A fortnight later, Tommy had been stabbed in the shoulder. He, Danny, Ronnie and Ronnie’s best pal Dean Griffiths (a.k.a. Griff) had been sent to Balham to eject some troublemakers from a boozer. A brawl had taken place with a gang of bikers and Tommy had ended up on the floor, covered in claret. Jack didn’t like the lads going to hospital as that meant the police would get involved, so Tommy was taken back to the Darlings’ house and stitched up by a private doctor who was on Jack’s payroll.
It was while Tommy was off work recuperating that Donna Darling started to make a play for him. She was like his very own Florence Nightingale, tending to his every need. When she started offering him extras, Tommy was flattered – bowled over, in fact – but he’d politely declined, even though his penis was urging him otherwise. The Darlings had been good to him and under no circumstances would he betray their trust in that way.
Then, approximately a month after he’d moved in, Jack had taken him to one side. ‘Donna has asked my permission for you and her to start courting, Tommy. Now I know you’re only young, but you’re very mature for your age. I’ve spoken to Suzie and she’s in agreement. You have our blessing.’
Tommy had been a bit taken aback, and scared. Donna was a couple of years older than him and was no wallflower. He’d felt even more daunted when Ronnie had rented a pal’s caravan and he and Donna were sent to Clacton on holiday for a week to get to know one another better.
The inevitable happened. Tommy had fallen hopelessly in love and Donna was soon pregnant. On 5 July 1976, the day Tommy was meant to meet Scratch, he’d actually been getting hitched to Donna. Everything had happened so fast. Too fast, he knew that now.
‘Hello, Tommy. How you doing, son?’
Thoughts snapping back to the present, Tommy stood up and shook the man’s hand. Peter Hiller was a nice bloke, a pal of Jack’s. ‘All good my end. How about yourself?’
‘Plodding on, as you do. How’s that lovely wife and son of yours?’
Tommy smiled and spoke glowingly of both. He’d become an expert at pretending everything was hunky-dory. Case of having to, really.
‘I’ve pulled,’ Danny announced. ‘That bit of totty who looks like Charlene out of Dallas keeps looking at me.’
Eugene burst out laughing. ‘She looks more like Fat Anne who works behind the bar in the Nelson.’
Danny asked what bird his brother was looking at.
‘The one with the spare tyre round her gut, standing by the door.’
‘Not her, you plonker. The one wearing the Olivia Newton-John strides. She’s stood by the stereo system.’
‘Oh, yeah. She ain’t bad. In fact, she’s proper.’
As Danny and Eugene both joked about what they’d like to do to the girl in question, Tommy grinned politely. He could never join in with such conversations or laddish behaviour. Reason being, he’d made the mistake of marrying their sister.
The recruits were housed in three tower blocks. Each had their own room, which was pretty basic: a single bed, stainless steel basin, a small wardrobe and chest of drawers. The women were allocated the top floors of Block B and Kim was pleased her room was next to Sam’s. There was a strict policy: males were not allowed in females’ rooms and vice versa.
Kim cleaned her teeth, put her pyjamas on and climbed into bed. It had been a long day, quite scary in parts, but she’d survived it.
She stared at the photo of Keith, Caroline, Fiona and Mikey she’d placed next to her bed. Her eyes welled up. She missed them dreadfully already.
‘All right, Tommy? Fancy seeing you here. You’re looking well. How’s life been treating you?’
Recognizing the voice, Tommy swung around. It was Yvonne Purdy. ‘Jesus! You’ve changed. How long you been a skinhead?’
‘About six months. And to think I used to take the piss out of your mate Scratch,’ Yvonne chuckled.
‘You seen Scratch?’ Tommy asked hopefully.
‘No. Nobody’s seen her since she left Maylands. She disappeared one day without anyone knowing. Did you hear what happened to Wayne Bradley? I read about it in the News of the World.’
‘Yeah. Didn’t surprise me. I always knew he was a fucking monster.’ Wayne had been given a fifteen stretch in 1977 for raping a mother and daughter and holding them hostage. Apparently he’d been dating the thirty-three-year-old mother and things had gone wonky when she’d tried to end their relationship. He had broken into the house, raped the mother, then tied her up and forced her to watch him repeatedly rape her fourteen-year-old daughter, who was, by all accounts, a virgin.
