by Joseph Kane
A few hours went by when everyone’s tone of voice had changed, waking me up instantly. Animosity quickly replaced the smoke-filled room. I woke up in fear from screams and fighting by the front door. It was two women against two, very angry Scottish blokes. The first chance I got, I made a beeline for the front door to get out. Mum and Debbie fought and wrestled on the floor with the men. No other tenants came to our aid out on the landing. It was no surprise; most of the people around us were scum to begin with. I manoeuvred towards the lift, grabbing my mums arm, dragging her towards it frightened out of my mind. One of the Scottish men brandished a screwdriver, while Debbie and the man's friend gave their all. The lift waited for someone to step in, while I went backwards and forwards, making sure the elevator didn’t go back down. Finally, I pulled mum with all my strength to get her inside while her friend was being stabbed. We reached the bottom, in what felt like the longest elevator ride of my life.
“Joseph, take the key, go home and let yourself in.”
“No, just come back, I don’t want to go on my own. Just leave it.”
“I can’t; I need to help Debbie.”
“They will stab you as well.”
“No they won’t, just go home.”
We both headed back up together, to try and save Debbie. The commotion was still going on. I kept my finger on the button, to prevent the doors from closing while my mum dragged her in. As we all headed to the ground floor, Debbie reflected on her performance, as if she had lost a round of boxing. Telling from her scars, tattoos, and now a puncture wound, she was just as bad as the men. We parted ways returning to our council-owned flats early hours in the morning. So much for a fresh start.
After that night, I completely changed my attitude towards life. It became apparent to me that this was my routine; paradise at weekends, hell on earth during the week. Giving that the bad outweighed the good, I could feel a force. I could feel my character and personality changing to suit my surroundings. I was a good kid in a dangerous place. Becoming corrupted by my environment or ending up like these kinds of people worried me. Thanks to my grandparents who showed me the good side of life, I wasn’t so easily corrupted. I was, however, lead astray, taken advantage of and super-naive. Whatever people did, I followed. I didn’t know I was being neglected or starved, because I always adapted to my surroundings. I trusted the people around me to look after me. No matter how bad a situation was, people shouldn’t give up or act as if the planet was about to end. I wanted to be successful and travel the world, not turn into an alcoholic or be a criminal all my life; it wasn’t in my nature. Everyone accepted their destiny and gave up. That was far from my mind. My dream was to join the Army or move to America. It was sad to watch, having the opportunity to see life from both sides.
After the violent encounter, mum carried on as usual with her drinking career. She knew another alcoholic who lived on our street, but thankfully he was a nice man. Derek was a middle-aged man that lived with his dog in a ground floor flat similar to ours a few doors down. He reminded me of my dad, sat in his armchair with a bottle of cider beside him. Unlike other drunks, he was a relaxed, quiet guy. Mum enjoyed the company. He had a son my brother's age doing time in prison. I only enjoyed going because I took a shine to his dog. Rocky was a crossbreed between a Staffordshire Bull Terrier, and an Alsatian. He wasn’t a big dog, but boy did he have a mean streak in him. Over numerous visits, we created a strong bond. Derek had him since he was a puppy, carrying him home in his pocket from a pub one night. He had black and brown markings. Some dogs were all bark and no bite. Rocky was all bite and no bark. I learnt the hard way when I tried to touch his bone. Fortunately, he never bit me; a sense of trust between us shined through. While they sat on the sofa chatting away, I was on the floor rubbing Rocky’s belly or playing with his floppy ears, bending them back to make him look funny.
“Can I take him for a walk, Derek?”
“No, you’re not big enough to control him. He will drag you off your feet and pull you to the floor. He’s never allowed off his leash.”
I felt bad for him. Apart from the back yard, his only time out was to the shop with Derek to buy more cider.
