Abide with Me

by Ian Ayris

  Place is even more of a shit-hole than what I remember. Kinda scary an all, to think this is where he actually lives. Probably better than livin on the streets and goin down the bins for your dinner, but only fuckin just.

  Me feet's scrapin on the floor on account of the carpet bein pulled up. With the state I saw it last, I'm not fuckin surprised. Only the newspaper's left, you know, like they used to have under carpets, keep the place warm. And I'm glad to get off it in the front room. But the front room's bloody freezin. Just like it always was.

  And there, sittin on this manky sleepin bag in the middle of the floor, starin blind at a wall, is Kenny.

  Looks better than when I saw him last, I mean really saw him – the pub don't count. Last time I see him proper was down Petticoat Lane with his head in a bin, so anything's a fuckin improvement on that I suppose. He's lookin at me kinda funny, like he's tryin to remember something. His eyes are all watered over, but he’s always had that. Funny, forgot how fuckin weird it looks, like he's always on the edge of either cryin or screamin.

  The settee's gone, no telly, no nothing. Nothing other than this tatty old sleepin bag in the middle of the floor, empty crisp bags and other shit all round it.

  I sit on the floor by the door, me knees up to me chin.

  Kenny's fiddlin with his hands, lookin at em, like he don't know what to say.

  'Kenny?' I says.

  He's lookin up at me now, scared, like he's in for a right fuckin hidin.

  I come right to the point. I know there ain’t no money come from his old girl peggin it. Not lookin at the state of this place, and the state of Kenny. Knew that soon as Mum said. So what the fuck is he up to? Gettin in with Ronnie Swordfish for a start, I mean, for fuck's sake, that cunt blows people up in cars. And that ain't nothing I want me mum anything fuckin close to. Nor Kenny, come to that.

  He's answered all me other questions, you know, how he's coped all these years, and stuff, just by lookin at him. He's fucked. Poor cunt's come out fuckin worse than I have, and that's fuckin sayin something the way I feel deep down. Seein him sittin here brings it all back.

  'Kenny?'

  He looks away again, back to his hands on his lap. He’s smilin a little bit, just a touch, but he still ain't sayin a word.

  Gotta tell him how it is. Lay it on the fuckin line.

  ‘Kenny,’ I says, gettin right fuckin uppity now, 'I ain’t havin Mum involved in nothing fuckin bent, all right? So just tell me what the fuck's goin on. That’s all I wanna know. And fuckin give Ronnie his money back. I'll sort out the rest.’

  Smile’s gone now. He’s lookin right at me. Then slowly, and sort of stutterin, he tells me he’s just helpin out. That's all. Just helpin out. Won't say nothing else.

  I can see I'm bangin me head on a fuckin brick wall with this one. Like talkin to a fuckin imbecile. Makes me think of Thommo, like in court, and I’m wonderin what sort of a fuckin mess that poor cunt’s in. And Keith. And I can’t think of either one of em without fillin up.

  I'm lookin dead in Kenny's eyes now, and it's sendin me a million fuckin miles away. And I’m with Thommo, and me mates, and we’re seven years old, runnin round over The Barmy havin a kick-about with Dad, and now Keith's there, and we’re sittin in the back of the class at Isaac Meade, pissin ourselves laughin at something one of us has just said. Then I see the two of em in me room after Dad died, and they’re tryin so fuckin hard to make it right. I close me eyes to blink out the tears, and I can feel Kenny starin at me. When I open me eyes again, he's got a tear, just one single tear, I fuckin swear it, just gettin ready to run down the side of his face.

  Closest I ever see him come.

  'See you round, Kenny,' I says, and I get up to go.

  But he don't say nothing. Just sits there starin straight past me.

  ***

  I ain't goin without the money, though. Even if I gotta tip the whole fuckin place upside down.

  There's nothing in the back room, and the kitchen's bare. I'm in the hallway now, just about to go upstairs, when . . . BANG BANG BANG.

  Footsteps beltin down the street, gettin nearer.

  I'm holdin me breath at the bottom of the stairs lookin out the glass in the front door. Waitin. Dunno why, but I'm sort of expectin a key in the door or something, see Kenny's mum come waltzin in. A shadow goes quick past the glass and the footsteps keep on goin. I leg it up the stairs two at a time.

