A Cockney's Journey

by Eddie Allen

  “Look what Mum and Dad bought us,” I heard from behind me. I turned round to see them showing off their new pumps. My brothers and sisters had this horrible smirk on their faces.

  “Couldn’t get your size,” my mother shouted from the living room. “I’ll have to cut some more lino for yours,” she bellowed, like it was a major chore.

  I walked into the living room, sticking my pumps and socks in front of the open fire. “Can I put the telly on?” I asked.

  “No you can’t. Your father will be home soon.”

  I sat and watched the steam rise from my pumps; the fire was spitting loads of charcoal all over them. Then it hit me; Ann’s party was tonight and I had completely forgotten. How could I? I jumped up and ran upstairs to my bedroom. I had just started to rummage through my wardrobe to see what I could wear when I heard him pull up on his moped. I heard the key turn in the lock and then he was in. I stopped what I was doing and sat on the bed in silence, listening.

  “Where is he?” came a thunderous scream from downstairs.

  I was shaking and tried to wrack my brains for what I could have done wrong this time. But I couldn’t think of anything. I heard heavy footsteps bounding up the stairs. Suddenly the door flung open so fast that it nearly came off its hinges.

  “How many times have I told you not to put your bloody footwear in front of the fire?” With that, he threw my pumps straight into my face. The force of the impact knocked me off the bed and I clutched my face as I lay on the floor.

  “Get up,” he blasted. “Get up now, do you hear me, boy?”

  I slowly raised myself to my feet. My legs were shaking violently. I glanced in the wardrobe mirror and saw that my nose was bleeding; it had run under my chin and onto my shirt. I also had a small cut under my left eye.

  As he advanced towards me in silence, I put both my hands up and covered my face while cowering in the corner.

  “Put your hands down and take it like a man,” he shouted.

  I couldn’t move. I was petrified. I actually froze solid with fear and I started to pee myself. I tried so hard not to do it again, but I couldn’t stop myself.

  “You pathetic, dirty excuse for a man,” he yelled. “You’re no fucking son of mine.” He punched my head and his blow landed on my fingers. The pain shot into my wrist. “Just looking at you makes me physically sick. You disgust me.” He turned around and slammed the bedroom door shut.

  As I slowly regained my senses, the fear started to leave my body. My hand was throbbing and I couldn’t move my little finger. I must get to the bathroom. On opening my bedroom door I heard giggling and laughing on the landing outside. I pulled the door open quickly to see who was there. I heard footsteps running downstairs, followed by more giggling. I walked across the landing, down a short flight of stairs to the bathroom and locked myself in.

  While running a bath, I stood in front of the mirror cleaning the blood off my nose and face. The mirror’s grim reflection returned my questioning gaze; my face was miserable and wracked with hatred. This can’t go on. They all hate me. The first opportunity I get, I’m out of here. I didn’t know it at the time, but that day was not very far away. I climbed into the bath and lay there soaking as the smell of pee disappeared. Ever since I could remember, he’d hated me. Nan was right about what she told me. He only needed the slightest reason to thrash me. I remembered what he did to my hamster.

  ***

  When I think back to that horrible day it makes me feel sick. I used to let him out of the cage for some exercise in the kitchen. I was in the garden playing when I heard my mother and father arguing. He came out into the garden waving his vest.

  “Your bloody mouse has done a crap on your mother’s ironing,” he shouted. He went back inside and a few moments later he emerged, carrying my hamster cage. He walked into the middle of the garden and emptied the contents on the floor. Hammy legged it around the garden, while I stood there, shocked. What happened next was horrendous. Next door’s cat jumped off the wall and chased Hammy around the garden, digging his claws into him. I picked up stones and threw them at the cat, but the sod wouldn’t leave Hammy alone. After a while, Hammy stopped running and just lay there. The cat was moving his body from paw to paw but then, seconds later, the cat gave up and left Hammy alone. I walked over to my hamster, crying and in a state of shock. Hammy was covered in cuts, but he was still breathing.

  “He’s still alive!” I cried. “Someone help him, please,” I begged.

  My father walked over to us, swearing. He picked Hammy up by the tail and then, to my horror, he flushed him down the outside toilet.