Wayne’s defence claimed that he was off his head on drink and drugs, had no memory of the attack and was dreadfully sorry for his actions. He’d been sent to Feltham. Thanks to Ronnie having a couple of pals in Feltham, Wayne had already had a taste of what was to come. He’d been slashed with a razor and had sugared boiling water thrown over him.
Tommy couldn’t wait for the day the bastard was released. It had always rankled that he’d got away scot-free for what he’d done to Smiffy and Patch, and retribution was long overdue. The Feltham welcome was just a little taster.
‘Did you hear about Ray?’ Yvonne asked.
‘No.’
‘He’s got cancer.’
‘Jesus! Is he gonna be OK?’
Yvonne shrugged. ‘You should visit Maylands. I usually go at least twice a year. We can drop in together next time, if you like?’
‘I’m married,’ Tommy said bluntly. Yvonne had always shown out to him in the past.
‘I ain’t trying to crack on to you,’ Yvonne chuckled. She grabbed Tommy’s arm. ‘You see that skinhead over there? The tall one with the swallow tattoo on the side of his neck? That’s my boyfriend, Vincent. He’s from Clapham. That’s where I live now. We share a council flat with another couple.’
‘Sweet. So how d’ya know Colin?’
‘Colin who?’
Tommy rolled his eyes. ‘The geezer whose house we’re stood in, celebrating his eighteenth.’
‘Oh, I don’t really know him. Vincent’s brother does. Weird night to hold a party, on a Monday though, ain’t it?’
‘Colin works on a fruit and veg stall, has to be up early at weekends. Most of his pals are market traders an’ all, and today is his actual birthday. So, who is your boyfriend’s brother?’
About to explain, Yvonne was stunned when a glamorous blonde bowled up behind Tommy and punched him hard in the back of the head. ‘Why is it every time I show up unexpected you’re chatting up some slapper?’ hissed the blonde.
Tommy turned around. His wife was with her trappy sidekick, Kerry Cummins. ‘What the hell you doing ’ere? Yvonne’s an old pal, we go back years. Where’s Robbie?’
‘I’ve never heard you mention an Yvonne before. Who is she? The famous Scratch?’
‘Who you calling a slapper?’ Yvonne bellowed. She’d been the hardest girl at Maylands, didn’t take shit off nobody.
Donna looked Yvonne up and down. ‘As if you would stand a chance with my Tommy anyway. I’ve seen better-dressed dustmen.’
When Yvonne grabbed Donna’s hair, both lost their balance and ended up rolling around the floor like fishwives.
Danny and Eugene waded in and dragged their sister outside to calm her down. Not for the first time in his life, Tommy wished the ground would open up and swallow him as he scrambled around the carpet picking up the contents of his wife’s handbag. One item in particular caught his eye.
With a face like thunder, Tommy marched outside. ‘Wanna tell me what you need these for?’ Tommy grabbed Donna by the throat and waved the packet of condoms in front of her eyes.
‘Calm down, mate,’ Danny urged, trying to get in the middle of the warring couple.
‘Calm down! Calm fucking down! Ask her who she’s shagging, Dan, go on. Only I ain’t never worn a condom in my life. She’s a dirty whore, that’s what she is.’
Feeling the colour drain from her face, Donna pleaded her innocence. ‘They’re not mine
, honest. They’re Kerry’s. Ask her, if you don’t believe me.’
Kerry, who’d been earwigging, stepped forward. ‘They’re mine, I swear. I didn’t bring a bag out with me tonight. Don’s got my lipstick and keys an’ all.’
Unable to control his fury, Tommy told Kerry to fuck off then glared at his wife. ‘Liar!’ he hissed. ‘Don’t take me for a cunt, Don, else I’ll swing for ya.’
When Danny grabbed his arm, Tommy shoved his pal in the chest. ‘I want you to tell your parents everything – and I do mean everything. Only I ain’t putting up with this no more. She’s out most nights with that slut of a mate of hers, shagging Christ knows who. Yet I ain’t allowed a night out on me own without her turning up, making a scene. Have I got “mug” stamped on me forehead, or what? Tell your parents I want a fucking divorce.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Time is a funny old thing. You never know how much time you’ve got left, or what sort of legacy you’ll leave behind.
