by Trevor Hoyle
Vera and Harry were in the line, singing away. Then, the New Year safely in, the line transformed itself and changed direction, from linked hands to clasping the waist of the person in front, from Auld Lang Syne to the Conga.
Kenny watched them with a sneer on his face. This pathetic charging about was what amused people. This was what he had to look forward to when he got old and past it. It was obvious to him what they were: they were all dead thick.
• • •
Harry stopped the car outside the flat, and before he could get out Vera said, ‘Thanks Harry. All the best now. Goodnight.’ He sat puzzled behind the wheel for a moment and then drove off. ‘Silly sod,’ Vera said, pulling a bunch of keys out of her handbag.
‘Why do you bother with him?’ Janice asked.
‘He’s a good payer, that’s why,’ Vera said. She came between her daughter and Kenny and put her arms through theirs. ‘Come on, future son-in-law,’ she said. ‘Up the wooden hill.’
‘Have you any booze in?’ Kenny said. He stumbled over the doorstep and went sprawling into the small dark hallway at the foot of the stairs.
‘You’re pissed,’ Vera told him.
‘I was fucking tripped,’ Kenny mumbled.
‘Language,’ Vera said. With Janice’s help she hoisted him to his feet and somehow or other they got him to the top of the stairs. He was a dead, floundering weight, crashing into the door jamb and rebounding into the living-room, carried forward by his own momentum. They manoeuvred him into an armchair and dumped him, his head lolling about and his arms hanging down on either side.
‘It’s freezing in here, mam,’ Janice said.
‘I should have left a bar on. Do you want owt to eat? Kenny, are you hungry?’
‘Aye,’ Kenny said, hardly able to form the word. His lips felt numb, as though they were made of rubber. He put his hand up and touched his face and it was like a stranger’s hand touching a mask. ‘I’ll have a chicken butty.’
‘It’s turkey,’ Vera said. ‘Janice, go and put the blanket on in my bed.’ She picked up her handbag to get cigarettes and all the contents fell out. ‘Shit,’ she said softly, and got down unsteadily on to her knees to shovel them back in.
Kenny started snoring, his head on one side, his mouth hanging open. It was a shallow, dreamless sleep and he came instantly awake when Janice gently nudged his foot. She was standing in front of him with two rounds of sandwiches on a plate and a beaker of coffee.
‘Would you like a leg?’ Vera called from the kitchen.
‘I would that,’ Kenny said.
‘I mean a leg of turkey. Randy bugger.’
‘This’ll do me.’
Vera came into the living-room and sat on the carpet in front of the electric fire. ‘I haven’t been warm all night. Did you put that blanket on?’ she said to Janice.
‘You know a lot of folk in Rochdale,’ Kenny said.
‘I know a lot of folk all over. I’ve known Harry for donkey’s years. Divorced. Used to be a smart fella at one time but he’s gone to pot. Boozes too much. Janice, get me fags, love.’ She tossed one to Kenny and lit one herself. ‘I suppose you’re still traipsing down to the police station every month.’
‘Waste of bloody time,’ Kenny said. ‘I have to see this bird, Miss T______. I don’t know what for. She parrots on for half an hour and then I piss off home. Useless.’
‘You said she keeps asking if you’re working,’ Janice said.
‘They’ve nowt better to do, some of them,’ Vera said. ‘All this crime about, cars being pinched, and they have to pick on ordinary folk. We nearly had a break-in here, did Janice tell you?’
‘Yeh.’
‘Nobody saw him but the lock on number two had been damaged. Somebody trying to get in obviously.’
‘Did you report it?’
‘And have them clod-hopping through the place? Did I buggery. Less I see of them the better. Anyway there’s nowt worth pinching in the other flats at the moment, they’re empty. There’s a tenant moving in next week.’
Kenny looked at Janice and winked. ‘I’m tired,’ he said. Janice bent down quickly to hide her face and started picking up plates. Vera said, ‘I bet it’s freezing out.’
‘We’ll all have to sleep in your bed,’ Kenny said.
