Not Thomas

by Sara Gethin

  I’m peeping out. I’m peeping from behind the chair. I’m peeping out a tiny bit.

  ‘Please,’ Mammy says. She’s not shouting now. Her voice is tiny tiny. ‘Please.’ Her legs are kicking and kicking. And kicking and kicking.

  Now they have stopped.

  The man is taking his hand away. Mammy’s falling onto the floor. She’s staying very still.

  ‘Mammy!’ I’m running out from behind the chair. I’m running to Mammy. The man is pulling back his boot. He’s pulling it back and he’s going to kick Mammy. ‘No!’ I say. ‘No!’ I am lying on her. I’m lying on Mammy.

  ‘Stupid brat,’ the man says.

  His boot is by my head. He’s saying a lot of rude words. He’s saying them to me. And he’s tapping his boot on my head. Tap tap tap. But he’s not kicking me hard. He’s not kicking Mammy. He’s going away. He’s going away from us now. He’s looking at his friend with spiky hair. He’s still holding Brick’s neck. ‘I want my money,’ the man with the web tattoo says. He’s saying it to Brick. He’s saying it in his loud voice. ‘You’ve got a week.’

  The man with spiky hair is letting go of Brick. He’s taking the knife away. The knife pushing on Brick’s neck. He’s shaking it near Brick’s face instead. ‘See you next Monday,’ he says. His voice is very quiet.

  They are going to the front door. I can hear it opening. The man with the web tattoo is shouting, ‘Been nice seeing you.’ He’s making it sound like he’s our friend. The men are going out. They’re closing the front door. They’re closing it with a bang.

  It’s very quiet in the front room. I can hear a car engine starting out on the road. I can see Brick standing by the wall. There’s a little bit of blood under his chin. He’s rubbing his head. His hands are very shaky.

  I’m still cwtching Mammy. ‘Are you all right?’ She’s not moving. I’m trying to see her face. Her hair’s hiding it. ‘Mammy?’ I’m rubbing her arm. I’m shaking it a bit. I’m putting my face by her face. ‘Mammy?’

  She’s not moving.

  ‘Mammy?’ I’m shaking her a bit more. ‘Wake up, Mammy. Please.’ I’m shaking and shaking her. ‘Mammy, Mammy!’

  She’s making a noise. A very quiet noise. She’s trying to say something. I can’t hear her. I’m putting my head by her mouth. ‘What are you saying, Mammy?’

  She’s saying it again. I still can’t hear her. I’m moving her hair. I’m moving it away from her mouth. I am trying to be careful. I don’t want to hurt her. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘You should,’ she says. Her voice is very quiet. ‘Have gone.’ She’s taking a big breath. ‘To bed.’

  ‘Sorry, Mammy. The man was in the way. He was by the door.’

  ‘Go…’ her voice is still very quiet, ‘… away.’

  I’ve stopped cwtching Mammy. I’m going away from her. I’m picking up her pyjama bottoms. I’m trying to make them not inside out. It’s quite hard. Brick is walking round and round the front room. He’s still rubbing his head. He’s saying a lot of rude words. The pyjama bottoms are nearly right. I’m giving them to Mammy. She’s trying to sit up now. I’m helping her. I want to tell her about my side. I want to tell her that it is all scratched because of the carpet. And because of the man. But she’s not looking at me. She’s putting her head on her knees. She’s making herself tiny tiny.

  Brick is saying. ‘We’ll ’ave to go to Glasgow. Do the job for Saint. I’ll call ’im, tell ’im we’ll do it.’

  Mammy’s looking up. She’s shaking her head. Her hair is all messy. There are big black lines down her cheeks. They’re running down from her eyes. She’s rubbing them with her hand. She’s making black splodges. She’s making them all over her face. She’s trying to stand up. She’s trying to say something. But her voice is very small. She’s falling over. I’m running to help her. She’s sitting down again now.

  ‘We’ve got to go to Glasgow,’ Brick says.

  ‘No,’ Mammy says. Her voice is tiny.

  ‘You ’eard what they said.’ Brick is shouting it. He’s rubbing his neck. ‘They’ll be back. We got to get the money somehow.’

  I’m helping Mammy put her pyjama bottoms on. I’m putting them over her feet. I’m pushing them up to her knees. She’s pulling them up by herself now.