The time had finally arrived when I got the opportunity. Derek took me out on the street to show me how to handle him as a trial. Rocky’s lead was a robust chain-linked bit of shiny steel, attached to a leather looped handle that could go around someone’s wrist. He held on to my arm, as Rocky took me for a walk. “Jeez, this dog is strong.” He had more muscle than me and probably weighed more. I had to plant my feet in the ground to gain some control. His dog was so excited to go for a walk, strangling itself against its collar. Two Rottweiler dogs walked towards us with their owner. Derek took the lead off me quick.
“If you ever see any dogs, walk in a different direction straight away.”
I couldn’t believe it. Rocky was trying to run towards the large dogs to attack. He was scared of nothing. Now that Derek was confident in me, I was allowed to take him to the bottom of the street and back. He jumped with excitement when I grabbed his lead, walking around my legs in circles. Smelling the floor outside, he pissed against a wall marking his territory. It made me think of the joke that my dad told me. I expected Rocky to start talking, but it never happened. I looked in his eyes, as he looked straight back at me with expectation. I know what this dog wants.
“Come on Rocky, gooooo!”
I ran towards my home ten doors away. The second I went into a sprint, he dragged me behind him, nearly pulling my arm out of its socket. The leather strap was tightly over my wrist. My slow dash turned into leaps and bounds. He was running so fast. I bounced in the air like a child pulling a balloon. We reached the bottom on the street in seconds. It was so exhilarating. When I caught my breath, we looked at each other again, repeating the run back to where we started. We stopped at mine for a few moments so that he could look around. He walked around smelling everywhere, anxious to get back out. He was such a great dog, but very aggressive towards anyone other than Derek and me. If I hissed in his ear while pointing at someone, he would go apeshit, trying to attack them. When we walked out of my home, I forgot to put his lead on. Locking the front door, he was smelling the corner of the wall, leaving his mark like he always did. Just over my side fence was the entrance to the flats above. Rocky suddenly started growling. In a panic, I looked over to see what the problem was. There was a white Pitbull on its own growling back at Rocky. I crapped myself. Derek will go mad me if he gets injured.
“Rocky, get here now!”
Not responding to me, I didn’t dare go near. All I could do was shout from over the fence. After a few seconds, they mauled each other. I had broken the fundamental rule; never let him off his lead. No dog was a match for Rocky. I wasn’t worried about his safety, I just didn’t want to lose him, or Derek would never trust me again. After moments of fighting out of sight, everything went calm. The white dog started walking up the street full of blood. There was no sign of Rocky.
“Shit! I hope he’s not dead behind the wall.”
Looking over, he was trying to catch his breath. As I looked back towards the white dog, it turned its head towards me, revealing its neck. Rocky had ripped its throat clean open. Awestruck, I ran to put the lead back on him quick before he caused any more destruction.
“Good boyyyy.”
I patted him, looking for any marks; not a scratch. I felt bad for the other dog, but the owner was a scumbag, and suddenly I wasn’t at the bottom of the pecking order. Rough kids from the estate gawked at the white dog, while me and Rocky took a timeout in my garden.
“Oh my god, look at Bully’s throat.”
Everyone thought it was a mean dog until Rocky got hold of him. They might want to consider changing his name after that. From all the fights and battles, Rocky never lost once. I had the best fighting machine in Preston, and it’s now loyal to me. I realised what I had; a new protector and a beast that would destroy anyone that would try to do me h
arm.
Later I found out that everyone on that estate feared Rocky. I used that as leverage with the threat of savagery whenever a gang of kids thought about taking advantage of me. Whenever they tried to bully me around a little, make fun or talk to me like I was a soft ass, I would threaten them with Rocky; the beast of all beast. The number of empty threats made me laugh. There was practically a gun in my hand.
“He’s not your dog, he’s Bison’s, and he’s in prison.”
“You don’t believe me? I’ll go and get him.”
Moments later I returned.
“He’s got him as well; run!”
I bent down to Rocky’s ear while unclipping his lead.
“Rocky, psssssstttt! Get em boy.”
