Born Evil

by Kimberley Chambers

  ‘I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing, Charlie, but I think me and you should give Daddy one more chance. If he messes up, son, then it’s just me and you against the whole wide world. What do you think, eh, boy?’

  Charlie finished his bottle, took one look at his mother and screamed.

  EIGHT

  DEBBIE LOOKED AT her shiny new phone and knew that the first call she had to make was the one she’d been most dreading.

  She had to ring her Mickey and invite him round to see the baby. Her brother was a clever bastard, and would get suspicious if she put him off any longer. She had no excuse now anyway as the tell-tale signs of the hiding she’d endured were long gone.

  It was three weeks to the day since Charlie’s birth and she’d been back at home in Barking for just under a week. Giving Billy another chance hadn’t been easy, but she’d felt it was the right thing to do. She still hadn’t totally forgiven him; that would come in time, she hoped. But since she’d been home, Billy had been a different person. He’d been extra-kind and attentive, and when he wasn’t out working, had been waiting on her, hand and foot.

  Sharon and Donna had been there to offer any advice she needed about motherhood, but the pair of them refused to come into her flat any more.

  ‘We want nothing more to do with that no-good bastard, and neither should you,’ they’d told her in no uncertain terms. Sharon, in particular, was furious with Debbie for giving him another chance. ‘You gotta be fucking mad, Debs,’ she’d insisted. ‘A leopard don’t change its spots, mate. He’ll do it again, you mark my words.’

  Debbie had shrugged her shoulders, knowing that there was every chance her friend was right. There was no way she could explain why she’d taken him back, she couldn’t betray Billy’s confidence, so she’d just kept quiet and let her best friend think she’d taken leave of her senses.

  Taking a deep breath, Debbie took the bit of paper Mickey had given her out of her purse and dialled her brother’s number. He already knew that she’d given birth to Charlie because she’d called him from Sharon’s phone a few days earlier, and given him a load of cock and bull about a premature labour.

  ‘I reckon they got the dates wrong, Mick,’ she’d lied.

  Mickey had wanted to rush straight over to meet his little nephew, but Debbie had put him off. She’d told him that she felt like shit and needed to rest up for a few days before she had any visitors. ‘As soon as I feel well enough, you can be my first visitor,’ she’d promised.

  Now, as the phone was answered, Debbie did her best to sound happy and jovial. ‘I feel much more like meself now, Mick, and little Charlie can’t wait to meet his uncle. When do you wanna come round?’

  ‘Tomorrow lunchtime okay, sis? I’ve got little Charlie loads of presents, and I’ve got a surprise for you as well.’

  ‘Great,’ Debbie said unenthusiastically. ‘See you tomorrow then, Mick. Come after one.’

  She replaced the receiver, put her head in her hands and cried. She really didn’t feel like playing happy families, but knew she couldn’t avoid it.

  The last couple of weeks had been hard for her, bloody hard, and since she’d come out of hospital she’d had very little sleep. It wasn’t Billy, he’d been fine. It was Charlie who was causing her untold worry. The kid just didn’t stop crying, and since she’d brought him home he’d got worse and worse.

  She would feed him, rock him, cuddle him, but nothing seemed to work. Now she was at the end of her tether. He’d been fully checked over at the hospital and a health visitor had popped in to see him at home, assuring her that the baby was just fine and things would become easier in time.

  Debbie flopped down on the bed, feeling thoroughly exhausted. Billy had gone back to work today and she felt a failure trying at coping alone. The baby seemed to respond better to his father than to her. If Billy picked Charlie up, his tears subsided. When she tried, they worsened. The child hated her, she could sense it. Either that or she was being paranoid and imagining things. Perhaps she had that post-natal depression.

  After another night with virtually no sleep, Debbie’s mood was no better the following day. Her brother was due in a few hours and she was absolutely dreading it. She still hadn’t forgiven him for the day he’d had a beer with Billy and earned her a bloody good hiding.

  Debbie wasn’t in the mood to do anything, but forced herself to have a bath. The sight of herself in the cracked mirror did nothing to lighten her mood. She looked dreadful, and even though most of the baby weight had disappeared, still had rolls of fat around her middle, which looked disgusting.