  ‘We ’ave to do it.’ Brick’s still shouting. ‘We ’ave to go tonight.’ He’s pushing me out of the way. He’s pulling Mammy up. He’s pulling her up hard. She’s trying to hit him but he’s too fast. He’s caught her hand. He’s hit her face with his other hand. He has hit it hard. Mammy’s looking at Brick. Her face is very wet. It’s very red too. There are lots of black splodges on her cheeks. She looks sad. Brick’s moving his hand back. He’s going to hit her again.

  ‘No!’ I’m trying to grab Brick’s hand. I’m jumping up high. ‘Don’t!’

  He’s hit Mammy’s face again. He’s turning round now. He’s hitting my face too. He’s hitting it very hard. I can feel my cheek stinging. And the side of my eye.

  Mammy’s looking at me. ‘Go to.’ It’s very hard for her to talk. ‘Your room.’ She has a big red mark on her cheek. And her eyes are very sad.

  I’m going away. I’m going out into the hall. And I’m rubbing and rubbing my cheek. I’m looking back into the front room. Mammy is sitting down on the settee. She’s pulling up her knees. She’s putting her arms round them. She’s making herself tiny tiny again.

  Brick is grabbing Mammy’s arm. He’s pulling her off the settee. He’s calling her a lot of rude names. ‘We’re goin’ to Glasgow tonight. Ge’ dressed.’ He’s pushing her to the door. He’s saying more rude things to her.

  Mammy’s coming out into the hall. Her nose is runny. Her face is red. She’s looking at me. Her eyes look very sad. I don’t want to make her sad anymore. I say, ‘I’m going to bed now.’ I’m starting to go up the stairs.

  She’s grabbing my hand. She’s sitting down on the stairs. And she’s holding my hand tight. ‘Too late,’ she says.

  I say, ‘Too late to go to bed?’

  Brick is still shouting rude words. He’s still walking round and round the front room. Mammy’s looking up at me. She’s shaking her head. Her cheeks are very wet. ‘Too late.’ It’s hard to hear her. ‘To put right.’ Her voice is tiny tiny tiny. It doesn’t sound like her voice at all. ‘When I,’ she says. She’s taking a big breath. ‘Look at you.’ There are tears running and running down her cheeks. ‘I see.’

  She’s stopped. She’s not saying anything. She’s just squeezing and squeezing my hand. ‘What, Mammy?’ I say. ‘What do you see?’

  She’s taking another big breath. ‘Luke,’ she says.

  ‘Luke? I don’t know Luke.’

  She’s looking at me. Her face is still very sad. I think it might be because she’s seeing Luke. Instead of me. ‘He went,’ she says. Her voice is very very quiet. ‘Everyone leaves.’ She’s letting my hand go. She’s putting her head on her knees. She’s crying and crying.

  I want to say, ‘It’s okay.’ I want to say, ‘Don’t cry, Mammy.’ But I don’t want to make Mammy more sad. I’m going up the stairs. I’m going slow slow. I’m going to my bedroom. I’m closing my door. Brick is still shouting. He’s shouting and shouting. Lots and lots of rude words. ‘We gotta go. Ge’ dressed,’ I can hear him shouting. I can hear him through my door. ‘And ’ave a bath first, slag. You stink of Fly.’

  * * *

  I am up in my high sleeper bed. I’m trying to be warm. I have pulled the jumpers and the towels and the trousers round me. I’ve put Mammy’s pink tee shirt under my cheek. The cheek Brick hurt. I like the way the tee shirt smells. It smells of Mammy when she smells nice. It smells like flowers and Nanno. I’ve put Mammy’s white tee shirt on my side. The side the carpet hurt. And I am trying to think about nice things. I’m trying to get to sleep. I’m trying to forget all the shouting. And the men. And Mammy crying. And the knife under Brick’s chin. And Brick hurting my cheek. But it’s very hard to forget.

  If I h
ad some paper I could write a letter to Nanno. I could say Dear Nanno, How are you? I am well but it is hard to sleep because some nasty men came and they hurt Mammy and Brick and now Mammy and Brick have gone away in Brick’s car and they took Mammy’s quilt and pillows because they will need to sleep in the car and Mammy said they will see me in a few days and I held onto her leg because I didn’t want her to go but she shook it and shook it and she pulled my arms away from her and she said I am not allowed to go outside when she’s not here. I’m not allowed to go out of the house until she comes back and she didn’t take away my ladder so I can go to the toilet if I want to but I don’t want to go to the toilet I just want Mammy to come home and I want her to come home now. Please Nanno make Mammy come home now. Love, Tomos P.S. Can you find Cwtchy for me because if I had Cwtchy I won’t be afraid and I like my truck and my fifty pence and your letter but I can’t cwtch them like I can cwtch Cwtchy and please can you tell Dat that I need him to come here and get me. And tell him to come here and get me now. Please please Nanno can you tell him to come here and get me now?

