by Kitty Neale
Alan knew it would take more than that to make his mum happy, but it wouldn’t hurt to take some grub home for her. After all, she was so painfully thin that a bag of greasy chips might put a bit of meat on her bones.
The lift filled with the aroma of chips smothered in salt and vinegar as it slowly rose to the seventh floor.
‘Remember what I told you, Kenny. Don’t lean against the walls ’cos you never know who’s been pissing up them.’
‘Oh, yeah, sorry, Alan.’
The doors opened and the brothers walked down the corridor until they came to their own scruffy front door, the one that had been repaired with odd bits of wood on numerous occasions when their dad had smashed it. Alan hesitated before putting his key in the lock, but then as quietly as possible he opened the door, his ears cocked, thankful that he couldn’t hear any shouting. All seemed calm, and he saw that Kenny looked excited to be carrying the chips along the uncarpeted hallway.
They walked into the sparsely furnished front room and Alan saw that the curtains were still drawn, his mother semi-conscious on the brown mock-leather sofa. She had a dirty blanket half covering her tatty nightdress and her hair looked like it hadn’t been washed or brushed for weeks. No change there then, he thought cynically. There were several cider bottles strewn around on the bare floor amongst cigarette ends and mouldy glasses. The sight wasn’t something that shocked them as they were used to seeing both the room and their mother in this state; she would quite often have vomit down her and it wasn’t unusual for her to have a black eye or two.
Alan sat himself at a wobbly wooden table as Kenny gently shook his mother. ‘Mum, Mum … look, we’ve brought you some nice hot chips with loads of salt and vinegar.’
‘Ugh, get them away from me, the smell is making me feel sick,’ she grunted, pushing the newspaper-wrapped food away and knocking it out of Kenny’s hands. It fell to the floor and the chips spilled out as David Purvis appeared in the doorway.
‘I go for a slash,’ he slurred, ‘and come back to find chips everywhere. What’s going on?’
‘We brought you both some chips. Do you want some?’ Kenny asked, cowering slightly from his father.
‘Where did you get the money for chips?’
‘We … we’ve been doing a bit of business,’ Kenny stuttered.
Alan cringed; trust Kenny to open his mouth. He’d warned him not to say anything, but his brother had the memory of a bloody goldfish.
‘What sort of business?’
‘We look after people, Dad, and they pay us for doing it.’
Alan was inwardly willing his brother to shut up but it was too late. He had said too much and now the cat was out of the bag.
‘I see,’ said their father thoughtfully, ‘sounds to me like a protection racket, and I bet this was your brother’s idea. Is that right?’
It seemed the penny finally dropped with Kenny and he looked towards Alan, eyes wide with fear.
‘Yeah, Dad,’ said Alan, ‘we’ve got a couple of knobs who we squeeze a bit of cash out of, nothing major league, just a few bob a week.’
‘And you bring us home bags of lousy chips,’ his father shouted. ‘I ask you, Eileen, are you listening to this? Your sodding sons have been earning money and instead of buying us a bottle of something, they bring us chips. Useless! The pair of them are fucking useless!’
Their mother didn’t answer. She looked out of it, her eyes glazed, but their father suddenly lurched across the room and whacked Kenny hard around his head. As he raised his fist again, Kenny dropped to the floor with his arms wrapped over his head protectively.
Alan got to his feet and, seeing the movement, his father turned towards him.
‘How much have you got left?’
‘Not much, Dad, only a pound or two,’ Alan answered meekly.
‘Hand it over, and from now on I want half the money you collect. It’s about time you earned your keep, and I’m warning you, don’t try to pull a fast one by pocketing extra for yourself.’
Alan was gutted. He knew the money would just feed his parents’ drinking, and to him that was like pouring cash down a drain. What a bloody waste, he thought to himself as the mental picture of the shiny motorbike he’d been dreaming about began to vanish. If he had to hand over half of what they made to his dad, give Kenny a bit and still feed them both, it wouldn’t leave much for himself – definitely not enough to purchase a bike. In fact, he might just about save enough to buy a leather jacket, but what good would that be without the mean machine he had his heart set on?