  “That’s the fucking last pet you have. Do you understand, boy?” he snarled.

  ***

  I climbed out the bath and put a towel around me. That’s better. I’ve cleaned him off me. I brushed my teeth, dried myself down and went back to my bedroom; I sat on the bed reading my Shoot! Magazine. There were stories on Brazil, with a big write-up on why they were favourites for this year’s World Cup. Fantastic team. How can you lose with players like Pele, Jairzinho, Rivelino and Carlos Alberto in your team? Even World Cup winners England had no chance!!! As I turned to the next page, there was an article on my heroes Stan Bowles and Rodney Marsh. I had just started to read the article when there was a crack on my bedroom window. I jumped up and, peering through the pane, I saw Tony and Brian across the street. I pulled up the bottom sash and hung out the window.

  “We’re meeting in an hour, Ed,” Tony said.

  “OK, I’ll see you at the café,” I said in a low voice. I promptly shut the window and tucked my magazine under my mattress, out of sight. What shall I wear? Well, it was a toss up between my Levis and my cream ‘stay-pressed’. That’s all I possessed and I only had one decent shirt; my pink Ben Sherman. I bought those items of clothing with my earnings from doing bob-a-job work during the summer. I decided on my Levis and half-inch braces, with the Ben Sherman shirt. I got dressed and covered myself in Brut aftershave and then stood rooted to the spot as my face beamed like a red tomato. After a few seconds, the stinging abated. In my excitement, I had forgotten about the cut on my face, Man that brought tears to my eyes.

  Right, soggy pumps or school shoes? Either way, they both had lino in them, but at least my shoes were dry. I wished I had a pair of squires or brogues like all my mates had. I must get a Saturday job as soon as possible, I said to myself. Now all that remained to be done was to get out of the house, although this was easier said than done. I crept down the stairs to the front door. I could hear the noise of the telly coming up through the floor. They were all watching Morecambe and Wise. I opened the front door and closed it very gently, so as not to make a sound. I was walking down the stairs to the street when the curtain was drawn back. Bloody hell. He’s like a security guard.

  “Where you going?” he shouted, tapping the window. I pointed across the street. “I’m just going to see Brian, OK, Dad?” I cringed when I said that word ‘dad’!

  “I want you in by ten,” he shouted. “If you’re five minutes late, I’ll string you up.”

  “Yeah, alright,” I said half-heartedly. I strolled in the direction of Brian’s house and, as soon I was out of sight, I doubled back and headed towards the café. As I got halfway, I turned round and looked down Lyndhurst Way. He’s not there. Great! As I carried on walking, my feet were starting to get damp. Even though it had stopped raining, the floor was still wet. The surface rain was seeping through the lino into the soles of my shoes. I approached the café, and could just make out a few figures standing about outside. When I got closer I realised it was Tony, Brian, Karen and Lyn.

  “The café’s shut,” Tony yelled to me, pointing at the sign on the door.

  “Alright, Karen?” I smiled, as I reached the group.

  “Yeah, fine thanks, Ed,” she replied.

  “Anyone got two pence on them so I can phone Anne?” Karen asked.

  I put my hand in my pocket and handed Karen four pence.


  “Cheers, Ed. I’ll just go and give her a bell.” She crossed the street and entered the phone box.

  “How’s your day been, Eddie?” asked Lyn.

  You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.

  “OK. Nothing interesting though, bit boring as it happens,” I lied.

  Karen emerged from the phone box. “Party’s off, guys,” she sighed. “Ann’s mum is unwell and she’s not going to the theatre tonight. She’s meeting us in the Wimpy in twenty minutes. Is that OK?”

  “Yeah,” Tony said. “That’s cool.”

  “I fancy Wimpy and chips,” Brian beamed.

  “Sounds good to me,” I said, with a broad grin on my mush.

  As we walked down Rye Lane, towards the Wimpy, I noticed this figure standing under the railway bridge on the other side of the street, lurking in the shadows. Oh God. It’s him. He just stood there, like a statue, staring at me, I felt an icy chill go right through me and I started to shiver.

  “Tony?” I asked nervously. “Do you know that geezer standing under the bridge over there?”

