The Sting Page 4

  The vicar said some nice things about his mum, but not enough, Tommy thought sadly. She had been much more than just a mother of three. She had cooked delicious dinners, knitted him tank tops, run him up flares on her sewing machine, and taken him to the pictures regularly. She wasn’t some average mum, she truly was the best.

  When everyone stood up to sing ‘The Lord Is My Shepherd’, Tommy and Linda both heard shouting. They turned around. The door of the chapel was open and two policemen were struggling with some people.

  ‘Where is she? Where’s the evil child who killed my Billy?’ Tommy heard a woman bellow. Nobody was singing any more, they were all fixated by the commotion. Tommy stood on the pew to get a better view.

  ‘Murderers! First, my Terry and then Billy. My heart is broken in pieces. May you all rot in hell,’ the woman screamed, before being carted off by the police.

  ‘Was that Billy Fletcher’s mum?’ Linda asked Tommy. She hadn’t seen the woman.

  Tommy was about to reply when his father yanked him off the pew with such force he twisted his ankle.

  Tommy woke up next morning with a throbbing ankle and broken heart. He and Linda had thought their mum would have a grave nearby that they could visit and lay flowers on. It had been a huge shock to find out her body had been burned and all that was left of her now was a pile of ashes.

  ‘You awake, Tommy?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Linda perched herself on the edge of her brother’s bed. She had been so upset over the awful events of yesterday, she had wanted to stay with Tommy last night, but Nanny Noreen had forbidden her to. ‘You’re not a little girl any more, Linda. Brothers and sisters of a certain age shouldn’t share the same bed,’ she’d snapped.

  ‘Dad wants to take me out for the day, but I don’t really want to go,’ Linda informed her brother.

  ‘Is he taking me too?’

  ‘No. That’s why I don’t want to go. Did you hear him come in drunk around midnight? He knocked the grandfather clock over and it smashed. He scares me when he drinks too much.’

  ‘I heard him knock something over. Did he say where he’s taking you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I ain’t staying indoors with that old witch. But I’m too scared to go out in case I bump into any of Billy Fletcher’s mates. They’re bound to want to beat me up after everything that’s happened and I can’t even run properly ’cause my ankle hurts too much.’

  ‘I wonder when we will see Hazel again? I don’t ’arf miss her, Tom. And Mum.’

  Tommy’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Me too.’

  As the children clung together like two lost souls, neither had any idea there was far more upset to come.

  ‘You need to pack a case, Tommy. Your Uncle Ian will be picking you up soon,’ said Nanny Noreen.

  Tommy dropped his Shoot magazine in shock. ‘What! Why?’

  ‘Because you’re going to stay with him. Your dad can’t look after you. He has to go back to work soon.’

  ‘What about Linda? Is she coming too?’

  ‘No. Linda will stay with me.’

  Tommy felt his pulse quicken. This didn’t sound short-term. ‘What about Rex? Where will he live?’

  ‘Rex is going to live on a farm. Be nice for him. He’ll have lots of space there to run around,’ Noreen lied.

  Tommy’s face crumpled. ‘No. I’m not leaving Rex, or Linda. I can’t. I won’t.’

  ‘There’s no alternative, I’m afraid, Tommy. Your dad’s going back to the oil rigs and I can’t look after two of you.’

  Stifling a sob, Tommy ran out into the garden and crawled inside Rex’s kennel. He draped his arms around the dog’s neck. ‘I’m being sent away to live with my Uncle Ian. You’re being sent away too, but not with me. You’re going to live on a farm. You’ll like it there. Be better than being stuck out here, boy. And I will visit you, I promise. I’m so gonna miss you, though. I love you, never forget that, Rex.’

  Within the hour, Tommy’s anguish had turned to acute anger. He barely knew his Uncle Ian, had only ever met him about four times. What right did his father have to palm him off like some unwanted rubbish? Any decent man wouldn’t go back to the oil rigs. He would stay at home and care for his kids who’d lost their mother, Tommy fumed.

  ‘I made you a fried-egg sandwich,’ Nanny Noreen said as Tommy came into the kitchen. She didn’t hate the boy, but could never love him either.

  ‘I ain’t leaving Linda and I ain’t leaving Rex. What time will my dad be home?’

  ‘Not until late. Now, go pack your case. Uncle Ian will be here soon.’