I remember the day Donna and I told Jack and Suzie we were expecting a baby very well indeed. I’d literally been crapping myself all morning, had expected them to be furious and scold me for not being more careful.
Instead of being angry, Jack and Suzie couldn’t have been more jubilant. Both hugged me close to their chests, gushing how wonderful the unexpected news was. It seemed as though they could not wait to be grandparents, took it literally in their stride. Jack then took me and the lads over to Catford dog track that evening for a proper celebration.
Ronnie, Danny and Eugene were equally thrilled by the news and we all ended up getting hammered. Jack had been given a couple of tips. Both dogs romped home at decent odds and between the five of us we won just over ten grand.
Eugene was sick in the cab, so Danny offered to take him home. I was ready for my bed at that point, asked to go with them, but Jack was having none of it. ‘This evening is all about you, son. Me, you and Ronnie shall pop in my pal’s club for a nightcap,’ he insisted.
The club was a strip joint. Naked girls were cavorting in front of leering, pervy-looking old blokes and I immediately felt uncomfortable.
Jack ushered me into a booth and ordered a bottle of champagne. He made a toast to me and his unborn grandchild, but not to Donna. Ronnie went off into another booth to pay some blonde to dance for him.
‘I don’t want you to be worrying about the wedding, Tommy. Suzie and I will sort out all the details and I’ll be footing the bill, of course.’
Because I was inebriated, I couldn’t quite comprehend what Jack was saying. ‘What wedding?’ I asked dumbly.
‘Your wedding, you numpty,’ Jack chuckled.
I was horrified and it must have showed on my face. ‘Donna and I haven’t discussed getting married, Jack. I’m only sixteen.’
Jack’s expression quickly turned from jovial to serious. ‘I don’t fucking care if you’re twelve, lad. If you’re old enough to put my daughter in the family way, then you’re old enough to marry her.’
‘But we’re only—’ I began to protest but Jack butted in. He was glaring at me now.
‘No buts, Tommy. You will do the right thing and propose to Donna. Now, do you fucking understand me?’
That was the first time I remember being scared of Jack Darling. I nodded my head repeatedly.
So that was it. Like it or not, I was getting married. I had no bastard choice in the matter. But looking back, that wasn’t the worst thing that happened. There was treachery going on that night. The real game is as old as the Bible. It ain’t your enemy that will bring you down, just ask Cain and Abel …
‘Dadda,’ Robbie smiled.
Tommy lifted his son out of the bath, wrapped him in a towel and kissed him on the forehead. ‘Shall we go to the park this morning? Just me and you?’
As per usual, Robbie merely stared at him blankly. He was nineteen months old now and, unlike other kids of his age, hadn’t quite picked up the art of talking and walking. He was a happy child though, rarely cried, but smiled a lot.
Feeling extremely sorry for herself, Donna appeared in the doorway. ‘We need to talk, Tommy.’
Tommy treated her to a look of disdain. Even in a towelling dressing gown, with last night’s make-up on and mascara plastered around her eyes which made her look like a panda, Donna still had the ability to look beautiful. His mother had been the same, but unlike Donna, his mother had been beautiful on the inside too. ‘I got nothing to say to you,’ Tommy spat.
‘Well, I’ve got something to say to you. I’m sorry for turning up at the party and kicking off, but I swear on Robbie’s life those dunkies were Kerry’s, not mine. I know you think I have, but I’ve never cheated on you, Tommy, and I never would. I want you to call Danny and Eugene and tell ’em to keep schtum. Only, if they say something to my dad and he storms round ’ere and clocks the hand-mark you kindly left on my face, it’ll be you in big trouble, not me.’
Tommy sat on a roundabout with his son on his lap. He often came to the park alone with Robbie. It was one of those places that helped him think straight.
Last night wasn’t the first time he’d put his hands around Donna’s throat or given her a slap. It was the first time he’d let his guard down in front of the Darlings though. His marriage was volatile. If he had a pound for every time Donna had punched him, he’d be rich. She was always flying off the handle, accusing him of something or other. Most days he dreaded going home.
Tommy knew he had issues. When Robbie was born early, with a mop of dark hair, he’d been convinced that the child wasn’t his. Thankfully, the Darlings had managed to convince him otherwise and Robbie was his world now. Intimacy was another problem. He loathed foreplay or oral sex. Whenever he and Donna argued she would inform him how crap he was in bed. The truth hurt, but Tommy couldn’t help the way he was. He still regularly saw his uncle looming towards him in his nightmares and would wake up in a trembling cold sweat.
