Tale of Two Halves

by Gary Davison

  There was one time when we were playing Scotswood in the cup and Vin put me clear through, one on one with the keeper, and when I looked up there were four or five lads, much older than us, hanging from the cross-bar like monkeys. I remember them because they had no tops on and jeans and one had a huge blond mohican and red braces. I fluffed the chance and they threw bottles and cans at me.

  We hit a bank coming through the estate and were up out of our saddles, weaving from one side of the road to the other. It was roasting hot and people had pulled their armchairs and sofas out of their houses and had them in their front gardens. Kids were playing kerbs and footy, using the garden gates as the goals. As we passed we got some verbals and a few bottles landed behind us as we were riding away.

  Reaching the top, we could hear music booming, the Sex Pistols’ God Save the Queen, and there were more people about, standing drinking and smoking. One woman was leaning over her gate. She was fat with black hair tied back and she was only wearing a bra. She had tattoos down her arms and was smoking. The closer we got, the more I knew she was going to say something.

  She opened her gate and walked out into the road. Lads, years older than us, stopped what they were doing and came into the street blocking our way. We slowed down, then came to a stop. I felt more coming behind us and someone kicked my back wheel.

  The woman stood in front of us, fat white belly hanging over her jeans. ‘Where do you think you’re off to?’

  ‘We’re going to Stan’s place on the corner,’ I said, trying to stay calm. I’d have a go and so would Vin, but we were surrounded. Some of these would have left school by now and were probably carrying blades and guns, and we had nothing. Still, if they came at us we’d give it a go.

  ‘That right?’ the woman said, leaning on my handlebars. Boy did she stink, and I’m talking the worst smell on the planet. Smoke, beer, BO and probably puke. I had to try not to cough.

  ‘How you know, Stan?’

  ‘We’re D’s mates, his nephew.’

  ‘D’s mates, are you? Well, well.’

  The people behind us started to move away and I took a deep breath knowing we had an escape route. I glanced over my shoulder and they had gone back to what they were doing. A few in front of us moved away leaving the woman and two lads, probably sixteen, seventeen, covered it tattoos with skinheads and tramlines.

  ‘So what do you know about this fire last night, then?’

  ‘Chip pan?’ Vin blurted out.

  The woman chuckled and stepped aside. ‘Chip pan it is, lads. On you go.’

  The second we got round the corner we were off, fast as our bikes would take us. Down the bank, bunnyhoping over bricks on the road, up onto the path to avoid a burnt-out car, then onto Stan’s street. His place was on the corner.

  We got off our bikes and walked up to the high metal gates. The only ones we had seen on the estate. The wall on the outside was a different brick to the others in the street and there were two statues of dogs on the pillars. The gate was padlocked with a big chain and the side gate was padlocked too. In the front garden was a swing and there was a caravan at the back of the drive and some car parts and wheels on the grass. We didn’t want to hang around, so it was either over the fence and knock on the door or do one.

  Vin wanted to go but I had to see Stan. All I kept thinking about was D’s dad and what he would do to us. I kept seeing his head appear at the door to the den and there’d be no way out and we’d have to set ourselves on fire to save ourselves from being beaten to death. D’s dad in the den? He’d fill the whole den just with his head, and could probably reach from our end to the other and sweep us all together and crush us. I was scared, I’ll admit that, who wouldn’t be? Anyone else, we’d have a go. We’d have a go at anyone and fancy our chances, but D’s dad couldn’t be beaten. We’d seen that.

  We had a look around the side of the house, but couldn’t see in the back garden because of a black metal shed. We came back around the front and Stan’s next door neighbour was sitting on his steps smoking and drinking a can. I walked over to his gate.

  ‘I’m looking for Stan. We’re friends of, D.’

  ‘He’s not in, but he’s expecting you.’

  Vin and me looked at each other and my stomach dropped. ‘Been expecting us?’

  ‘Aye, you’re the lads from last night’s fire, aren’t you?’

  I wasn’t able to do anything but nod. I felt like the whole town knew what was happening, except us. If everyone knew it was us, why hadn’t we been arrested or, worse still, slaughtered?