  ‘You can’t make me go. I won’t,’ Tommy yelled, knocking the plate and sandwich on to the lino.

  Nanny Noreen sighed. ‘You have to. Uncle Ian is your only known blood relative. It’s either that or a children’s home.’

  ‘What? I don’t understand.’

  Nanny Noreen actually felt quite sorry for the child and wished Alexander would have told him. ‘There is no easy way to say this, Tommy, so I shall just be blunt. Your father isn’t your real father; so I’m not your real grandma either. I’m sorry, boy. But you have your mother to thank for that.’

  Feeling nauseous and dizzy, Tommy bolted out of the front door.

  It was the local bobby, PC Kendall, who found Tommy in a dishevelled state in Barking park. He had only recently joined the police force and Mrs Young had told him, while he was on the beat, that she’d seen young Tommy run from the house in his navy Parka, tartan flares and white trainers, looking extremely distressed.

  PC Kendall sat on the bench next to the forlorn figure and ruffled his hair. Valerie Boyle had been a beautiful woman inside and out. A lot of his colleagues had fancied her. They reckoned she was the spitting image of the actress in the Carry On films.

  ‘Go away. I want to be alone,’ Tommy mumbled.

  ‘I want to help you, Tommy. I’m a policeman and that’s my job. I wasn’t much older than you when I lost my mum, ya know. Fourteen, and it was tough. It’s true what they say, though: time is a healer. I know it doesn’t feel like it at the moment, but one day you’ll be able to think about your lovely mum and smile again. Nobody can ever take the wonderful memories of her away from you. They last for ever.’

  ‘But it’s not just my mum, is it? It’s everything.’

  PC Kendall sighed. The Hazel incident had been a major talking point at the police station. It wasn’t every day a fourteen-year-old girl clumped a lad of the same age over the head with a paving block, killing him stone dead. ‘Why don’t we get you home, eh? Your dad will be worried and it’s cold out here. That wind is bitter today.’

  ‘I ain’t got a dad.’

  ‘Course you have. Alexander’s your dad.’

  Tears streamed down Tommy’s face as he looked the local bobby in the eyes. ‘He ain’t my real dad. My nan told me today. She ain’t my real nan either. That’s why Rex has to go to live on a farm and I gotta live with Uncle Ian,’ he gabbled.

  PC Kendall winced. He knew life could be cruel, but not this cruel. Poor little Tommy had lost everything in less than a fortnight. He hugged the freezing boy close to his chest. ‘I’m so sorry, mate. I truly am. I know how much you love Rex. So, is Uncle Ian related to your mum?’

  ‘Yeah. He’s her weird brother.’

  ‘Weird? What do you mean by that?’

  Tommy shrugged. ‘My dad – sorry, I mean Alexander – always called him a weirdo. Not to his face, like.’

  Though he hadn’t been a copper long, this triggered alarm bells in PC Kendall’s mind. ‘Is your uncle married?’

  ‘Yeah. To a woman called Sandra. She’s very fat.’

  Kendall relaxed slightly. ‘They got kids?’

  ‘No. They got cats.’

  ‘Where do they live?’

  ‘South London, but I don’t know the road name. It’s a smaller house than ours and not very clean.’

  PC Kendall took a notepad out of his pocket and wrote something down. He han
ded it to Tommy. ‘This is the phone number of the police station I work at. Any problems, you call and ask for me, OK?’

  Tommy nodded. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Right, let’s get you home. I thought we might stop at Mr Abbot’s on the way and buy you some sweets. What’s your favourite?’

  ‘Sherbet lemons.’

  PC Kendall smiled. ‘Sherbet lemons it is then.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  So, that’s where it all began. Feels pretty good to get it off my chest, if I’m honest.

  It makes me smile to think I once confided in the Old Bill. Having said that, he was all right was PC Kendall. Not like some of the sharks I’ve since met.

  So many coppers are on the payroll of villains, you wouldn’t believe it. No integrity or conscience. Always on the take. I know because I’ve dealt with the unscrupulous bastards. They are worse than most of the gangsters I’ve mixed with. Reason being, they couldn’t give a shit who they trample on. Play ball or get nicked, that’s the option for many.

