by Phil Earle
‘Look, Louie. You only have two hours a week with Annie. You don’t need me in the way. Besides, I’m not really bothered about the cinema. Get out there and have fun. I’ll be here when you get back.’
Louie shrugged it off, as he always did, and started kicking the wall with excitement.
Annie arrived on time again, looking smarter than usual. Maybe she’d bought her clothes somewhere other than a car boot sale. She even tried to strike up a conversation.
‘So, how’s it going, then, Bill? I hear you’ll be back at school soon. That’s great news.’
I forced a smile, for the twins. ‘Yeah, in a few weeks. Should be all right.’
‘It’ll be more than that. It’s important you get some exams. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.’
I swallowed my disgust. What, choose some alcoholic loser over your kids? Wasn’t high on my list of priorities, to be honest.
‘Where are we going today, Mum?’ shouted Lizzie, dizzy with excitement.
‘Can’t you remember, chuckie?’ Annie laughed, her throat thick with ciggie smoke.
‘CINEMA!’ roared the twins together.
‘That’s right. A promise is a promise, and I’ve been looking forward to it all week.’
At that moment, Ronnie appeared in the doorway, pulling on his jacket as he greeted Annie, all pats on the head for the twins. I backed away, worried he might try to show some affection towards me.
‘Right then, kids. Are we all ready?’ he boomed, striding down the steps and towards the car park.
Louie seemed hesitant for a second, throwing me a worried look before jumping on me for a hug.
‘See you later, big man,’ I said, forcing a grin. ‘Have a wicked time. Save me some pick ’n’ mix!’
‘No way, fatty!’ He laughed as he pulled away, leaving a hole that couldn’t be filled.
Lizzie was already halfway to the car, still spinning around on Annie’s outstretched arm.
‘Shit,’ I whispered to myself.
As they walked off, the four of them, they looked too much like a family to me.
I didn’t like it. Annie was getting herself together, doing a decent impression of a proper mother. This wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all.
The twins didn’t want to go to bed when they got back. They were so excited I pretty much had to scrape them off the ceiling. Their heads were full of the cinema and popcorn. Even Ronnie was wearing a smile. That never happened when it was his weekend on.
‘You should’ve seen the special effects, Billy,’ Louie whooped. ‘They were wicked. Mum reckoned all the explosions were real, and they looked it too, except I knew it was all CGI.’
‘And you should’ve seen the size of the bag of pick ’n’ mix Louie got down his neck,’ bragged Lizzie.
‘I can imagine,’ I said, trying for the fifth time to get to the end of the bedtime book.
‘Mum said we can go see it again next week. You’ll come next week, won’t you, Bill? I told Mum you would.’
‘We’ll see,’ I said, smiling as I tucked the duvets under their feet in turn. ‘Time to sleep now. I’ll see you in the morning.’
As I reached the door, I stopped and waited for the question that always came, every night without fail: ‘Sit at the door till we fall asleep, Bill?’
But tonight it never came. Instead they talked excitedly about what they’d seen, what they’d done, what Annie had bought them on the way to the film.
It didn’t do much for the mood I’d been in all afternoon.
I hadn’t known what to do with myself after the twins left, so I did what I always did. Lay on my back and stared at the ceiling, counting the stars from right to left. From the door to the ceiling and back again. Seventy-three, as always.
I’d fancied getting my hands on some booze, and had I not been on this final warning I would have gone out and cadged some from the offie.
I’m not fussy about what I drink. Beer’s fine, but vodka’s stronger. And the scum don’t smell it on your breath as easily either.
The only thing I won’t touch is whisky.
Whisky equals Shaun.
It was always his poison, the drink that really stirred the devil in him. The drink that led him to me. Even the smell of it now is enough to give me the shakes.
Anyway, I steered clear of any booze that afternoon.
Because of the twins. Because of what would happen if they caught me. Of what would happen to them.
So hearing them full of Annie stung me. But I couldn’t let it show. She’d let them down before. Not recently, like, but it was only a matter of time before she slipped up again.
So I sat in the doorway as usual and listened to their babbling.
It took them a good hour to talk themselves out. To be honest, I wasn’t sure most of the time if they knew I was there. I hoped so, though.
Once they settled, I crept away from their door and closed it with a gentle snick.
The house was pretty quiet for a Saturday night, which I knew would please the scummers. It was handover time. Ron would be off home to his proper family soon, to his trophy wife and perfect boys, leaving the lifers to the confusion of waking up to different people in the morning.
I slid quietly down the stairs, hoping I could get into the TV room and avoid Ronnie before he left. He was in the study, giving the night shift the lowdown on what had gone on.
But as I tiptoed past I heard Annie mentioned. Had it been anyone else’s name I wouldn’t have broken my step, but the paranoia in me was still burning up.
‘Yeah, I was pretty impressed again.’ It was Ron. ‘I’ve known her a long time now, seen her at her worst. In fact, there was a long period in the early days when we didn’t see her at all. But it looks to me like she’s turned a corner.’
