Connie was hopping about like a cat on a hot tin roof. Ray had been gone ages. The silly old sod had no sense of direction. She always sat in the passenger seat with the A to Z when they had to travel out of the area to pick up a child, so chances were he’d got himself lost. She had told him to stop at a phone box and call her as soon as he had any news. So why hadn’t he done so?
Connie glanced out of the window again. She’d been so pleased when Dumbo turned up to keep Scratch company. She’d rung him yesterday and pleaded with him to come. ‘Scratch is positive Tommy will turn up, Dumbo, and I don’t think he’s going to. That girl is going to need company and a friend tomorrow,’ were Connie’s exact words. She’d then bribed him by offering to cook him a roast on Sunday.
She lifted her mug of tea for a sip and nearly dropped it when Ray’s car pulled up outside. She hadn’t told Scratch where Ray was going, didn’t want to build her hopes up.
Connie ran into the hallway. ‘Well?’ she said, as Ray stepped through the front door.
‘It’s not good news, Connie.’
‘He’s been arrested, hasn’t he? I knew it.’
‘No, love. Tommy’s fine. It’s not good news for Scratch, mind. There was nobody home at the Darlings’, so I knocked at the neighbour’s. Tommy’s getting married today.’
Connie put her hand over her mouth. ‘Getting married! To who?’
‘Donna Darling. Jack’s daughter. Tommy’s got her in the family way.’
Connie was gobsmacked. Poor Scratch. Today was her sixteenth birthday. How the hell was she meant to explain something like this? As for Tommy Boyle, Connie was furious with him. She and Ray had been bloody good to that boy. How could he get hitched without even telling them? The lad was a coward.
The hall where the reception was held had been transformed into a stunning sea of white. Drapes hung from the ceilings and walls, and a white flashing dance floor had been laid especially for the occasion. Suzie planned most of it. She had an eye for interior design.
The meal was fabulous. Rib of beef and chicken for main course, served with sautéed potatoes in the nicest sauce Tommy had ever tasted. There was free booze on the tables for everyone. Jack had really pushed the boat out.
Danny was the first to give a speech. After getting them all laughing with a few stories about when he first met the groom, he told the guests, ‘Tommy’s always been more like a brother to me than a friend.’
Jack was next up. He cleared his throat and laid his hand on Donna’s shoulder. ‘Like any good father, I love my daughter dearly. You do worry about girls more though and believe me when I say my Donna has given me many a sleepless night over the years. Every father wants their daughter to marry a good lad – one of your own, so to speak. So when romance blossomed between these two, Suzie and I were overjoyed. Tommy had a tough time of it growing up. His mother died when he was only twelve, then he was pushed from pillar to post. But he’s a lad to be proud of, which is why I changed his name to Darling. He’s one of us now, part of the family. Myself and Suzie couldn’t be bloody happier that he is marrying our Donna.’
When everybody cheered and Jack tapped him on the back, Tommy guessed it was his turn to say something. He’d never had to get up and speak in front of so many people before. ‘Erm, I’d like to thank Jack, Suzie, Ronnie, Danny and Eugene for welcoming me into the family like they have. But most of all, I would like to thank Donna for making me so happy. I know I’m only young, but I’m mature for my age and I cannot wait to be a husband and a father to our child. Oh, and thank you all for coming and sharing our special day with us. Means a lot.’
Relieved he got a big round of applause and could now sit down again, Tommy squeezed Donna’s hand. ‘I love you,’ he whispered.
‘I know you do,’ Donna smiled.
After spending ages planning the correct words in her head, Connie went out the front. Scratch hadn’t eaten all day, neither had she moved from that spot. ‘I need to talk to you, Scratch. Come inside please, love.’
‘Has Tommy been in touch?’ Scratch asked.
‘Can I come inside too please, Connie? I’m starving. You got any food?’ Dumbo enquired.
‘Ray’s in the kitchen. He’ll make you a sandwich. Come into my office, Scratch. I need to talk to you about Tommy, in private.’
