The Tapestry

by Wigmore, Paul

  ‘Can I play?’ asked Gavin.

  ‘Yeah you can be on my side’

  He was so pleased at just being able to play footie with everyone else that he accidentally let out a little ‘yay’, which he felt very embarrassed about almost as soon as he’d done it, but it seemed that no one had noticed as they were too busy kicking the ball about and deciding which positions they wanted to play in. Gavin took off his sweater and put it in one of the piles that had been left on the ground to make the goalposts.

  The game was going well and Gavin's team were winning although this was not down to anything he had done because although he liked to play football, he wasn’t very good at it. He had tripped and fallen over the ball once when he was trying to copy Stewart and dribble it around Bobby from the other team. He had tripped over his own feet and ended up with his face in the mud and Bobby had gone on to score. ‘Maybe ya should’ve kept your wellie's on welly boy’ Bobby had taunted as Gavin picked himself up from the dirt. Gavin didn't care though as he was just happy to be able to play. Nothing could spoil this day he thought as he was brushing the dirt from his T-shirt and laughing at himself as he had fallen over for the second time. It was an uncharacteristically sunny day for March and although it was still a little cold. Just the sight of the sun was enough to make him feel happy and temporarily forget about the bad place. He was playing football with his friends and not having to sit at the side and read, although he didn't mind that, but he didn't need Fingerin Fanny today to cheer him up.

  And then his whole world came crashing down around him.

  ‘Gavin... get over here... NOW’... He heard the voice but tried to make himself believe that it wasn’t true, it couldn’t be, but it was. The second call confirmed the truth. He had been caught red handed wearing his new pumps that he was only supposed to wear for P.E. and not at any other time. He turned his head to see the man with his mum. They were stood at the bottom of the playground on the other side of the chain link fence that ran along the side of the school.

  ‘Don't make me come inside to get ya’ he yelled.

  Gavin walked over towards them trying to take his steps very slowly. His heart had sunk and he walked with his shoulders and head down, looking at his new pumps which were now muddy and not so brand spanking new. He wasn’t going to get out of this one. He had been caught red handed. It was a long walk and Gavin thought he was going to wet himself on the way, that would have just made it even worse though so he made sure he held it in. Suddenly the sun didn't seem to be as bright at it was before, as if the man had stolen the colour from his day and replaced it with darkness. He watched his feet and his new pumps which were going to betray him as they led him to his tormentor.

  When he reached the fence he looked up and saw his Mum with a face on her that showed that she knew what was coming. She was scared also. Gavin didn't realise that she wasn’t just scared for him, but she was also scared for herself now. She knew what was in store. He had been drinking already and now they were on their way to “The Chequers”.

  ‘Well...?’ the man asked.

  Gavin couldn’t bear to look at him and kept looking at his Mum, hoping that she would say or do something to save him. He couldn’t bear to look into that grizzly face with the horrible ginger curly hair framing his fat round head that went with his fat round body.

  ‘Look at me when I’m talking to you boy’. This frightened Gavin so much that he physically winced from the sound. He had to look at him and he knew it, but he knew when he did, he would see that look there. That look saying, your mine now boy... I gotcha.

  And sure enough there it was, it was strange but it seemed to Gavin that he was actually happy that he had caught him doing wrong, it meant he had a reason to dole out some sort of punishment and that made him happy. He turned his head towards “his Dad”. He had to call him his Dad but Gavin had a vague understanding of the fact that he wasn’t his real Dad and therefore never thought of him as such, he just thought of him as “The Man”. Gavin wished his real Dad were here now, but he had no idea who that was or where he was. He reckoned his real dad wouldn’t do these horrible things to him or let anybody else for that matter. He had a little fantasy that his real dad was an astronaut or a fighter pilot in the army and would come back and rescue him from the bad place whenever he was finished with his mission or got back from collecting moon rock from the moon.

  ‘Did I tell you that you could wear those new pumps in the playground?’ The man asked. Gavin's Mum was looking sorry for herself as he was talking. She was nervously playing with the straps on her handbag. Their afternoon trip to the pub had been ruined and she was now wishing she hadn’t talked Ray into coming down this way to get there. She had bought some sweets for Gavin and was hoping to catch him on his dinner break and give them to him as a nice afternoon surprise but it had now gone horribly wrong. She was silently cursing herself.

  ‘No dad... sorry Dad’ Gavin replied immediately. Unconsciously he looked away from the man as he spoke and looked back down at the offending pumps. The man hunkered down onto his haunches and held the chain link fence so that he was at eye level with Gavin. ‘Put your face up straight and look at me Gail’. (The man always called Gavin a silly girl’s name, usually Gail when he wanted to tease him).

  ‘Take off those pumps now’ he hissed at Gavin ‘and pass them to me through the holes’

  Gavin's Mum Moira managed to blurt a ‘No don’t...’ before the hand connected with her face. Ray stood up and caught her with a vicious backhander before settling back down on his haunches to repeat the demand.

  ‘Now take them off and pass them through the fuckin’ holes’, saliva spraying all over Gavin's face as he spat this at him. Moira got up as fast as she had fallen down; she didn't want anyone to see her like this and didn't want to escalate this any further. Her cheek stung from the slap but she now thought it was all about damage control.

