‘What?’ Charlie asked stroppily.
‘You cannae tell your mother that I came to see you, nor your Uncle Mickey. Can you promise me that?’
‘I suppose so.’
Smiling, Billy stepped forward to shake his son’s hand. ‘I’ll look forward to hearing from you then, Charlie.’
Seconds later the tatty blue Escort had disappeared from sight.
Charlie rang his mum to ask her if it was okay for him to stay at a mate’s. Not wanting him staying at a stranger’s house, but overjoyed that he’d finally found a friend, Debbie reluctantly agreed. ‘Okay, love, but only because it’s a Friday and you don’t have to get up for school. What time will you be home tomorrow?’
‘Dunno.’ He desperately needed some time alone, to think, and couldn’t face being around his mum, Steve and the two spoilt brats. A small part of him felt he should tell his mum that his dad had turned up, but intuition told him there was bad blood between his parents and he’d be wiser to keep his trap shut. His mum had blatantly refused to discuss his dad over the years, insisting that Charlie forget he existed.
‘You’re better off not knowing him, love. Unfortunately he’s not a very nice person,’ she’d drummed into him.
Throughout his childhood Charlie had suffered recurring nightmares that his dad was trying to kill him. He would often wake up, sweating and shaking, but could never picture his dad’s face during these dreams. The man attacking him was faceless, with a large hood over his head. His night-time experiences had got so bad at one point that he’d cried to his mum about them.
‘All kids have nightmares. It doesn’t mean anything, Charlie, it’s all part of growing up.’ Debbie had lied, determined to protect her son from the awful truth. The night frights finally stopped when he was about ten years old and had never returned since.
Billy McDaid sat on a barstool in one of his old haunts in Barking, quietly supping a pint. He’d been back in the area just over a week now and was feeling braver by the second. He’d been wary about coming back at first, but after a discreet bout of snooping had been pleased to learn that Debbie and all her old cronies were long gone from the area.
He’d heard through the grapevine that she had got married years ago, but no one seemed to know who she’d ended up with. Some poor, desperate bastard, Billy mused, chuckling at his own wit.
The years hadn’t been kind to Billy. Prison had seen to that. His face was gaunt and lined, and he looked old for his years. His stint in Pentonville had been the hardest one to endure. There’d been a lot of blacks in there. For some unknown reason, they’d hated his guts and made his life a complete and utter misery. On being released from the ’Ville, he’d moved back to the North, this time to Manchester, and made a new life for himself there.
Drugs was the only game Billy knew and he soon found a pub to deal from profitably in the heart of Moss Side. With business doing well, he made the fatal mistake of falling in love once again. This time with a seventeen-year-old wild child called Angela.
Things went pear-shaped within six months of them moving in together. They began to row constantly because Angela could not deal with Billy’s possessiveness and his violent, jealous tantrums. Billy was distraught when she finally kicked him out. Refusing to believe their relationship was over, he pestered her constantly and stalked her every time she went out. Finding out that she was dating a twenty-one-year-old musician was the final straw for him. High on drugs one night, he’d lain in wait and stabbed her new beau seven times in a frenzied attack. Once again, his temper had got the better of him. Unfortunately for Billy, the drummer survived and he was arrested.
Billy was made to pay by spending the next seven years in Strangeways. Being back in prison was tough for him, but he kept his head down and did his bird with pride. Being in prison in the North was much better than down South. The lads were friendly and the banter between inmates was good. There were a lot of lads in there from Scotland and having some of his countrymen around him made him feel much more at home than he ever had in the ’Ville.
Billy had too much time to think while on the inside and his son had been at the forefront of his mind for years. Towards the end of his stretch, he heard via his aunt that his mother had died. Instead of feeling sad, he felt only relief and a new determination to make something of his life finally. It was his mother’s death that helped him decide to make amends with his own boy. He had to find him, get to know him, build some kind of a relationship before it was too late.
Two days after he was released, Billy bought a train ticket and ventured to London to track down his flesh and blood. Walking towards the Gascoigne Estate was like taking a trip down Memory Lane. As Billy approached the tower block, he felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Finding Andy was still living there was a relief to him as without his old pal he’d have been at a loose end for somewhere to stay.
