Auntie Dot will, however, have to buy a razor and some shaving soap or she will become the bearded lady.
“You can sleep in the front room, here on the couch,” Mum said to Auntie Dot.
“Thanks, ducky. You’re a real sweetheart. And this is a real palace! A real fucking palace, if you don’t mind my saying! I can even watch telly in bed.”
There could be a problem with Auntie Dot watching our telly in bed. When we could afford it, I went with Mum to the Radio Rentals shop to ask about renting a television and the man there said it would be fine but he could not rent a television to a woman.
“It is the rule because, unlike men, women don’t have jobs, and a telly is a very expensive piece of electrical equipment, and we need to know that the rental payments are going to be made. And no, Mrs. Mitchell, a woman cannot sign a rental contract.”
So Mum asked Robert to sign the contract. At first he said no and then Mollie Midget said he had better sign it if he wanted to continue to keep those damned chaffinches in the kitchen. And he said it would now be his personal financial responsibility and will keep him awake at night. So he would therefore only sign for the cheapest telly rental they had. This turned out to be a Ferguson Type 306T black and white telly with a screen the size and shape of a small frying pan.
Our Ferguson takes about seven minutes to warm up before it shows a picture and it keeps blowing its EY86 rectifier valve. I know all about EY86 rectifier valves because the Radio Rentals repair man is here a lot. And he told me that those valves are getting harder and harder to find and our telly belongs in a bloody museum. We must not, under any circumstances, turn the volume up above four. And we should not watch any programs with loud music or keep it switched on for longer than four hours each evening.
So Auntie Dot should not watch telly in bed.
“Those are lovely orange curtains, ducky,” Dot said.
“They’re fiberglass. I got them from the Littlewoods Catalog. They’re fireproof.”
“Fireproof?”
“Yes, fireproof.”
“So I don’t need to worry about smoking in bed then! This really is the height of luxury! Telly and a fag in bed! Now listen, ducky. Have you ever been on a diet?”
“None that worked. Other than starvation! And we’ve all tried that.”
“Well, I need to go on a diet and not soon enough. I can’t get my arse in these fucking London Transport trousers any more. I’ve complained to the Union. And then there was last week. My foot went right through the fucking floorboards in the bedroom. Course, they were rotted, but that’s not the point. No, I’m as fat as a bleeding, pregnant elephant.”
“Sounds like a diet is the only way then, Dot.”
“I tried that grapefruit diet from the telly, but I can’t stand grapefruits. Too blooming bitter. So I was thinking I might go on an apple diet. Is there a fruit and veg shop around here?”
“Yes. Just up the road.”
Dot came back from the shop with a whole box of Cox’s Orange Pippin apples.
“I will begin my diet tomorrow. Nothing but apples. Nothing. Do not try to tempt me.”
“You’ll fade away!”
“I know. But needs must. I’m the size of a London bus. And look at these bloody tits. They’re like carrying around two giant fucking watermelons, and I’m never going to have any use for them at my age, am I?”
“Well, that’s right enough!”
“Right, you kids come here. And you, Margueretta.”
“Uh?” Margueretta replied.
“We’re going to roll Lassie over and crack some fleas, poor girl. This is a holiday for her too, you know.”
“Disgusting!” Margueretta replied.
“Emily, you get the ones under her back legs. John, you do the front legs. Margueretta, get the ones round her belly. And make sure you crack them or they’ll jump right out of your hands and back onto her.”
Margueretta ran out of the room and didn’t come back so Dot told me and Emily that whoever cracked the most fleas could have an apple. I won the apple.
And all this evening I’ve been thinking about whether to do something. At first I thought about doing my David Nixon magic show for Auntie Dot but I think I have a much better idea. It’s not a magic trick but it is a trick. I bought it at the U-Need-Us jokes and novelty shop on Arundel Street while Mum was at the Portsmouth Magistrates Court getting a divorce from my dad, which is not something a small boy should witness.