‘You might as well; that small bedroom will be like Siberia.’ Kenny didn’t know whether or not to take her seriously. She noticed his expression and said, ‘You’re part of the family, aren’t you? Well, almost.’
‘Mum,’ Janice said, frowning.
‘Oh don’t be so mard. You young ones today, I don’t know. When I was a kid there were five of us in one bed.’
‘Brothers and sisters.’
‘Not always,’ Vera said, getting up and putting a cup and saucer on the coffee table. ‘Me uncle Arthur used to sleep with us sometimes. Christ, did he snore. And he used to take up half the bed.’
Kenny waited in the living-room while Janice and her mother got into bed, then went into the bedroom, stripped down to his underpants and climbed in beside them. It was lovely and warm and he was so tired he nearly went straight to sleep, but the presence of Janice, soft and vulnerable and pressed so close against his body immediately aroused him. He put his hand under her nightdress and she went rigid and stopped breathing. She put her mouth to his ear and said, ‘Wait,’ in the lightest of breaths. They lay with their eyes shut and their arms intertwined, listening to the alarm clock’s relentless hollow tick and the mother’s breathing getting slower and slower. Kenny was struggling with a massive erection and could feel the sweat gathering on his neck: he took Janice’s hand and moulded her fingers around the aching stiffness: she held on to him as they waited in an agony of impatience.
‘She must be asleep by now,’ Kenny whispered.
‘Wait.’
‘Fuckinell, Jan.’
‘Sssshhh!’
It was torture; it was worse than torture. The lower part of his abdomen felt as if it contained a lump of concrete with an iron rod embedded in it. They began to kiss and touch each other and soon it didn’t matter whether Janice’s mother was awake or not. Kenny eased himself astride her and slowly the rhythm built up – both of them making sounds that neither were fully aware of. Kenny was dog-weary and kept falling into a dreamlike doze, the movement and the feeling going on separately, as it were, while he himself slept.
‘Oh Kenny …’ Janice said as she felt him coming inside her. ‘I love you… I love you.’
The realisation of the actual physical moment, of the girl beneath him, brought him to his senses and he went on and on, harder, his stomach quivering and the insides of his legs jerking as he finally expended himself.
‘Do you love me?’ Janice asked softly.
‘Yeh,’ Kenny said, extricating himself. He lay on his back in the hollow of the bed, the beer and the warmth and the tiredness pressing down on his limbs. He could have slept forever.
‘Kenny,’ Janice said. ‘Say you love me.’
‘Mm,’ Kenny mumbled.
‘Go on, Kenny, say it. Please.’
‘I love …’ Kenny said, and was asleep.
It was as though he hadn’t slept ten minutes (he was sure it hadn’t been an instant longer) when he felt something moving on his stomach. It felt like somebody’s fingers.
‘Are you awake?’ a voice said. He didn’t answer, but his body had tensed.
‘Randy beast,’ Vera murmured, her hand slipping between his legs and cradling his balls.
Rochdale Observer, 8 December 1973
ATTACK ON PAKISTANIS WHO
WANTED TO HELP GIRLS
JUDGE SENTENCES EIGHT
‘BRUTAL COWARDS’
THINKING that a group of girls were being subjected to unwelcome attention from some youths, three Pakistani men stopped their car to speak to the girls.
They were then stoned by the youths and one had his skull fractured, Manchester Crown Court heard on Wednesday.
Sentencing eight you
ths for offences of affray and wounding Judge Desmond Bailey said: ‘You behaved in a wanton, cowardly and brutal fashion.
‘You set upon three completely defenceless men and attacked them by throwing stones. The sole offence these men had committed, or so it seemed in their minds, was their colour and race.
‘This sort of anti-racial behaviour does England no good at all, and I am sure you will be greatly ashamed of what you did for as long as you live.’
B______ R______ , aged 17, of New Barn Lane, Rochdale, was jailed for three years after being convicted by a jury of causing grievous bodily harm with intent to Mr Afzal Bux.
Six other youths admitted causing an affray.
