by C S Kenny
Sometime during the car journey the conversation got around to the statement that I had refused to make. Aunty Val seemed to focus on why I wouldn’t, in her words, “Tell on my friends.” I told her I would never grass my friends up. I just wouldn’t. With the sort of friends I had that was probably rule number one.
In the back of my mind I was thinking she was doing Flat Face’s work for him and trying to come at me from a different angle. By the time we were back at Brunswick she was in no doubt that I would keep my mouth shut.
No more was said about our conversation and we carried on as normal, though I felt that since our chat Aunty Val was treating me more as an adult and we were getting on much better. The other kids thought her a stern woman and up until our chat I had thought the same, however she seemed to loosen up and even became fun to be around.
I clearly remember AC and I messing around one day. I was sat on the floor and AC was threatening to get a cup of water and throw it over me. Aunty Val walked in as he was saying it and I think he was disappointed that our fun was now over. He was as surprised as I when she sat down behind me as though we were doing the, ‘Oops upside your head’ dance, and she grabbed hold of my upper arms. She then told AC that he should get the water whilst she held me.
I pretended to struggle while calling out threats to AC. I heard him turn the tap on and I thought, ‘the buggers gonna do it.’ It was all done and said in a light hearted manner. I stood up, pulling away from Aunty Val with ease and propped myself in the doorway of the kitchen then told AC to, “Put the bloody cup down.”
He was moaning at me for being no fun and Aunty Val was moaning at him for being too slow with the water. We were all smiles as we walked into the lounge area and sat down. Aunty Val looked at AC.
“Did you see how easily he got up? I was using all my strength to hold him and he stood up as if I wasn’t there.”
She then put her hand on my upper arm and squeezed it saying, “You’re a very powerful young man.”
Yes, I can see it now; I just couldn’t see it then.
On the evening of March 9th 1974 Aunty Val was on duty and had promised us we could watch a film which was on TV. True to her word, she and all we kids, including hers, were all sat around the lounge area watching the film. Gina wasn’t with us, she was at Wembley watching a Hockey International which is why Aunty Val let us stay up, she had to wait up for Gina to return. Then ITV or the BBC did that really annoying thing which pisses me off no end, they cut the film in half and the second part could be seen after the news. There were moans and groans all round then Aunty Val told the youngest kids they had to go to bed. We older ones were told if we got our pyjamas and dressing gowns on we could watch the rest of the film up in Aunty Val’s living quarters.
The half an hour break gave us plenty of time to get changed and gave her time to get her own kids to bed. By the time the film had restarted we were all in Aunty Val’s living room, Aunty Val and the girls sitting on the suite with AC and I sat on the floor. Aunty Val was sat directly behind me. I don’t know how far into the film we had got but after a while I began to feel her finger stroking my back.
I didn’t know what the hell to think. Was she so engrossed in the film that she’s just forgotten herself? Was she just being touchy feely because she felt comfortable in her own place, or was it what I thought it was and what the fuck do I do next? So, using all the experience I’d had in these situations, I did bugger all.
Then an ad break came and Aunty Val got us all some orange juice before telling us she was going to put her night clothes on. Her bedroom door was visible from the lounge and once she entered the bedroom she was out of sight but she had left the door open. I’m not sure if the door was blue or green but it was a dark gloss which, at the angle it was open, gave us all a reflective view of Aunty Val stripping off and putting her nightie on.
We were kids so we all had a quick look before one of the girls gave us a whispered bollocking saying we shouldn’t be looking, she was right. I did have a look, but to be honest there were all sorts of other things going through my head. The two main things were, was I imagining this? If not, what should I do about it? I decided to wait and see if she sat down behind me again and see whether or not the back stroking malarkey continued.
She did sit behind me and the stroking did start again. Figuring I had to find out for sure, I casually folded my arms, putting my left arm under my right armpit so that my hand was as far behind my back as it would go and at the same time be out of view of all but Aunty Val. It worked, she began stroking my fingers and I did the same to hers. I guess today I would say the feeling I had was one of, ‘Kenny, you’re in there son.’
