by Ian Ayris
I hear Dad say to Mum one night he don't think Kenny's mum's comin home. Him and Mum talk about it loads. Ain't like Dad's tryin to get rid of Kenny or nothing, just think, you know, he wants things back the way they was. Think we all do, really.
Don't hear fuck all from Kenny's old man. Ain't fuckin right. His own fuckin boy. We ain't got no reason to go over, but he ain't even bothered to knock see how Kenny's doin. Fuck him. That's what I reckon. Bloody fuck him. But Kenny's lookin out our front window at his old house all the fuckin time now, mumblin and twistin his hands together till his fingers go white. It's like he's really tore up inside, you know, really fuckin hurtin. He's changin. I can feel it.
I can feel it and it's scarin the fuckin shit out of me.
And fuckin Anderlecht, they beat us four-two in the final. Dad's ripped to bits over it. The situation with Kenny's been getting to us all, but us losin in the final like that, it's like it's pushed Dad closer to the edge than all of us.
And I got this feelin inside things is only gonna get fuckin worse.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When the end of the school year comes, it's bye, bye Bethnal Green Juniors. Mum and Miss Felton make it all up to be this big thing, like it's massive, or something. But it ain't. Truth is, I'm glad to leave the fuckin place. Come September we're all gonna be startin at Isaac Meade's anyway, just down the road, so it ain't like no one's never gonna see each other again. Not that I fuckin care. Some of the girls was in bits, though, but that's girls for you, ain't it. Goin round with their little books, gettin em signed by people they're gonna be seein in two months anyway. I didn't sign no ones. Told em all to fuck off. I got more important things on me mind, see, what with Kenny losin it and Dad and his drinkin.
He's still on a downer, Dad, since we lost to Anderlecht. He seemed to be doin all right with Grandad goin, but losin the final's sort of tipped him over, like he's only just realised Grandad's gone. He don't stop cryin and he don't stop drinkin. Mum does her best to bring it out of him, cheer him up, you know. Keeps tellin me and Becky he'll be all right soon. Think she's probably tellin herself that, an all. He never goes out, if he can help it, other than work and football. And me nan, Dad's mum, she ain't well neither. Grandad dyin like he did, sudden like, she died right with him. That's what I reckon. One night, Auntie Ivy pops round from the hospital and tells Dad the score. He puts his face in his hands and stays like that for fuckin ages.
Funny, when you're a kid you don't see your nan and grandad as nothing other than Nan and Grandad. It don't hit you it's your mum's mum or your dad's dad. And they're so old, you think they're gonna live for fuckin ever, you know. So when Nan went it hit me hard, really hard, cos they was both gone then. Mind you, broke Dad in two. Was like something went right out of him. Was only when I see him like that, I caught on there's some things you don't never get over.
Nan goin done Kenny in as much as the rest of us. When I say done him in, I mean it made him even worse than he was, you know. Set him back another fuckin hundred years. Weren't like he ever fuckin knew her. He just sort of joined in with the rest of us bein sad. Stopped playin with Becky, and everything. Bless her, she'd run up to him, but it's like he don't even see her. Walks straight past. Ends up me playin with her and I ain't half as good as Kenny with it. Couple of minutes. That's my hoppin pot.
I reckon he's like it cos he's missin his old girl. I told Mum but she just says he's been through a lot and we gotta be there for him. Says it sort of ratty, like she's up to here with it all. Me, Dad, Kenny, fuckin everyone. Specially Dad. She's got her right hands full with him, so I can see where she's comin from.
***
Middle of the school holidays, me and Kenny's on the floor in the front room playin 'Crossfire'. Dad bought it home from the market when he was on one of his good days. And when he come in with it, it was like he was gettin back to his old self again, but by the evenin he's sittin in his chair starin at the telly and puttin away cans of Skol like it's the last drop of drink on the fuckin planet.
Crossfire's great. Murder on your hand, though. Can only ever do ten minutes before me fingers come up all red and blisters. It don't hurt Kenny, though. And he's fuckin slaughterin me.
I let go of me gun, and shake me hand to get it workin again. Can't play no more cos me finger's all blistered up. But Kenny ain't takin no notice, just keeps on firin down at me. The metal ball thing's in my goal, where he shot it last, so he ain't got nothing to aim at, just keeps on crackin em out.
