by Brian Darley
At lunch the following day Gary made sure I got at least a bit of decent food to keep me happy for the nights football but I didn’t really want favours I just wanted everybody to get fed fairly. I found out I was to be playing as a defender which really suited me as I always fancied myself as an outfield player and not a goalie. The dubious pleasure of playing in defence meant I was always in reasonably close proximity to Swinton and although he threw his weight around he couldn’t trap a bag of cement so he was easy to dispossess, which gave me some form of revenge although he left his calling card on my shins at every possible opportunity. Somehow the footie made me forget about my pains and I tried desperately to hide the severe bruising when taking a shower. The sharp pains of the day before had now become more of a dull ache and the bruising was slowly beginning to turn yellowish in places, which I took as a sign that things were slowly healing.
Suddenly as I left the shower to walk along the cloisters to the common room I felt more terrible pain, this time in the bollocks courtesy of Swinton’s right foot. He made it abundantly clear that I was not to mix with him when playing football.
In bed that night my brain was at melting point, had Angela had our baby yet? If so were they well and how would she be coping? I kept asking myself why I had only got one letter from Mum and Dad and why was it so short and matter of fact? Would they visit me? Etched in my mind was the image of Sue trying to pull out all the stops for me but the thought I kept coming back to, time and again, was of Jill sobbing her heart out and deep down inside I wondered why and was having to face the fact I was getting deep feelings for her, although she was way out of my league.
Saturday came and went with no visitors and it was so terribly distressing sitting, waiting and hoping to be called forward if someone had come to visit me. Looking at the hurt on other lads faces I could only sympathise as I was so deeply torn to shreds but tried to come to terms that I was a long way from home and to visit me would cost as much as a weeks holiday in a caravan at Hastings.
During week two the loneliness became even more unbearable. Every day I waited in vain as the post was given out but nothing arrived for me. I began to wonder if I had been sent a letter that had not passed the vetting process as all letters were opened and checked to see if their content was suitable.
My appointment with the psychiatrist was on the Wednesday and he tried instantly to shock me by asking why I couldn’t keep my cock in my trousers, but I didn’t rise to his taunts and just hoped his report would be favourable, but inside I had no idea what he was attempting to find out about me. What would be the point in me saying I would never have under aged sex again because I had every intention of doing it in the not too distant future.
On the football front things just got better as I was moved up field when the other lads found out I was okay. Several times I got on the score sheet and another advantage was, in most cases, I kept Swinton at arms length.
One of the high points of the week was when Mr Cooke, the thicko’s teacher was on bedtime duty in the dormitory. Everybody nick-named him Sam after the singer Sam Cook and after lights out some of the lads started whistling some of Sam’s songs. Mr Cooke went mad and turned the lights on and invited the culprits to own up. Not surprisingly nobody did, so he made us all stand by our beds and hum to the tune of Chain Gang for over 30 minutes until we had learned our lesson in not to take the piss.
Another Saturday came and, again, no visitors and I began to feel really isolated from everything and everybody, but I couldn’t tell a soul how I was feeling, many others must have felt the same. That evening at the film show visitors sweets were shared out and promptly handed to the bullies as soon as the lights went out but eventually they saw some remorse to their actions and sent back all the coconut and marzipan ones they didn’t like. Secretly I hoped their greed would cause them unbearable stomach discomfort.
CHAPTER 30
Sour Revenge
Week three offered some small glimmer of hope that the constant bullying might stop. Aggie Boot called us on the Tuesday morning and as she was doing her rounds to check who had wet the bed she noticed blood on a new arrivals pillow case and sheets. She was quite kind to him as he suffered from severe nose bleeds and excused him his cleaning duties for the day and ordered him to the surgery to be checked over. The lads name was Colin Penton and he was about my age which helped, as I am sure I was one of the youngest there.
Aggie Boot summoned me to take Colin’s sheets to the laundry which was a bit embarrassing as I had to go with the tankers and at that time of the morning the laundry smelt like the gents public toilets in town. It all suddenly seemed really worthwhile as who was there after pissing his bed, none other than Swinton. His facial expression made getting up and being alive so worthwhile until he grabbed me by the throat and told me not to utter a word if I valued my health. He said it was the first time it had happened to him but I didn’t believe him, I felt sure he threatened everybody to keep silent.
Most days at breakfast you would see one of the boys dressed in their civvies ready for their destiny with the Courts and I would estimate that around half of them were back by teatime waiting for a vacancy in a proper secure place of detention. I was told that remand counted as part of your sentence so I figured if I were to be sent down for three months I was nearly a quarter of the way through it.