M______ F______, aged 17, of St Martin’s Street, Castleton; M______ H______, aged 17, of Kirkway, Kirkholt; S______ M______, aged 19, of Datchett Terrace, Kirkholt, and P______ S______, aged 17, of Castleway, Castleton, were each given a six-month sentence suspended for two years and were each fined £50.
L______ R______, aged 16, of Worcester Street, Rochdale, was fined £50 and S______J______, aged 15, of Shirley Street, Castleton, was given a conditional discharge for two years.
A______ R______, aged 17, also of Worcester Street, Rochdale, was convicted by a jury of causing an affray and was given a six-month sentence suspended for two years.
F______, H______, M______, S______ and L______ R______ were each ordered to pay £50 compensation.
Mr Geoffrey Voss, prosecuting, said that on 13 July Mr Bux, of Exford, Ashfield Valley, was driving along the Ashfield Valley service road with two friends when he saw a group of girls and the defendants.
‘He thought the girls were being subjected to attentions which were unwelcome and stopped the car to ask the girls if they were all right,’ Counsel said.
One girl told him to go away, and stones were thrown by the defendants towards Mr Bux and his car.
Mr Bux and his passengers got out of the car and the defendants ran to a canal bridge where there was a pile of bricks.
Bricks were then thrown at the three men, who turned and ran back to where the trouble had first started.
Mr Bux got into his car and drove towards the defendants. R______ then picked up a piece of pipe and threw it through the windscreen of the car, hitting Mr Bux on the head and fracturing his skull.
‘Mr Bux lost consciousness and the car continued across a pavement and crashed into two garages,’ Mr Voss said.
Judge Bailey ordered that £100 of the compensation should be paid to Mr Bux for the damage to his car and £150 to Rochdale Corporation for damage to the garages.
Rochdale Observer, 9 March 1974
BOROUGH MAGISTRATES
WEDNESDAY
LICENSEE ACCUSED – Licensee of the Ship Inn, Milnrow Road, Rochdale, J______ P______ G______ was accused of selling alcohol to a fifteen-year-old girl and the case was adjourned until 20 March.
BREAK-IN
DOLL THOUGHT THAT SOMEBODY WAS TRYING TO BATTER the door down and when she went to find out what was going on, discovered Kenny on the step, white-faced and with his hair plastered to his head. It looked to Doll as though he might have been crying.
‘What’s up?’ she said, fearing that something had gone wrong in the family. Kenny came in and went straight through to the kitchen, leaving a trail of wet bootprints on the composition floor. Jimmy was sitting down to his tea; considering that the pubs had been open for an hour or more this was something approaching a minor miracle. Neither the man nor the boy said a word: Kenny flopped into the chair with the broken arm and stared into the fire.
‘Kenny?’ Doll said tentatively. Even now she couldn’t altogether resist a hesitant smile, her perfect set of teeth on display like a specimen in a dental training school.
‘The old man twamped me,’ Kenny said into his chest. His voice was gruff and he released a long shuddering sigh.
‘What for this time?’ Doll said carefully; she didn’t want the lad to break down and cry.
‘How should I know? He came in after work and went bloody mad. The usual caper. I can’t do anything now without him picking on me.’
‘What about your mam?’
‘What about her?’
‘Didn’t she say anything?’
‘Nowt much she could say, what with him ranting and raving.’ He added in an undertone and with deep, bitter feeling, ‘I’ll get me own back.’
‘It must have been for something, Kenny.’
It had been, of course, about money – or, more precisely, the lack of it. He had arranged with Janice to go to the Seven Stars in Heywood and had asked the old lady for a couple of quid: she had been in the kitchen cooking the tea and had pointed silently and furiously at the living-room where Brian was watching the northern news. But Brian wasn’t watching the northern news: at that precise moment he was on his way to the kitchen and had caught her in the act, caught her mouthing and gesturing, and things had taken their course. Brian’s anger had been held in abeyance over Christmas (a friendly gesture in the spirit of peace and goodwill towards all mankind). Kenny had been misled by the temporary truce and lapsed into his old careless ways. Instead of staying in his room and avoiding his father as much as possible, he lounged in front of the television all night, smoking his mother’s cigarettes and drinking canned beer out of the fridge.