When his pager bleeped, Tommy scooped his son in his arms and headed towards the nearest telephone box. Usually, his pager going off meant there was some trouble in a pub that needed dealing with.
Tommy called Jack at home first. Nobody answered, so he rang the Lord Nelson. Jack wasn’t there either. ‘Shit,’ Tommy mumbled. He’d been unable to get hold of Danny or Eugene earlier as Donna had requested. So chances were, they’d already opened their traps and Jack was round at his gaff.
Tommy’s worst fears were confirmed when he clocked Jack’s gold Mercedes. He and Donna lived in a three-bedroom house in South Lambeth, a wedding present from Jack and Suzie.
Having hurriedly stopped at a florist, Tommy awkwardly handed Donna the bunch of flowers. He smiled at Jack and Suzie. ‘All right? This is a nice surprise.’ Jack and Suzie rarely visited his gaff, it was usually vice versa.
‘I think we need to have a little chat, son, don’t you?’ Jack said.
Suzie picked up her grandson and turned to Tommy. ‘The boys told us what happened last night, hence our visit. We’re here to help though, not point the finger. Donna has already admitted she was in the wrong turning up as she did.’
Tommy sat on the edge of the armchair next to his wife. Her eyes were red raw and so was the right-hand side of her face where he’d slapped her. She’d called him a ‘weirdo’ and ‘freak of nature’ when they’d got home last night, that’s why he’d clumped her. She was forever insulting him and her insults hurt.
‘What have you got to say for yourself, Tommy?’ Jack asked.
Deciding it was better to be honest than continue living a lie, Tommy took a deep breath. ‘I don’t think our marriage is working. We want different things in life. I reckon we got hitched too young.’
‘How can you say that?’ Donna gasped. ‘Don’t you love me?’
‘Yeah, course I do,’ Tommy lied. ‘But all we seem to do lately is argue. Perhaps I should move out for a while, give us some space?’ Tommy wasn’t sure he’d ever been in love with Donna in the first place. He’d been a sixteen-ye
ar-old lad with raging hormones. It wasn’t as though they had anything in common.
Totally oblivious to what was being said, Robbie was cradled against his gran’s bosom, sucking his thumb. Suzie looked at Jack in horror. She certainly hadn’t expected this.
‘Marriage is all about commitment, Tommy. “I promise to be true to you in good times and bad” – don’t you remember your vows, lad?’ Jack snapped.
Tommy had learned over the years, attack was the best form of defence. ‘Of course I do. But put yourself in my shoes, Jack. How would you feel if every time you went out, Suzie turned up uninvited and created a scene? Everyone last night clocked those rubbers fall out of Donna’s bag. I’ve never felt so humiliated in my whole life,’ Tommy exaggerated.
Jack glared at Tommy. ‘I wouldn’t be happy, but neither would I ever raise a hand to my wife. Real men don’t do that.’
‘I told Mum and Dad it was the first time that had happened,’ Donna gabbled. ‘And how sorry you were this morning,’ she fibbed. Donna was gobsmacked Tommy wanted to move out. Men lusted after her whenever she went out with Kerry, so why didn’t her own husband? They still had sex regularly, but it was always a quick shag rather than proper love-making, which frustrated Donna no end. She’d always orgasmed with her previous boyfriends, but never with Tommy.
Tommy held his hands up. ‘You’re right, Jack. I should never have raised my hand to Donna and I can assure you I never will again. I lost my temper, it was a spur-of-the-moment reaction and I’m very sorry. But this is why I think Donna and I need some time apart. Our relationship seems toxic at present.’
When Donna burst into tears, Jack’s steely eyes blazed. ‘You married into a Catholic family, Tommy. You were raised a Catholic yourself, weren’t you? I’m afraid separation is totally out of the question. Donna has been given a stern talking to. She won’t be going out gallivanting with her friend Kerry any more. Neither will she be spoiling any evenings out that you have. Will you, Donna?’
‘No,’ Donna mumbled. She was slightly lost for words. For all Tommy’s faults, she didn’t want to divorce him.
The Sting Page 18