Me Mam. Me Dad. Me

by Duffy, Malcolm;

  ‘We were going to get married next summer. What did you have to say that for?’

  ‘Just slipped out.’

  ‘Wish it had stayed in.’

  ‘She called me a liar, but it wasn’t a lie, Danny,’ he said, his voice going wobbly, ‘I just kept her in the dark, that’s all. I’d never lie to her.’

  ‘Still think you shoulda told her.’

  ‘You’ll do things in your life, Danny, that you won’t want to talk about. Mark my words, that’ll happen, then you’ll understand.’

  Stevie just sat, looking at the turned-off telly, like there was something good on. I didn’t know what to do. They never teach you stuff like this at school. Just things that are totally useless, like French or history. I went to the kitchen and had some cornflakes. Me plans had all been destroyed. Me dad had turned out to be as soft as clarts, I’d made his girlfriend leave by saying ‘Dad’, and now he’d gone mad, watching a switched-off telly.

  I stayed in the kitchen for two hours and twenty-nine minutes. Know because I kept looking at me watch. I was dead bored. Thought about going for a walk, but I didn’t know where I was, and didn’t even have a key to get back in. But I had to do something. Opened the kitchen door. He was still there, with a nothing look on his face. I saw a man do that at Grey’s Monument, once, dressed as a statue, not moving, just staring. People put coins in his hat. A statue, imagine doing that? People have some stupid jobs.

  ‘What are we doing today?’ Stevie said nothing. ‘What we doing today?’

  ‘Were you sent here to destroy me?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said, were you sent here to destroy me, like in the movies?’

  Was starting to feel scared.

  Stevie stood up, his chest puffed out.

  ‘Right, Danny, you are going back to Gateshead.’

  ‘I can’t, me mam’ll kill me.’

  ‘If she doesn’t, I will. You’re going back.’

  ‘I’m not gannin.’

  ‘You are. I’m taking you to the station.’

  Stevie grabbed me arm. Then he put his face so close it went blurred.

  ‘You have overstayed your welcome, you are leaving. Now.’

  I sat down on the sofa, but he put his hands round me waist and lifted me up. He was dead strong for a skinny bloke, but I wasn’t going to let him throw me out, not after all I’d done to get here. Started waving me arms about and kicking me legs like crazy. Me foot bashed him hard on the knee, and he dropped me on the sofa. Turned around. I’d never seen a face so angry. His fists were balled tight. Spit on his lips. He looked just like Callum.

  Then he lifted his hand to hit me.

  Twenty-Six

  • •

  Closed me eyes, expecting the blow any second. But it never came. Stevie was still there, in front of me, but his arms were by his sides, and his hands were no longer fists.

  ‘I thought you were going to hit me.’

  ‘So did I,’ said Stevie. ‘So did I.’

  ‘I divvent want to go back to Gateshead.’

  ‘So you keep saying.’ He let out two big puffs of air from his nose. ‘I’m gonna let you stay.’

  I didn’t think he’d ever change his mind, not in a million years. But sometimes the things in life you think won’t ever happen actually happen. Could hardly believe me lugs.

  ‘Honest?’

  ‘Honest.’

  This is what is officially known as a miracle.

  ‘Listen, Danny. I have no idea why you came up here, and in four days’ time you are going back home. After that you will never, I mean never, try to contact me again, do you hear me?’

  Nodded.

  ‘I’m sorry for what I did,’ he said.

  ‘You didn’t do anything.’

  ‘But I nearly did.’ He looked away. ‘I don’t hit kids.’ Did that mean he might hit men? ‘I’d never hurt you, Danny. Let’s just draw a line under it.’ Stevie looked dead sad. ‘I’ve been a total idiot. I should have told Megan. I mean, you could have turned up when we were married, you could have turned up any time. I just wish you’d told me you were coming.’ Then he looked me dead in the eyes. ‘In the few days we have left together let’s try not to wind each other up. Deal?’

  ‘Deal.’

  Stevie put out his little hand. I shook it. Strong handshake for a skinny bloke.

  Things were getting better and better. There was still a chance I could get what I came for.

  ‘So what do you want to do today?’

