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The awful happenings of Saturday night had only lasted a few minutes, but to Tommy it had felt like an eternity. One thing he was sure about was it would never happen again. He couldn’t and wouldn’t allow it to. The pain had been indescribable and he was still struggling to walk properly and go to the toilet.

‘There you are!’

Tommy jumped at the sound of his friend’s voice.

Danny Darling plonked himself next to Tommy. ‘Why ain’t you been at school? I was gonna knock on your door yesterday, but I didn’t want to get you into trouble.’

‘Not been well.’

‘What’s up with you then?’

‘Just a bug.’

Danny eyed Tommy with suspicion. He hadn’t known him that long, but Tommy’s sparkling eyes and big grin had disappeared completely. ‘Has something happened? That Walworth mob ain’t picked on you again, have they?’

‘No. Not seen ’em.’

‘Well, you were fine over Millwall last Saturday and I can tell you’re not now. What’s wrong? I might be able to help.’

Tommy angrily threw another stone into the canal. ‘You won’t.’

‘Has something happened to one of your sisters?’

‘Dunno. Don’t hear from ’em.’

‘You ain’t had agg with those weirdos you’re living with, have you?’

Tommy wanted to cry, but instead kept a stiff upper lip. No way could he tell Danny the truth, but he desperately needed some advice. ‘If I tell ya something, you got to promise me that you will never breathe a word to anybody.’

‘I won’t.’

‘Swear on your mum’s life.’

Danny did as Tommy asked.

‘I think my uncle’s a pervert. He made me share a bath with him and I noticed he had a big stonker when he got out. I’m scared of what might happen next, Danny. Say he comes into my room of a night or something? Say he touches me?’

‘The dirty shitbag. Ronnie was right then. He always said he was a nonce. Why don’t you let me tell Ronnie? He’ll sort the bastard out for you.’

‘No. You can’t tell anybody. You promised you wouldn’t.’

‘OK. I won’t. What about your aunt? Was she at home when he got in the bath with you?’

‘No. She stays at her sister’s sometimes. If he comes into my room, Dan, what should I do? What would you do?’

‘I’d hide a big dagger under my mattress and stab the dirty fucker.’

‘Where can I get a big dagger from?’

‘Come with me. I’ll show you.’

‘So, how was school today, Tommy?’

‘Fine,’ Tommy lied, without looking up. He shoved a whole sausage in his mouth. Mealtimes were the only time he spent in his aunt and uncle’s company now and he couldn’t bolt his food down quick enough. How could that perve act like nothing had happened? Tommy couldn’t even look the bastard in the eye, let alone have a normal conversation with him. The most upsetting thing for Tommy though was that Ian was his mother’s brother. His mum had been such a kind, funny, gentle woman. How could they even be remotely related?

‘I thought we might go to Battersea Dogs’ Home this weekend, Tommy. I know how much you miss Rex and your mum and sisters. Perhaps a new furry companion is the tonic you need to perk you up a bit?’

‘The cats won’t be happy,’ Sandra hissed.

Ian smiled at the woman he’d married out of convenience. He worked long hours at the factory, was the breadwinner, so she would have no say in the matter. ‘I was thinking of a small dog, dear. What do you reckon, Tommy? Would a dog make you happy?’

Tommy pushed his plate away, his face distorted with anger. ‘I don’t want a dog. I don’t want nothing off you.’

When Tommy bolted up the stairs, Sandra scraped the remains of his dinner into the bin, then silently washed the plates. They’d had to move out of their last address as a local lad had accused Ian of inappropriate behaviour. The case had never gone to court, the boy had withdrawn his allegations, and Ian had sworn blind to her he was innocent.

‘You OK, love?’ Ian asked. ‘Tommy will be fine. He’s missing his family and dog, that’s all.’

Sandra nodded. She had an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach. Perhaps she should cancel stopping over at her sister’s next weekend. Only, if history were to repeat itself, she couldn’t bear the thought of vigilantes throwing eggs and bricks at the window again. She actually liked living round here.

‘I’m sorry, David, but …’ Tommy said, as he snapped each Bowie record he owned into tiny pieces and chucked them in the bin. No way could he listen to his favourite artist’s music ever again. ‘John, I’m Only Dancing’ had been playing when the pervert had done what he’d done.