Alan dug into his pockets and grudgingly handed over two quid to his father.
‘You miserable sod. I’ve put a roof over your head all your life and look at the fucking face on it. Do you see this, Eileen? The tight bastard resents having to give us our share.’
Alan hated his father, but dared not answer him back for fear of getting a good hiding. As far back as he could remember he’d taken slaps, punches and kicks from his dad, beatings which had left him badly battered and bruised. Kenny hadn’t been spared his wrath either, but Alan always seemed to come off far worse than his brother.
He watched as his father stuffed the notes into his trouser pocket, then without another word he grabbed his coat and left, slamming the front door behind him. Alan knew his father would be going to buy a bottle of spirits, probably whisky as booze was the only thing he spent his money on. The cupboards were always bare, and he couldn’t remember the last time his mother had cooked them anything. Considering the lack of food, it was ironic really that he and Kenny were so big, and when they were children school dinners had been a godsend. They’d become bullies, taking sweets or anything else the other kids had, and stealing from local shops and market stalls.
‘You bloody idiot!’ Alan barked at Kenny, who was still cowering on the floor. ‘I told you to keep your big mouth shut. Now look what you’ve gone and done.’
Alan gave his brother a swift kick in his back with his size-ten boots. Kenny winced and yelped in pain, but incensed, Alan felt no sympathy.
‘I’m sorry, Al. I’m sorry,’ Kenny cried.
Alan took a deep breath. Was it any wonder his brother had been born stupid, he thought, as he looked at the state of his mother. She had told them both that she drank heavily during her pregnancy to try to get rid of her unborn child, but instead of killing it she had given birth to an idiot. Alan hated her for calling Kenny that, but counted himself lucky that he wasn’t born the same way. He’d been forced into looking after Kenny and sometimes resented it, showing his feelings by giving him the odd slap.
Eileen stirred from her drunken stupor. ‘Where’s your dad?’ she slurred.
‘He went out,’ Alan snapped.
He didn’t know if his words had registered as she drifted off again, and he looked at her with disgust, hating her as much as he did his father. He wanted to scream at her, to ask how she could call herself a mother and question why she never protected him, fed him or loved him, but he knew it would be pointless. He doubted she even knew what day it was; she’d hardly be coherent enough to give him any satisfactory answers.
‘Kenny, get yourself off to bed now. You don’t want to be up when Dad gets back home,’ Alan said.
Kenny was still sniffling. ‘But I ain’t tired and it’s still light outside.’
‘Don’t make me tell you twice,’ Alan warned. ‘You’ve let me down today with your big gob so just do as you’re told. Anyhow, once Dad comes home he’ll be boozing again and you know what he’s like. Go on, off to bed, you don’t want another hiding from him.’
Kenny sloped off out of the room and Alan sighed heavily. He didn’t want to go back out wandering the streets, but couldn’t face going to bed in the room he shared with Kenny. Though he did his best to keep on top of things, Kenny wet the bed and the room stank of urine. His mother never bothered to do any washing, so when he had the money it meant trips to the launderette, where he cringed with embarrassment as he stuffed the stinking sheets into the m
achine. It wasn’t a nightly occurrence nowadays, but after getting a slap from their dad today, and a kick from him which he now regretted, Alan was pretty sure Kenny would have one of his ‘accidents’ tonight as he always did when he got nervous.
Alan tried to hold his patience because he’d been a bed-wetter too, but had grown out of it when he hit puberty. He shuddered as he recalled the other boys in school circling him, calling him names and jibing him about smelling of wee. But it had toughened him up, and once puberty had set in, along with testosterone, Alan had resolved to never be bullied again. Instead he became the tough kid, and with Kenny copying him, they had become a pair you didn’t mess with.
His thoughts turned to his father again and Alan scowled. Now that their father was demanding a share of their protection money they would have to find another victim to menace by saying they’d look after them. A soft touch this time – maybe a woman.
Kenny lay in bed, tossing and turning as the bright evening sun shone through the tattered bit of material that was nailed to the window frame. He didn’t think it was fair that he had to go to bed and with no pyjamas and only a thin blanket on the bare, lumpy mattress it wasn’t warm or comfortable.