  * * *

  I’m looking in the kitchen. I’m looking for something to eat. There’s a tin in the cupboard under the worktop. A tin of baked beans. I like baked beans. Mammy makes them on toast for my tea sometimes. And Nanno makes them with egg and chips for tea on Saturdays. I’d like to have some baked beans now. I’m getting the tin opener from the drawer. I’m putting it on top of the tin. I’m making the turny bit go round and round. Like Nanno does and like Mammy does. The tin isn’t opening. I’m trying and trying. I’m turning and turning the handle. But the tin won’t open. I’m banging and banging the tin opener on the tin. Bang bang bang. I’m banging the tin on the worktop. There are lots of dents in the tin now. But it still won’t open. I’m throwing it back in the cupboard.

  I’m opening another cupboard. I’m putting my hand in. My fingers have found a puddle. I’m shaking my hand. It smells prickly. There’s a bottle in the cupboard. It’s tipped over on its side. It’s a bottle of vinegar. There’s a puddle of vinegar on the shelf. Mammy likes vinegar on her chips. But I don’t like vinegar. I’m closing the cupboard door.

  And I’m looking for something else to eat. There’s nothing left in the cupboards under the worktops now. Only the tin with the dents and the bottle of vinegar. I’m looking in the box Father Christmas brought. The box he left outside. With my Santa Sack on it. The box is on the floor in the kitchen. There’s nothing in it now. Just a jar of brown jam. I’m trying to get the lid off. I’m trying and trying. It’s very hard to get off. I’m making myself very strong. Very very strong. I am the strongest boy in the world. But the lid won’t come off.

  I’m knocking it. I’m knocking it with the tin opener. Bang bang bang. But the lid isn’t coming off. I’m knocking the jar on the worktop. I’m knocking and knocking the lid. And knocking and knocking it. There’s a crack. The glass has broken. The lid has come off. I’m smelling the jam. It’s making my nose prickly. It doesn’t smell like strawberries. It doesn’t smell like the jam in Nanno and Dat’s cupboard. I’m putting my finger in the jar. I’m putting my finger in my mouth now. The jam tastes horrible. I don’t want to eat it. But I’ve eaten all the biscuits Miss gave me. She told me to just eat one biscuit. One biscuit every day. But I’ve eaten lots of them. And now there’s nothing to eat. Only two packets of crisps. And they’re pink ones. They’re Mammy’s.

  I’m pushing my finger into the brown jam again. I’m putting my finger in my mouth. The jam is making my nose scrunch up. There’s a sharp bit in my mouth. I’m trying to get it out. It’s moving round and round. It’s sticking into my tongue. I’m pulling it out with my fingers. I think it’s a bit of the jar.

  I’m looking in the cupboard. The one under the sink. There’s a plastic bowl in there. It’s like the bowl Nanno and Dat use to do the washing up. I’m getting it out. It’s like the step-up stool I use in Nanno and Dat’s house. When I wash my hands. It’s like the step-up stool if I turn it upside down. It’s good for making me taller. It’s good for helping me reach the taps. I’m turning it upside down and I’m standing on it. I’m putting my hand into the brown water in the sink. I’m finding a mug. I’m finding one fast fast. I’m tipping out the dirty water and I’m turning on the tap. I’m putting lots of water in the mug and I’m drinking fast fast. I’m trying to make the taste go away. The horrible taste of the jam. I’m trying and trying but the taste is stuck in my mouth. It’s making my eyes want to cry. I’m filling up the mug again. I’m drinking and drinking it. And my tummy is rumbly. It’s hurting too. Because the water is sloshing in it. Sloshing and sloshing. Sloshing and sloshing. I can feel it in my tummy. Slosh slosh slosh.

  And I can still taste the horrible jam.

  * * *

  I am up in my high sleeper bed. I’m very cold. I have pulled the clothes all round me. I’ve tucked them round my toes. I’ve tucked them round my legs. I’ve pulled Mammy’s pink tee shirt right up under my chin. I’m trying to be warm. But my arms won’t let me. They are very cold. They’re covered in little lumps. Nanno calls them goose bumps. I am covered in goose bumps. And my teeth are jumpy.