‘For how long, though?’ asked a sceptical voice. It was Mally, one of the night-shifters. A favourite of mine, never once checked on where I was. ‘Haven’t we heard and seen it all before?’
‘Feels different to me this time, though, Mal.’ Ronnie again. ‘I know she’s been unreliable before, but she’s been consistent for the past year now. Just as she said she would be.’
‘She’s looking to increase the amount of contact with the twins, then?’
I crept closer to the door.
‘Yep, should start twice-weekly in the next month, and if that goes well the unsupervised contact will increase as well. It’s what we laid out at the last review.’
Was it? It was the first I’d heard of it.
I could almost see the smile on Ronnie’s face.
The last thing the twins needed was more broken promises from Annie. The scummers should have been concentrating on finding a proper foster family for the three of us, or moving us to a smaller home. Not dicking around, wasting time on her.
‘Annie’s adamant this time. Reckons she’s finished with all the losers she’s shacked up with in the past, and, to be fair, there’s been no sign of Shaun for years. That job she’s landed seems to have helped as well. It’s been a year now since she started. You can see the difference in her.’
‘Bit late now, though,’ snorted Mally.
He obviously wasn’t taken in by Annie. Top man.
‘The Finns have lived here eight years. She can’t seriously think she can get the twins back after all that time.’
The blood was pounding round my head. I was worried it was affecting my hearing.
I hoped it was.
‘It would be unusual, I grant you. But what’s the alternative, Mal? The twins will be ten next birthday. It’s not easy finding a placement when kids are that old. Especially when there’s two of them. Look at what happened to Bill. He was back here within six months.’
Mally sighed. ‘It’s Billy I worry about. I know the kid’s hard work, but the twins are the only thing that keeps him even vaguely straight. Send them bac
k to Annie and he’ll lose it. Unless she takes the three of them back.’
‘It’s not that easy, though, is it?’ said Ronnie, without hesitating. ‘She gave Billy up for adoption when the Scotts offered him a permanent placement. Legally I think it would be tricky to reverse that. Besides, could she cope with the three of them? I reckon we have to focus on the twins and getting them home. It’s too late for Billy on that score.’
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I wanted to rip his head off. They’d been planning this for months, knowing that they wanted to take the twins away from me and send them back to her. It took everything I had to stop myself from kicking the door in and jumping him.
I had to think. Clear my head, or break someone else’s. But I knew I couldn’t do either here. That wouldn’t help me or the twins. So I bolted for the front door and out into the night.
CHAPTER 6
I wish I could tell you that it felt better to be out walking the streets, but it didn’t. I couldn’t make sense of what I’d heard. Couldn’t get over the fact that the Colonel had been planning it all behind my back.
As well as being angry at him, I was just as furious with myself for not seeing through it earlier. All that crap that they spouted at my review about giving me one more chance, about changing my behaviour for the sake of the twins and staying together. It was all cack. Filthy scummer lies.
Usually, when I’m this hacked off, night-walking helps.
Mostly because there’s no one around and you can get away with more.
Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not one of those kids who walks around with a spray can, getting all arty on the side of a bus, or even those who scratch their names into the wall with a compass. I’m not creative, and I certainly don’t want the scummers seeing where I’ve been.
No, if I’ve got the taste for it, I’ll just look for a decent car to key, or a window to put through. There’s nothing artistic in it; it just makes me feel better. Lifts the clouds for a minute or two. Enough time to catch a glimpse of the stars.
Nothing was hitting the spot tonight, though. There wasn’t a window big enough to get rid of the angry knot in my gut, and believe me I tried a few. Even if I painted a picture of Ronnie’s face on it first. Before smashing it with a single punch.
I’m reasonably handy with my fists.
You wouldn’t last five minutes as a lifer if you weren’t, never mind eight years.
It’s rare for a day to pass by in our house without it kicking off. More often than not, the rucks start at breakfast when someone finishes the cereal that someone else was after. You know, the serious stuff in life.
It’s pretty obvious why fights flare up first thing. As soon as I open my eyes and realize I’m still in Oldfield House, I feel pretty angry. Wouldn’t you?
So when you chuck nine or ten kids, all feeling gnarly, into the same room, well, you don’t have to be smart to work it out, do you?
The scummers can’t get their heads around it, and Ronnie didn’t go for my idea of serving everyone breakfast in bed.
‘You wouldn’t get that at home every day, Bill, so it doesn’t happen here. We’re a family. And families eat together.’
Yeah, whatever. Strangely, I don’t remember family members wrestling each other over the dregs of the Coco Pops. I must have had a lie-in at home that day.
Of course the other lifers know better than to get in my way first thing.
Or the twins’ way, for that matter. In fact, not just at breakfast. At any time of day. They know it doesn’t take much to earn a dig or two.
My ability to deliver a clean right has always bothered the Colonel. So much so that he reckoned at one point that boxing might just be the answer. What was he basing this on? The army of course.
‘We had a number of lads who struggled with discipline. The first thing we did was get them in the ring. Gave them a focus for all that aggression.’
I wasn’t impressed.