I couldn’t tell you what it was we were watching but I have never wanted a film to end so quickly in my life. When it eventually did, Aunty Val told us we should get off to bed and that she would be round to say good night to us all, as she said that, she gave me a look, a look that in my fifty years I have only had a few times. It starts as your eyes meet then the look you’ve been given seems to go down into your chest, fucks about with your heart and lungs for a while then settles in your groin. On this occasion it appeared to skip the heart and lungs.
It seemed to take forever for Aunty Val to get to my room, I know she had to wait for Gina to arrive back and then lock up. Then I heard her come down to the boy’s corridor and ask AC if he was OK before saying goodnight to him and closing his door. I heard her slippers flip flopping on the floor then I heard the click of the light switch as she turned out the corridor light. As my light was off I was in total darkness and I thought she had changed her mind and gone up to her flat.
To be honest with you I was in a bit of a state, I was flitting from being nervous to being excited. One second thinking of what I was going to say or do, then telling myself to calm down and play it by ear, then being disappointed when I thought she’d had second thoughts.
She came into my room.
“Chris, where are you?” She whispered.
I was stood in the middle of my room about four feet from her.
“I’m here,” I whispered back and she walked over to me.
We kissed for a few moments, I guess then I would have called it proper snogging and I couldn’t believe my luck. Then we stopped kissing and she just hugged me. She whispered in my ear saying she didn’t know why she was doing this, she thought it might be to get her own back. I didn’t have a clue what the hell she was talking about and to be honest I could not have cared less why she was doing it, just so long as she did it.
We sat down on my bed with Aunty Val on my right and started kissing again. I figured in for a penny in for a pound and put my hand on her knee. I slowly started working my way up the inside of her leg, all the while I was expecting her to put her hand on mine and put a stop to things, she didn’t. I knew she had long legs but I remember thinking, ‘This is fucking ridiculous, it’s got to be up here somewhere.’
Her leg seemed to go on forever. The next thing I knew I could feel her ribs. My hand wasn’t on the inside of her leg at all, she had been sat with her legs crossed and I had been stroking up the outside of her right leg. No wonder I couldn’t bloody find it. I told you I was clueless. Once I had realised my mistake I decided to reckon it had been intentional and took my time gently stroking my way back down. I had reached her knee and she slowly uncrossed her legs, I now had my bearings and as far as I was concerned, a definite go ahead. I placed my hand on the inside of her left thigh, about four inches from the try line.
Then there was a loud clatter on my bedroom window and Aunty Val and I nearly jumped out of our skins. It was Gina’s alarm clock dangling on some tights. I stood up, opened the window and took hold of the clock. Gina was leaning out of the upstairs window of another girl’s room trying to whisper and shout at the same time.
“Chris, Chris, I’ve set the alarm for two O’clock.”
In 1974, just about two weeks after my fifteenth birthday, I had never heard of a Bri
an Rix farce, but as I think about it now, that’s exactly what springs to mind.
Aunty Val seemed to be shocked back to her senses by the alarm clock incident. She asked what was going on with Gina, so I told her. Her exact words were, “I guess I’m in no position to say anything about it,” and she was right. Then, to my disappointment, she said it was late and we should get some sleep. As she was about to step out of my room I whispered, “Aunty Val,” she turned round and I went to her and we kissed again.
“When it’s just the two of us Chris, can you drop the Aunty?” she asked. I said I would and then she left.
I sat on my bed and stared at the illuminated hands on the clock. It was close to midnight and to be crudely honest, there was something in my pyjama bottoms that had been giving me grief since halfway through the friggin film. I knew for sure, with what was running through my head that it had no intentions of going away. Half an hour before the alarm went off I was stealthily making my way up the stairs to Gina’s bedroom. I was really, really desperate to give her the clock back.
