And was it hot? Over a hundred degrees in the shade. The tarmac on the roads melted, we had to sit in the hotel room with cooling fans on high. We even had the refrigerators breaking down.’
‘Wow,’ Danny exclaimed. ‘Glad we stopped here. Devon was wet and windy, but the holiday camp had loads of indoor activities. I didn’t mind a bit.’
‘We stopped in a caravan in Cornwell,’ Peter said. ‘Got to learn to surf and water ski and it was fabulous. Great weather too. How about you, Billy, what did you get up to?’
Billy froze, being put on the spot like this. ‘Not a lot. Didn’t go away anywhere. Had to stay with my aunt and uncle. Then halfway through the holiday my dad died. Had a pretty miserable time.’
‘I heard he topped himself. Is that right, Billy?’ Danny said. Peter and Ryan gasped.
‘Yeah, sort of.’
‘God, what a thing to do. Mind you, I can well imagine why it might have been hard for him to live with himself, given all that happened,’ Ryan said.
‘Hey, you can’t say that about my dad. You have no idea what he went through.’
‘Don’t know what the world’s coming to,’ Peter said. ‘To have these real-life murders happen in your own backyard?’
‘Hey, did you hear Lee Giles has signed for Liverpool on schoolboy terms,’ Danny said.
‘Really, how good is that?’ Ryan said.
‘Fantastic, considering he scored twenty goals for the school team last year,’ Peter said.
Whilst they talked, Billy got up unnoticed and went to sit by himself, wondering how his so-called friends could be so insensitive.
Either way it didn’t matter, he’d survive on his own, and when he was sixteen he’d leave, get a job and find a flat. At the moment his hands were tied, he had to live at the bungalow, but one day his freedom would come.
And so, the first few weeks at school passed with no problems. He did what he had to with little effort. But he became more withdrawn, kept himself to himself and didn’t participate much in class. He shouldn’t have been surprised when his form master, Mr Edwards, came over one Monday morning before lessons began. A big man with long sandy hair and a beard, he made Billy jump.
‘Billy, could I have a word please,’ he said.
Billy’s stomach flipped over, thinking he’d done something wrong.
‘Yes, sir,’ Billy replied.
Mr Edwards pulled a chair up to sit in front of Billy’s desk, which Billy found rather intimidating.
‘Just wondered if everything is all right with you? One or two of your teachers have noticed a change in you since your return to school. You appear to be showing little enthusiasm for your work, hardly say a word in class, and seem to be in a world of your own.’
‘I don’t know, sir. Maybe I’m bored with the subjects I’m learning.’
‘Yes, but last year you were really doing well, one of the first to put his hands up in class, first to hand your homework in on time. But now you’re the total opposite. Seems a real shame to me, since you have the brains to do whatever you want. I am aware you lost your Mum and Dad recently, but there are people out there who can help. Bereavement officers, and so on. If you like I could arrange to see your guardians, put them in contact with the right people.’
‘I’m all right, sir. I don’t need anyone like that.’
‘You can talk to me in confidence, you know. Whatever you say to me will stay between these four walls, all right?’
‘There’s nothing, sir. It’s just that I can’t get interested in the subjects we’re covering right now. When something more interesting crops up, I’ll be different.’
‘Well, you do have to cover less interesting subjects as they’re part of the curriculum. Just memorise them as best you can. Don’t throw away what you’ve achieved these past few years, especially since your GCSEs are coming up.’
‘Okay, sir. I’ll do my best. Can I go now?’
‘Hope you’re taking in what I’ve been saying.’
‘I am, sir, honestly I am.’
‘All right. Don’t forget, any problems come and see me.’
‘Okay, thanks, sir.’
Billy would never tell anyone how he felt about losing his whole family in the space of a year. Not even his aunt and uncle. He’d deal with it in his own way without anyone’s help. He was on his own now and if no one who cared about him, why should he care about himself? Even his aunt and uncle were only bothered about turning him into a swot.
The amount of work increased, but he approached it with a couldn’t-care-less attitude. Sure, he had the ability, but what was the point without his family?