  ‘I would get up and see Stan, sharp, son. Before his brother-in-law gets a hold of you.’

  ‘Where do we go?’

  ‘Follow the track all the way along the river. When you get to Newburn, go over the bridge and follow the river on that side. Stan is holed up there. Look out for the gold Jag. His is the one next to the jetty.’

  We thanked the old man and pedalled like crazy down the bank towards the river.

  12

  We stopped for a gobstopper ice cream and a bottle of Tizer at the van along from Newburn. It didn’t feel safe to sit on the bank side, in the open, so we went into the park opposite and sat with our backs to the wall, in the shade.

  ‘How come they know, Jay?’

  ‘And how come they knew we’d come?’

  ‘Doesn’t feel right. Feels like we’re caught in something bigger, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Don’t know. Something’s not right.’

  D only asked us an hour ago to go see his uncle Stan. If we’d refused, then what? What would happen? We’d probably have gone to the den and waited. Waited for what? D’s dad? If he was out of prison and fighting tonight, then we would be on his hit list. If a next door neighbour of D’s uncle was expecting us and now knew our faces, then everyone else could well know, and if D’s dad came knocking, he’d get answers alright. He’d spill some blood and when he did get answers, he’d spill our blood.

  Vin tossed his ice cream onto the grass, only half of it eaten. Vin never wastes a scrap of food, especially, ice cream. He put his head in his hands and said, ‘I don’t even want to go home. What if he’s been?’

  I felt the same. If I went home, would I find my mam and dad butchered and Sunny Jim with a stake through his heart hanging from the back of the living room door? The man’s a monster, kills with his bare hands, there’s no one who could stop him. Not an army, no one. And now he was on our tail because we had burnt his house to the ground. If he killed for money, what would he do for revenge?

  We couldn’t go back home, school, nothing. As long as D’s dad was around we had to stay away. Live on our wits, like we were going to up at Kielder, except now we had no choice. Couldn’t go back, couldn’t phone home. What would my grandma do? This would kill her. The not knowing where I was – she couldn’t cope. She’d think I was dead. And there would be a trail of destruction from D’s dad, carving families up, shooting everyone that had came into contact with us. He would find us and we would be burnt at the stake.

  ‘What we going to do, Jay?’ Vin said again.

  ‘We’re going to stick together, like we’ve always done. And we’re going to find a way out of this because we’ve done nothing wrong.’

  ‘We had no choice.’

  ‘It was D or him and we’re as one, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Let’s go see Stan. See what D has up his sleeve.’

  14

  We pedelled over Newburn bridge, down the other side and followed the track towards Wylam. We passed a rowing team and usually we would have pelted them, but we weren’t in the mood. Weren’t in the mood for anything. Our lives had changed since last night. We were on the run now and that was that. The sooner we got used to it, the sooner we became top boys at this, too.

  D’s dad was the man. True enough. No one could beat him for miles around. But we’d never been beaten either, and we weren’t taking this lying down. We couldn’t beat him one-on-one, but wh
at’s to say we couldn’t find another way? Sticking together, like always, we would find a way.

  Take Stocksfield on Thursday – it will be three-to-one against us. Maybe more if some of the lower years turn out, but that don’t bother us, we’ll run them right off the top field. Once we scatter them, we’ll take the game ones on and the rest will make a run for it. Difference with us is – we’re all game. Even little Kenny The Weasel. Kenny’ll go toe to toe with anyone. Sometimes takes a few heavy ones but he’s still there. We all are. Right until the end and we walk together. This was no different. We just had to figure out how to handle things.

  We took a track off the main route so we were hidden by the trees. Through an opening we could see a jetty. It was brown and needed painting. There was a small motor-boat tied up in the water and two dogs asleep under the shade of an overhanging tree. Vin and me hid our bikes in some bushes, covered them well, and headed down on foot.

