My Dad's a Policeman Page 5

  ‘Yeah,’ Tommy said casually, unfazed, ‘but Mary said we’ll be seeing each other at contact. You, Mum and me. She told me last night that I hadn’t to be upset because we’ll all be seeing each other two or three times a week. Didn’t your foster carer tell you that?’

  In truth, I hadn’t stayed long enough at Libby’s to find out – not that it would have made any difference to my leaving. I was getting desperate now. One of the dinner ladies had spotted us and kept looking over. I was also annoyed by Tommy’s rejection. ‘Contact isn’t living together,’ I said. ‘It’s just a couple of hours at a centre, and a social worker will be there watching us the whole time.’

  ‘That’s what Mary said. She said the social worker was there to make sure we were OK, so Mum can’t get drunk again. Mary said I’ll be living with her while everything is sorted out. We had sausages, beans and mashed potatoes for dinner last night. Then apple pie and ice cream. What did you have?’

  I shrugged. I hadn’t had dinner at Libby’s. I couldn’t blame Tommy for the way he felt. At his age he’d been won over by the promise of regular meals, a kid his own age to play with and an adult looking after him who wasn’t drunk or throwing up. He couldn’t see the bigger, long-term picture as I could. Or, perhaps, that’s all there is to life – food, friendship and someone responsible to look after you?

  ‘Can I help you?’ the dinner lady said, finally coming over. She was in her late fifties with very wide hips; she’d been at the school when I was here. ‘Oh, it’s Ryan,’ she said, recognising me. ‘You’ve grown. How are you? Shouldn’t you be at school?’

  ‘Na, staff training day,’ I lied, hoping she wouldn’t notice I was wearing my school uniform.

  I looked at Tommy in the faint hope he would change his mind and tell the dinner lady I had something to give him, then we’d make a dash for it. But he didn’t.

  ‘Kiss,’ he said. ‘I’m going to play.’ He pursed his lips through the wire netting, ready for me to kiss him. The dinner lady smiled.

  I kissed him just as I did every night and every time we said goodbye. Only now of course I wouldn’t be kissing him goodnight for a very long time and this goodbye could well be our last.

  ‘See you at contact,’ he said, and ran off to play with his mates. The dinner lady smiled again and followed them.

  Digging my hands into my trouser pockets, I began to move away from the wire netting. Now what? What the hell was I supposed to do now? I didn’t feel like running away without Tommy, but how could I stay? I had nowhere to go and very soon I’d be out of money again. It crossed my mind to go to my school, only a ten-minute walk away. It would be warm and I would get a free dinner, but, after Mum’s, I guessed school was the next place the police would look for a runaway.

  The school whistle blew behind me for the end of break and I turned and looked at the playground, full of happy smiling kids running to line up. I saw Tommy jostle his way into line, ready to go into the school, and just before he went in he turned and I gave a little wave. He waved back, then disappeared up the steps and into the building. I’d no idea when, or if, I would ever see Tommy again.

  With my plans now in shreds and my hope gone, the cold sliced through me like a knife. I guessed it was zero degrees. I sank lower into my jacket and headed back into the town. At least there I could keep warm in the shops until I’d decided what to do.

  As I walked, head down against the wind, I suddenly felt very small and alone. In some ways I envied Tommy and his ability to simply accept what was on offer and make the best of it, but at my age I couldn’t do that; I thought and worried too much. My family, such as it was, had been torn apart and I was largely to blame. If I’d looked after Tommy better, cleaned the house more, stopped Mum from drinking and kept out of trouble, very likely Duffy would have gone away satisfied and Tommy, me and Mum would still be together. Having a dad would have helped too, I thought. How different our lives would have been with a proper father! Suddenly I felt very angry that my dad hadn’t been there for me. The police had computers with information on everyone and there was the internet. He could have traced me if he’d wanted to. So I had to think my father didn’t want to know me which is the worst rejection for a boy.

  The clock on the old Town Hall showed 11.20 a.m. as I entered the High Street. I went through the revolving doors of Debenham’s department store and felt the rush of hot air from the overhead heating duct. I could have happily stood there for the rest of the day, but the security guard to the right was already looking at me. I knew from my previous visits to the shop, when I’d bunked off school before, that – as long as I didn’t bring attention to myself or stay too long in one department – I would be left to wander in the warm.