  I’m rambling now, so let’s go back to my story. From the day my mother died, my life wasn’t my own for a while. Saying it had its ups and downs wouldn’t just be an understatement. I’d liken it to a Boeing 747 hitting a hurricane.

  I was twelve, naïve, and honestly thought I had hit rock bottom. I hadn’t. There was far worse to come.

  You know the name: Tommy Boyle. Now read on and I’ll explain what happened next …

  *

  Tommy was walking along the canal looking for the stray dog he’d made friends with, when he was unexpectedly jumped on and bundled to the ground.

  ‘No. Give me that back. It’s mine,’ Tommy insisted as his duffel bag was ripped from his shoulder and the contents tipped on the grass.

  ‘Shut it, ya little squirt,’ said one of the lads, aiming a sharp kick at Tommy’s head.

  Another boy pinned Tommy to the ground.

  ‘Oi! Whaddya think you’re doing, Marshall? Leave him the fuck alone,’ bellowed a voice in the distance.

  When his attackers fled without his belongings, Tommy sat up and locked eyes with a dark-haired lad who looked slightly familiar. ‘You all right?’ the boy asked.

  ‘Yeah. Thanks for that.’

  ‘You’re the new boy at school, ain’t ya?’

  Tommy nodded and stood up. The boy was a lot taller than him. ‘You in my year?’

  ‘Yeah. I’m Danny. Danny Darling.’

  ‘I’m Tommy Boyle. Who were them boys, by the way? Do they go to our school?’

  ‘Nah. They live on the Walworth Road side. Us Bermondsey boys don’t like ’em. You won’t get no more grief from that lot. I already did three of ’em over.’

  Tommy’s eyes widened. ‘Are you a good fighter then?’

  Danny grinned. ‘Yeah. I’m a boxer. Gonna be a pro one day. You should try it, ya know. Look at my muscles,’ Danny bragged, taking off his jacket.

  Tommy felt Danny’s biceps. ‘Wow! I dunno if I’d be any good, mind. I’m too short.’

  ‘No, you’re not. A lot of the best boxers are short lads. There’s all different weights in boxing. Come on, I’ll show you the gym.’

  And just like that a friendship that would last a lifetime began.

  Lynn’s Boxing Club was off Albany Road, and as soon as Tommy walked inside he was filled with a sense of excitement.

  The smell, talk and general atmosphere was electric and Tommy couldn’t take his eyes off the lads sparring in the ring. Alexander had never been into boxing, therefore Tommy had little knowledge of it up until now.

  ‘See that lad in the photo on the wall – the one in the blue shorts holding a trophy?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘That’s my elder brother, Ronnie. He’s turned semi-pro now, but my trainer reckons I’m far better than he was at the same age.’

  ‘Really! How old are you then? And how old’s Ronnie?’

  ‘I’m in your year at school, you numpty. Thirteen, I am. Ronnie’s eighteen, and I got a younger brother Eugene who’s ten. I also got a sister, Donna. She’s fifteen. You got brothers and sisters?’

  ‘Two sisters: Hazel and Linda. I don’t live with ’em no more, though. I got sent to live with my uncle.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘’Cause my mum died in a car crash and I then found out my dad weren’t my real dad.’

  ‘That’s well shit. Bet you miss your mum.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘I miss my dad too. He’s been in prison for the past ten years, but he’ll be out soon.’

  Tommy’s eyes widened. ‘Why has he been in prison?’

  ‘Because he murdered someone. He shot them with a gun.’

  ‘My sister Hazel murdered someone too, with a paving stone.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. The police took her away then sent her to a bad girl’s home.’

  ‘Wow! That’s mental. Shall we spar in the ring? I won’t hurt you, I promise. I wanna teach you how to protect yourself.’

  Tommy grinned. ‘Yeah, I’d like that.’

  ‘There we are. All tucked in. Would you like me to bring you up a mug of cocoa and a couple of chocolate digestives, Tommy?’ Uncle Ian asked.

  Tommy faked a yawn. ‘No, thank you. I’m very tired tonight.’

  Uncle Ian kissed Tommy on the forehead. ‘Night, night then. Don’t let the bed bugs bite,’ he grinned.

  When his uncle left the room, Tommy smiled as he thought about his magical day. It was seven weeks now since his mum had died, and this was the first time he’d felt truly happy since.