  She tried on her old Levi jeans, but they wouldn’t do up so she chucked on a pair of old black trackie bottoms and a baggy black T-shirt. Feeling frumpy and ugly, she applied some lipstick and eye shadow. The end result was awful. She felt even more hideous. As she was about to get changed once again, Charlie began screaming his head off. Time for his bottle. Feeling physically drained, she shuffled into the kitchen.

  Debbie was just about to feed her son when the buzzer went. Unfortunately for her, Mickey had arrived half an hour early. She felt like tearing her hair out as she laid Charlie back in his cot and answered the door. As if things couldn’t get any worse, to her horror, not only was her brother standing there, but her mother was as well.

  ‘I told you I had a surprise for you,’ Mickey announced, not noticing her anguished expression. Laden with bags of presents for the baby, he dumped them all in the hallway and walked back towards the door. ‘I’ve gotta go down to the car, sis, to get his big present out. Have a chat with Mum for a minute, eh?’

  Completely taken by surprise, Debbie went on to autopilot and offered her mother a cup of tea. Picking up screaming Charlie, she took him into the living room and thrust him towards his nan.

  ‘Meet your grandson, his name’s Charlie. Oh, and by the way, I must be a shit mother as he doesn’t stop fucking crying!’

  Debbie stomped out into the kitchen and waited for the kettle to boil. She was gonna have her Mickey for this. Fucking cheek, bringing Mum round here without her say-so!

  June Dawson sat down on the battered old sofa and tried to soothe the distressed child. As she studied him, she felt there was something unusual about him. She had expected to melt at the sight of her first born grandchild, but instead felt no maternal stirring whatsoever. Maybe it’s because its Billy’s child, she thought, noticing that the poor little mite had inherited his father’s rat-like features.

  Looking around the living room, though, June understood the child’s misery. ‘Shit-hole’ did not even begin to describe this place. The furniture was threadbare, the curtains ill-fitting, and it didn’t look as if any housework had been done for weeks.

  June smiled as her daughter brought in the tea. ‘He’s gorgeous, Debbie,’ she lied as she offered the child back to her. ‘So, apart from him crying, are you coping okay, love?’

  Debbie took Charlie from her mother and looked defiantly into her eyes. ‘What are you really doing here, Mum? I thought you wanted nothing to do with us. Why the change of heart?’

  June took a sip of her drink before answering. ‘Mickey asked me to come. I’ve been so worried about you and was desperate to make sure you were okay. You are my only daughter, Debs, and believe it or not, I love you very much.’

  Debbie went straight on the defensive. ‘Don’t give me that old bollocks,’ she said, as she gently laid her son over her shoulder to rub his back. ‘I bet you love me so much, you haven’t even told Peter you’re coming to fucking see me.’

  Unable to meet her daughter’s stare, June was saved from answering by Mickey returning with the most expensive buggy he’d been able to find.

  ‘What do you think, sis?’ he asked casually.

  ‘Thanks, Mick, it’s a beauty.’

  He smiled. ‘Give us the little bruiser ’ere, I’m dying to meet him.’

  As Mickey took Charlie into his arms he felt himself shudder. The situation reminded him of the epis
ode of Only Fools and Horses when Rodney had first looked at Del boy’s kid. Difference was, the guy who played Rodney had been fucking acting! ‘He’s a belter, Debs,’ lied Mickey. Desperate to get rid of the child, he handed him over to June. ‘Go see Nana,’ he said in a silly voice.

  As Debbie watched her son bond with his family, she felt her mood lighten. Both granny and uncle were obviously besotted and she was overjoyed to see it.

  * * *

  Billy McDaid thanked his two punters, sat back on his barstool and sipped at his pint. He had his shitty old workman’s clothes on today because he’d told Debs he had a few days’ graft on a building site. It wasn’t true, he’d just wanted to make a good impression, let her know he was trying hard to change. Selling a bit of gear was easy money for Billy and he was fucked if he was jacking it in. He needed the money now, anyway, what with three mouths to feed. What Debs didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, and after a week or so he’d tell her there was no more work and he’d gone back to serving up, just to keep the wolf from the door.