  “Oh, very funny, Eddie,” he chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “Leave it out, Ed. There’s nobody there!”

  My heart sank. I could see him but no one else could. I rubbed my eyes and looked again. He was gone. As we entered the Wimpy, Ann was already sitting down drinking coffee.

  “Hi guys,” she shrieked. Leaning over the table, she put her arms around my neck and gave me a big kiss on the cheek. Oh man, that felt beautiful. We all sat down and ordered coffee with our Wimpy and chips. Well, except for me. I just had coffee.

  “Not eating, Ed?” they asked.

  “No. Not hungry as it happens,” I muttered.

  No money was more like it. Bloody starving, I was. I’d had no dinner due to that bloke giving me a beating over a pair of wet pumps.

  We sat in the Wimpy, chatting away, laughing and giggling, telling each other jokes. I was so happy and thrilled to be with my friends. All my troubles just vanished to the back of my mind and were temporarily buried.

  “How did you cut your eye? Looks a bit sore, Eddie” Ann asked, all concerned, as she leant over and gently kissed me below my left eye. That’s the second time Ann has kissed me tonight. Keep it up girl.

  “Oh, I got hit in the face by a branch when I was gardening at Rose’s.” I hated lying to Ann, but I couldn’t tell her the truth about my family life. All of them had great parents; kind, caring and loving. I didn’t want to be the odd one out. If the truth was known, I was really jealous!

  “What time is it, Tony?” asked Karen.

  He looked at his watch. “Half nine,” came his reply.

  “I’ve got to be in at ten, guys.”

  “So have I,” Ann said.

  “Yeah, and me,” Lyn sighed.

  After a short debate between the lads and me, we decided to call it a night, much to my relief. We all got up and headed towards the exit. Outside, I asked Ann if she would like me to walk her home. She smiled.

  “That would be nice, Ed,” she said.

  We all said our farewells and walked in the opposite directions. I had half an hour to walk Ann home and get in myself. It was going to be tight but I should just about do it. The two of us strolled down Rye Lane and crossed into Park Road. As we walked past the back entrance to Rye Lane market, Ann linked arms with me. We walked down Park Road, arm in arm in a comfortable silence. I felt ten feet tall and so proud; my heart was pounding and the feeling I had in my stomach was something I had never ever experienced before. A bead of sweat ran down my temple. What’s happening to me? My mouth was dry and I started to tremble with excitement.

  “Nearly there,” Ann said. She stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face me; her eyes sparkling in the moonlight. She broke the link and put her arms around my neck. Then it happened; my first kiss was seconds away. Ann gently tilted her head and kissed me. I responded passionately and we stood embraced for what seemed like an eternity. She put her tongue into my mouth. Her kisses sent a chill down my spine and absolutely bloody blew me away. This is heaven. She pulled away gently and gave me a peck on my cheek.

  “You smell gorgeous, Eddie,” she whispered. I took a deep breath before responding.

  “And so do you, Ann,” I said, feeling light-headed.

  “See you later, Ed. I must go now. I promised I wouldn’t be late.” She blew me a kiss and turned to run to her house. I stood there, shell-shocked, and watched her disappear into her front garden. My mind was buzzing and I had a grin as big as a Cheshire cat on my mush. Shit! What was the time? I started to run towards Lyndhurst Way. Come on, faster, I goaded myself on. I was flat out when I reached my turning. As I ran round the front of the house, I could see that there were no lights on. Oh shit! On reaching the back gate, I noticed a glimmer of light in the kitchen. Thank God someone’s up. I put my hand on the back door handle and turned it. To my utmost relief, it opened. My mother was sitting by a candle, watching a pot boil on the gas stove.

  “You’re late again. Every time you go out, you’re always bloody late.”

  “Sorry, I missed the bus, Mum.”

  “I saved you a bit of dinner. It’s in the fridge.”

  “Cheers,” I said.

  “Lock the door, will you?” she muttered.

  I locked the back door and, while I was sliding the top bolt across, I heard him walk into the kitchen.

  “Still not on, is it? Bloody third power cut this month. I see you managed to get home,” he barked aggressively.