My trick will make everyone laugh, especially Auntie Dot, because she always says she loves a really good laugh. This will be a really good laugh. She will be talking about it for years.
And it will be so much better than anything I could do with my five-in-one magic wand.
59
Auntie Dot had four apples for breakfast this morning along with two mugs of tea and three Kensitas. After reading the Daily Mirror and having a good long fart, she made an announcement.
“Listen everybody. I have made a decision.”
“What’s that, Dot?” Mum replied.
“I’m going to cut down that jungle in your front garden. You can’t even see the front of your fucking house from the path! You could lose a child in there! It will also be just the right exercise I need to go along with my apple diet.”
“Well, that would be nice, but we haven’t got a lawn mower.”
“What about some garden shears?”
“No.”
“Scythe?”
“No.”
“A knife?”
“Only the breadknife. And it’s serrated.”
“Scissors?”
“Just my sewing scissors.”
“Well, beggars can’t be choosers. I’ll use your sewing scissors, then.”
Auntie Dot settled down on the path by the front door and started to clip at the weeds with Mum’s scissors. I would have to make a move soon as this was the ideal opportunity, while Dot was distracted. Yes, the ideal opportunity because she had two open packets of cigarettes and one of them was on the floor beside the couch with just four cigarettes left in it.
I just know for sure that my Exploding Cigarette Bomb trick will make Dot laugh more than anything in her life. There is a diagram on the packet showing the tiny bomb being pushed up the end of a cigarette. And there’s a picture of a man in a smoking jacket with an exploded cigarette dangling from his mouth.
He is saying, “Gasp!”
Auntie Dot will definitely gasp.
Mum has been supplying Auntie Dot with mugs of tea and she has smoked one cigarette after another from the open packet beside her. Mum even made Margueretta lend Dot her transistor radio for the day. And Auntie Dot is singing along to the music.
Silence is golden, but my eyes still see…golden, golden…
“Fuck these weeds are full of fucking nettles and brambles! ‘How many times will she fall for his lines?’”
…golden, golden, but my eyes still see. Still see. Still seeeeeee!
“Cowson, that fucking thistle!”
Pushing the bomb up the end of the cigarette in the packet by the couch was really easy. Now I just had to wait for her other packet to run out, which shouldn’t be long. Then we will have such a laugh.
“Johnny! Get my other packet of fags, there’s a love. Jesus Christ, these apples are tasteless.”
“You’ll be tightening that belt on another notch soon!” Mum suggested.
“I will. Fucking fading away at this rate. How many apples have I had today?”
“I think it’s about seventeen, Dot.”
“What time is it?”
“Half past eleven.”
“Fuck. I’ll limit myself to six apples for lunch, then.”
I ran back with the second packet of cigarettes. Dot took one out and lit it. Nothing. Ten minutes later, another one. Nothing. That means there are just two cigarettes left.
“Ooo-er! What’s she doing there?” asked Joan Housecoat, standing at the garden gate.
; “She’s…” Mum started.
“I’m cutting the fucking grass. What d’you think I’m doing? Playing fucking billiards?” Dot replied.
“Ooo-er! Only asking. Why don’t you use a pair of shears or something like that? It’ll take you a month of Sundays to cut down that jungle with those scissors. Ooo-er!”
“If I had a fucking pair of shears that’s what I’d be fucking using. Now, unless you’ve got any other stupid fucking questions, I’ve got work to do.”
Dot took another cigarette from the packet and lit it and threw the empty packet on the heap of weeds. Hang on a minute. There were four cigarettes in that packet and this is only the third one she has lit. I put my hands over my ears. I must have missed one. Now this is it!
“Johnny! Run up to the Co-op, there’s a good boy, and get me another packet of Kensitas. Here’s ten bob. And buy yourself an ice cream.”
It was almost a disaster, but Emily offered to go to the Co-op. Dot took a long drag on her cigarette and I waited. Nothing.
Then I noticed what happened to the fourth cigarette. It was behind Dot’s ear. She had tucked the last cigarette behind her ear. So that’s the cigarette with the bomb!