  Things had been going really well since she had come home from hospital and he found he was thoroughly enjoying being a father. Obviously with babies you were limited as to what you could do with them, and secretly he couldn’t wait until Charlie was that bit older. Billy was gagging to introduce his son round the local pubs, take him to football and do the whole father-and-son routine. He was over the moon that Debbie had decided to give him another chance and was determined not to fuck it up this time. Since telling her about all the shit he’d endured in his childhood, he felt as if he’d unloaded some of his problems, shared the burden. Although his past would never go away, he felt that by offloading himself to Debs he had brought them closer together. At least now she could finally understand him as a person.

  She still drove him mad at times and probably always would. She was always moaning and getting on his case about work and shit, but he’d come to the conclusion that all women were the same. If they opened their mouths, they whinged. Simple as that. On the other hand, he knew his Debs was one of the most decent birds he’d ever met and that he’d struggle to find a better one.

  ‘Do ya want another drink, Bill?’

  He politely refused. ‘Nae thanks, mate, I’m gonna get meself home to Debs and the wean.’

  Billy left the pub feeling happy with himself. A bonny wean and a beautiful lassie, what more could a man want? Smiling, he decided to stop at the offie. His woman deserved a treat and he was just the man to buy her one. Browsing the shelves, he bought a bottle of wine, a box of Milk Tray and six cans of Strongbow. He’d had a good day today and had nicked at least a fifty. Deciding to really push the boat out, he headed to the local Chinese, and ordered a tenner’s worth of takeaway.

  ‘I’m home, hen,’ he called cheerfully as he entered the flat. ‘I’ve brought you loads of goodies, lassie.’

  Debbie had had a good afternoon since her mother and brother had left. After the initial awkwardness, it had been really nice to see them and although no arrangement had been made to meet up again, she knew all she had to do was pick up the phone. She hadn’t had a go at Mickey after all. Her mother, for all her faults, had seemed genuinely pleased to be with her. Debbie had even put up with June doing her Hyacinth Bucket bit, allowing her to vac, polish and do some ironing.

  After her family had left, Debbie had for once managed to get Charlie off to sleep. She now felt miles better after some much-needed shut-eye herself. In fact, she’d only woken an hour ago.

  ‘Surprise!’ Billy announced as he stood in the doorway.

  ‘Bill, come and look at all this stuff!’ Debbie called to him excitedly. She’d just been going through all the bags her Mickey had left for Charlie and he’d bought some blinding gear. Baby jeans, cord dungarees, little boots, the tiniest Nike trainers you ever did see, a baseball cap, toys … he’d thought of everything.

  ‘Look, Bill,’ she said again as she clapped her hands together in excitement. ‘Mickey got all these up Bethnal Green. He reckons there are some fantastic baby shops there. He said he’ll take me and I can pick out whatever I want.’

  As Billy stood there with the Chinese in one hand and the carrier bag in the other, he felt like a complete and utter prick.

  ‘What you brought me then, Bill?’ Debbie asked cheerfully.

  ‘Nothing much,’ he said dejectedly. ‘Only a Chinese and that.’

  She jumped up and slung her arms around his neck. She’d already decided not to mention the fact that her mum had visited, just in case it upset him. ‘Oh, you’re a darling. Go and dish it up, Bill, I’m starving! Let’s get stuck in while Charlie’s still asleep.’

  Billy walked into the kitchen and threw the Chinese on to the worktop. He took the Milk Tray out of the bag and slung the box straight into the bin. His blood was boiling and he was fucking fuming. He’d thought Debs would be over the moon with his surprise, but no, her cunting brother had had to arrive here first like fucking Santa Claus and make his present look like a burnt offering.

  As he chucked the special fried rice on to the plates, he took a few deep breaths. He had to keep his temper in check, couldn’t lose it, not now.

  ‘Mickey fucking Big Shot Cunt,’ he muttered to himself, as he shovelled prawn balls on the side. He hated being belittled and, for the second time in months, Deb’s brother had managed it quite easily.

  ‘What you doing, Bill? Hurry up, I’m starving!’ Debbie shouted innocently.