He no longer kept up the pretence of looking for a job but lay in bed till dinner-time and after egg, bacon and fried bread wandered round the flat in his mauve underpants until late afternoon. Brian didn’t know about this, but he suspected it. And what really annoyed him, angered him to the point of incoherent rage, was Kenny’s attitude. In the army they had called it dumb insolence, and Kenny had perfected the technique to a fine art. He would stand and stare with his slightly bulging eyes and take everything that was hurled at him without batting an eyelid or uttering a word. It was as though Brian were attempting to communicate with a deaf and dumb person, or an imbecile, or the wall.
So when he came upon the secret, silent conversation between mother and son the last shred of reason and tolerance snapped – like a steel wire under tremendous pressure – and he went at them both until Margaret, the first to give way, said, ‘Yes. Yes. All right. He was asking for money. He’s taking Janice out and he wants a couple of quid. Is that it? Are you satisfied?’ She turned off the heat under the liver and onions and pushed Brian aside to get into the living-room.
Then the fight started. Brian clipped Kenny on the ear and Kenny, who normally only defended himself, retaliated. Then Brian went berserk and leathered him. He was smaller and weighed less than Kenny but it was no contest. The liver and onions went flying and the sliding glass door in the wall cupboard was shattered. Kenny couldn’t get out and ended up scriking.
‘It must have been for something,’ Doll said, taking the dirty dishes to the sink.
‘It weren’t for anything.’
‘Money,’ Jimmy Mangan said.
‘He’s been on at me for ages,’ Kenny said. ‘I can’t do anything right. He even gets mad if I take Janice home. You don’t know what he’s like at times; he’s like a madman.’
‘He always was a bit too bloody handy with his fists, yon bugger,’ Jimmy said. He lit a Park Drive and propped his bare elbows on the table. Pale streaks showed through the grime on his arms where rivulets of soapy water had run down. He dragged the smoke into his lungs and said, ‘You’re not on the cadge, are you?’ Doll gave him a look and put her hand on Kenny’s shoulder:
‘Do you want a drink, love?’
‘What have you got?’
‘Only tea or coffee.’
‘Never mind.’ There was a catch in his voice and he was full of self-pity. It even hurt him that they didn’t have any beer for him to drink. Life, it seemed, was conspiring to crush him: nobody really cared anything for him: he was all alone in the world. The flames in front of his eyes suddenly went distorted and streaky, like sunshine seen through a rainy windowpane, and he had to tense his muscles in his throat to h
old back the tears.
Jimmy Mangan said, ‘Have you got a job yet?’ and Kenny shook his head without looking up; he thought furiously: You’ve got fucking room to talk. ‘There you are then,’ Jimmy said. ‘You can’t expect him to keep on forking out when you’re on the dole.’
‘I’m not on the dole,’ Kenny said. ‘I was given the push, so I can’t draw.’
‘There you are then.’ There was a silence in which Jimmy picked up his pint mug and slurped his tea. The sound reminded Kenny of a pig with its snout in the trough and he nearly lost control. He thought seriously – for just a moment – of hitting the silly old fart on the head and taking his money.
In the hallway on his way out Doll put a finger to her lips and pressed a pound note into his hand, saying loudly, ‘See you again, Kenny love. Give me love to your mam.’ She opened the front door and waved him on. ‘Ta-ra now.’ Her teeth flashed like a beacon in a dark world as Kenny went out into the rain.
• • •
The Seven Stars was fairly quiet – it was only to be expected – this being the first Friday after the New Year when most people had spent up and were short of cash. Janice knew that Kenny was in a black mood as soon as they met: his jaw was set and he didn’t say a word all the way to Heywood on the bus. The rain continued to pelt down and they were both soaked by the time they got to the pub. It was a disco place and at weekends had a local group on: three or four lads who worked during the day and played for a few quid and free beer at nights – attracting the sixteen to twenties from Rochdale, Bury, and from Heywood itself.