Scratch leapt up and followed Connie into the house. Lots of reasons why Tommy had stopped contacting her had been drifting through her mind lately. The two of them were soulmates, and she knew he would never let her down, so her guess was he’d got into trouble and had perhaps got sent to borstal. Tommy always said he was going to get his own back on Wayne Bradley for what he’d done to Smiffy. So maybe he’d found out where Wayne was, and then got nicked.
Connie shut her office door. ‘Sit down, love.’
‘Have you heard from him? Has he called you?’ Scratch gabbled. She had butterflies in her stomach, big bloody butterflies.
Connie leaned across her desk and squeezed Scratch’s hand. ‘Tommy isn’t coming to meet you today. I am so sorry Scratch, I really am.’
‘Why? Is he in borstal?’
‘No. He’s not in borstal. He’s moved on, my love.’
‘Moved on where? Doesn’t he live with the Darlings no more? Dumbo said if he doesn’t turn up, me and him will go to the Darlings’ house tomorrow. We’ve got the address because of his letters.’
‘No. You don’t want to do that. Ray went to the address today to find out what was going on.’
‘And?’
‘And it’s best you forget about Tommy. He isn’t the brave lad any of us thought he was.’
‘Why? What do you mean? What’s Tommy done?’
‘I’m going to get in touch with Maureen, see if we can get you your own flat rather than a bedsit. But in the meantime I want you to stay here. Against Maylands’ usual rules, I know, but Ray is in agreement and—’
Scratch stood up and smashed her fist against the desk. ‘Tell me what Tommy has done, Connie. Because if you don’t, I swear I will visit him tomorrow and find out for my fucking self.’
Knowing Scratch would do exactly that, Connie took a deep breath. ‘I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but today Tommy got married to Donna Darling. He got her in the family way.’
Scratch’s face drained of colour. So much so, she looked like a ghost. ‘No. There must be some mistake. Tommy wouldn’t do that to me.’
‘It’s true, Scratch. The Darlings’ neighbours told Ray.’
Spotting a fountain pen on Connie’s desk, Scratch snatched at it and repeatedly stabbed herself in the left arm. ‘No, noooo. Fucking nooooo.’
Hearing a commotion, Ray ran into Connie’s office and Dumbo followed. Ray snatched the pen out of Scratch’s hand and held her tightly.
Dumbo was bemused. ‘What’s going on?’
Scratch slumped to the floor, clutched her knees with her hands and rocked to and fro. ‘You were right about Tommy, Dumbo – he’s a liar. He’s gone and married Donna Darling. He got her pregnant.’
Dumbo was appalled. He paced up and down the office and punched the wall. ‘I will never forgive him for this. Not only has he let me down, Scratch, he’s let you down too. I hate his guts. Tommy Boyle can rot in hell for all I care. I wish him dead.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Autumn 1978
‘Did you pack your toiletries?’ asked Caroline Birch.
‘Yes. I don’t think I’ve forgotten anything.’
‘How you feeling?’
‘A bit nervous. I just hope there are some nice girls there and it’s not all blokes.’
Caroline smiled and hugged the girl she had become so very fond of. ‘You’ll be fine. Just be yourself.’
‘Me and Mikey don’t want you to go away, Scratch,’ said ten-year-old Fiona.
‘You mustn’t call her Scratch any more, Fi, I’ve told you that a hundred times. Her name is now Kim.’
Kim a.k.a. Scratch felt close to tears as she said her goodbyes t
o the children. She would miss both immensely.
Caroline looked out of the window. ‘Your cab’s just pulled up.’
Kim walked into the hallway and picked up her case. ‘Thanks, Caroline – for everything.’
‘You’re very welcome, sweetheart. Don’t forget to ring me, and Connie. We’re both so proud of the wonderful young lady you’ve become.’
Kim waved as the cab pulled away. It was time to start her new life.
Tommy Darling shivered as he stepped out of Danny’s Ford Capri. The autumn air was sharp, the wind gale-force.
‘You not got your Crombie with ya?’ Danny enquired, slipping his over his metallic blue suit.
‘Nah. Me and Don were rowing before I left and I forgot to grab it.’
‘Oh well. You ready?’
‘As always.’
‘You OK, Eugene?’ Danny asked.
‘Cushty.’
The three lads looked a formidable sight as they sauntered inside the rundown backstreet boozer. All wore smart suits, expensive shirts, shoes and ties.