After Thursday’s footie the word was around we had a problem for Friday’s match. Walker our keeper, who I thought was brilliant, was up for trial on Friday, and it seemed extremely unlikely he would return as his crime was so serious it was generally assumed he would be sentenced to HM Borstal, the ultimate in punishment for youths. His crime sounded rather inconsequential as it was only stealing oxygen and acetylene bottles but the fact he was supplying them to a known gang of safe breakers made it extremely serious. Desperately our block needed a new goalkeeper and Walks was pretty good to say the least so volunteers were asked to step forward. When no-one came forward I decided to volunteer my services and very few took me seriously but Gary knew I had dabbled in goal owing to our late night talks.
Friday nights footie was the game you could only dream about. Effectively we had lost an outfield player and we were left with our backs against the wall, but this was to be my finest hour, or at least half an hour. Our block were totally under the hammer from minute one but somehow I saved everything thrown at me, it was the performance of my lifetime. After around thirty or so minutes play two players challenged quite innocuously for a ball and one of them, namely Swinton, went down like a sack of spuds. Mr Sansom, the officer in charge, who was known as Sieve, due to his lack of memory, raced over to give him first aid. In his panic he shouted that Swinton had stopped breathing and without thought I ran over to help. Quite fortunately I remembered something Georgina had told me about first aid which she had learned at Girl Guides. Mr Sansom was in a state of panic, as were most of the lads, but I gently pushed Swinton’s chin back to free his airway and he started to breath as normal. It then became apparent, although purely accidental, he had a major problem with his leg. Mr Sansom got me to stay with him until he had taken the other lads back and then the Superintendent took over until an ambulance arrived to take Swinton to hospital. Fortunately I never saw him again but before lights out Gary asked me the question “why did you help that bastard”? My reply was simple “where I was bought up only a coward would take revenge that way”. Deep down inside I so hoped Swinton would become a much nicer person but sadly it almost certainly would not happen.
When Saturday’s mail was given out I received a letter from Mum which was again very matter of fact, basically telling me that Dad would see me in Court on Tuesday but no real news apart from that. Mum’s handwriting was really superb and just seeing the way she wrote cheered me up immensely but inwardly I felt something was being held back and the fact that none of her letters mentioned Daisy began to cause me considerable concern. I resigned myself that yet again I would get no visitors and unfortunately
this was confirmed as I patiently waited in vain but never received a call to go and see anybody.
During the Sunday morning service one of the hymns was Abide With Me and it bought to me a distinct sense of grief. I started to fear that something was terribly wrong at home but inwardly hoped it was just the distance playing tricks with my brain. The following day unsettled me even more as both of the lads who went to Court returned late that afternoon. They had been sentenced to Detention and were being held at Lemworth Green until places were found in Detention Centres for them. Mr Jewson the Super called me into his office that evening for my pre-Court interview and told me that I would get a good report but that probably wouldn’t carry much weight whereas the medical reports would. He warned me that it was fairly likely I would be back owing to the severity of my misdemeanour. That night I lay in bed and resigned myself to being ‘banged up’ but hoped beyond all hope that my luck would be in. Somehow the prospect of seeing Dad in Court didn’t seem comforting enough and I was terrified. Any fears I had about moving away to be a footballer were now totally dispelled as I began to fear I would be spending a long time surrounded by the low life I had been forced to accept as my temporary family.
CHAPTER 31
First the Good News
Early morning sunshine, beating through the dormitory windows, filled me with hope that all would be well and after the wake up call Aggie Boot told me that I still had to do my cleaning duties before reporting to the sewing room to pick up my own clothing, which I had to change into after taking a shower. During the three weeks of my enforced stay I had seen many other lads eating their breakfast in civvies and in the beginning I thought my turn would never come. One of the Officers told me to wait in the common room after breakfast as I was not being collected until around 10.30 and my sentencing was scheduled to be the first job the Magistrates performed after their lunch. Back in the common room I felt like a celebrity as most of the lads wished me good luck as they were called to their various classes.
Finally my escorts arrived and I was pleased to see it was the nice lady police officer who had first taken me to Lemworth Green and a fairly elderly gentleman dressed in a rather shabby grey suit which made him look a cross between a tramp and a scarecrow, who then introduced himself as Mr Green, the District Probation Officer for my local area. He said very little except that he had been to see what my home was like in order to make a report for the Court to read. As on the outward journey, the police lady was really nice and she told me we would be going to the Police Station first so as to get me a lunch which I took as a negative sign, did she know something? Why would I need feeding if I was being released?
Little did I know that along the way a close neighbour of mine called Joey Potts was on his way to Lemworth Green for fourteen days remand. If I’d known we could have waved as we passed each other. I had no doubt he would fit in fine as he was two years older than me and could really handle himself.