  Moving to South London hadn’t been easy. Uncle Ian and Auntie Sandra lived in a two-bedroom house off the Old Kent Road. Tommy’s mother’s house had been spotlessly clean, but Auntie Sandra’s wasn’t. It was shabby, dusty, smelled of cat’s piss and very often there were shit stains down the toilet for days on end. She didn’t even have a toilet brush and bought the most awful toilet paper. It wasn’t soft like his mother had used. It was like grease-paper, and Tommy struggled to clean his bottom properly with it.

  Auntie Sandra was a short, fat woman who ate like a horse. She rarely bathed and her hair was long, grey and greasy. She stank too, of sweat and another odour Tommy could not quite distinguish. She was all right towards him, but he could sense she didn’t really want him there.

  Uncle Ian, on the other hand, had been very welcoming and generous. He bought Tommy all his football magazines, and as many sweets as he wanted. He’d recently surprised him with the best kite Tommy had ever seen. It looked like a big multicoloured eagle. Uncle Ian had even promised to buy him a portable TV for his thirteenth birthday, which he could watch alone in his bedroom. Tommy was elated by this news, as the small TV downstairs was rarely switched on. Auntie Sandra and Uncle Ian only ever watched the news and Tommy felt awkward asking if he could watch Top of the Pops or The Big Match. He would also feel a bit silly watching such programmes with them. Neither of them were into pop music or football. They listened to the radio and played board games such as chess or draughts.

  Starting a new school hadn’t been easy either. Tommy had felt invisible at times, like a lost sheep. Hopefully, now he’d met Danny all that would change. They were walking to school together tomorrow and going back to the boxing gym after their lessons.

  For once, Tommy drifted off into a happy sleep. But at 4 a.m. he woke in a cold sweat. It was the usual kind of nightmare. In this particular one, Hazel had hit Rex over the head with a paving stone and killed him. Then his mother had told him she wasn’t his real mother.

  ‘I didn’t know you lived at number forty-four. Nobody likes your aunt and uncle, ya know. My mum calls them oddballs,’ Danny informed Tommy after school the following day. ‘And your aunt well stinks,’ he added.

  Munching on a bag of chips dripping in vinegar, Tommy suddenly didn’t feel hungry any more. He felt embarrassed.

  Uncle Ian was a short, dumpy man who wore thick-rimmed glasses and old-fashioned clothes. Tommy thought he
looked like the comedian Benny Hill, but he was far less cool. At least Benny Hill was funny. ‘My mum was nothing like my uncle.’ Tommy squirmed. ‘Wanna see a photo of her?’ He carried one around with him; it made him feel she was still with him.

  Danny nodded, then studied the image. ‘She is very pretty. She looks like Barbara Windsor. My brother Ronnie well fancies Barbara.’

  Tommy handed Danny another photo. ‘That’s my sisters and my dog Rex.’

  ‘Are you keeping in touch with your sisters?’

  ‘No. I tried to, but the phone has been cut off where Linda is living and she hasn’t replied to my letters. I don’t even have an address for Hazel.’

  ‘Where’s your dog?’

  ‘Alexander found him a farm to live on in Essex.’

  Danny felt sorry for Tommy. It had been tough for him over the years because his dad was inside, but at least he had his brothers, mum and sister. ‘Wanna come round mine for Sunday dinner? My mum cooks an ace roast.’

  Tommy nodded. Auntie Sandra’s roast was the worst he’d ever tasted. ‘Yes, please. You sure that will be OK with your mum?’

  ‘Yeah, course. Don’t say where you’re going, though. My family have got a bit of a reputation round ’ere. Your aunt and uncle might try and stop us being pals,’ Danny warned.

  ‘I won’t. I promise.’

  ‘Cool. You wanna go to the boxing gym now?’

  Tommy grinned. ‘Yeah. Race ya there.’

  On the Saturday morning, Tommy was bored, so lay on his bed reading his football magazines. Danny wasn’t around today. His elder brother had recently bought a car, so he’d driven Danny up north to watch Millwall play away.

  Tommy much preferred spending time alone in his room than downstairs. He had very little in common with his aunt or uncle, which made it a struggle to find subjects to talk to them about. He had a portable radio in his room, so would rather listen to his favourite stations, alone.

  A tap on his bedroom door made Tommy jump. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Uncle Ian. OK to come in?’

  ‘Yes. Of course.’