'Kenny!' I shout, cos I'm a bit pissed off now what with him takin no fuckin notice.
And he lifts his head up slow and looks at me in that blank way of his that's sort of scary till you got used to it. Even then it still puts the fuckin shivers up me.
I tell him loud and fuckin clear I ain't playin no more cos me finger’s fucked. Too loud and fuckin clear, as it happens. Forgot Mum was in the kitchen.
'One more word like that, young man, and you'll be up them stairs before your feet touch the floor.'
Means it an all, she does. I tell her I'm sorry. Don't want no more grief, what with me finger killin me an all.
Kenny's lookin at me straight in the eye now, and he's firin them marbles a million miles an hour.
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.
He ain't even lookin where they're goin cos he ain't takin his eyes off me. And when he runs out, he carries on firin anyway. That's when I know he's on the fuckin way out.
Phone rings. Mum comes out the kitchen and answers. Uncle Derek's dragged me dad down the boozer, not that he needed much askin, so he ain't around. I go in the kitchen to make meself a jam sarnie. Kenny's still on the Crossfire. Not that I think he's playin by any fuckin stretch.
'Sandra, love, you okay?'
Fuck. Kenny's Mum. I never heard her phone here before.
I poke me head round in the hall where the phone is so as I can hear better. And Mum, Mum's got a face on her like a smacked arse. She's got her hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes. The old girl's comin home. Wants to make a go of it with the old man. Mum reckons it's a wrong un, obviously.
And me? I don't fuckin know. Geezer beats the shit out of a woman, puts her in the hospital, and she wants to 'make a go of it'
Take fuckin Einstein to work that one out.
Mum puts the phone down and I jump back in the kitchen, pretend I been here all the time. But Mum don't come in. She goes straight upstairs.
Next mornin, Kenny don't say nothing, even though I heard Mum tell him his old girl's movin back in a couple of days. And Mum, bein Mum, she wants to give the house a good clean out. Dad's back at work after Nan's passin, so Mum bells Auntie Ivy and Auntie Gwen. They both turn up wearin head scarves and aprons, and carryin buckets full of cleanin stuff.
Kenny shakes his head when Mum asks him if he wants to go over, so she leaves him to look after Becky. My job's sortin out Kenny's old room. Make it nice for him, you know. Mum don't know he ain't got no carpet and the floorboards smell of piss. I tell her I'll do me best. She gets the key off the top of the fridge and we all go over. Ninety fuckin degrees outside. Like wakin up in a fuckin oven. I look back home as I'm crossin. And Kenny's watchin me every step.
So we're comin up the front path. Mum's in front, then Auntie Gwen and Auntie Ivy, then me, but I smell it first. At least I'm the first one to say something. Suppose the others reckoned it was just the smell of the house, you know, bein a shit-hole and all that. But I know it weren't. Mum opens the door and steps back coughin with the smell.
And there he is. Kenny's old man. Hangin from the bannisters.
There's flies fuckin everywhere. Thousands of the fuckers. And the smell. Fuck, the smell. Like bein hit in the face with a fuckin shovel. Auntie Gwen screams something stupid like, 'Oh my gawd, the fucker's only gone and topped hisself!' and Auntie Ivy drops her bucket and staggers back in the street.
Mum gathers herself a bit and slams the door shut, holdin her hand over her mouth. I don't really see much. Enough to ch
uck me guts up in Auntie Gwen's bucket, mind.
Coppers reckoned he'd been hangin there about a week.
I'm wipin the sick off me chin when I see Kenny's still watchin from across the road. Becky's lookin at me funny, same way as when she wants me to play. Sort of a cross between please and help. Something's wrong. I know that. And it ain't Kenny's old man upsettin her. It's Kenny. He must've heard me Auntie Gwen shoutin out, but there ain't nothing on his face. Fuck all. Don't even come over. Just stands there, holdin Becky's hand.
I'm lookin at Kenny then at Becky. And she's cryin. Not loud, but there's these little tears comin down her face. Mum and Auntie Gwen and Auntie Ivy are natterin ten to the fuckin dozen behind me and don't see nothing. Becky tries to pull her hand out but Kenny's squeezin it so hard she can't get away. Then she screams.