  It's dead up here. Cold. Kenny's old bedroom's most likely. So in I go.

  Ain't got no need to turn the light on cos the street lamp's lightin everything up. There's a bed frame with no mattress, Kenny's old wardrobe, and fuck all else. Easy to see there ain't nothing under the bed cos you can see right through the top. I open the wardrobe. And at the bottom, under a load of old hangers there's a sports bag. Same as I had when I was a kid with me football kit.

  But this one's fuckin bulgin.

  The street lamp flickers and goes out. Fuck. Room's so black I can't see me hand in front of me face. Comes on again a second later, but I'm shittin myself. Really fuckin shittin myself.

  I grab hold of the bag. It's heavier than what I thought. I'm on the floor now, me back to the wall under the window. I open the zip.

  It's stuffed full with loads and loads of books. Exercise books. You know, the ones you get at school. The sort Kenny had as a kid. And each one of these books has got 'My Diary' writ on it, and a date underneath. I take em out and stack em up round me. There's fuckin loads of em. Quick flick through shows they go back about fifteen years, right from when I first saw Kenny come tumblin out his house when we was nippers.

  I know this ain't what I'm lookin for, it ain't the cash, but I got the feelin in these books, writ on these pages, is everything I need to get me and Kenny out of this shit.

  I wedge me back under the window. The street lamp's givin off just enough light to read by, and I open the first book.

  The writing's all funny, like a fuckin six year old. Sort of big and round and a bit wonky. Bit like Kenny. Starts after I went round his and his dad went mental.

  Seventeenth of October Nineteen Seventy Five

  My frend John come to tea. We had jam sandwiches, biskits, crisps and Lemonade. Dad hurt Mum and I had four brown biskits and five Custard Creams and he threw jam sandwiches at the wall and he spat in my face. When I picked up the jam sandwiches I ate some under the table when he was not looking. Mum cried all night and so did Dad. Mum said she was sorry in the morning but I said it did not matter. She said she is going to buy a nice present for Christmas for me and she kissed me lots. Mum is always saying sorry and Dad is always shouting and braking things and then he is nice. Mum said being eleven would be better but eleven does not do anything.

  Blimey. Poor bastard. Never even realised it was his birthday. I start skimmin. There's mad pictures what he’s done everywhere, but a fair bit of writin an all. Next bit catches me eye is when he was in the Christmas play thing.

  Seventeenth of December Nineteen Seventy Five

  I looked for Mum. She was not there.

  I only know it's the Christmas play thing cos he's got pictures of stars and sheep and donkeys and the baby Jesus in a box.

  Christmas comes straight after.

  Twenty Fourth of December Nineteen Seventy Five

  Mum said father christmas cannot get me presents but she said we wood go for a walk in the morning TOGETHER. She said we can go to the RIVER and see the LIGHTS on the other side. It is raining outside my window. It looks pretty in the light like FAIRY DUST and nothing looks REAL.

  Dunno what's goin on with all them capitals. I know he's thick and all that, but that definitely ain't right. I go to the next book and find the bit where he first moves in with us.

  Seventh of January Nineteen Seventy Six

  Mrs Sissons is nice and Mr Sissons is not like dad and the little girl is funny and if there is a GOD I want him to stop hitting my mum. I miss my window. I want the light. My frend John is here. My best frend John. He l
ooks scared.

  Don't be Scared John.

  And there's loads of shit about his mum and dad after that, and there's loads about me, and Becky. Calls her 'the little girl'. All the way through. There was always something about Becky he really fuckin took to, like she was really special to him or something. And it's like me, Mum and Becky was everything to him. And he's got this way of writin like he's six all the way through, you know, no long words or nothing. Just simple. The bits before he got took out of school are fuckin heart-breakin. Should've see it comin. Should've been there for him.

  Near the end, before he gets took away, gets to there's no dates or nothing. And the writin’s all over the fuckin place.

  My head is blood and black and dark and I want to cry and nobody talks to me and nobody holds my hand and I want to cry and there are no reds and blues and yellows and greens and everything is sharp and there are no edges and I want to cry.

  And then a bit later on -

  The little girl is yellow and her eyes shine like rainbows and I am floating and I am drowning and I am crying.