Tommy felt incredibly melancholy as the DJ on Radio Caroline played ‘Long-Haired Lover from Liverpool’. He missed his sisters immensely and hoped they were faring better than he was. Nanny Noreen had definitely had her landline cut off or changed. Tommy’s guess was she had altered her phone number so he could not contact Linda. He reckoned she had intercepted the post too, as no way would Linda ignore his letters. As for Hazel, Tommy could only pray she was holding her own in the home. She’d always had a fiery temper, so could look after herself.

Picking up his duffel bag, Tommy took out the dagger. He ran his hand gently across the blade and was surprised to see blood spurting out of two of his fingers. Danny had said it was sharp, which was a good thing. Because, if that pervert ever tried to touch him again, Tommy would do what Hazel had done to Billy Fletcher. He would kill him, stone dead.

*

‘Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday, dear Mum,

Happy birthday to you.’

Wishing he could sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to his own mother once more, Tommy plastered a smile on his face. He had become good at doing that recently, especially in front of the Darlings.

‘I bought you these, Suzie,’ Tommy announced, handing Danny’s mother a box of Milk Tray.

Suzie thanked and hugged the little boy she had become so very fond of. There was a sadness about him and she guessed it was due to all that he had been through. His mother must have been a wonderful woman, Suzie thought. Tommy’s manners were impeccable.

‘I got you this, Mum,’ Danny announced, thrusting a Carpenters album into his mother’s hands. It was easy to thieve down that record shop in the Old Kent Road. So simple, he’d also helped himself to three seven-inch singles.

‘Here’s my present, Mum,’ said Donna. She winked at Danny. Woolworths was also a doddle to thieve out of and she had presented her mother with far more than him.

‘And last but not least …’ Ronnie Darling chuckled, dragging a massive square thing into the lounge.

With an arm still around Danny and Donna’s shoulders, Suzie looked bemused. ‘What the bleedin’ hell is that, Ron? Only, I ain’t got room for ornaments of that size in my front room.’

Ronnie grinned. ‘No more scrubbing the whites and soaking our underwear in a tin bucket for you, Muvver. This does it all for you. It’s a washing machine.’

Suzie put her hand over her mouth. ‘What! Like the ones they have at the laundrette?’

Ronnie kissed his mother on the forehead. ‘Even better, angel. This one has a built-in tumble dryer.’

When Eugene handed her some Mary Quant eyelashes and a bright red lipstick, Suzie hugged each member of her family. ‘How lucky am I to have such thoughtful children?’

Suzie turned to Tommy and gave him a second hug. ‘And you can be my adopted son. You are welcome here any time, day or night, and I truly mean that, Tom.’

‘Thank you.’ Seeing Donna smile at him, Tommy quickly averted his eyes. She made his tummy flutter, a feeling he’d never experienced before. She also made him tongue-tied.

Over the next few weeks, Tommy spent more and more time with the Darlings. He was now totally converted to Millwall Football Club, having been to a couple more games, and he couldn’t get enough of the boxing gym.

‘Tom, enough please. Tommy! What the hell you doing? You’re meant to be sparring, lad,’ yelled the trainer as he yanked Tommy away from the kid he had pinned to the rope in the corner.

Tommy apologized to the boy and the trainer. He could not help the red mist that seemed to descend upon him the second he stepped inside the ring. All he had to do was think of what life had thrown at him recently, and before he knew it, he was knocking seven bells out of whoever.

‘What the fuck is wrong with you lately? Has that nonce done something else to you?’ Danny Darling asked, as he and Tommy walked home together.

Luckily for Tommy, ‘The Perve’ – as he now referred to Uncle Ian – had been giving him a wide berth. Auntie Sandra had not been to visit her sister again and, bar mealtimes, Tommy either hung out with the Darlings or listened to music and read in his room.

Spotting PC Norman, the perve’s mate, walking towards him, Tommy ducked behind a nearby wall.

‘What you doing now? Ya nutter.’

‘That fat geezer, he’s Old Bill. Ian is friends with him and if he spots us together, I’m dead.’

Danny burst out laughing. ‘Who? Noncey Norm? He ain’t the filth, you div. He’s the local perve. Stand up. Don’t be a wimp.’