  ‘Have you got a football?’

  ‘No, but the shops have.’

  We grabbed our coats and went to a sports shop in Stevie’s Mini. He went in and came back with a ball. Opened the car door and threw it to me. A white leather one, perfect.

  ‘Ta,’ I said, grinning.

  Stevie drove to a park, and we walked across to a football pitch. Seeing as it was a school week there was nobody on it. Stevie grabbed the ball off me and kicked it a million miles up. I ran after it, got the ball at me feet. Game on. I looked back at Stevie, sitting on a bench. Game off.

  I dribbled the ball over to him.

  ‘Not playing?’

  ‘No.’

  Stevie knew how to punish me, buy a ball and then not kick it with me. I went over to the goal and practised penalties. Bit stupid doing that when there’s no goalie. Even stupider when the nets aren’t up. Took ages to get the ball back. Even with no goalie I still managed to miss a couple of spot kicks. How crap is that? Decided to practise corners. Again, a bit stupid with no one to aim at. I never get bored playing football, but I was getting bored now.

  ‘Call that an in-swinger?’

  Turned round. It was Stevie. I kicked the ball to him. Stevie flicked it up with his toes and did keepy-uppies – for ages. He must have done over fifty. Made my twenty-six look totally pathetic. I reckon he could do it all day if he wanted. Stevie was dead good, nothing like FB.

  He ran off with the ball glued to his feet. Went after him, but I swear it took me ten minutes to get it off him, and when I did I think it’s ’cos he let me. He did nutmegs, back-heels, step-overs, flick-ups, the works. It was like trying to get the ball off a magician.

  ‘Okay, let’s do some penalties,’ he said.

  The ground was a bit clarty, but I didn’t mind. We decided to take fifty penalties each. I went in goal first. He scored thirty-seven. Reckon he could have got more but he was getting flash at the end doing trick shots and trying to score with back-heels. Then he went in. I only got nineteen, and I reckon he let some of those in. A couple of times he dived about five minutes after I’d kicked it.

  ‘Howay, as you Geordies say, let’s gan get some scran.’

  Stevie picked up some sandwiches from a shop and drove us back to his flat. Was just about to open mine when Stevie’s front-door buzzer went. Maybe it was Megan? Stevie put his sandwich down, walked over to a metal grille on the wall, and pressed a button.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hi, Stevie, it’s Connor.’ Could tell from his face that this was not the visitor Stevie wanted. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Er, yeah,’ mumbled Stevie.

  ‘Well, if it’s not contagious, can I come up?’

  ‘Aye, of course,’ he said, pressing a button. Then he turned to me. ‘Danny, go and hide in my bedroom. Do not make a sound.’

  Didn’t know what was going on, but from Stevie’s voice it was serious. I dashed into his bedroom and closed the door. A few seconds later I heard the front door open. Pressed me ear hard against the wood.

  ‘Hello, Stevie,’ said a voice that could only come from a big bloke.

  ‘Hello, Uncle Connor.’

  Guessed this must be the same uncle who took me dad in when he was a lad and stopped him being bad.

  ‘What brings you here?’

  ‘You. I went into the café. They said you were sick. Thought I’d come and see how you were.’

  ‘Just a virus. Think I’m on the mend.’

 
; ‘You must have got your appetite back, eating two packs of sandwiches.’

  I’d left me cheese and tomato sandwich on the sofa.

  ‘Yeah, feeling a bit peckish. I’ll be okay by next week.’

  ‘I hope you’re not turning into a shirker.’

  Stevie did a nervous laugh. ‘No, I’m a grafter, Uncle Connor. You know me.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I know you, Stevie.’

  There was a long silence. The type that grown-ups like.

  ‘You seem a bit tense, Stevie.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Everything okay with you and Megan?’

  I bet Stevie was squirming like a snake at that one.

  ‘Yeah, she’s just gone to see her ma for a few days.’

  ‘If there was anything up, you’d tell me?’

  ‘Of course. You’re the only family I’ve got up here.’

  Liar. Your son’s in your bedroom.

  ‘Do you want me to get you anything from the chemist?’