  Fuck.

  Poor bastard.

  There's a great big gap after when Kenny got took away, then I hear this thuddin comin up the stairs. Fuckin hell, there's me gettin all sentimental when I got a fuckin job to do. And Kenny's comin up the stairs and I dunno what he'd fuckin do if he comes in here and finds me readin his little fuckin books. I start flickin through the last one. The dates are back and the writing's all back normal again. Even puts the days in. When I say 'normal', it's still like a fuckin six year old, but normal for Kenny, I mean. And there's something catches me eye what makes the whole fuckin thing make sense all at once. It's the first one after he come back here to his mum's, about a year ago.

  Tuesday Sixth of September Nineteen Eighty Eight

  Mr Wilkins is nice. He said if I know him from skool and I said no. I don't know skool. I know my frend John and the little girl and Mrs Sissons and the chocolate egg and the baby Jesus but I don't know skool. He said mum died in the water and it made me sad when he said mum died in the water and he will help me go home. Mr Wilkins said to help him and he said he was my frend. He said if I know a man called Ronnie Sawfish. I said no and I said if he was a cartoon. Mr Wilkins said Mr Sawfish was not a cartoon.

  ***

  Mr Wilkins. Fuck. Terry fuckin Wilkins. That wanker's been workin Kenny all this time, usin him to fleece Swordfish and all the while knowin when it comes, it's Kenny who's up for the chop. And if Kenny's cut what Terry's givin him is sortin Mum out with change to fuckin spare, and every other fucker round here, Terry must be gettin away with a fuckin fortune. Course, Terry knows when I come out I'm gonna suss his little game and he knows I ain't gonna just stand there and watch Kenny have it. So he's come up with this plan to wipe us both. After Kenny, he'll just get some other fuckwit to do his dirties. Ain't no way Ronnie's takin my word over Terry's, and that bastard fuckin knows it.

  He's got me and Kenny by the short and fuckin curlies, and not even Ronnie Swordfish knows what's goin on.

  I got that empty feelin comin over me, that feelin I got when dad passed, and when that judge sent me and Keith and Thommo down.

  That feelin you get when you know there ain't a drop of hope left

  in the whole fuckin world.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Next day, I'm out with Charlie in the van, stockin up. Keepin busy quiets me mind, but I'm feelin cut up and sick inside. We unload at Charlie's lock-up then drive down to Elsie's on the Bethnal Green Road for a bit of breakfast.

  'You all right, John?' Charlie says, chewin into his bacon sarnie.

  I'm pushin a sausage round me plate like when I was a kid and didn't want me dinner, hopin if I pushed it round long enough, it'd disappear or something.

  In the end, I put me knife and fork down as a lost cause.

  'It's Kenny,' I says. 'He's in trouble.'

  Charlie wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and puts what's left of his sarnie back on his plate. And I tell him all about Ronnie Swordfish and the money.

  Charlie's hard, hard as they come. Even the likes of Brooksy would think twice about havin a tear-up with him. I tell him how I gotta get Kenny down to Wapping cos Ronnie wants a chat.

  Charlie says he's comin with me, and he'll bring a few lads with him.

  But this is my fight. Just like all them years ago, it was Kenny's.

  'Can't do it, Charlie,' I says.

  And I tell him about Mum and Becky and what Ronnie Swordfish said he'd do if I fucked with him. Charlie blows out his cheeks and scratches the back of his head, and he don't say a word. But he's fuckin ragin, I can see that. And I know he ain't keepin out of this whether I like it or not.

  He asks me who else knows about it, and I tell him no one. I tell him Becky knows something's up, cos she was there when I see Terry the other day.

  'Terry Wilkins?' he says.

  I nod me head, and the look on Charlie's face, all red and that, tells me he'd be more than happy to chop Terry up into little bits and feed him to the ducks at the drop of a fuckin hat. He blows his cheeks out again.

  He tells me Mum's up to her neck with Ronnie Swordfish, and that what Kenny's givin her's only thing keepin her head out the water.

  But what Kenny's givin Mum's nicked off Ronnie Swordfish, and Charlie and Mum don't know about that. They don't even know Kenny's even workin for Ronnie, let alone nickin off him.