The second I hissed in his ear, every man, woman and child flocked above high ground, as my new protector frantically ran around trying to maul someone. That had to be the funniest spectacle ever; clever bastards! I knew they would run like chickens; that’s why I let him loose. For the first time in my life, I felt secure.
Not bothering anyone unless they upset us, me and Rocky witnessed some pretty bad stuff together. There were times on the park when Derek, my mum, and a bunch of drunks were smashing each other’s face in. We both stood on a grassy bank waiting for it to end. Derek always came off worse with cuts on his eyebrow from being punched. Preventing Rocky from protecting his owner, I stayed far away. Suddenly, violence wasn’t so scary to watch, with such a loyal dog by my side. I wish we could run away forever, down a continuous road that lead to a beach. I wish he would pull me halfway around the world so that we never had to look back again. As long as we had each other, nobody on the planet could stop us from being happy.
Six months had passed, when our flat had become respectable enough for visitors. Now in comfort, we could all agree that we had finally become settled. Mum was doing her best decorating the flat, and Chris was with his pregnant girlfriend in the hostel across the road, waiting for a new flat before his baby daughter arrived. I had missed the first few months of school, so I had to wait an entire year for the following September. Boredom became imprisonment. There was nothing to do. If I wasn’t climbing the front and back walls, invading resident’s privacy, I was climbing the gas pipe that went all the way up from our front garden, to the third floor flat. There was a boy called Sean I befriended just over my back fence. He lived with his mum as I did. Sat with the two of them in their flat, we decided to watch a movie called Halloween. Her living room looked like something from the 70s as we watched the horror. The sun shined through the cream curtains while Michael Myers killed everyone. It was terrifying. I had nightmares for months. Every time I went, all Sean wanted to do was watch one of his Halloween movies. His bed stunk of wee. It was no wonder after watching so many horrors. Some girl from the next street would sometimes watch the movies with us. We held hands behind each other so that Sean’s mum couldn’t see. With everything I had already seen, it was safe to say that my childhood was gone. His mum wouldn’t let him go out, which was hard to believe when she let him watch horror movies.
Being mostly alone all the time, I played football in our back garden that was in urgent need of a lawnmower. By accident, I sometimes kicked the ball over into next doors garden who shared a seven-foot fence with us. The climb was easy to retrieve it; I just couldn’t be bothered, so I knocked on next door. Every time I knocked, a tall black man answered.
“Please can I have my football back?”
“Where is your football? In the garden?”
“Yes.”
“OK, I’ll throw it back over.”
I must have kicked the ball over three times that week, and every time he answered with the same, kind response, smiling at me. He was as tall as my dad but really strong. He put his fist in front of me.
“Come on, guess which hand it's in.”
“The one on the right?”
“Haha, try again.”
“The one on the left?”
“Nope.”
I guessed wrong three times before getting it right. His hands were massive, as I took the fifty pence from his palm. His English wasn’t fluent, but he was a nice man. The next time I kicked the ball over, I did it on purpose. Not for the money, or because he was the only person I had spoken to in months. I decided to ask him something.
“My mum has invited you to go for a cup of tea.”
Confused, he looked down at me.
“Your mum what?”
“My mum next doorrrrr… has invited you to go for a cup of teaaaa….”
“A cup of tea?”
It was like playing Charades!
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, she said just walk in.”
I don’t think his hearing was good; he had a funny walk as well. He wasn’t old, but much older than my mum, and identical to Danny Glover from Lethal Weapon 4.
“Go on I’ll follow you.”
I stood at the front door after opening it. Mum had no idea a big black man was about to walk in. The muscles on my face twitched, as I tried to keep a straight face.
“Are you sure she said to go in?”
“Yeah sure, go straight to the end and turn left. I’m going to play football.”
I bounced my ball once or twice to convince him, keeping the door open, as he walked into the unknown.
“Aaaaahhhhhh.”
“Umpfff… Your Son told me that you invited me for a cup of tea.”
“Joseph, get here now you little shit.”