‘Billy! Fucking hell. Come in, mate, it’s great to see ya,’ Andy yelled, pleased to have someone to get stoned with. Billy had spent the rest of that first day puffing, downing cider and listening to Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon.
After spending two days drunk, stoned and catching up on old times, he got his arse into gear and started the hunt for his son. Thankfully, tracking Charlie down had been a lot easier than he had envisaged. After a tip off that the boy attended a school in Upminster, Billy struck gold on the second one he visited.
‘Do you know Charlie McDaid?’ he’d asked a gang of cocky-looking lads who were having a cheeky fag outside the gates.
‘Nah,’ they’d replied, barely looking at him.
‘What about Charlie Dawson?’ Billy asked. He guessed Debbie might have changed the kid’s name to hers, considering what had happened.
‘What’s it worth?’ one little squirt asked.
Fishing in the pocket of his trousers, Billy pulled out a scrunched up five-pound note.
‘Point him out and I’ll give you this fiver.’
The squirt scanned the playground and pointed out a lad, exclaiming, ‘That’s him. The weirdo over there in the woolly hat.’
Billy wanted to beat up the little squirt. How dare he call his son a weirdo? Chucking the money at him, he decided not to kick off. Seeing his son was more important to him.
Ordering another pint, Billy smiled to himself as he remembered today’s encounter with his offspring. He was definitely a chip off the old block. A cocky little sod who didn’t take shit off anyone. Charlie didn’t look as Billy had imagined he would. ‘Lumpy and gawky’ was the best way to describe him, and he seemed a lot older than his fourteen years. Facially he looked more like his dad than Debbie, which pleased Billy no end. He was positive that the boy’s natural curiosity would get the better of him and he’d call. Billy was also sure Charlie wouldn’t break his promise and tell his mother or uncle that he had seen his dad.
Glancing at his mobile to make sure it was switched on and that service was good, Billy moved away from the bar and sat at one of the little tables, feeling pleased with himself. He put his feet up on a chair and made himself comfortable. He’d done all the hard work. Now it was just a case of waiting for that all-important call.
Charlie woke up the following morning with a bee in his bonnet. ‘Come on, Kev. Get up, mate. I wanna go down to Romford, see if I can bump into Lois.’
Unwashed, the boys left the house within minutes. Four hours later, after searching all the places she’d said she usually went to, Charlie was about to give up.
‘This is bollocks, Kev. It’s so packed down here, we’ll never find her amongst these crowds.’
Kevin, who was not usually one for bright ideas, came out with a beauty. ‘I know Lois ain’t allowed to take calls from your phone, Charlie, but why don’t you ring her from mine? If her mum or dad answer, you can pretend it’s a wrong number. If she answers, then bingo. Tell her you’re down in Romford and wanna meet her. And ask her if she’s got a mate for me.’
Charlie patted his mate on the
back. ‘Kev, that’s a blinding idea. Why didn’t I think of that?’ he said, snatching the phone.
Charlie’s heart leaped as the call was answered immediately. ‘Hello, Lois. Guess who this is?’ he said, putting his thumbs up at Kevin.
‘I’ve no idea. Who is it?’ she replied truthfully. She didn’t recognise the voice at all. The next sentence made her blood run cold.
‘It’s me, babe, Charlie. I’m in Romford, standing by the cinema. I’ve been here hours searching high and low for you. Do you fancy meeting up? Are you in Romford?’
‘I can’t, Charlie,’ Lois replied, unable to think of anything else to say. Undeterred, he carried on talking.
‘I’ve been dying to get together with you, you know. Why didn’t you take my calls? Was it because your mum and Mickey found out about us?’
Lois felt like screaming ‘There is no us’, but instead tried to be diplomatic. ‘Look, Charlie, I really like you but we’re cousins and I’d rather you didn’t ring me again. I’ve got a boyfriend now, so it’s a bit awkward if I get calls from other lads. I don’t want to fall out with you but it’s best this way.’