  Don't wanna tell Charlie, though, cos then Charlie'll be on Kenny's back for gettin Mum mixed up in it all, and Kenny's in enough shit as it is.

  Charlie says he was with Dad first time he went to see Swordfish. Says it was only a couple hundred, just enough to tide him and Mum over.

  But that must've been ten fuckin years ago, when I were still a kid. Charlie's see the way I'm lookin, confused as fuck, and carries on.

  'And there was more,' he says. And here it comes. ‘When you got sent down, John,' he says, 'your Mum, she was in a right state.' His eyes narrow and the red comes in his face again.

  I bend me head and me eyes get all blurred lookin at me plate.

  Says when she got back from the court, Terry Wilkins was waitin on her doorstep. Charlie said he tried to tell her not to, but said Wilkins was an insistent little fuck.

  I can guess the rest. Terry tells Mum if there's anything him and Ronnie can do, just say the word. So Mum's gone and borrowed a load of dough to keep the fuckin wolves from the door. And, bless her, got a wedge on top just to give her and Becky some sort of fuckin life. And I know it's all my doin, the mess she's in. All my fuckin doin.

  After a while, Charlie says, 'Come on, son,' and stuffs the rest of his sarnie in his mouth.

  ***

  When I gets back, it's Becky what opens the door.

  'Where's Mum?' I says.

  Becky looks worried, cos she sees straight away how fuckin worried I am.

  Asks me what's goin on.

  'What do you mean?' I says.

  Becky says she saw Kenny earlier on her way out, saw him comin out of his house with some big bag over his shoulder like he's leaving home. She says she asked him if he was all right, but he just sort of looked straight through her and carried on walking.

  Shit. Kenny's done a fuckin runner, the stupid bastard.

  'And Mum's never this late,' she says.

  Fuck.

  Next breath, there's a key in the door and Mum's come in carryin loads of shoppin, lookin proper tired.

  'Sorry I'm late, dears,' she says, 'had to pick up a few bits.'

  I can feel Becky's eyes burnin into me from behind cos she knows I ain't tellin her the truth.

  'So, who's going to help me with this lot, then?' Mum says, smilin big.

  I take the bags off her and go in the kitchen.

  Becky says she'll stick the kettle on, which ain't like her, but I know it's just so she can follow me in and have a word.

  And, fuck me, it is.

  'I don't know what you're up
to, John,' she snarls, soon as we're in the kitchen, 'but you better not be getting mixed up with that Terry Wilkins or getting Kenny into anything. Kenny's not like you or me,' she says. 'He's . . . different.'

  And don't I fuckin know it.

  I tell her to fuck off and leave me alone,

  I really ain't got time for this shit. Mum comes in, just as Becky's about to kick off.

  'Fish fingers all right, you two?' Mum says.

  I don't say nothing, and Becky gets the cups out the cupboard so Mum don't see how fuckin angry she is. I tell Mum I've already ate at Elsie's, and she shakes her head, tells me all that fried food will be the death of me. If only she fuckin knew.

  Becky says she ain't hungry. And now Mum knows something's up.

  I finish puttin the shoppin away and go in the front room. Stick the telly on. Six o'clock news. Fuckin hate the news. Fuckin pointless. I'm about to turn it off when on comes this picture of this little Chinky geezer frontin up a tank. Frontin up a fuckin tank, I ask you.

  He's only little, this bloke, skinny as fuck. And he's carryin a couple of shoppin bags, one in each hand, like he's just come out of Tesco’s or something. This tank’s tryin to get past him, but he's just standin there. Won't let it come forward a fuckin inch. I sit forward in me chair. It's tryin to go past him again, movin left and right, but this cunt, he's goin with it, holdin his arms out. Gotta be fuckin mental, obviously, this geezer, but fuck me, I ain't see nothing so fuckin brave in all me fuckin life.

  There's another tank comes up now, sittin behind the other, and then another one. And these are proper fuckin tanks an all. Could blow up half a fuckin street in one hit. But he don't care, this geezer. He ain't even thinkin about that. Dunno what the fuck he's thinkin about, but he ain't thinkin about that.

  The geezer's climbin up on the first tank now, right up on it. Shouts down into the tank, says his piece, like, and gets back down. And that's the end of the film. End of him, I reckon an all, when they get their fuckin hands on him.