I leg it cross the road, and the whole world's roarin in me ears. Soon as I gets there, Mum and me aunties come up behind. Kenny lets go of Becky's hand and she runs behind me and grabs onto me legs. Mum says, 'Kenny, love,’ real soft and gentle, and the poor fucker keels right over into her arms.
CHAPTER NINE
Kenny and his mum stay at our gaff while the Old Bill move in. The Council shut down the house after and take the boards off the one next door. Said they'd clean it out and Kenny and his old girl can move in when they like. His old girl's cryin all the time. Mum spends most days with her arms round her. Kenny don't say nothing. Not to no one. Then one day, he opens up, starts talkin. Not about his old man, nothing like that, just about the weather or what's on telly. Boring shit. Fuckin weird. But he don't wanna go out the house. Our house. Not ever. Says it's too hot, like he's gonna melt or something. Really means it an all.
I try and push him a couple times, you know, really encourage him, like. But that look comes back on his face, the one I saw him give Wilkins in the playground that time, and what he give me when we was playin Crossfire. I back straight off. Then he's smilin again, askin me if he can look at me Beano. I keep him away from Becky, not that he's got much interest in her anymore. Shuts himself up in the bedroom, comes down for something to eat, then he's straight back upstairs again.
It's a couple of weeks by the time the Council sort Kenny and his mum's new place out. We all goes over when it's done. New doors, everything painted up, curtains, the fuckin lot. Like a new fuckin house, it is. And Kenny's got a proper room, like he always should've done. Like a new start for em both, you know – Kenny and his mum. That's what I reckon.
***
But his mum's round ours all the time. She reckons Kenny don't never come out his room. Locks himself away. And she looks fuckin awful, his mum. Like she's aged forty years.
By the end of the summer, Kenny's curtains are gone and his carpet's dumped out front. Only time I ever see him is when he's lookin out his bedroom window. He's there all the time, like he's lookin for something that ain't there no more. But when that street light comes on outside his window, he don't take his fuckin eyes off it.
***
School holidays done, and it's first day at Isaac Meade. It's three times the size of Bethnal Green Juniors. Fuckin massive, it is. Soon as we get in, we all get sent down the hall. There's fuckin hundreds of us, waitin to be put in classes. The teachers are standin all round, and you can tell there ain't no Miss Feltons here. You can see it in their eyes.
Out front's the Headmaster. Skinny, evil, fucker. Tweed suit. Little pointy beard. Eyes like a fuckin snake. His name's Mr Jackson. Reminds me of Kenny's old man.
We all get called in the end, and me and Kenny's in the same class. Mr Brandon. '1B' – class full of morons, thickos, gommos, and fuck-wits. Bottom of the bleedin barrel. That's us. Thommo's with us, though, so least it's gonna be a laugh.
Soon as we walk in, Kenny goes and sits right at the back in the corner, by the window. Before I can get there, some drippy fucker – glasses and greasy hair – goes and sits next to him. Thommo's pissin about down the corridor, and he ain't even come in yet, so I sit at an empty desk a few along from Kenny. And this black kid what I ain't never see before comes and sits next to me. After Brandon's quieted us all down, he gets us to talk to who's sat next to us for ten minutes, you know, one of them bollocks things so as we can get to know each other and tell the whole class about em. Then Brandon goes out. Fuckin leaves us to it, don't he. Pretty much all of us know each other anyways from Juniors, so most of the kids are just havin a laugh and fuckin about soon as we're left on our own.
Now I ain't got nothin against the blacks, you know, not like some. Me Grandad, he was fuckin terrible. Reckoned they should've all been sent back on fuckin banana boats. I'd say to him, ‘What about Clyde Best?’ but he reckons that was different. ‘Clyde Best is an 'ammer, son,’ he used to say. ‘One of us.’
Everyone else is talkin and laughin and pissin about, like I says, other than Kenny and the drippy fucker next to him. They're just starin out the window, both of them, like they're waitin for a fuckin spaceship to land, or something. And I gotta talk to this black kid. He ain't even lookin at me, just lookin out front.
'All right?' I says.
He nods his head, slow. Can't even see his face proper. Thought he might turn round. But he don't. Fuck, this is gonna be hard.
'My name's John. Johnny Sissons.'
He spins round, his eyes big, dartin into me, like I've just kicked him in the stomach.
'Like from the Preston final in sixty-four?' he says.