  We stopped just beyond the opening and had a good look around. We’d not been this far up the river before. Down below us was still. I could hear the rowing team shouting further downstream. On the opposite side there were a couple of dog walkers and someone sitting on a park bench throwing skimmers into the water. We slowly made our way down to the jetty.

  Reaching the bottom track, we slowed up as one of the sheep dogs lifted its head. Then the other and quicker than lightning they were up and at us. We were off too, up the bank, slipping and scrambling to our feet. I jumped onto the first tree I came to, shimming up and pulling Vin up as they nipped at his ankles.

  ‘What you going to do! You’re dog meat!’ I yelled at them, snapping a twig off and throwing it down. ‘You lucky I haven’t got my catty or you’d be missing an eye, Lassie. You hear me?’

  Vin was slipping so I moved up a branch and helped him up. Then we both burst out laughing. Hysterical we both were, snapping twigs and throwing them into the woods so the dogs ran off chasing shadows. We couldn’t stop and I near wet myself. So did Vin. The two of us kept on laughing and didn’t want to stop. Laughing at the dogs and laughing at last night. Everything was a joke. The whole damn thing was nothing but a big joke and we were going to head home and laugh it out round the table in the den. Really give it to them.

  When the laughing stopped and the dogs were settled back on the jetty, we came down from the tree and sat in the woods. I got a twig and drew a few circles in the dust. Don’t know why, but I drew D’s house, our house, Vin’s house, Hollywood’s, Kenny’s, and the Pesante brothers’ house. Six circles in the dust and we guessed the distances between each. Quarter mile, half, less, you know, just to see, and it looked like a drawing that was in the school corridor of all the planets. I put a big X through D’s house now it was burnt down. That left a big gap so I put the den there. And it got me thinking.

  ‘Who else knows about the den except us five?’ I asked Vin.

  ‘No one.’

  ‘You sure The Weasel hasn’t told Mammy and Daddy just to be on the safe side?’

  ‘It’s possible. Ask him.’

  ‘He’ll say no. He’s got to otherwise he breaks our code and would be out.’

  ‘One thing’s certain, D wouldn’t have told anyone. He feels safer at the den than home.’

  ‘Best place for us now, as well. If D’s dad…’

  We heard a rustling down next to the jetty and crouched down. A big man wearing a flat cap came through the bushes and shouted, ‘You boys going to come down, or not? I haven’t got all night.’

  I didn’t answer. Didn’t breathe.

  ‘If I were in your shoes I’d get down here now before I change my mind.’

  ‘What about the dogs?’ I shouted.

  ‘I’ll put them inside. Come on, we need to talk.’

  The dogs followed him inside and we made our way down.

  15

  The jetty wasn’t safe to walk on. There were boards missing everywhere and you could see the brown water swooshing up to the posts. We made our way around the outside looking out for the two sheep dogs.

  There were steps, the same colour and state of the jetty, leading up to an open door. The window at the side had no glass in and the place looked like an open shed rather than somewhere you’d live. I looked at Vin and he shrugged, so I put one foot on the step and held the railing, which was covered in moss and rotting. Just as I did, the dogs jumped up at the open window barking. I fell back and Vin and me stumbled into each other and nearly went over the edge and into the water. My heart was pounding out of my chest and I was all for making a run for it when the man came to the top of the stairs.

  He was huge and could barely fit through the door. He had taken his flat cap off and was bald, with a big face that had collapsed in around his mouth. He had grey stubble which was stained yellow and a big purple nose. ‘Come on up.’

  We walked inside and followed the man along a wide corridor that opened out into a big square where the open window was. It wasn’t so much an open window, just an opening with no glass that looked out onto the jetty and river. At the end of the corridor, there was an opening on the right, nothing to the left, no living room or bedrooms, just a dead end. This was the man’s living room. There were newspapers spread out all over the floor and he had a camping stove in the corner. He beckoned for us to sit down on the floor.

  He finished his food and washed it down with whatever he was drinking in the tin cup. Then he reached for his teeth out of a glass of water on the floor, put them in, and gave us a big smile. ‘That’s more like it. Nowt worse than meeting people for the first time with no teeth in.’ He stood up, banged his chest and let out a roar of a burp. ‘Let’s go for a walk.’