I was called a little shit often, but that was worth it. I laughed shutting the front door, staying on the front. They figured out the rest themselves.
The next time I went in, the black man was on the sofa with a cup of tea in his hand. Levi was in his late fifties and came from the Dominican Republic as part of the Windrush generation, along with his family. He came more frequently, and eventually, they got together which was my plan. I wanted her drinking to stop. Once we got to know him more, we discovered he had six sons and one daughter. His funny walk was from a car accident that nearly paralysed him. The doctors said he would never walk again, so he proved them wrong. The guy was as strong as an ox. Being a former boxer, his living room cabinet was filled with boxing trophies, mainly from some of his sons, who also took up the sport. Now we knew each other well enough; I would sometimes go next door. His youngest son, John, still lived with him. They certainly lacked in cooking skills. Each time he cooked, a large pan, with an even larger piece of meat inside boiled on the stove. The meat went between the two of them and one dog. It's not exactly the ice age, but you would think Hannibal Lecter lived next door. Dessert was the bone marrow. Even the dog shared the bone. Nothing went to waste. They had to hang fly-catching strips from the ceiling due to the smell of the meat. Sixty dead flies were stuck to it each time. The kitchen ceiling was black with stick marks, and the wall was damaged. His son swung sticks and nunchucks around thinking he was Bruce Lee. He was really good at it as well. I loved the teenage mutant ninja turtles at the time, so it was fascinating to watch. Being the same age, Chris and John became good mates. It wasn’t just the three of us anymore; we got to know Levi’s family, expanding our reputation and manpower. Not all of his family took a liking to mum and me. Some of his sons were entirely against it. What we didn’t know, was his ex-partner had passed away a few years prior. She was a white, Irish lady undoubtedly loved and cherished. It must have been hard losing their mum, given that she was the opposite of my mum.
It was strange having another man around. Levi lived next door, but he and his sons came to ours often. It was a whole new vibe with jokes and stories being passed around. We all seemed pretty happy as the summer months brought some excellent sunshine. In my room was a small ghetto blaster that played cassette tapes. It was the era of a new kind of music called ‘Jungle’ that later became known as drum and bass. Chris was well into his Djing even playing in nightclubs. Pushed wide open, I would blast my Jungle tapes out of my window to im
press him as he walked across the road from his hostel. We blocked a lot of bad stuff out with water fights on the front creating memories. No matter how hard we tried, there was always something bad waiting to happen. During his time at the hostel, there was a woman that became verbally abusive to Chris’s girlfriend. Once he found out, he walked into her room going mad, warning her to stay away. Later she committed suicide. It wasn’t his fault, the woman had mental problems, and the confrontation tipped her over the edge. Most people had some problem where we lived.
When things seemed to be improving, a few months after settling in, my lunatic of a dad had found out where we lived. Marching hell-bent towards me down our street, I ran in to sound the alarm. He walked straight through the front door in the hunt for mum. Chris and John did their best to push him out, before ending up on the floor. Thinking it was all over, he came back with a screwdriver. Watching from the end of the corridor, they wrestled on the ground once again until they grappled the weapon off him. Mum hid in the living room while the three men wrestled. Dad could have found out about Levi. After repelling the attack, that was the last time I saw dad for a long time. I believe my gran had finally got through to him. He booked himself into an alcoholic rehab for six months in Blackpool. His drink-drug cocktail fuelled him into Jekyll and Hyde. At last, he admitted he had a problem. Being in pubs from the age of fourteen, it was bound to catch up with him. My grandparents and I went to visit him from time to time. How he never ended up in prison was beyond me. Mum had a newspaper cut-out from a time he was arrested.
“A man was arrested after refusing to leave the Royal Preston Hospital. Peter, who was asleep on one of the hospital beds, after a drink-drug cocktail, dismissed the hospital staff when they told him to leave. When the police arrived, Peter replied saying: come in here, and I’ll make mincemeat out of you.”