“You know something, ducky?”
“What’s that, Dot?” Mum replied.
“This is some fucking paradise here. You don’t know how lucky you are living out here in the country with this garden and everything. Some fucking paradise, I’d call it. Actually, I will now call it Green Acres. Yes, you now live at Green Acres. And this is me last fag till little Emily gets back. But I’ll take another mug of tea, please, me ducks!”
The smoke clouded around Dot’s face as she dragged on that last cigarette.
“Oh, I love a smoke. A diet’s one thing, but I could never give up me fags. Never.”
60
It is absolutely not my fault that there is no warning on the packet about the dangers of putting a small bomb in the end of someone’s cigarette. And there is no mention in the instructions of the chance that half of the cigarette could get stuck up that person’s nose and that the rest of the cigarette would catch fire leaving a black patch of smoke around that person’s nose and mouth making them look like Adolf Hitler.
I now know for sure. Auntie Dot is definitely a woman because she screamed and screamed like a little girl.
“I could have been fucking blinded by that fucking cigarette. Fucking blinded! The fucking quality of those Kensitas has gone right down hill. I’m switching to Guards from now on. Fucking almost blinded for Christ’s sake!”
I’ve hidden the other five bombs under my bed. And I’m saying nothing.
Mum has left with Akanni and taken Auntie Dot round to Mollie’s to have a cup of tea and calm down. So, I’ve switched the old Ferguson on so that it can warm up in time for Steptoe and Son, which is my favorite program on the telly.
“That was terrible what happened to Auntie Dot, wasn’t it?” Emily asked.
“Yes.”
“She could have been blinded.”
“Yes.”
“I like it when Auntie Dot is here. She makes me laugh,” said Emily.
“I know. It feels safe when she’s here. Here with Lassie. I feel safe.”
“What are you watching?” Margueretta asked as she came into the front room.
“Steptoe and Son. It’s just started.”
“Well, I don’t want to watch it! I’m switching it over.”
“But you were listening to your radio,” I protested.
“Radio? What business is it of yours what I was doing? If I want to watch the telly then that’s my choice and there’s nothing you can do about it. I’ve noticed you have far too much to say for yourself while Auntie Dot is here. Well, she’s not here now is she? Want to make something of it?”
“We were watching Steptoe and Son!”
“Shut your little mouth. Actually, I’m going to shut it for you!”
So, she shut my mouth with her hand tight across my face so that I couldn’t breathe. Then she held me down on the floor and sat on me and bounced up and down on my stomach and slowly dripped a big glob of bubbly spit into my face.
“Got anything to say now, little boy?”
“Get off him!” Emily shouted.
“Let’s see if I can make the little boy cry! Ha, ha! Crybaby! Crybaby!”
She twisted that little bit of hair that sits right above my ears again. She twisted and twisted but I wouldn’t cry.
“I know what will make you cry! A Chinese burn! Yes! A Chinese burn! That always works.”
She grabbed my wrist with both hands and began turning my skin in opposite directions until I screamed for her to stop.
“Submit! Submit!”
“I’ll tell you when to submit! Ha, ha!”
“Submit! Submit!”
“Get off him!” Emily screamed.
“Ha, ha! Ha, ha!”
And the front door opened. It was Mum and Akanni and Auntie Dot.
“Those fucking chaffinches! I couldn’t hear myself fucking thinking!” said Dot.
“Well, at least Robert can hear them now,” said Mum.
“Right. Where are my fucking apples?”
Margueretta jumped off me as quick as she could.
“What’s going on in here?” Dot asked.
“Margueretta was beating John up,” Emily replied. “She does it all the time.”
“What?” Dot replied.
“I was just playing!” Margueretta said.
“She spat in his face and twisted his wrist to give him a Chinese burn. She does it all the time,” Emily shouted.
“Did you know about this?” Dot asked my mum.
“Well, I’ve tried to stop it, but I can’t be here all the time.”