He could feel his face redden with anger. ‘A boyfriend! Whaddya mean you’ve got a boyfriend? How can you do this to me? You two-timing fucking slag!’
Lois couldn’t believe what she was hearing and was determined to get him off her case once and for all. ‘You’ve got to leave me alone, Charlie. There never was a me and you, it was all in your mind. I just look upon you as family, nothing else, and you have to accept that. If you contact me again, I’m going to tell my mum and dad. And I mean that.’
‘You fucking whore!’ he shouted, before ending the call. He was fuming. How dare she make a mug out of him? Especially in front of Kevin.
‘What’s the matter? What did she say?’ his friend asked innocently.
‘Fuck off, you fat cunt! I don’t wanna talk about it,’ Charlie shouted, before running off and leaving his astonished mate standing in the middle of Romford.
Debbie was dishing up spaghetti bolognese for the girls when she heard Charlie come in.
‘Hello, love. Did you have a nice time? There’s plenty of spag bol here if you want some.’
‘Leave me alone,’ Charlie shouted as he ran up to the tranquillity of his bedroom.
Gracie and Rosie shot one another knowing glances. They’d avoided their brother like the plague since the night they’d been left alone with him. Thankful that he wasn’t about to join them, they shared a secret smile and tucked into their meal.
Charlie lay on his bed. Thinking of Lois, obscenities spewed from his mouth.
‘Slut. Whore. Cunt. Slag,’ he muttered viciously.
Putting on one of his special films, he stood a chair against the door handle so that he couldn’t be disturbed. As he watched the three men take the girl by force, he fondled himself and came within seconds. All women were slags and they all deserved to be fucking raped.
Turning off the film, he put on his Slipknot CD. His jacket was hanging on the wardrobe and he stared at it for ages before taking the empty cigarette packet out of the pocket. Three times he punched the number into his phone, and three times he erased it. On the fourth attempt, he plucked up the courage to let it ring. It was answered immediately.
‘All right. It’s me, Charlie,’ he mumbled.
Billy McDaid ended the ten-minute call smiling to himself. He was meeting his boy tomorrow and taking him out for the very first time. He was so excited, he could hardly wait.
Charlie lay awake for hours that night, thinking about his dad. Their conversation had gone well and he was now looking forward to the meeting. Desperate not to be tired for his big day, he tried to force himself to sleep. Other people counted sheep to nod off, but not Charlie. He counted rape scenes that he’d watched in his special films. It never failed.
Tonight was different, though. Nervous, apprehensive and incredibly excited, Charlie tossed and turned all night.
Billy McDaid left the pub early and staggered towards Andy’s. Charlie was half of him, they shared the same blood, and together they would set the world alight.
‘Who’s the Daddy?’ Billy shouted happily. ‘I’m the fucking Daddy!’
THIRTY
‘YOU’RE UP EARLY, love. Where you off to? Anywhere nice?’
Lying came easy to Charlie; in fact, he was an expert at it. ‘Romford, Mum. I’m meeting me mate Kevin and we’re going to watch a film.’
‘That’s nice, love.’ Debbie was as pleased as punch that Charlie had finally found a friend. Being a protective mum, she wondered what the lad was like. ‘Why don’t you bring Kevin round one night for tea, Charlie, so I can meet him?’
Snatching a bit of toast off Rosie’s plate, he looked at his mum in horror. ‘Why would I wanna do that? It’s better where he lives, there’s more to do there. It’s boring round here.’
‘Okay, love, it was only a suggestion,’ Debbie said, deciding to shut up quick.
After cadging a lift off his mum to Brentwood station, Charlie sat on the platform, feeling nervous but excited at the same time. He was meeting his dad at eleven at Romford station. After originally feeling dubious, he was now looking forward to the rendezvous.
Billy leaned against the car door and lit up a fag. Dressed in light denim jeans, a black leather jacket, white Reebok trainers and a black baseball cap, he felt good but in reality looked completely ordinary. ‘All right, son?’ he said as Charlie walked towards him.