The film Grease had taken the country by storm this year and ‘Summer Nights’ was playing on the jukebox. The punters fell silent.
The landlord’s face drained of colour. He’d been expecting another visit, but not this soon.
‘We’ll talk out the back.’ Danny strolled behind the bar without waiting for a reply.
‘Please don’t involve my wife and daughter,’ Bruce gabbled. ‘They’re upstairs,’ he lied.
Danny pushed Bruce into the hallway. ‘Got our dosh yet?’
‘Not all of it, but you can take whatever’s in the till and I promise I’ll square up with you next weekend in full.’
Grabbing Bruce by the back of his neck, Danny marched him down to the cellar. The man was a borderline alcoholic, chain-smoking piss-taker.
‘Don’t hurt me. I’ll get you your wonga, I swear,’ Bruce pleaded.
Danny shoved Bruce down the last few stairs and he landed in a crumpled cowering heap. ‘You were spotted in the bookies today placing a bullseye on some nag you had a tip on. Still running round Fontwell, is it?’
Teeth chattering, Bruce tried to explain. ‘My mate said it was a dead cert. I was only gambling to try and get you your money on time.’
‘Don’t insult our intelligence by fucking lying, Bruce,’ Tommy bellowed, crushing the man’s right knee with the sole of his shiny black loafer.
Eugene whipped out the baseball bat from inside his Crombie. ‘One or both?’ he asked.
‘One – for now,’ Danny replied.
‘No. Please God no. I’ve got a pub to run. If I can’t work, I can’t pay you.’
Eugene lifted the bat and repeatedly smashed it against Bruce’s right knee. The pain was immense and Bruce could not help but squeal like a pig.
‘We’ll take what’s in the till and be back on Friday for the rest. There’s a oner on top of the original debt now, for wasting our fucking time,’ Danny hissed. ‘And if you haven’t got it by then, you’ll be dealing with my father and our Ronnie in future. Understand?’
Wishing he had never got involved with the Darlings, Bruce nodded dumbly.
On the train journey, Kim thought up a story. She didn’t want people knowing her past. Being a care home kid, the daughter of a drug-riddled prostitute wasn’t exactly the impression she wanted to give out. She’d hated her birth name Rosie Peacock. The kids at school used to call her Rosie Posey. She hated her nickname now too. Scratch was in her past. Dead and buried. Kim Regan was her future. She’d chosen Regan after Jack in The Sweeney. It seemed fitting, seeing as she was embarking on a career in the police force herself.
After Tommy had left her high and dry, it was Connie’s idea she move to Kent to live with her niece and her husband. Caroline and Keith had fostered children in the past and even though Kim was sixteen by then, they happily took her in.
Caroline and Keith were strict, but kind. Their home was spacious, spotless, and Kim quickly settled in. Keith worked in the police force and Kim loved hearing his stories of past and present crimes. The Yorkshire Ripper was still on the loose, had killed numerous women in the past year alone, and the more Kim learned about police procedure, the more she thought about not joining the army after all.
Kim had loved her role as housekeeper, and spending time with Fiona and Mikey, but she was eighteen now and knew she wanted more out of life. Since leaving Maylands she’d worked hard to pass her exams; under the influence of Caroline and Keith, she’d acquired a burning ambition to succeed.
Seeing a skinhead girl jump on the train, Kim smirked. Skinheads were back in fashion now and the girl looked exactly how she used to.
‘You’ll need to change your image if you want to get somewhere in life. Very few employers will offer a job to a skinhead,’ Keith had warned her.
Kim still wore her blonde hair short, but in a more feathered, feminine style. She didn’t dress up much, felt far more comfortable in casual clothes, but enjoyed experimenting with make-up and painting her nails. That was the one part of her new job she was dreading. She had to wear a skirt. Kim hated skirts, hadn’t worn one since having sex with that lying, waste-of-space, Tommy Boyle.
Aware that the two lads who’d just got on the train were ogling her, Kim ignored them. She had no interest in lads, would never trust another.
‘You going Hendon?’ asked the ginger lad.
‘Yes.’
The dark-haired one slapped his pal on the back. ‘See, I told you there’d be some fit Dorises there, didn’t I?’