  Walking back along the corridor, you could see that this wasn’t a house and never had been. The back end of it was rotten and had fallen into the water and it felt like the rest could go at any second. Especially under the weight of Stan, who had to be twenty stone. He looked even bigger up close, like a bear. He had a huge stomach which kept popping out beneath his shirt.

  He complained, sighed and swore as he made his way down the stairs. We stood well back in case the stairs collapsed under his weight. You could hear the creak, creak creaking with every step. I was on my tip-toes, hands gently on the banister. I didn’t want to put any weight on anything.

  When we were down to the jetty, Stan turned quickly – really quick for such a big old man, and threw a few punches into the air. ‘Bah!’ he said, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Should have put an end to this ten years ago. Would have done if it wasn’t for Elsie begging me not to. Man needs a proper going over. Maybe more. We’ll have to see.’

  Stan walked over to the side of the jetty and used the rail to get himself up onto the bank, huffing and puffing and cursing. ‘Die, you old bastard!’ he shouted, then walked off along the track. We quickly followed and caught up with him as he walked into an opening. There was a blue fishing rod with line sagging into the water and a fishing chair that just about touched the ground. Stan lowered himself into it with a sigh and said, ‘Tell me what happened last night.’

  ‘You are Stan, aren’t you?’ I said.

  He chuckled and said, smirking, ‘I’m Stan, son, and you just nearly burnt my nephew and sister to death, so get talking. There’s life in me yet.’

  We told him everything that had happened without pausing for breath and he never stopped us once. Stan looked more interested in his fishing than what we had to say. We told him everything that D’s dad had done and how horrible it was, that we couldn’t think of anything else to do except bomb the window. We told him how we didn’t mean for the full house to go up and how dangerous we realised it was, but at the time it was do that or watch our best friend die. Which we’d never do, as we always stand together. As one, no matter what.

  ‘As one?’ Stan said, setting his rod down between the Y-twig he was using as a rest. ‘All for one and one for all?’

  ‘That’s right,’ I said, ‘and you can laugh at us but we ain’t been b
eaten ever. Not once and we’ve taken on…’

  ‘Blakelaw and won with only three of you and you’re fighting Stocksfield on Thursday on the top field.’

  I suddenly felt like there were people in the bushes behind us and that our bikes had been taken. I felt cold around the neck and shoulders and looked across the other side of the river. Could we swim against the tide and make it? Not in a straight line but we’d get across. If D was here he’d do it in a straight line. Fastest swimmer in the school, D, and could swim for hours.

  Vin moved behind me and I stepped away from Stan, who turned away from his rod and looked at us. He looked huge, spilling out of the camping chair, but one thing he wouldn’t be doing was getting out of it in a hurry. We’d be in the water and away before he was on his feet.

  Stan reached into his tackle box and brought out his tobacco and started rolling up. ‘Easy, boys, I’m on your side. I’m D’s uncle for Christ’s sakes, now settle down. Here.’ He passed us his smoking pouch and I sat down, crossed-legged, facing the bushes behind him. A single noise and I’d be in the water and away.

  Stan sat back in his chair, his tattooed arms resting on the side like lumps of timber from the jetty, his face engulfed in smoke, which he wafted away. ‘Derek comes to see me a lot. Even more since I’ve moved out here. It’s quiet. It’s the way I like it, now. My time’s been and gone, young D’s is only starting, but I know what he’s all about. Tells me about you boys, so I know what he means to you. Make no mistake about that. That’s why I told his mother to send you up here after last night. Been a long time coming this and you lads have just got yourself caught up in it. Pity, but it’s… hold on, steady, got you!’

  Stan whipped his rod up and it bent over. He tried getting to his feet, but couldn’t and would have fallen straight out of his chair if we hadn’t grabbed him. We got an arm each and lifted with all our might until he was up. He cursed and huffed and puffed and I thought he was going to collapse on us right there, but he steadied himself and began bringing the fish in.