  ‘No, I’ll be okay.’

  I did crossed fingers that they’d talk about the bad days. But me fingers weren’t working.

  ‘You playing football again?’ said his uncle. He must have spotted the ball on the floor.

  ‘Like to have a kick-about once in a while.’

  ‘From the state of your shoes you’ve been having a kick-about this morning. Shouldn’t be doing that if you’re sick.’

  Uncle Connor must have the same eyes as me mam.

  ‘Just went in the park to clear my head.’

  Heard a sigh. Don’t know who it belonged to.

  ‘If you need anything you know where to find me,’ said Uncle Connor.

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘And lighten up, Stevie. You look like a condemned man.’

  Twenty-Seven

  •

  The front door closed. The bedroom door opened. It was Stevie, looking dead worried.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘You are what’s wrong. He knows I’ve got a kid. Doesn’t have to be Einstein to figure out he’d be fourteen now. Same age as you. He’d want to know what in God’s name I was doing with my son back in Scotland. He’d think I’d snatched you. He’d call the police. Always said that if I did anything wrong again he’d come down on me like a ton of bricks. He is not a man you want to mess with. We’re gonna have to be careful.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Have you got sawdust for brains, Danny? Five minutes ago, I was a bloke with a fiancée, full stop. Now I’m wandering round Edinburgh with a teenage kid. If anyone notices they’re gonna think, funny, he didn’t have a kid last week, but he’s got one now.’

  Stevie was too afraid to go out, so we sat in and watched a movie. It was about a hit man in America being chased by the police. The hit man got caught and sent to the electric chair. Not exactly what you’d call a feel-good film. When it finished Stevie asked if I wanted some fish and chips.

  ‘Aye,’ I said. ‘Can I come too?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’ve got to stay here all week?’ I moaned.

  Stevie had a think about me moan.

  ‘Okay, you can come. But you stay in the car. And keep your wee head down.’

  We parked in a street with tons of takeaways. Stevie went off to get the fish and chips, and I stayed in his Mini, bobble hat pulled down, peeping over the dashboard, like a spy.

  He was coming out of the fish shop with his parcels when two drunks came swaying along the street, like a couple of FBs. As Stevie walked past, one of them, the fattest, grabbed one of his parcels. Even from right down the road I could hear Stevie screaming at them. But the bloke wouldn’t let go of the packet, holding it tight to his wobbly chest.

  Stevie had nothing to hit them with. He was only armed with fish and chips. So he put the other parcel on a car roof, picked up a traffic cone and swung it at the fat bloke. The bloke was too paralytic to get out of the way, and it smacked him on the side of the head. It was only a traffic cone, but the bloke went down like he’d been demolished.

  Stevie put the cone on the pavement, picked up both parcels and walked back towards the car as calm as you like. The other bloke just stood there, too drunk to know what to do next. Couldn’t believe what I’d just seen. Me dad had just flattened a drunk with a traffic cone.

  Stevie got in the car.

  ‘Belter,’ I said.

  ‘Just a couple of bampots.’

  Was dead proud of him for saving our chips. But more importantly, he’d done something else. He proved to me that he could take on FB.

  After tea I washed the fish smell off me hands and sat next to Stevie on the sofa. Now that he’d had his tea and a beer it was the perfect time to tell him why I was really here. Was dead nervous, hands all clammy, even though I’d just dried them.

  ‘Dad?’

  He stared at me.

  ‘Can you keep it to Stevie, please? That name freaks me out.’

  Not a good start.

  ‘Stevie.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve got something to tell you, about me mam.’

  Stevie grabbed the TV remote. The Simpsons was on. He shut Homer up.

  From his face Stevie looked like he knew bad stuff was coming.

  ‘Is she sick?’

  ‘Not sick.’

  ‘Then what?’

  Time to say it.

  ‘In fact, it’s not even about her, it’s about her boyfriend.’

  ‘Her boyfriend, what about her boyfriend?’

  ‘He hits her.’

  ‘Hits her?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Not all the time, but sometimes. When he’s angry or she does something he doesn’t like or he’s been drinking. Any excuse, really.’

  Stevie filled his cheeks with air and let it go.