Kim glared at the pair of laughing idiots. ‘Who you calling a Doris, ya wanker?’
‘Oops. Cheer up, love. She’s a fiery one, Paul. Probably got one of them chastity belts on.’
As the lads continued to mock her, Kim ignored them and stared out of the window. Keith had warned her what to expect and, by the looks of it, he’d been spot on. All she could do was pray she wasn’t the only girl there.
‘Where to now?’ Tommy asked, as they pulled away from the pub.
‘The Globe. Machines need emptying.’
‘I’m surprised Bruce’s wife never showed her ugly mug, racket he was making,’ Eugene chuckled. He was sixteen now and inflicting pain on people was part of his everyday life.
‘His old woman’s never in. The gran looks after the daughter while that fat cow spunks her money down the bingo. Or our money, should I say,’ Danny spat.
‘D’ya reckon he’ll pay up?’ Tommy asked.
‘Be a very silly move if he doesn’t, won’t it?’
Tommy grinned. He liked his job, got off on being feared and respected in equal measures. Jack Darling wasn’t a man to be messed with, everyone knew that, and even though Jack rarely got his hands dirty any more, the threat of having him in the background was enough to scare the living daylights out of most. And Tommy loved being a Darling, the day he was given that name changed his life.
‘I seriously can’t wait until Saturday. We gonna bet big?’ Tommy asked.
‘Too right,’ Danny replied. He hadn’t been good enough to make it as a pro boxer himself, but he was immensely proud of his older brother. Saturday would be Ronnie’s sixth professional fight and he was currently unbeaten. The last bloke he’d fought, a Glaswegian, had been knocked spark out in round one, such was the power of his brother’s right fist.
‘Is your mum gonna come?’ Tommy asked.
‘Nah. Ronnie begged her to, but she won’t. After what happened to me, her nerves can’t take it.’ Danny had been fighting at amateur level when he’d lowered his guard and got knocked out cold. He was fine once the smelling salts were shoved under his nostrils, but his mother wasn’t. Suzie had been hysterical, and since then she’d refused to watch her boys fight. ‘You coming round ours for a bite to eat before the party tonight, Tom? Or you popping home?’
Not fancying the third-degree off Suzie or another argument with her indoors, Tommy replied, ‘Neither. I’m gonna grab some fish and chips,
then I’ll meet you in the Prince of Wales.’
This was the life he thought, boxing and booze and giving his trouble and strife the swerve, a perfect night.
‘All right? God that geezer went on, didn’t he? Can’t wait to start the proper training, can you?’
Kim smiled at the girl. They’d spent the afternoon being shown around, then were taken into the auditorium for a long speech about what joining the police force actually meant. Kim shook the girl’s outstretched hand. She had short dark hair with a quiff, striking green eyes and was very pretty even though she walked and spoke like a bloke. ‘It’s Samantha, isn’t it?’
‘Sam, I prefer. What’s your name again? I’m shit with names.’
‘Kim. I’m starving. Are you?’
‘Yeah. Let’s go get some grub. Dunno where the other two girls have gone. Both spent most of their time in there eyeing up the lads. Did you clock ’em? Can’t be dealing with silly tarts, me. I’m here to make something of my life.’
‘Me too,’ Kim chuckled. ‘And yes, I did clock ’em and thought exactly the same as you.’
As the girls walked off towards the canteen area, little did they know a strong friendship had already been formed.
Excusing himself from a few lads he knew at the bar, Tommy put some records on the jukebox and sat alone at a corner table. He’d felt a tad melancholy all week, kept thinking back to the past.
He hadn’t kept in touch with anybody from Maylands, but that didn’t stop him remembering his old pals from time to time. He’d let them all down, he knew that – Scratch especially. But sometimes life took you in strange directions and he could never have predicted back then the way his would pan out.
Within a week of moving in with the Darlings, Tommy was working full-time. It had soon become apparent that his job wasn’t exactly above board. Part of it was to force publicans to install Jack’s gaming machines, rather than politely ask them. Then there was the protection money to collect. Publicans would pay a monthly rate for their boozers to be kept trouble-free.
The Sting Page 17