  “Yeah,” I replied quietly. I opened the fridge door and reached in for the dinner plate that was covered with salad and a boiled egg. I groaned to myself and promptly sat down and scoffed the lot.

  After I washed and dried my plate, I asked for a candle but was reliably informed that there were none spare. I bet that lot upstairs have got candles, I thought to myself, as I climbed the stairs in total darkness. My arms were outstretched while I blindly felt my way up towards the top of the house. Halfway up the second flight, I noticed that there were faint lights coming from under both the bedroom doors. I bloody knew it! Tiptoeing past their bedrooms, I could hear whispering and faint noises and then one of the doors opened and a head appeared.

  “What are you creeping about for?” she snapped, peering through the gap in the door. My sister was a complete plum.

  “Are you serious, you bloody idiot! I can’t see fuck all. That’s why I’m creeping about, you dickhead.”

  With that response she shut the door and I was plunged into darkness again. Halfway up the third flight, I tripped up the step and went flying forwards and my chin smashed down onto the banister handrail. Sod this. I’ll have to take a chance. I reached into my pocket and retrieved my petrol lighter. In an instant, the stairs were flooded with light. I quickly ran up to my bedroom. Once inside and sitting on my bed I snapped the lighter shut. He’s like a bloodhound. If he smells the petrol lighter, I’ve seriously had it. I cringed at the thought. I sat there freezing my nuts off! Only one fire in the house and that was downstairs in the living room; everywhere else was at the mercy of Jack Frost! I climbed into bed with my clothes on and drifted off to sleep, thinking of Ann.

  I suddenly awoke to a rustling noise in my bedroom. I was trying to focus my eyes on the direction of the noise, as I was aware of a presence in the room. Without warning, an immense pressure was put upon my chest.

  “Where is it, you bastard?” my dad screamed, maniacally.

  He put his hand around my throat and pressed down on my chest with his knee.

  “Whhhhat?” I cried.

  “You know very well what.”

  “I don’t, honest,” I gasped.

  “I can smell petrol on the stairs, you fucking liar.”

  His grip around my throat tightened and his breath stunk of booze as he dribbled onto my face. He’s been at the whisky again. God help me!

  “Tell me where it is,” he shouted angrily.


  He shook my neck violently. I couldn’t breathe properly, let alone answer him.

  “Answer me, you little shit or I’ll kill you, do ya hear me?”

  I was just about to pass out when my bedroom door flung open. All I could see were four candles sparkling in the dark.

  “What are you doing, Dad?” I heard and he let go his grip to turn around.

  “Nothing for you lot to worry about,” he said, in a soft caring voice. He pushed himself upright and walked towards the door. A sudden surge of air hit my lungs and I sat bolt upright coughing and spluttering, struggling to get my breath. I felt light-headed and sick. He ushered my brothers and sisters out of the room, shutting my bedroom door. That was the closest he’s come to killing me. I had to get away from him and this house before he did. I sat there crying and shaking; my throat was dry and sore. I curled up into a ball and lay there until morning. I must have dropped off to sleep at some stage because the church bells ringing in the distance awoke me. As I sat up and peered through the windowpane, I noticed the ground was white and icy and the cars were covered in snow. More wet feet. This just gets better by the day. I sighed. I crept down to the bathroom, had a wash and brushed my teeth. As I was looking in the mirror, I noticed the bruises on my throat. I must cover them up or everyone will know. I went back to my room and started to look for something to wear. This will have to do. I had no choice, as I pulled over my head the hideous white Val Doonican roll-neck jumper with orange and yellow zigzags. I looked like a piece of seaside rock. I finished dressing and picked up my pumps. Dry, at last. I quietly descended the stairs to the kitchen. No one’s up yet? Thank God! I opened the drawer and took out two plastic carrier bags. I put one on each foot, tucked them into my socks and quickly put my pumps on. I opened the bread bin and took out two slices of bread. Then I opened the fridge and broke off a lump of cheese and stuffed the lot in my pocket. I put my hand on the back door handle, whilst with the other I turned the key in the lock. Nothing happened and then I realised it was already unlocked. I froze with fear. Someone was up and in the garden. As I opened the back door, there was a thud and splosh as a snowball hit the door.