  I have eaten some more of the jam. The jam that tastes horrible. I have eaten it with a spoon. The jam had hard lumps in it. And bits of the jar. I had to take them out of my mouth. The jam tasted like the vinegar Mammy puts on her chips. But my tummy isn’t too rumbly now.

  I am trying to look at my magazine. It’s too dark to find good words. I’m tipping the page to the window. There’s a bit of yellow light outside. It’s helping me see the pictures in my magazine. I can see them a bit in the yellow light. And I’m thinking about going out. I’m thinking and thinking about it. Mammy said I’m not allowed to go outside when she’s not here. But she’s been gone a long time. A very long time. I think she might be lost. I think I need to call nine-nine-nine-emergency. But we haven’t got a phone. I think I need to find one.

  I am going down my ladder. I’m going down the stairs. I’m going out of the front door. I am not allowed to go outside when Mammy’s not home. But I am only going to go out a tiny bit.

  I am squeezing through the hole in the hedge. I’m squeezing through to get to the lady next door’s garden. It’s quite hard to squeeze through the hedge. The leaves smell funny. The twigs are scratchy. Pointy things are hurting my feet. But I’m not stopping to rub my toes. I’m pushing and pushing through the hedge.

  I’m in the lady next door’s garden now. I think I’m allowed to go to her garden. Going next door is not really going outside. I’m walking up the lady next door’s path. It’s very dark. I can hear her telly. It’s very loud. I can hear people clapping. I’m knocking on her door. I’m waiting. I’m knocking again. I’m making my knocks hard this time. The knocks are hurting my hands. I’m waiting. I’m knocking again very very hard.

  I can see a light in the hall. ‘All right, all right,’ the lady says. I can hear her through the door. ‘What’s so urgent at this time of night?’ The door is opening slowly.

  ‘Hello,’ I say. The door has stopped opening. There’s a little chain stopping it. I can see a bit of the lady. She’s holding onto a stick. I can see a bit of her blue climbing frame. It’s at the bottom of her stairs. It’s nice and warm in her house. I can feel the warm coming out. I can smell a lovely smell. It smells like the dinners Nanno makes.

  ‘Hello,’ I say again.

  ‘No, thank you,’ the lady says.

  ‘No, thank you what?’

  ‘No, thank you to whatever you’re selling.’

  ‘I’m not selling anything.’

  ‘Do you want sponsoring then?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I say.

  ‘Well, no thank you anyway.’ She’s starting to close the door.

  ‘Do you know where Mammy is, please?’ I am saying it fast. I don’t want her to close the door.

  ‘Your mother?’ She’s stopped closing the door now. ‘You’re the little boy from next doo
r, aren’t you?’ She’s smiling at me. ‘The one with nice manners. I didn’t recognise you. I haven’t got the right specs on, see.’

  I say, ‘Have you seen my mammy? I don’t know where she’s gone.’

  ‘She’s out shopping, I expect. They never close these days. Twenty-four hour shopping, that’s what they call it. She’ll be home when she’s finished.’ She’s starting to close the door again.

  ‘I don’t think she’s gone shopping,’ I say. ‘She’s been gone a very long time. There were seven packets of crisps in the big bag and I’ve had one packet every day. And now there are only two pink packets left. Can you ring nine-nine-nine-emergency, please? Can you tell them she got lost?’

  ‘Oh diawl, there’s no need for that.’ She’s smiling at me again. ‘She’ll be back with her shopping soon, you’ll see.’

  ‘She hasn’t gone shopping,’ I say. ‘Can you ring on your phone, please?’ I can see her phone in the hall. It’s like Dat’s phone. ‘Please.’

  She’s smiling and nodding. ‘Wait a minute. I’ll close the door, but don’t you go away. I’ll be back soon.’

  I’m listening through the door. I’m trying to hear her ringing nine-nine-nine-emergency. I can only hear her telly. I’m waiting a long time.

  The door is opening. The little chain has gone now. ‘Here.’ She’s holding something in her hand. ‘Too sour for me. But you’ll enjoy it cut in half with sugar on top. I told my Moira not to bring them. I prefer bananas.’

  ‘Did you ring? Are they going to look for Mammy?’

  ‘No more nonsense about that now.’ She’s still holding her hand out to me. ‘Go on, take it,’ she says. ‘It’s a lovely orange.’

  I’m remembering the orange I tried at Nanno and Dat’s house. I’m remembering the way it felt in my mouth. I’m remembering the horrible taste. I am starting to say, ‘I don’t like…’