  ‘I’m sorry honey... lets just go home and make love... please?’ she begged.

  The man ignored her; he was too committed now to humiliating Gavin.

  ‘Take them off now and maybe I’ll get ya some high heels if you’re lucky.... Gail’ he sneered.

  Gavin didn't want to cry but he was doing as he took off the pumps and squeezed them through the holes and gave them to the man. He had seen his Mum slapped a million times before, he had watched while the man had strangled her nearly to death in front of his very eyes but it still had the same effect on him. He wished he was much bigger and older so that he could do the same to him and stop him from hitting his Mum.

  ‘That’ll teach you to disobey me. And to think we bought you some sweets for a little treat this afternoon. Well now you’ve just gone and ruined everything haven’t you? Gavin wished he had just worn his wellie's and was now feeling as if he really were to blame. If he hadn’t worn the new pumps then his Mum wouldn’t have got hit and he would now be eating a pic ‘n’ mix instead of crying and wishing he were at Kirrin Cottage.

  The man made him walk back to the classroom with no shoes on and he had to tell Mrs Livingstone that he had lost his pumps as he had taken them off and now couldn’t find them. Mrs Livingstone told him that was a silly thing to have done and told him to put his wellie's back on, and she was sure that they would find them; if they were handed in she would let him know. Of course they would never be handed in.

  The remainder of the day flew by way too fast for Gavin, he wished he could just grab some of those little invisible minutes that seemed to be whizzing past his face and put some in his pocket. That way the day would never end and he would never have to go home to the bad place. Even the ticking of the clock appeared to be louder as if it were mocking him at the hopelessness of the situation.

  Tick Tock, Tick Tock,

  Nearly Time, Nearly Time,

  It seemed to repeat over and over until the last bell was here; still those minutes were flying by. He tried to catch some of those minutes by taking an unusually long time to pack hi
s superman pencils and ruler into his superman pencil case. If only superman were real he thought as he took his blue duffle coat from the peg and laboriously poked one arm into its sleeve.

  Tick Tock, Tick Tock,

  Time To Go, Time To Go.

  He felt like taking his superman pencil case and smashing it through the glass face of the clock on the wall above him.

  ‘Hey come on slowcoach’ yelled Stewart as he ran past Gavin, ‘race ya to the gates’. Yet Gavin carried on at his own little pace and let Stewart run on ahead. When he finally reached the gates his Mum was waiting for him.

  ‘What kept you so long?’ she asked with a cold look on her face. She was wearing her roll neck jumper and that only meant one thing to Gavin... he knew there would be bruises and red marks hiding under there which weren’t there this morning. And it was his fault.

  ‘You’ve kept me waiting long enough and you know what sort of mood your Fathers in’ Moira said as she grabbed his hand in hers, as she did so she nearly tore his arm from his socket with the speed she pulled him at... ‘Mummy you’re hurting me’ he bleated as she dragged him past the chain link fence where he had been about to wet himself earlier. He tried to pull away from her but she had a vice like grip on his hand.

  ‘Mummy...’ was as far as he got before the blow that came out of nowhere landed on his left cheek as she spun around, still holding his right hand in hers. It was an awkward slap that didn't connect properly, but the force of it did send him into his mothers legs and he would have fallen to the ground had she not been holding his other hand still in that vice like grip.

  He raised his hand to his face and could feel the skin burning against his hand. There would be a red mark there for a few hours at least. Gavin was shocked and more scared than ever now, for his Mum had never raised a hand to him. She had always been his protector. It was always The Man that hit him, not his mum?

  ‘You brought that upon yourself’ she spat at him as she bent down to his level. Finally letting go of his hand and pulling him straight by the shoulders.

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you kids to do as you’re told hey?’ Her face was nearly touching his as she asked this; she was shrugging him by the shoulders. Gavin wasn’t there though, not really. He could hear his Mum talking to him and he could feel her shrugging him backwards and forwards. But he wasn’t there. He was noticing the colour fleeing from the day like a rabbit fleeing from a fox. His Mum now had the same effect on the daylight as his tormentor did. This was the beginning of the end of his childhood, he didn't understand what had happened to him at the time, but something inside him had changed. It was a tangible thing that he could feel, touch and see and yet some how he couldn’t fully understand what it was.

  As they were walking the five minute journey from school to home (the bad place, which would be even worse now, forever more) his Mum had apologised for hitting Gavin. She was just stressed and didn't need the hassle. It made him feel a little better that she had apologised and maybe he really was wrong for wearing the new pumps, he had been told not to after all.

  ‘Is Dad in?’ he found the courage to ask seeing as she seemed to be in a slightly better mood since she had apologised, as if that had made everything alright and everything was back to normal. He was in but was asleep ‘so you just be a good boy and be quiet when you get in and don’t do anything to wake him up’.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Gavin had been sat in front of the television now with his older sister Lala which was Gavin's nickname for her for maybe an hour or so before they heard the faint noises from upstairs which meant he had awoken and would be down soon to dole out his punishment to Gavin. He had sat still for so long with his hands on his knees and his knees bent so that his feet touched his bottom. His back was as straight as he could manage and his chin was up, not allowing his head to rest on his knees. His sister had been told to do the same as dad was not in a good mood today so try not to give him a reason to get mad, Moira had warned them both.