The next morning I confided in AC. That sounds as though we were having a chat and it just slipped out during the conversation. No, that wasn’t how it was. To my shame I couldn’t wait to tell him. His reaction was, “Fuck off you lying get,” or something similar. After a while he was not one hundred per cent sure as to whether I was lying or not. Then in the afternoon he had to concede that I was telling the truth.
AC was sitting in an arm chair in the lounge which was next to a settee. Gina, I and Aunty Val were sat on the settee in that order. We were all chatting away and the atmosphere was very friendly, especially on the settee. My left hand was out of sight up the back of Gina’s top; my right hand was out of sight and up the back of Aunty Val’s top. At one point they both leaned forward a little and behind Aunty Val’s head I caught AC’s eye. A short while later we were talking and he no longer thought me a lying get; I was now a, “Spawny Bastard.”
That night, not long after the ritual lowering of the clock, I nodded off to sleep. By one minute past two in the morning I was in the bathroom freshening myself up and brushing my teeth. Once I was done I made my way up to the girl’s bedroom area.
After quietly closing the fire door behind me, I stood looking down a very short corridor. There were two doors in front of me, one, furthest away and directly in front of me, was the door to Aunty Val’s flat. The other, closer to me and on my left, was the door to Gina’s room. The fire escape for the girl’s landing was accessed through Aunty Val’s flat. In order to open her door there was one of those circular red ‘Smash Glass’ contraptions which held the key. Smashing the glass wasn’t necessary, all I had to do was unscrew the front of the contraption, take the key out, open the door and then put the key back before screwing it back up again. I made my way to Val’s bedroom and gently tried to wake her up.
She awoke with a start, then, when she realised it was me, she smiled and said, “Wait a minute.” Unbeknown to me her daughter was fast asleep next to her so Val gently picked her up without waking her and took her to her own room. When Val came back we finished what we had started in my bedroom. How pleased are you that I didn’t give a blow for blow account of the next few, (Oh how I would love to say hours) minutes?
What had gone on between Aunty Val and I soon reached the ears of a member of staff. This was my fault entirely for not being able to keep my big mouth shut. I told AC then he told someone else and before I knew it some of the older girls were asking me if it was true, in the presence of AC I couldn’t really deny it. Besides, at that age and in those sorts of institutions, what your peers thought of you was far more important than what the staff thought of you, I had no loyalty to any adult, so I told them the truth. That was the same reasoning I had when late one evening I was taken into the office where there were four members of staff, one of which was Aunty Val, plus a social worker. They got straight to the point and told me what had been said and asked me why I had started such a malicious rumour. I told them it wasn’t a rumour, it was the truth.
Boy did the shit hit the fan. I was getting questions from all angles and being shouted at from all angles. Then Aunty Val asked Flat Face Jim if she could speak to me on her own. Everybody else left and the door was shut.
“Why are you doing this to me Chris?” She asked. I had no answer, so I didn’t speak.
“You told me you would never tell on any of your friends, I thought we were friends.”
As a kid I had said and done things, frequently and intentionally, to hurt adults, it rarely bothered me. Yet on that particular evening I felt terrible. The look on her face, the tone of her voice, I could see she was worried and it was all down to me. I walked to the door, looked back at Val and said “I’m sorry,” I then left the room.
Around ten in the evening the social worker took me from Brunswick and drove me up to another home on Cavendish Road in Idle. As we drove up there the social worker was still questioning me about Aunty Val. He wanted me to describe what had gone on, what was said, he even asked me if I could describe her underwear.
With regard to her underwear, in my room and in her room, she wasn’t wearing any. However there was what I believed to be a pair of knickers on her bedside chair. I told him this and I can still remember the naive description I gave him. They were thick and stiff (I’m laughing to myself here) with large flowers printed on them. I know it sounds like they hadn’t been washed for a couple of weeks but that’s not what I meant.