Bored and restless, he felt under his pillow for his favourite toy – a green plastic dinosaur that he’d had since he was seven years old. To get it, he’d punched a kid in his class in the mouth and wrestled it from him. He imagined the dinosaur roaring so loud that it blew his dad over and woke his mum up. Chuckling to himself, he thought what a good day it had been with the park and the chips. He liked the park, but didn’t like it that Alan wouldn’t let him play on the swings. Alan said he had to behave like a man now, and men didn’t play silly games, they sat and drank beer. Kenny scowled. He didn’t like beer; he liked chips and swings and slides, but he had to do what his brother said. If he didn’t he would get into trouble again and get smacked. He didn’t like it when Alan smacked him, but it was even worse when his dad did it.
Kenny turned on his side, still clutching his toy. His brother was clever and knew everything about everything, and only smacked him when he was naughty. Not like his dad who smacked him even when he was being good. He’d smacked him earlier even though he’d brought him chips.
The door opened and Alan came in and sat on the edge of his bed. ‘Do you want to play with my dinosaur?’ Kenny asked, thinking that Alan looked sad.
‘No, thanks, mate. You play with it. Just keep the noise down ’cos Dad will be back any minute now and I’m going to read my comic.’
‘OK, Al, I will. But you’ve read that comic loads of times and you’ve read it to me millions and trillions of times. Ain’t you fed up with it yet?’
Alan slowly nodded his head. ‘A bit,’ he answered, ‘but it’s all about men with superhuman powers who beat the baddies. I like it when the baddies get beaten.’
‘Yeah, me too,’ said Kenny, ‘our dad is a baddie and one day I’m gonna have superpowers and I won’t be scared of him no more.’
‘That’s right, Kenny, one day.’
Kenny rolled over to face the wall and pictured himself with the strength of the Hulk riding on his big green dinosaur. His dad would be scared of him when he saw him on his dinosaur and he wouldn’t hit him again. No, he’d run away, Kenny thought, smiling at the image of his dad running and screaming.
One day, Alan had said, one day, and on that thought Kenny drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 23
Katy and Polly were on their way home from the Saturday market when they bumped into Ross and Toby, who were standing outside the Plough pub.
‘What are you two doing here?’ asked Katy. She knew they weren’t the sort to frequent pubs and they both looked a bit shifty, like they were up to no good.
‘None of your business,’ Ross abruptly answered.
‘All right, keep your hair on, I was only asking,’ Katy responded with a sarcastic tone.
‘Hello,’ said Toby shyly, smiling at Polly. ‘How have you been? You look fantastic.’
‘Hi, Toby, I’m fine, thanks, and thank you. Katy helped me with my hair and outfit. We’re going to see a band tonight at the Star Hotel.’
‘Really, what band are you seeing?’
‘Jethro Tull.’
‘I don’t think I’ve heard of them. What are they like?’
‘To be honest, neither have I but Katy said they’re a pretty cool rock band. We’re not really into rock but there’s not much going on this weekend so we thought we would give it a go.’
‘Well, have fun,’ said Toby.
Polly flushed. Toby was staring at her intently and it made her feel a little uncomfortable.
‘Haven’t you two got somewhere else to go?’ Ross said abruptly.
‘Yes, we have,’ Katy answered. ‘We’ve got better things to do than hang around pubs with you, loser!’
‘Just get lost,’ Ross snapped.
Katy turned and flounced off, saying, ‘Come on, Polly.’
‘See you, Polly,’ Toby called.
Katy grabbed Polly’s arm. ‘Don’t look back or answer him,’ she said quickly. ‘My brother is out of order and that Toby might be a nice bloke but he shouldn’t let Ross talk to us like that. Just ignore him.’
Polly didn’t want to offend her friend so did as she was instructed, but though she found Ross quite difficult, she didn’t agree with Katy about Toby. He wasn’t responsible for Ross’s offhand manner.
‘And it’s so obvious that Toby fancies you,’ Katy continued, ‘God, you can spot it a mile off! But please, tell me it’s not mutual. Or is it?’