  He was wearing the blue tatty dressing gown with the white belt made from terry cloth. When he walked into the room, he could still smell the stale alcohol mixed with the pungent odour of old spice which seemed to follow him like a malodorous cloud.

  Moira rose straight away, somehow looking older than her thirty years. She had tried to make herself look nice for him when he woke up so she had put her make up on and brushed her dark wavy shoulder length hair so that it looked just how he liked it. She had put on her going out clothes and had already made the stew for the kids’ tea so that she could just call a babysitter and take him out for the night. He wasn’t interested though. He pushed her back down onto the chair; he was just interested in where his numbaaaa one was.

  ‘Ah there you are’ he drawled as he viciously grabbed Gavin by the hair on the back of his head and pulled him upright.’

  He pulled him into the kitchen by his hair, Gavin felt like his scalp was going to be pulled from his head, his little hands went up to his head to try to pull the man off him only to find that he was not a match at all. Lala was not screaming yet as she was three years older than Gavin and she knew it would be unwise and wouldn’t help to scream. But she had to try so hard to hold it in as she sat tight with her hands on her knees.

  The man sat him at the table in the middle of the kitchen, and then shouted Moira to bring the others through. His older brother David had been upstairs in his room trying to keep quiet. He was the eldest of the three being eleven. She shouted him downstairs and all three of them sat at the little kitchen table, nervously... waiting to see what was coming next.

  ‘Right... who wants egg and chips and who wants stew?’ the man asked. All three sat there not answering as he seemed to be in a surprisingly generous mood considering his previous assault on Gavin.

  ‘Well... I’m waiting for an answer otherwise you’ll all get your mothers stew’ he said. Gavin hated his mothers stew. It tasted vile and made him want to throw up every time he smelled it. She threw swede and potatoes and carrots and all sorts of vile smelling things into a pot and literally let them stew for hours. The man usually served it up as punishment. Which is why Gavin now couldn’t understand why he was being given a choice, stew...or egg and chips? The man knew that egg and chips were Gavin's favourite, so why give him the choice? The three children looked at each other in puzzlement, each one not wanting to be the first to speak but David, being the eldest felt it was his duty to break the silence first.

  ‘Can I have egg and chips please Dad?’ he sheepishly asked, and then as soon as he had spoken the other two followed with their preferences for the much coveted egg and chips instead of the putrid smelling and tasting stew.

  ‘Three egg and chips coming up’ the man said and got to work with the frying pan.

  ‘Gavin threw lala a look of bewilderment as he cracked the eggs into the pan. She put her finger in front of her lips as if to say shhhh don’t say a word. All three sat in nervous silence as the man worked at the stove. Gavin thought he was going to be physically sick when the man dished the plates up in front of him and his siblings. They were piled high with rancid stew that was as unappetising as eating boiled garbage. The smell hit his nostrils and he realised the stew looked as if it had already been passed through his bodily system once and then served up to him again.

  David, always being the bravest of the three pointed out to their tormentor that he had asked for egg and chips and not stew. But as soon as the words had left his mouth he wished he had not uttered a sound as the man came flying round the side of the table and told him to take a closer look as he plunged his face into the plate of stew that was piled at least six inches high.

  ‘There’s your egg and chips, you just didn't look properly’ he sneered as he let David go. He had given all three children exactly what they had asked for but he had then piled the stew on top. Gavin realised he should have known better.

  ‘You can have your egg and chips as soon as you’ve eaten all your st
ew’, there was a sick look of satisfaction on the mans face as he said this. David had bits of onion and stew juice all over his face dripping back onto his plate but he knew better than to move out of his seat to find a towel to wipe it with. So he picked up his fork and began to chew on the rancid food in front of him, as the fetid juice burned his face and bits of carrot and swede plopped from his face back onto his plate. All the while he was looking at Gavin silently blaming him with his eyes. He knew his brother would blame him for this and probably issue him with a few harsh digs maybe leaving him with a dead arm later that night when the man was too drunk to care.

  ‘Not one of you is to leave that table till I see a clean plate... is that clear’ he now bellowed at the three siblings. They all nodded in agreement and went about the task of eating their way through the foul tasting food to reach the prized egg and chips beneath. Only the egg and chips beneath would no longer taste as Gavin would like and it would only add to his nausea to have to eat it. But the three children did as they were told and silently went about the job. Stopping now and again to gag, desperately trying not to throw up over their dinner. God forbid if they did Gavin thought. Would he make them eat that too? He tried to put the thought at the back of his head or he would definitely be emptying his stomach onto the table. Each mouthful was a chore and they were sat at the table for what seemed like hours until the stew was cold which made it even less appetising. Finally he got to the now spoiled egg and chips underneath. They were tainted with stew juice and the chips were soggy and looking slightly bulimic.