  Ten minutes later, I was wandering through the sports department – my favourite, with all the latest gear – when my phone bleeped. My heart sank. It wasn’t the bleep of an in-coming text, but that of a low battery. I took the mobile from my pocket and my fears were confirmed: the battery warning light was flashing red. I guessed I had about five minutes before the phone went off completely. The charger was at Mum’s. I could have kicked myself for forgetting it.

  Then I had a flash of inspiration. Wayne had the same phone as me. Time to ask him for another favour. Before the battery died completely, I texted quickly: Can I cum after skool 2 charge fone? I guessed he’d be in lessons now with his phone set to vibrate. I hoped he had his phone in his pocket and not his bag or he wouldn’t feel it.

  With my mobile in my hand, I continued through to the luggage department, full of expensive suitcases, briefcases, hold-alls and handbags of every size and colour. My phone bleeped again with another low-battery warning, then a few seconds later with an in-coming text.

  Wayne: Sure man, but make it l8er. Old man on nights. Where ru?

  I texted back: Town. Wot time?

  As I waited for a reply I continued out of the luggage department and into Ladies’ Fashion. The minutes passed, as did the rows and rows of expensive dresses, but no text came from Wayne, telling me what time I should go to his house. Then, a few minutes later, my phone gave one final bleep as the battery died and the screen went blank.

  Chapter Ten

  I left it as late as possible to eat and spend my last £3.01. It was after 3.30 p.m. when, knackered and starving, I finally returned to McDonald’s – over seven hours since I’d last eaten and had breakfast. I spent ages carefully choosing from the menu on the wall by the tills. I wanted the most filling food I could get for £3. The girl on the till closest to me waited impatiently.

  ‘Double cheeseburger, fries and a strawberry milkshake,’ I said eventually, giving her the three £1 coins.

  She handed me 1p change and began dumping the wrapped food on the plastic tray without the least trace of job satisfaction. ‘Enjoy your meal,’ she said like a robot, as I picked up the tray and moved away.

  ‘Thanks. I will.’

  Again, keeping away from the window seats, I sneaked into a corner and wolfed down the food and drink. Then, as luck would have it, a geezer in a suit sitting at the table next to me rushed off after answering his phone, leaving behind his Big Mac with only one bite missing! Leaning over, I grabbed it quickly and wolfed that down as well, followed by his half-drunk tea. I felt like a tramp scouring the bins for leftovers, but at least the extra food would keep me going for a bit.

  I didn’t know for sure what time I should go to Wayne’s but I knew that, when his old man was on nights, he usually left at 6.00 p.m. That was the time me and my mates gathered if we were hanging out there. I’d give his old man fifteen minutes to get clear of the house and aim to be there at 6.15. In the meantime I’d stay in McDonald’s for as long as I could.

  At 4.00 p.m. kids from school started drifting in, but I didn’t know any of them well so they left me alone. I wondered what Tommy was doing. I guessed he’d be in his foster carer’s car by now, going ‘home’. I wondered if Andrew, her son, was at the same school as Tommy but decided
he wasn’t: Tommy would have said. I also wondered what Mum was doing but pulled back from that thought. There was nothing I could do to help and worrying about her would only make me more upset.

  At just gone 5.00, a waitress pointedly asked if I’d finished and began clearing away the empty food and drink cartons. I shuffled to the end of the seat and went downstairs to use their bog. I had forty five minutes to kill before I could head towards Wayne’s. As well as charging my phone I’d ask him if I could stay another night; I’d nowhere else to go. I knew I couldn’t keep staying at Wayne’s but I was sure he wouldn’t mind one more night while I decided what to do. I’d also ask Wayne if I could use his shower. Despite the cold, I’d been sweating with all the walking and I was sure that I was starting to smell.