Tommy did as he was told and was surprised when Norman crossed over the road and pretended not to see him. ‘You sure he ain’t Old Bill?’

‘Positive. He’s another oddball, like your uncle. Why are you dead if he spots us together? What’s been said?’

Briefly explaining, Tommy was horrified when Danny chased after the man bellowing, ‘Oi, nonce-case, I want a word with you.’ Danny was totally fearless.

Tommy chased after his pal and grabbed his arm. ‘Leave it, Dan,’ he pleaded.

Refusing to look at Tommy, Norman cowered in the bus shelter. He was scared of the Darlings. Jack was a lunatic, which was why he was banged up, and Ronnie wasn’t far behind his father. They were like a pack of dogs – if you touched one, the others would be on you. ‘Leave me alone. I’ll call the police if you touch me.’

‘But you are the police, ain’t ya? Only that’s what you told Tommy, you fucking weirdo. You say one more bad word about me and my family and I will personally make sure Ronnie sorts you out good and proper. Why you lying? Pretending you’re something you ain’t. Ian put you up to it, did he?’

Norman Jenkins could feel the beads of sweat dripping down his face. He always perspired when cornered or frightened. ‘Yes. Ian asked me to say it. I don’t know why, I didn’t ask. But I’m sorry and I can assure you, nothing of the kind will ever happen again.’

‘It had better not, ’cause if it does, Ronnie will break both your fucking legs. You haven’t seen me and Tommy together. Understand?’

Norman could barely breathe. He might be forty-two years old, while Danny was only thirteen, but he’d been a coward for as long as he could remember. He hated confrontation, had been picked on at school, and he was annoyed with himself for allowing Ian to talk him into a lie that might land him in trouble with the Darlings. ‘I understand. Fully.’

When Norman scuttled away, Tommy slapped his pal on the back. ‘That was well ace. He’s petrified of you. How comes?’

‘’Cause I’m a Darling, Tom. Everyone round here is wary of my mob. We ain’t a family to be messed with.’

‘Do you think I could come and live with you? I would be ever so good and do lots of chores. I hate living with Ian and Sandra.’

‘Dunno. I can ask my mum, see what she says.’

‘Would ya?’

‘Yeah. I’ll ask her tonight.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘Hello. I’m Mrs Ebdon from the children’s Social Services department. May I come in, please?’

Ian immediately felt panicky. Surely Tommy hadn’t told his teacher or friends what had happened? The boy had been acting strangely, keeping out of his way a lot, but Ian supposed that was to be expected. He remembered the first time the same had happened to him. His mother had been a brass, used to leave himself and Valerie alone of an evening while she earned a few bob on street corners. He was only nine years old when a neighbour whom he’d called ‘Uncle Ted’ had forced himself upon him while his mother was out grafting. ‘How can I help you?’ Ian asked, desperately trying to sound composed.

‘It’s about Tommy. I had a visit from a Mrs Darling asking if Tommy could live with her family. She seems to think it is not working out, Tommy living with you, and he would be happier living with her.’

Ian was livid. ‘I have forbidden Tommy to go anywhere near that family. Murderers and scoundrels, the lot of them. I am quite capable of taking care of my own nephew, thanks all the same.’

‘Well, this is the thing, you see. We can’t just hand children over to families who have no blood ties to the child. They would have to apply to adopt Tommy and, as you say, the family do not have the best of reputations. Mrs Darling was insistent Tommy was unhappy living with you though, which is why I felt the need to pay you a visit. Tommy’s welfare has to be top priority. Can I have a little chat with him?’

Having popped to the shops to get a loaf and some corned beef, Sandra returned home. ‘Who are you?’ she asked, eyeing the woman with suspicion. Sandra knew her house was filthy, and somehow visitors made her even more aware of it. Especially posh-looking ones like the stuck-up cow who was currently standing in her hallway.

Ian gave his wife a warning glance. ‘This is Mrs Ebdon from children’s Social Services. It seems that Tommy has been knocking around with that awful Darling boy and the mother wishes to adopt him. Tommy’s been fine here, hasn’t he, love? He’s fed and clothed well. That music you can hear is coming from Tommy’s bedroom. He’s thirteen next week and we’ve bought him his own portable TV for his bedroom, haven’t we, Sandra?’