The social worker didn’t question my description, he just wrote it down, but years later when I discussed this incident with my wife, after she had stopped laughing at ‘thick and stiff,’ she did question it and we got to the bottom of it.
Women’s underwear is something I know relatively bugger all about, so I explained to Sue that the ones I had seen were not like hers, soft and, well for want of a better word, floppy. We eventually came to the conclusion that what I had seen was a Panty Girdle. Well I didn’t bloody know did I?
We turned up at Cavendish House after a five minute journey and much the same as my introduction to Brunswick, the place was in darkness. The chap in charge let us in and led us into his office. He was not best pleased. Whether it was because he had taken an instant dislike to me, as he quite obviously knew why I had been brought there, or we had got him out of bed I’m not sure. He insisted that I refer to him as sir, I insisted on forgetting to call him sir. This got right up his nose, as did saying, “No,” without saying, “Thank you,” when he grudgingly asked me if I needed anything before he showed me to my bed. He started ranting on about my lack of manners and how, whilst I was in his care, I should do this and do that. I didn’t hear much of it, all I heard was a voice in my head saying, ‘I know which buttons to press on you mister.’
I didn’t get much sleep that night; I was kicking myself for screwing everything up. The fact that I had been ostensibly kicked out for, and I’m not sure which the case is, either being too maladjusted, or not maladjusted enough for William Henry Smith School didn’t bother me.
Yes, I had volunteered to go there but I had gradually come to feel as though I was there as a punishment for someone else’s wrong doing. Neither did I give a toss about being expelled from Approved School. In fact, if I’m to continue being honest, back then I was quite proud of the fact that I had driven them to the point where they were finally in agreement with me, I shouldn’t be there. Brunswick on the other hand had been different, it was beginning to feel like a proper home, a comfortable place to be, it didn’t feel like and in fact wasn’t, somewhere I had been sent to as a punishment.
If I was going to have to stay in an institution until I reached the age of sixteen then I could think of worse places to be. I could even happily tolerate Flat Face, as scary as he thought he was, Rat Arse Finney made him look like a pussy, the cat type, Finney was the other type, the really naughty word. I knew I could not just stop overnight behaving in my usual dick head way, I had been doing it too
long, but I was making an effort and I was maturing, though probably not as quickly as I should have. Then, as per usual, I went and blew it. What was I thinking? Then again, as it takes two to Tango I guess I have the right to ask, “What the hell was she thinking?”
Actually, the first of those questions is rhetorical; I have had the best part of forty years to think about it after all. I was a hot headed adventurous boy taking my first steps into manhood, hormones racing through my body. Offer me a pint of beer; I would have taken you up on your offer. Put a plate of food in front of me, I would have wolfed it down. See where I’m going with this?
As for the second question, I cannot answer that though I would be interested in knowing the answer.
What were you thinking you stupid, stupid woman? I do hope that one pathetically quick, very quick, shag, has caused you a few sleepless nights. Not for some bitter reason on my part, any repercussions I can and have lived with, though people still thinking I was lying hurts a little, but I’ve lived with that too. No not for any of that, but for your kids. You could not have put them in any more danger if you had got pissed and taken them for a spin in the car.
People will have some idea of the consequences of your actions, but you, you had more than an idea, and you were surrounded everyday by those consequences. If my allegation had been taken seriously you could have turned your precious children into the very children you were supposed to be taking care of. Can you imagine that? Some other Aunty or Uncle bringing up your kids, treating them the way you treated girls such as Gina and Ellen who, as much as you knew you shouldn’t and as hard as you may have tried, you couldn’t help looking down upon.
Most of the children in the care system were there because of parents like you and your ex, and people had the gall to look down on the kids. The saddest part is that as kids in care we knew it, we knew people thought of us as the lowest of the low. We knew if we were out as a group the woman over the road who was bent forward, whispering in her questioning child’s ear, was saying, “They’re from the children’s home, that’s where you end up if you if you are not good.”