“Tried to stop it? Tried to bloody stop it? Well, you should fucking try harder!”
“But she’s out of control…”
“She’s a damned bully…”
“I’ve tried…”
“Tried? You! Margueretta! Get here!”
Auntie Dot grabbed Margueretta by the throat and threw her onto the sofa, and Margueretta screamed, and I laughed, but only inside.
“You fucking touch him again, and I will kill you with my bare hands! Do you understand?”
Margueretta looked frightened for the first time ever.
“I said do you fucking understand, you pathetic little bully?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Auntie Dot. Yes, I understand.”
“Right. Now, Johnny, come here for a hug. You will never be bullied again, OK? I fucking hate bullies more than anything. Everything will be all right now. If she so much as looks at you, you tell me, and I will beat her to within an inch of her fucking life!”
I love Auntie Dot more than anyone, more than anything. She is my pretend dad, even if she does have a grab-handle for a willy. This is the happiest day of my life. But Auntie Dot is leaving tomorrow.
61
It’s dark. Dark. So very dark. The shilling ran out in the electric meter and Mum is gone. I don’t know where she is. I never know where she is. We haven’t got another shilling to put the lights back on and take the darkness away.
She came from out of the darkness and held me silently by the throat until I couldn’t breathe. If you hold someone tight enough around the throat it stops the air and then you pass out and then you die. She let go before I died but I couldn’t talk. The only sounds that would come out of my mouth were croaking, rasping grunts.
She said I sounded like a pig, grunting on the floor.
A pig, a pig, a grunting little pig. Grunt, grunt, little pig. Grunt, grunt. Piggy-pig. And she laughed at the grunting little pig. A pig is an animal with dirt on his face.
Grunt, grunt, grunt.
His shoes are a terrible disgrace.
Lying, grunting on the floor in the dark.
62
There is only one thing left to do. I am going to run away
from home and Danny is going with me. We are going to live in the wild and kill animals to eat and sleep in a hidden shelter, which we will make out of branches and leaves and bracken. And we will steal milk and eggs from farms and make small campfires to roast a rabbit or a chicken, which we will shoot with a bow and arrow.
I told Danny that I am running away from home because my sister is trying to kill me and he said he was planning to run away from home too because his big brother keeps wanking on his bed. He told him to wank on his own fucking bed but he keeps doing it on Danny’s bed.
I said we needed to make a plan but Danny said there was no time like the present.
“That’s what my fucking dad always says. Mind you, he’s got a bad fucking back. My mum says he hasn’t had a job since before I was born. So he just sits around fucking smoking. It’s no wonder he says there’s no time like the present. He’s got fuck-all to do.”
We drew some diagrams of shelters and tried to think of things we would need but we decided that it might be better to just run away and then steal the things we need on our way to the woods. So our first stop was the Co-op but this did not go well. For a start, it would have been better if we had agreed on who would steal food and who would steal essential supplies such as matches and candles.
When we ran out of the Co-op, Danny had a packet of pork sausages, a packet of bacon, and some Swan Vesta matches. I had a packet of Trebor Polo Mints and some Black Jack penny chews. I also had some dog biscuits but that is only because they were on a display by the front door as we ran out and obviously not because I thought they were essential supplies. And the reason we were running out the door and not walking is the manager saw Danny putting the bacon down his pants and he was trying to catch us but we were too fast for him. Danny thinks this is good news as it means that we are now fugitives and will be wanted by the police. So Danny is on the run and not just leaving home because his brother keeps wanking on his bed.
On the way to the woods, we found a small metal pot that was lying by a ditch, which we will use for boiling water or making a rabbit stew. Danny said it was a good decision to just steal things on the way and we didn’t even have to steal this pot because it was just lying there for anyone to pick up. But at this point, we haven’t got anything we can use to kill any animals like a bow and arrow. But we’ve got the packet of pork sausages and the bacon so we will be able to have a feast tonight around our campfire and shelter.
The Boy Who Lived With Ghosts: A Memoir Page 17