  It was 5.15 when I came up from the bog and left McDonald’s. I walked a little way up the High Street and went into the library. I went to the reading room and took a car magazine from the rack, then settled into one of the comfortable armchairs. I’d used the library before when I’d bunked off school. I knew that, as long as I kept my head down and didn’t make a noise, I could stay there for a very long time. The warmth and comfort of the place, together with the thought of a shower, charging my phone and another night with my best mate, lifted my spirits. Lifted them out of the despair I was starting to feel – until I got to Wayne’s, that is.

  * * *

  I must have had a sixth sense or perhaps, without noticing it, I’d heard a noise. Because, instead of marching straight up to Wayne’s back door where I was expecting to find him waiting, I slowed my pace and kept low. I crept up to the kitchen window and peered in. The kitchen light was on and, set against the dark outside, the room was on display.

  Straight in front of me was the old table, covered, as usual, with used mugs, empty beer cans, and dirty plates. As I turned my head and peered further in, to my left, at the far end of the kitchen, I saw Wayne. At the same time, he cried out. I froze. Fear shot through me.

  His old man had Wayne pinned up against the wall with one hand and was beating the shit out of him with the other. Wayne’s cheeks were stained with tears and his right eye was already starting to swell. He tried to move his head to get out of the way of the next blow but failed, and cried out again.

  ‘You’ll do as I say, next time. Won’t you, laddy?’ the pig shouted in Wayne’s face. I saw Wayne was trying to nod but his head was held fast by his dad. His fist landed on the side of Wayne’s head again. I winced and pulled back. I couldn’t just stand there and watch, but there was little I could do beyond distracting the old man in the hope he would let go of Wayne. Clenching my fist, I banged hard on the window, then ran like hell. I was already in the alley when I heard the back door crash open and Wayne’s dad yell: ‘Wait till I get ’old of you, ya little bleeder. You won’t know what’s hit ya.’

  I continued running and hoped I’d given Wayne the chance to get away, though fuck knows where he would go now that he couldn’t hide at my place. I ran down the alleyways until I’d put a safe distance between his house and me; then I slowed to a walk. I was hot and trembling – from fear, and anger at seeing my best mate being beaten up by his pig of a father.

  So that was how Wayne had got his cuts and bruises, I realised. He’d often arrived in school looking like he’d been in a car crash but, when one of us kids or a teacher had asked him what had happened, he said he’d been fighting with kids on the estate. We’d believed him. Like me, he has a reputation for getting into trouble sometimes but, now I knew the truth, I felt so stupid. How blind and thoughtless I’d been!

  I remembered the nights that Wayne had come round to my house to escape his dad’s threats but it had never struck me that he’d actually been beating him up. Wayne hadn’t been cut or bruised when he’d arrived at my house, but of course he wouldn’t have been – those were the times when he’d escaped. It was the other times when he hadn’t managed to escape when he’d been done over. Jesus! Why the fuck hadn’t he confided in me and said something? I knew the answer of course. Wayne hadn’t told me about his dad for the same reason I hadn’t told him about the worst of my mum’s drinking – pride.

  Still shaking from what I’d seen, I continued walking up and down the estate’s back alleys. I was tempted to return to Wayne’s house and make sure he was OK, but decided against it. If his old man saw me there, it would be worse for Wayne (and me) and there was nothing I could to do to help him. I was in as much shit as he was – probably more. I just hoped he’d got away.

  With my phone dead, I had no way of telling the time, but I guessed it was about 7.00 p.m. It was dark and the winter air was getting very cold, ready for another freezing night. I’d no money – apart from 2 p – and nowhere to go.

  My little brother,Tommy, was safe and warm at his foster carer’s, probably on his way to bed. My mate,Wayne, was God knows where. And, as for Mum? I thought of Mum and tears formed in my eyes.

  Chapter Eleven

  I completed another large circle of the estate; there weren’t many people using the alleyways, now it was getting late. Then I began towards the terrace, Conker Lane, which – until yesterday – had been my home. How long ago ‘home’ now seemed with everything that had happened!

  Only yesterday morning I’d woken Tommy and helped him dress and wash before a neighbour took him and her own kids to school. Then I’d checked on Mum, who, after she had set fire to her bed with her cigarette end, had spent the rest of the night on the sofa sleeping off the drink. And, finally, I’d got myself to school, never dreaming social services were plotting to take Tommy and me away from home for good.