Charlie smiled and got into the passenger seat of the Escort. His heart was beating like a drum, but he was determined not to show his nervousness. He wanted to impress his father, not make a prick of himself.
‘What do yer fancy doing then, Charlie?’ Billy asked, flicking the ignition into life.
Deciding to speak the truth, but not knowing if he was doing the right thing, he decided to chance his luck.
‘I wouldn’t mind going for a beer.’
Billy looked at this son and smiled. Apart from the kid’s attitude, his first impression of Charlie had been neither here nor there. His son’s answer had just washed away any fears he may have harboured about the lad.
‘We’ll go over my way, Charlie. No one will ask questions about your age there.’
Billy flicked through the radio channels, found an illegal rave station and turned the sound up full blast. ‘Do you like this type of music, son?’ he asked, banging his hands against the steering wheel.
Charlie nodded. It wasn’t the kind of music that usually floated his boat, but he pretended to like it. The more he and his father had in common the better.
Billy drove as fast as he could to Barking. He wanted to impress the boy, show him he was with it rather than past it. Screeching to a halt in a side road, he turned the engine off and led his son into a rundown-looking alehouse.
Charlie felt all grown up as he sauntered in behind his father. He’d been drinking for ages, but only when alone indoors or in the privacy of Kevin’s bedroom. Pleased that this father was treating him like an adult rather than a child, as his mother did, he was now more than willing to give Billy a chance.
As father and son sat face to face for the very first time, conversation was awkward to say the least. They knew nothing whatsoever about each other and managed only to talk about music, films and football for the first half an hour. Billy was a big Glasgow Rangers fan and was quite disappointed that Charlie had little knowledge of the beautiful game. He shouldn’t blame the kid, mind, he’d had no dad there to teach him the basics. Things would’ve been very different if only he’d stayed around.
Three pints later both of them started to open up.
‘How’s your mum, son?’ Billy asked cautiously.
‘Okay, I suppose. I don’t have that much to do with her, really. I can’t stand Steve. He’s the bloke she married. They’re both too wrapped up with me little sisters to worry about me, so I spend most of me time in me bedroom.’
Billy looked intently
into Charlie’s eyes. He could tell by the way he spoke that the boy really wasn’t close to Debbie and that pleased him immensely. Fucking bitch! It was her fault he’d missed his son growing up in the first place.
‘Who’s the dude that your ma married?’
Ramming cheese and onion crisps into his gob, Charlie spoke between mouthfuls. ‘He’s a wanker. He hates me. He was Uncle Mickey’s best mate, apparently, and that’s how she met him.’
Billy’s blood ran cold as memories of Uncle Mickey’s best mate came back to haunt him. Surely not? It couldn’t be the same geezer who had nearly killed him, could it? Trying to keep his voice calm, Billy asked the all-important question. ‘Is this Steve a fat bastard, by any chance? I remember some of Mickey’s mates. The one I’m picturing was a big bloke. He used to have cropped hair.’
‘That’s him,’ Charlie replied instantly. ‘He’s still got cropped hair now. I hate him, and I hate my sisters. I don’t like my nan much either, or Granddad Peter. In fact, I hate them all.’
Making the excuse that he needed to use the loo, Billy dashed off. He needed five minutes alone to recover from the shock he’d just had. Memories of the day he’d nearly died often come back to plague him. He couldn’t believe that Debbie had ended up marrying the same brutal bastard who had helped to terrorise him that fateful day. After dousing his flushed face in cold water, he stared into the filthy, cracked mirror.
He couldn’t tell Charlie the whole story, that was for sure. He would only make himself look like some weak cunt, and he couldn’t risk Charlie blurting something out to Steve or his Uncle Mickey either. Billy would be dead meat if that were to happen, that was a dead cert.
By the time he’d pulled himself together and headed back to the table, his son had thought of some questions of his own.
‘I’ve got some things I wanna ask you now. Like, why did you walk out on me when I was little?’
Billy could barely answer, such was his guilt. Not for the way he’d treated Debbie – that bitch had deserved everything she got – but because of the way he’d treated his son.
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