It suddenly came to a head when he didn’t hand in an important piece of maths homework. He thought he’d got away with it, as during the maths lesson nothing was said. But then Mr Pearce stood by the door taking everyone’s homework from them as they left. Up until now, Billy hadn’t handed in any work. He held back until everyone else had gone.
Then, standing face-to-face, Mr Pearce held out his hand, and Billy said, ‘I’ve forgotten it, sir.’
The teacher’s eyes widened. ‘I distinctly said it had to be in for today.’
‘Sorry, sir.’
‘That’s not good enough. It’s not only your slapdash work, it’s your attitude.’
Billy’s anger grew at the way Pearce had spoken to him, and all because he’d forgotten his homework. The anger gave him courage to speak out. ‘You know what you can do with your homework, sir! Stuff it!’
Mr Pearce’s face reddened. ‘Who do you think you’re talking to? You need to watch your tongue, young man. Any more of it, and you’ll be in more trouble than you can handle. I’ll have to report you to the Head, so it’ll be out of my hands. You have an attitude problem, my lad, and you need to sort it quickly, before it’s too late.’ Mr Pearce pointed a warning finger at him.
Billy shrugged his shoulders.
The teacher’s eyes screwed up with irritation.
‘Carry on like this and you’ll have no future at all. I shall suggest the Head speak to your guardians about this.’
‘Whatever.’ And with that he walked out of the room.
He didn’t like the idea of his aunt and uncle finding out about this but despite them being so nice to him, they’d never understand how he felt.
And by the time he got home he’d almost forgotten the altercation, and when Aunt Violet greeted him with her usual smile, he smiled back.
After dinner James seemed in a buoyant mood, making comments about Billy’s progress at school and the forthcoming first-year mock GCSEs. Billy kept up the pretence that all was on track. He left the table under the ruse that he was doing his homework in his room. But instead of getting down to it, he listened to rock music on the radio with his earphones in.
When James came into his bedroom later, seeing the pile of books on the bedside table, he said, ‘I see you’ve finished your homework, Billy?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Good for you, lad. After your difficulties last year, I hope you’ll do better this time. Even if it’s only a bit of an improvement, it’ll be something. And if you do, would you like us to buy you …’ he paused for a second, ‘Oh, I don’t know, what about a few C
Ds? You obviously enjoy music.’ He nodded towards Billy’s earphones. ‘How’s that for an incentive?’ he added, waiting for a response, and when Billy made no reply he said, ‘If your dad was alive, he’d be so proud if you did well at school.’
Irritated by the mention of his father, Billy just smiled, knowing it would never happen. One thing was for sure though, there’d be trouble when Mr Pearce or the Head contacted them.
From now on he had no intention of doing schoolwork that held no interest for him. And the more they got onto him, the more he’d rebel against it.
When Uncle James left, Billy closed his eyes with relief and soon afterwards fell asleep.
The next day he made up his mind not to take part in any of the lessons; he’d go to class and just sit there.
As the day wore on it became obvious to his mates what he was up to. They egged him on to be even more obstreperous. Each time the teacher asked him a question, Billy shrugged his shoulders, not even attempting an answer. When he spoke, all he said was, ‘I don’t know.’
His classmates smirked with amusement as he sat there not taking notes. Instead he stared into space.
No one confronted him – perhaps they feared upsetting him. But on his way home he understood he couldn’t face school any longer. Without his family he was nothing.
At the bungalow that night he behaved normally, making pleasant conversation with his aunt and uncle as they ate their evening meal, and later they watched television together.
Afterwards he did his usual disappearing act to his bedroom to work. He lay on the bed, books dotted about in front of him. A short time later footsteps passed his bedroom door, then the usual ‘goodnight’ from his aunt and uncle to which he replied, ‘see you in the morning’. Both of them being so nice suffocated him – just wait until breakfast time, when he announced he wasn’t going to school. Would they be so nice then?
James shook Billy at the usual time the next morning. He got up saying nothing, and washed and changed into his school clothes.
After eating a plate of bacon and eggs at the kitchen table, he moved to the living room, switched on the television, and waited for Uncle James.