Polly liked Toby and was intrigued by his exotic dark skin, but with the death of her parents still raw, she wasn’t ready to think about a boy in that way. ‘He’s nice, but I don’t want any complications at the moment,’ she said. ‘It’s been hard, you know, moving to Croydon and everything and you’ve been amazing, Katy. A boyfriend just isn’t on the agenda for me for a while.’
‘I understand,’ Katy sympathised, ‘and you know, you’ve done so well. I mean, look how far you’ve come and the fun times we’ve had. Eventually you’re going to be up for dating, but for now, today is rock chick day! I know we’ve got hours to go but let’s get home and back-comb my hair.’
‘You’ve got a thing for her, haven’t you?’ Ross asked Toby, annoyed that his best mate could have any feelings for the girl who had disrupted his home life.
‘Yes, I think she’s really nice. Katy’s your sister and she’s all right, so I don’t understand why you’re so short with them both.’
‘No, you wouldn’t, but do me a favour. If you’re thinking of asking Polly out, forget it.’
‘Why?’ Toby asked, confused.
‘I have my reasons, and as your friend I would appreciate a bit of loyalty.’
‘You sound so pompous,’ Toby said, and as a thought crossed his mind he added, ‘Hang on, don’t tell me you like her too?’
‘No, I don’t, I can’t stand her, and I don’t see why she can’t go home to her own bloody house instead of living in mine! Oh bugger it, here they come.’
Alan and Kenny Purvis approached them in their usual tough manner, both looking scruffy and smoking roll-ups.
‘Look, Kenny, it’s rusty nuts and his jungle bunny.’
Ross inwardly fumed. He wanted to show them up, to tell them that they were just ignorant louts who didn’t even know their geography – Toby didn’t come from the jungle – but in truth he was too scared of them to open his mouth.
‘Right,’ Alan continued, ‘we ain’t here for social reasons. Hand over the readies and we’ll be off. And by the way, glad to see that you’re here on time. We wouldn’t want to hang around waiting for you, ’cos if we did you’d have to pay interest on your payments, say sixpence for every minute you’re late. Remember that for next time.’
Ross could feel his blood boiling and silently seethed as he resentfully handed five pounds to Alan.
‘Nice one,’ he said
with a grin of triumph. ‘See you next week, tosser, same time, same place, and Sambo, we’ll see you in your shop on Monday. Pleasure doing business with you,’ he said before moseying off with Kenny.
There was a pause, and then, after sighing heavily, Ross said, ‘Come on, Toby, let’s get out of here. We’ll go to your shop to finish off the last of the refit, then after dinner tonight – and you’re invited to ours – do you know what I fancy?’
‘No, mate.’
‘A bloody good drink!’
‘Ross, I’ve never known you wanting to drink,’ Toby said looking surprised.
‘Maybe not, but then you’ve never known me to be blackmailed before either. Let’s go out tonight and get drunk!’
Polly and Katy only had small portions of Jackie’s mince and mash as they’d decided they didn’t want to show bloated tummies in the outfits they were wearing for the rock concert. They were in Katy’s bedroom adding the finishing touches to their make-up and doing last-minute outfit changes, both excited at the prospect of seeing the rock band.
‘Did you think Ross seemed a bit moody over dinner?’ Polly asked.
‘No more than usual,’ Katy replied. ‘You know what he’s like, the miserable so-and-so. Don’t worry about him. But I was right about Toby, he definitely fancies you. Even my mum noticed.’
Polly was mortified. ‘Oh, no, what did she say?’
‘The same as me, that it’s obvious Toby likes what he sees.’ Katy lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Do you know, I’ve never known either of them to have girlfriends so they must be virgins.’
‘So are we,’ Polly pointed out.
‘Yes, I know, but they’re older than us and most chaps who are over twenty-one have done it by then, or at least make out they have. But those two, I don’t know, they just seem different from the rest of the young men around here.’
‘Well,’ said Polly, ‘I think it’s nice that they’re saving themselves for the right girls and don’t go round boasting about their sexual prowess.’