‘So what do you think, Bill?’ he asked.
‘To what?’
‘To giving it a go. Boxing.’
‘Who would I be fighting?’
‘Don’t know. Other lads your age. Older lads as well if you’re any good.’
‘I wouldn’t be sparring with you?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Think I’ll give it a miss, then.’
Honestly. He’d been watching too many films. If he really thought I was going to have some change of heart and discover myself by pulling on a pair of boxing gloves, then he’d taken too many punches himself.
Did he actually think I enjoyed kicking off? If he thought about it properly he’d realize the only reason I think with my fists is because of the way he treats me. The way he tries to plan my life.
When all I am to him is a job.
It’s not as if I really matter to him, not like his real kids do. He’s forever going on about them. The footie teams they’ve been picked for. The exams they’ve passed. It feels like I live with them, the amount I hear. Not that he’s ever brought them near this place. He wouldn’t want his precious boys mixing with the likes of me.
I mean, what would happen if I said yes to the boxing? It’d be like shaking the world’s biggest bottle of Coke, then taking the lid off without knowing how you were going to get it back on. Did he really think that I’d stop throwing punches when the bell rang?
There was too much stuff waiting to burst out for that. They’d have to hoist me out of the ring with a crane before I stopped swinging.
In my mind there was only one place that could help me that night. One place where I reckoned my mind would relax even a bit. It had worked the month before and I reckoned it would do the trick again.
I went on to autopilot as I neared the house. Although it was three years since I’d regularly walked the route, it was ingrained in my mind. The quick scoot across the dual carriageway, stopping to kick at the flowers that grew in the central reservation. Then down Garton Ave, a left at the allotments where the local kids, me included, would meet to down whatever we could steal from parents or the offie. Then a final right on to Walton Street, past the dark spot where the first two street lights were still bust. Nothing to do with me either, before you ask.
I stopped and leaned against the second lamp post, daring myself to lift my eyes in the direction of Jan and Grant’s.
I knew the next split second would decide my mood for the rest of the night. And I really needed some peace for my head.
I hadn’t planned that first trip back there the month before. And I definitely hadn’t planned to let myself in like I had.
The autopilot had taken me there. I’d had a rubbish night, as the result of a crappy day. Ronnie and the scummers had pinned me to the floor for dishing out some justice to one of the other lifers, who’d made the mistake of giving Louie some lip. I hadn’t gone too far, just a handful of digs to remind him of how things worked. It wasn’t as if I’d busted his nose or anything. He just bled easily, that’s all.
All the same, I’d spent the next twenty minutes eating carpet thanks to a couple of fifteen-stone scummers. And for some reason, it had got to me. Maybe because Louie had seen me pinned to the floor. He’d begged me to calm down. He’d even tried to stroke my head before one of the other scummers pulled him away into the TV room with the others.
As the afternoon dragged into the evening, all I could see was his face, creased with worry as he bent over me. And all I could think was, Why was he telling me to calm down? Why wasn’t he climbing on Ronnie’s back, telling him to get off me? Backing me up?
And the more I thought about it, the guiltier I felt. By the time I’d got the twins to bed (with no mention of the restraint from either of them), my head was fit for bursting, so I’d taken myself down the fire escape and fifteen minutes later found myself staring at the light in their hall, a rock in my hand.
As soon as I
’d seen the light I knew I had to get in there. It was too good an opportunity to let slide. I knew, God knows why, that peace lay inside. Well, relief at the very least.
I breathed deeply and stared at my watch.
Quarter past ten.
Perfect timing, but as I lifted my eyes to the house, I knew instantly I was out of luck. The hall light was on, perfect, but so was the landing light. And the light was on in their bedroom as well.
They were in, and it looked like a regular night in the Scott house. I could see them in my head, Jan faffing about in the bathroom, while Grant would be dreaming about one more can of lager, knowing he couldn’t get away with it without having his ear bent.
They were so easy to read. So predictable. That was until the front door opened and Grant appeared, leaving me to dive back into the shadows.
He scanned the street a few times, frowning, checking and rechecking the time on his watch.
I was thrown by the break in routine and didn’t know whether to stay where I was or make for home. After all, there was no way I was getting my head down in there tonight.
By the time I looked back at the house, Jan had joined Grant on the doorstep, stroking his arm gently before leading him back inside.
Leaving me pretty much out of options.
Freeze my arse off outside or head back to the scummers, hoping they hadn’t checked my room yet.
The streets in our town are like wind tunnels.
The road that leads to school is dead straight and at least 200 metres long.
Cycling up it is always murder. The wind just batters you. Gets into every crease of your clothing and underneath your bike until you honestly think you might be going backwards.
I used to battle it, though, see it as a challenge.
Push through it by telling myself it would be easier on the way home when it was beating at my back, helping me along.
Except it never did.
It was always exactly the same going home. The same endless hurricane gusting into your face, wobbling you with every push of the pedal. I swear I used to look across the road to the cyclists going in the opposite direction, wanting to shout to them. Ask them if they understood how it was possible. What we could do to make it all just that bit easier.