Dinner at the Police Station was quite a step up from the swill I had been given for the last three weeks and to make things even better I had the whole meal to myself and not just the cabbage and any other shit the bullies didn’t like. After dinner there was a short delay and I was told we would be going straight into the Court room on arrival as there were no facilities at the Court for detaining minors. During the short journey I noticed a few familiar faces going about their everyday life and inwardly I so hoped I would shortly be let loose on those streets.
Unlike on my previous visit the area outside of the Court Room was almost deserted except for one Policeman and Jill who looked as gorgeous as ever but facially very tired. Her face brightened up as I was led past her into the Court Room where Dad was already sitting in wait. Everybody had to stand as the Magistrates entered the room and I noticed that it was unfortunately the same three as before. They asked for a report from Mr Green the Probation Officer, who said that after visiting my home he was totally satisfied I was being brought up correctly. He also said he thought it would be beneficial if I remained under his supervision should they decide not to send me down for custodial remand. The Magistrates then adjourned to discuss the medical reports, and no doubt have a cup of tea and a salmon sandwich, as they decided upon my fate. It seemed positively hours before they returned and I couldn’t help but notice Dad’s very serious look. It was really frightening. When they returned I had to stand to have my fate bestowed upon me. The same old bag, who was the Chief Magistrate, began her speech by telling me that my behaviour was totally unacceptable and I had to be taught a lesson. This was followed by ‘you will serve two years …………….. probation’. It seemed an eternity before the word probation came out but the wait was all so worthwhile. She also told me that from the end of July I would have to pay maintenance to Angela assuming she had given birth by then. This was to continue until the child reached school leaving age. She also made it clear that probation was not a let off and I now had a criminal record which would almost certainly disqualify me from applying for certain jobs such as Policeman, Postman etc., and she didn’t ever want to see me before the bench again.
As I left the Court Room I felt a huge cloud had been lifted from in front of me but I had this underlying feeling that all was not well at home and this feeling seemed to further gain ground when I saw the Probation Officer talking with Dad so I walked along the deserted corridor in a state of confusion. I was now a free man and suddenly Jill rushed up and cuddled me. She was sobbing her heart out as she told me that Angela had given birth to Stan on the previous Friday and both were doing well. Jill told me she had been up to Lancashire to see her sister in hospital on Sunday and had taken some photos but they would take a couple of weeks to be developed at the chemist, which was quite quick in those times. She promised she would get me one and asked if I would meet her from work on Saturday. I didn’t really know how I felt, I was now a Dad but didn’t feel like one and probably never would. Dad came out with Mr Green who said he would make the necessary arrangements for maintenance payments and send me an appointment to see him on a weekly basis, although this could become less regular if he felt I was doing okay. It was hardly the right time but I went in with all guns blazing and told him Angela had given birth on Friday. Rather surprisingly Dad didn’t show the slightest emotion and I definitely knew then that something was up, so I assumed that once we were alone he was about to deliver a severe tongue lashing to me.
By the time Dad and I left the building in total silence Jill had disappeared which left an eerie emptiness in the air. Once outside Dad broke the silence by telling me that Grandad had died suddenly a week ago. My first thoughts were for Mum who had lost the person who had brought her up but Dad assured me she was coping fine. For a while I had been aware that Grandad had been suffering with breathing difficulties but I assumed this was caused by him constantly inhaling dust on the building sites where he worked. Apparently he had contracted bronchial pneumonia and had spent the last three days of his life in hospital so hopefully he hadn’t suffered too much for too long.
When we arrived home Mum was so pleased to see me it was difficult to imagine anything was wrong and her face brightened into a huge smile when Dad broke the news to her about her grandson Stan being born. Deep down inside I believe Mum hoped that Angela and I would be able to play happy families and that Angela would return to this part of the country but I knew this would never happen in a million years. Mum kept asking me all kinds of questions, such as what time was he born, the colour of his eyes, weight at birth, which made me realise just how distanced and unprepared I was.
I didn’t really know how I felt as I had just come home from three weeks of hell to find out I was now a Dad and the person who had always been there for me had passed away, which had left a gap which could never and would never be filled. Big boys don’t cry was my motto so somehow I managed to fight back the tears although inside my heart was breaking up into little pieces. Amidst all the fuss and emotions it suddenly dawned on me there had be
en no mention of his funeral and so with a large lump in my throat I asked the question. When Dad told me it was tomorrow I was in absolute utter shock and totally unprepared. I had never been to a funeral before and was really scared. No wonder I hadn’t had many letters and no visitors, I felt so sorry for poor Mum and Dad. How did they cope with the situation? It must have been impossible for them. I brought the subject up with them and Dad said he had phoned the Remand Centre to see how best to deal with things and the Super had told him I was doing very well and it would be for the best not to tell me in case my mixed emotions caused any problems which may have lessened my chances of freedom.