‘Yes. Ian has bought the lad lots of gifts. He wants for nothing.’

‘Could I speak with Tommy, please?’ Mrs Ebdon asked again.

‘Yes, of course. You make Mrs Ebdon a cup of tea, Sandra, while I get Tommy. He’s probably not even dressed yet.’

‘No tea for me, thank you. I’ve not long had one,’ Mrs Ebdon fibbed. It was one of those dirty homes that smelled of cat’s piss, therefore no way would she drink out of a cup.

Lying on his bed singing along to ‘Metal Guru’, Tommy jumped as his uncle burst into the room. ‘What d’ya want?’ he asked fearfully. His uncle always knocked first and Tommy could see he didn’t look too happy.

Ian turned the music up a touch and grabbed Tommy by the arm. ‘There is a woman downstairs from Social Services. She wants to ask you some questions. You are to tell her you are very happy living here, got that? Only, if you tell her any different, I will find out and I won’t be best pleased. You know what happened last time you upset me, don’t you?’

Feeling nauseous, Tommy gabbled, ‘I’ll tell her I’m happy. I swear I will.’

‘Thank you for your visit,’ Ian said curtly as he shut the front door. Mrs Ebdon had spoken to Tommy alone in his room and the devious little scrote had then announced he was off out. Ian hadn’t wanted to argue with the lad, not in front of that nosy cow, so had wished Tommy a nice time. He would wait until the ungrateful little shit came home later, then give him what for.

‘Why are you drinking?’ Sandra asked, as Ian poured himself a large port and brandy. Even he knew that he turned nasty when inebriated, which was why he rarely touched alcohol.

‘None of your business. I want you to go and stay at your sister’s tonight. You haven’t visited her for a while.’

Sandra felt uneasy. ‘Why?’

‘Because I bloody said so, woman. Go pack some things. Stay two nights. Off you go.’

As Sandra trudged upstairs, she could not help but feel sorry for Tommy. If Ian was drunk, he was bound to batter the lad when he came home, like he’d battered her in the past. All she could do was hope he did nothing worse than that.

‘You should have told the woman the truth. Why didn’t you say your uncle got in the bath with you and he had a big stonker? She would have let you live with us then,’ Danny Darling stated.

‘Because he threatened me, then I heard him come up the stairs. He was earwigging outside my room, I know he was.’

‘How did he threaten you? What did he say exactly?’

‘Nothing much,’ Tommy muttered. ‘He just sort of said I’d be in trouble if I didn’t say I was happy living there.’

‘He needs a clump. You should tell Ronnie everything you’ve told me.’

‘No. I can’t. Please don’t say anything to Ronnie.’

‘I won’t. I promised ya and I never break a promise.’ Danny took his penknife out of his pocket and made a small cut on the palm of his hand. ‘Do the same,’ he ordered, handing the knife to Tommy.

‘Why?’

‘You’ll see.’

When Tommy did as asked, Danny clasped his hand so their blood mixed together. ‘Don’t matter if you don’t live with us. This means we’re brothers anyway. Blood brothers.’

Tommy’s eyes shone with delight. He had always wanted a brother. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah, really. Now where shall we go? Record shop or boxing gym?’

‘Boxing gym.’

Danny leapt up and playfully punched Tommy on the chin. ‘Come on then, Henry Cooper. Race ya there.’

*

‘Hello, Norman. I have been ringing you for the past few hours. Have you only just got home?’ Ian enquired.

‘Yes,’ Norman lied. He hadn’t been answering his phone since his altercation with the Darling boy.

Ian produced a bottle of port and a bottle of brandy from a carrier bag. ‘Sandra is visiting her sister, so I thought you and I might have a bit of fun with the boy later at mine.’

Norman shook his head. ‘I can’t. I’ve already made plans.’

‘You! Plans! Don’t make me laugh. You never go out, only to the shops or mine.’

‘I’m visiting my aunt. She hasn’t been too well.’

‘Be a devil and let’s have some fun. Tommy has been a naughty boy, roaming the streets with that Darling lad again. Bad boys deserve to be punished,’ Ian chuckled.

‘No can do. Sorry, Ian.’

‘But you said you liked the lad.’