  I arrived at the end of the alley closest to Conker Lane and peered out gingerly, looking for police cars. The coast was clear. I made my way to the end of the terrace and went round the back. The layout of our terrace is different from Wayne’s: he has his kitchen at the back but that’s where our living room is. Most of the houses in the terrace had their downstairs’ lights on and the curtains open, showing little scenes of family life: kids sitting on sofas in front of a television or PlayStation, a father reading a newspaper, a mother sipping from a mug. Not so in my house, I thought bitterly; and it never was.

  I arrived at our back door. Surprisingly, the light wasn’t on and I wondered if Mum was out, but I couldn’t imagine where she’d have gone. I tried the door handle and it opened. Little wonder Mum gets taken advantage of – she’s far too trusting.

  I knew I wasn’t doing myself (or Mum) any favours by coming home, but I was almost past caring. With no family, my plans for running away with Tommy in ruins and knowing my best mate had been beaten up regularly by his father, life didn’t really seem worth living. Also, seeing Wayne like that, had made me realise that Mum wasn’t so bad. Yes, she drank heavily and I guess she neglected us, but she’d never once hit Tommy or me, not even when I’d caused her trouble. Underneath all the drinking, she was a good, kind person who loved us, and I loved her. I knew I had to tell her that before I went away.

  Going in, and not knowing what state I’d find Mum in, I closed and locked the back door before I switched on the light. Mum jumped. She was sitting at one end of the sofa in the dark. As soon as she saw me she came over and hugged me hard.

  ‘Ryan, Ryan, love, I’ve been worried sick. Where have you been?’ Her hair was crumpled and she was in the clothes she’d been wearing yesterday, so I guessed she hadn’t gone to bed. ‘I love you, son,’ she said.

  ‘I love you too, Mum,’ I said and squeezed her tight.

  As we hugged I looked around the room for empty bottles – the tell-tale signs she’d been drinking heavily – but I couldn’t see any. I couldn’t smell drink on her either and she seemed reasonably steady in my arms, although very frail and upset.

  ‘I’ve been worried sick,’ she said again, drawing back slightly. ‘The social worker said you weren’t in school, and the police put out a missing person’s notice. I tried to phone your mobile but it was off. It’s been off all a
fternoon.’

  ‘The battery’s flat,’ I said. It was then I noticed the cut on her forehead, partly hidden by her fringe. ‘What happened?’ I asked, lifting her hair away for a better look.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ she said, embarrassed, pulling her fringe down again to cover the gash. I knew she must have fallen the previous night while drunk. It had happened before. ‘I’ll live,‘ she said.

  I looked at her steadily. ‘You won’t if you don’t stop drinking, Mum,’ I said, deathly seriously. ‘The drink will kill you and kill you very soon.’

  She took her hand from my arm and moved slightly away. ‘Come and sit down, son,’ she said quietly. ‘I need to talk to you.’

  I went with her to the sofa and we both sat down. I looked at her sad profile as she rested her elbows on her knees. Looking down, she concentrated on the floor as she spoke.

  ‘Ryan, love, you are old enough for me to speak to you like an adult,’ she began. ‘Goodness knows, you’ve had the responsibility of one with me being like this. The social worker was here this afternoon.’

  I tried to interrupt but Mum raised her hand, motioning for me to listen. ‘Duffy was here for two hours earlier and what she said was right, although I didn’t want to hear it to begin with. She said my drinking was stopping me looking after you boys properly. It has been doing so for some time, which is why social services have been monitoring us.’

  I went to butt in again but Mum shook her head. ‘No, hear me out, Ryan. Duffy was right. If it hadn’t been for you, you and Tommy would have been taken into care a long while ago. I’m grateful for all you did, but I haven’t been a mother to either of you. How could I be? I’ve been drunk for most of the time. Duffy said I now had the chance to get my life sorted out. They are going to fund a rehab programme to help get me off the drink. She said they’ll give me a year to get dry and get this place cleared up. She said they will monitor my progress and if, at the end of the year, I am doing well, social services will assess me with a view to having you both back.’