  ‘Coming, dear,’ he growled, gritting his teeth with anger. He couldn’t be made to feel a loser any more by her brother. He’d had enough of it. He’d have to put a stop to his visits, cause a row, do something. Mickey fucking Dawson was hardly Reggie Kray. The sooner he got the cunt out of their lives, the better.

  NINE

  December 1994

  ‘DO YOU MIND waiting behind for a few minutes, Debbie? Only I need to have a word with you in private.’

  Debbie sat down on one of the plastic chairs and watched all the other mums and kids straggle out of the building. Feeling her cheeks redden, she braced herself for the worst. She didn’t have to wait long. Two minutes later Charlie’s teacher sat down next to her, a pitying expression plastered across her face. In her most patronising voice, Mrs Jones listed all the naughty things that Charlie had been caught doing that particular week. These included punching a little girl, spitting at a little boy and showing his willy to her and everybody else in his class.

  As her son sat on a nearby chair, rocking in his seat and giggling uncontrollably at the stories of his own antics, Debbie cringed with horror. This wasn’t the first time she’d had to deal with this kind of situation, but she still didn’t know what to say.

  She cleared her throat. ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Jones. I promise I’ll have a word with Charlie’s father as soon as I get home, and I can assure you he will be punished for his bad behaviour.’

  Mrs Jones nodded her head sympathetically. In all her years of teaching children, she had never come across one as intelligent as Charlie. He was approaching genius level developmentally. Streets ahead for his age, he was three going on thirteen. But so far as his behaviour went, he was the worst child she had ever taught. He was rude, constantly swore, had an extremely violent nature and was way too sexually aware for his tender years. Mrs Jones glanced at the child, still gleefully rocking on his chair and pulling faces at her. Turning her attention back to his mother, she felt nothing but relief as she delivered her final blow.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Debbie, but I think it would be best all round if you found another nursery for Charlie to attend. We’ve been extremely patient with him and given him so many chances, but we simply haven’t the staff to deal with him here. He seems to need constant attention and we have to divide our time equally between all of the children.’

  ‘He won’t misbehave again, I promise, Mrs Jones. Please, just give him one more chance?’ Debbie pleaded.

  ‘No,’ said the teacher firmly. ‘Charlie has had too
many chances as it is. Recently we’ve had far too many complaints from the other parents. I’m afraid we have no choice other than to ask you to remove him. I’m really sorry, Debbie, but we just can’t control him and also feel that he’d benefit from a change of school. As you know, his intelligence is not in question, but unfortunately he needs far more attention than we can offer him here.’

  Debbie stood up. ‘Okay, well, thank you for your time, Mrs Jones.’

  ‘Old bag, old bag, old bag,’ Charlie chanted, and started to laugh hysterically.

  Grabbing her child out of his seat, Debbie dragged him towards the door. Telling him off was useless. He’d obey Billy, but with her it went in one ear and out the other. Five minutes from home, she happened to remember that she’d forgotten to collect her Family Allowance. With Christmas on the horizon, money was much needed so she decided to take a detour towards the Post Office.

  ‘Nooooo, wanna go home!’ Charlie screamed, sitting down on the pavement and refusing to budge.

  ‘Please, Charlie, now come on, be a good boy for Mummy. If we don’t go to the Post Office, Father Christmas won’t bring you any presents next week.’

  ‘Don’t care,’ he replied, folding his arms. ‘Father Christmas not real. I want toys today.’

  Debbie wearily reverted to the only tactic she knew would work. ‘You be a good boy, Charlie. Come to the Post Office with Mummy and you can pick out any toy you want.’

  Smiling, Charlie got up from the pavement. As young as he was, he knew exactly what buttons to press with his silly mummy.

  At the Post Office, Debbie was greeted by the sight of a long queue and her heart sank. Charlie and queues didn’t really go together. Holding his hand and forcing him to stand next to her, she prayed for him to behave and not make a show of her. Her prayers must have fallen on deaf ears. Five minutes later, he pointed at the woman in the sari standing in front of them and screamed, ‘Look, Mum – Paki, Paki, Paki.’