The Betrayer. Kimberley Chambers
tried so hard to make the family thing work, but it was never going to. Taking Wendy out with his mob was like taking the Queen Mother out with Alf Garnett for the day.
‘How did it go?’ he asked, handing out the sandwiches.
‘Good as gold. Doing his bird like a man,’ Ethel said proudly.
Overcome by tiredness, James cried himself to sleep within ten minutes of the journey home. Wendy sat silently while her husband and dysfunctional family discussed the visit.
‘He got a bit emotional when James got upset. Other than that, he was OK. He’s met a mate in there, Freddie. We saw the kid and he looked a nice lad. His mum and aunt were visiting him, they seemed decent people as well,’ Maureen said.
Wendy nearly burst out laughing at her sister-in-law’s description of the other boy’s family. How did she have the front to say that they seemed decent? Neither Maureen nor Ethel would be able to recognise the word decent if it fell out the sky and smacked them on the head. She could hardly believe her ears when Maureen said, ‘I know our Tommy’s been done for murder, but he ain’t a bad lad, yer know.’
Getting the family back to Stepney seemed to take for ever. As they drove off the shit-hole estate, Wendy poked her husband nastily in the ribs.
‘I know I’ve said it before, Kenny, but don’t you ever expect me to suffer your family again. Your mother is a disgusting old woman, your sister-in-law is pathetic and your nephew happens to be a cold-blooded killer.’
Kenny tried to smooth things over. ‘Look, I know all their faults. They’re hard work, I admit that, but they mean well. And what about James? He’s a fantastic kid. Who wouldn’t be proud of a son like him?’
Wendy shot him a look and pursed her lips. The youngest wasn’t a bad little boy, but stood no chance. Kenny might have broken the mould, but there was no hope for the rest of them, James included. ‘Believe me, Kenny. That child’s future is already mapped out. He’ll either live in poverty or choose a life of crime. He’ll end up like the rest of them, you mark my words.’
INSTEAD OF CHEERING James up, the trip to see Tommy seemed to have the opposite effect on him and he spent the next few days moping about the house. Maureen was worried and annoyed with herself. He wasn’t even eating properly and she wondered if taking him to the borstal had been a stupid thing to do. Maybe he was too young for such visits, and in future she should wait until he was old enough to fully understand what was going on.
‘I’m going out now, Mum,’ Susan said, nicking a biscuit out of the tin.
‘Don’t you want any dinner?’ Maureen asked.
‘Nah. I’m having some round Tracey’s house.’
Susan smiled as she left the house. She’d bullied some money out of the kids at school earlier and Tracey and her had gorged themselves on pie and chips. Susan skipped happily down the road. She was becoming an expert at lying and her dopey mother believed every whopper she told.
Tommy lay stretched out on his bunk. Hearing the four knocks on the wall, he gave two knocks back. Tuesday was games night, and he and Freddie couldn’t wait. Whether it was pool, table tennis, board or card games, they relished the challenge and were determined to be the best at everything.
Tonight they were more excited than usual. There was a new face on the block and they were desperate to meet him. Leroy Wright was notorious in the borstal system. A Jamaican from Brixton, the kid was a legend with a reputation to die for. He’d been locked up since he was twelve for mutilating an Indian shopkeeper. Since then he’d been shunted around the country and been slung out of five different borstals. Apparently, he had taken over each one, given the screws hell and run the places as though he owned them. Tommy and Freddie had heard he was due at Feltham over a week ago.
‘We run this place, and we ain’t letting no new boy take over. We’ve gotta put a stop to him,’ Freddie said.
Tommy reluctantly agreed. He didn’t like the sound of the newcomer one little bit, but he wasn’t about to voice his doubts. Freddie was brighter than him and what he said went. After all, he was lucky to have been chosen as his best pal in the first place.
James grabbed his pogo-stick and bounced up and down along the garden path. His nan had gotten him his new toy a few weeks ago and he’d spent hours amusing himself on it.
‘Hello, I’m Maria. What’s your name?’
Shocked that he had a spectator, James swung around to see where the voice was coming from. Unfortunately, he lost his balance, the stick flew out from under him and he landed flat on his face.
‘Are you OK?’ asked the friendly voice.
Picking himself up, James felt a right wally as he spotted the new girl from next door looking at him.
‘Course I’m all right,’ he said, as gruffly as he could. He wasn’t really. His knee was pouring with blood and he’d smacked his head on the path, but he wasn’t letting on. As James hobbled towards her, he felt himself go all funny inside. She was beautiful, like a princess. He looked at her enchanting face, took in her long dark ringlets, and was kind of lost for words.
‘Whaddya want?’
Maria smiled. She had the sort of smile that lit up the garden. ‘Do you wanna be friends? What’s your name?’
Momentarily, James felt short of breath. ‘Me name’s James, but me bruvver calls me Jimmy boy and yes, I’d love to be your friend.’
‘Wait there,’ Maria said. ‘I’m gonna ask my mum if I can come in your garden and play with you.’
James nodded dumbly. He was thunderstruck.
Tommy potted his ball without even properly looking at it. He couldn’t concentrate, as he knew very shortly things were about to go off. He’d noticed Leroy when he’d first walked in earlier. A tall boy, he was quite good looking, had dreadlocks and, as you moved closer, an evil look in his eye. Word had it that in the past, within days of his arrival at a borstal, he would trample on the top boys and take over as the daddy.
Tommy glanced at his friend. Freddie didn’t seem to have a care in the world but, personally, he was crapping himself. They were the top boys here and by the look on Leroy’s face, the ones he’d shortly be gunning for. Freddie was an extremely perceptive lad. Noticing the two screws leaving the room to sort out a small fracas outside, he pulled a sock out of his pocket and slid it to Tommy.
‘Stick some balls in there, shove it down yer bollocks and we’re leaving.’
Tommy nodded and did as he was told.
Susan and Tracey stood outside the run-down, filthy old house, awaiting their latest victim. Silly Billy Barnard went to band practice on a Tuesday. His family was skint, so they knew he’d have no money. They just wanted to torment him, terrorise him, like they usually did. Seeing his fat figure waddling their way, they ran towards him. Tracey was the first to reach him. Desperate to impress her friend, she grabbed his thick rimmed glasses and threw them in a nearby bush.
‘Please can I have my glasses back? I can’t see properly. Please don’t hurt me.’ Billy was a softie and couldn’t help his tears.
Susan smiled at Billy’s anguish. She scared the absolute living daylights out of him and she knew it. Each time she confronted him she’d force him to do a little task. These had included pulling his trousers down and showing his willy, crawling along the pavement while meowing like a cat, and digging up his neighbour’s plants and eating them. Today, she wanted to teach him the art of movement.
‘Dance,’ she said, laughing at him.
‘I can’t dance. I don’t know how to,’ Billy stammered.
Tracey aimed a kick at his ankle. ‘Do as you’re told. Now, fucking dance.’