  ‘What’s she done about it?’

  ‘That’s the problem, she’s done nowt about it.’

  ‘Where does this fella live?’

  ‘In the room next door, with me mam.’

  ‘Why doesn’t she leave him?’

  ‘’Cos she loves him. They’re going to get married.’

  ‘Marrying the fella that batters her?’

  Nodded.

  ‘I’m sorry, Danny, really sorry. It must be hard for you.’

  Too right.

  ‘He’s going to kill her.’

  Stevie snorted. ‘He won’t.’

  Why wasn’t he taking me seriously?

  ‘Two women get killed every week. It said so on the website. You’ve gotta read it. It’s all there. It says mams who get hit don’t do anything for ages. They think it’ll get better. But it never does. Then they die.’

  ‘Get her to read it.’

  ‘She won’t.’ Me dad did a so-what shrug. ‘You should see him. He choked me mam in Spain.’

  ‘Danny, I’m sorry, but what in God’s name are you telling me all this for?’

  Paused, to get me words out proper.

  ‘’Cos I want you to sort it out.’

  ‘Me?’

  Now was the time.

  ‘I want you to kill him.’

  Stevie’s eyes bulged like they were going to pop.

  ‘You want me to kill your mam’s boyfriend?’

  Nodded.

  Stevie laughed.

  Then he went mental.

  ‘This is the real reason you came up here?’ he shouted, as he jumped up from the sofa.

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘You’ve got some cheek, Danny. I thought you’d come here to find your dad, make up for lost time, build bridges, but, no, you’ve just come to get me to do your dirty work for you.’

  ‘I’m only little.’

  ‘And I’m hardly King Kong. I weigh sixty-eight kilos.’ Stevie flexed his biceps, but his muscles stayed hidden in his arms. ‘I work in a café, Danny, I make sandwiches, pour teas, chop tomatoes, I’m not a hit man.’

  ‘But you did bad stuff.’

  ‘A
long, long time ago. I didn’t kill anyone,’ said Stevie, putting the emphasis on the word ‘kill’.

  ‘Can’t you just scare him away, then?’

  ‘I’m not a bloody ghost either.’

  Stevie walked round the room like the lion at the zoo, prowling, angry.

  ‘He’s a nasty bloke.’

  ‘I’ve no doubt about that, plenty of them around. But I haven’t seen your mam in years. I’ve got nothing to do with her. No disrespect, but she means nothing to me.’ He dragged his fingers through his hair. ‘I don’t owe your mam a thing.’

  ‘But what about me?’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’m not just somebody, I’m your son.’

  Stevie got a pack of tabs from a drawer. Not seen him smoke before.

  ‘Was trying to give these bastards up,’ he said, fumbling with a box of matches. He got a flame, lit his tab and blew out a puff of smoke. The cloud drifted over me. I coughed, but he didn’t seem to care, and just kept sucking on it, blowing more and more clouds. When the tab had gone he stubbed it out on a saucer and paced some more, like he hadn’t done enough already.

  ‘I’ve had it with all that stuff down there. I’m not going back, Danny, not even for you.’

  Had an idea.

  Got up and went to me coat, took the envelope out and handed it to him.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘It’s the money from the school trip I didn’t go on.’

  Stevie looked inside the envelope. ‘And your mam gave you this?’

  ‘No, her boyfriend did.’

  ‘You want me to take the money your mam’s boyfriend gave you, so I can kill him?’

  Nodded.

  ‘Danny, are you clinically insane?’

  He threw the envelope on the sofa. I picked it up and gave it back to him, but he slapped me hand away. The envelope went flying. The money went all over the floor.

  So that was it, not even a maybe, not even a perhaps, not even a ‘Let me think about it, Danny’, just a great big fat no. I’d come all this way for that. Might as well have gone on the trip with Amy. I felt tears knocking at the back of me eyeballs.

  ‘Thought you’d help,’ I cried, picking up the money. ‘Thought dads always helped.’ Shoved the money back in the envelope. ‘The kids at school said that if their mam was in trouble their dad would sort it out. That’s what I thought you’d do. That’s what they said.’