Fuck me. First thing takes me back is he talks just like me, you know, like the way I talk. Dunno why, thought he'd be like one of them blokes off the Black and White Minstrels, you know, 'Mammy', and all that bollocks. But he ain't. He's just like me.
'That's right,' I says. 'Johnny Sissons, youngest player ever to score in a Cup Final.'
'And are you –?'
'No. Dad reckons he's some sort of cousin, or something, but I ain't never met him.'
And we don't stop talkin for fuckin ages.
When it is our turn to talk about each other to the class, we're fucked. All we been doin is talkin about the Hammers. Don't know fuck all about him, other than his name's Keith. Brandon gives us up for a lost cause. Shakes his head, breathes out deep, and moves on.
'You two, at the back, in the corner.'
Kenny. Nothing. Brandon raises his voice.
'I said, you two boys, in the corner. Tell me something. Please, tell me something.'
Sarcastic cunt.
Kenny's still lookin out the window. There ain't no touchin him when he's lost like this. The other kid next to him's whisperin that he don't know, but it's so quiet, only us near him can hear. Brandon comes over, sort of marchin, one of them big, long, wooden metre sticks in his hand. He weren't never gonna pick on me and Keith, Brandon. He see we got a bit of lip about us, but Kenny and this other kid, they're easy fuckin pickings for the likes of cunts like him. He slams the metre stick on drippy kid's desk. BANG. The kid’s shakin, gone all red. Reckon he's gonna cry. Brandon leans right into him, speaks all quiet.
'What's his name?'
'I don't know, sir.' Quiet as you like.
'Speak up, boy. You want the class to hear you, don't you, boy?'
'Yes, sir.' Like a fuckin mouse.
Bang. Metre stick slams on the desk again.
‘What is his name?’
'I don't know, sir.'
'You don't know? Why don't you know, boy? Are you stupid or something, boy? Is that it? Are you stupid?'
There's a few laughs. But I ain't one of them. Nor's Keith.
'Yes, sir.'
'Yes, sir, what, sir?
'Yes, sir. I'm stupid, sir.'
There's a few more laughs, but they're stopped when Brandon smashes the metre stick down on the desk again, and it catches the kids fingers. He screams. Starts cryin really soft.
'And you, looking out the window.' Shit. Kenny. 'See anything interesting, boy? Anything you'd like to tell the whole class about?' Brandon's got this smirk on his face now, li
ke he's on a fuckin roll. Really enjoying himself, he is. Slams the metre stick on Kenny's desk. Kenny don't even jump, just turns round slow. The kid next to him's bawlin his eyes out, so only me and Brandon's close enough to see the empty look in Kenny's eyes. Kenny's starin at Brandon cold. Not a fuckin word. Shits Brandon right up. He weren't expectin that, and the metre stick's shakin in his hand.
This Brandon's a right bastard. One of them cowardly cunts, you know. The fuckin worst sort.
Brandon can't handle Kenny starin at him for more than a couple of seconds, and he's back up the front of the class before you fuckin know it.
'Open your form books and write one page about yourselves.'
Straight to the fuckin point.
And he's on his way out the door.
'I'll be back in a minute,' he says.
Probably goin to have a little snifter of somethin out the staff room. Some kid puts his hand up.
'Sir? I haven't got –.'
'JUST DO IT!'
Door slams. Gone.
Turns out Keith just moved in from Canning Town. And he's Hammers fuckin mad. Tall and lanky, he is. Just lookin at him, you can tell he's hard. Solid, you know. And he's got eyes like Lawson's, like there ain't nothing he won't do if he got a mind. But Keith's different to Lawson. He ain't fuckin mental, for a start. He's the most solidest bloke I ever met. It's like he's all sort of coiled up, waitin for something to happen. And when it does, when the time comes, he's gonna tear the whole fuckin world apart.
***
Was right about Jackson, the headmaster. A right cunt. Clouts you round the head for your shirt hangin out, and if he see you runnin in the corridor, cunt sticks his leg out sends you fuckin flyin. Talk back to him and he pulls your ear half off your head, sticks his face right close till you can taste his scummy breath and drags you in his office. Then he canes your arse off till you can't walk for a fuckin week. Never does no classes. It's like his job's to fuckin go round the school lookin for kids he can fuckin hurt. Cunt.