‘Yeah, I do. But I really need to see my aunt. She sounds as though she’s on her last legs.’

‘Oh well, your loss is my gain,’ Ian smirked.

‘Certainly is. Enjoy,’ Norman shut his front door, ran to the bathroom and doused his sweaty face in cold water. If Tommy squealed to those Darlings, Ian was a dead man walking. Literally.

‘You’re late,’ Ian snapped when Tommy walked through the front door.

Tommy glanced at his watch. He hadn’t wanted to come home tonight, but knew he had little choice. His only consolation was that Auntie Sandra would be here, as he’d asked her yesterday if she would be visiting her sister this weekend and she’d said no.

‘It’s ten past nine. You are taking liberties lately, Tommy. Massive liberties. I thought I told you to stay away from those Darlings. They’re no good, do you hear me? No bloody good at all.’

‘But I like Danny and he’s the only real mate I’ve met round ’ere. If I stop knocking about with him, then I got no one and I’ll be lonely.’

Ian smiled. ‘You’ve got me, but you don’t seem to want to spend any time in my company these days. I’ll do you a deal. You be nicer to me, and I’ll allow you to be friends with Danny. How does that sound?’

Suddenly aware the perve had been drinking, Tommy froze. ‘Where’s Auntie Sandra?’

‘Answer my question first, then I’ll answer yours.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Oh, I think you do, Tommy.’

Tommy’s eyes burned with fire. ‘You come anywhere near me again, and I swear I will tell Ronnie Darling. I mean it. I will, and he will do you over.’

When Tommy ran up to his room, Ian paced up and down the lounge. Ronnie Darling would most certainly do him over, as his nephew had so politely put it, but Ian doubted the lad would ever have the balls to tell Ronnie anything. Bar his sister, he had never told anyone what had happened between himself and Uncle Ted. Especially once he’d got used to all the wonderful gifts Uncle Ted bought him and the great days out they had together. Surely, given time, once the initial shock had worn off, Tommy would feel the same way about him?

Brain fuddled by the amount of alcohol he’d supped, Ian paced up and down the threadbare filthy carpet. He had to think very carefully about his next move. Very carefully indeed.

*

Tommy lay on his bed thinking about his mum, sister and Rex. He never thought about Alexander or that old witch Nanny Noreen. They had put him in this situation so, to him, they were both dead.

Feeling nauseous, Tommy put his hand under the right-hand side of the pillow to check the handle of the dagger was in the right spot, if push came to shove. No way would he tell Ronnie or Danny if his uncle were to violate him again. He never wanted anybody to know. It would make him feel abnormal. He was a Millwall fan now and wanted to be a boxer when he grew up. He refused to be known as some poor molested orphan. He’d die of shame.

Deciding to turn his music off so he could hear Ian approaching, Tommy picked up his Shoot magazine. He couldn’t concentrate on reading it though. He had no idea where that fat cow he was forced to call Auntie Sandra was, but he prayed she would come home soon.

It was past midnight when Ian made his way up the stairs. He had decided at one point not to touch the boy again, but then he’d had a few more drinks and his mind had drifted back to the past …

Valerie had always been the popular one. Like him, she had no idea who her father was, but it was obviously a different man to the one who’d fathered him. Valerie was pretty, vibrant and confident, whereas he had always been the total opposite. He’d been a chubby boy with few friends and no one to confide in. It had taken him weeks to pluck up the courage to tell his sister what Uncle Ted had been doing to him, but she’d been going out with pals that day and was too busy tarting herself up to even listen.

And now her precious son was going to be well and truly initiated into the world Uncle Ted had introduced him to all those years ago.

Unable to sleep, Tommy could feel his heart beating at an incredibly rapid pace. He hadn’t got undressed, was too scared to in case he needed to run out of the house. He’d even debated whether to sleep down by the canal, but that was no long-term solution. Danny was right. Killing the perve was the only way out and he didn’t even care if he was sent to a bad boy’s home. Hazel might not have been happy in the home she’d been sent to, but at least she was safe from perverts like Uncle Ian. Anything had to be better than living like this.

‘Tommy, you awake?’

Having switched his lamp off, Tommy did not reply. He could smell the stench of alcohol mixed with cigarettes. He could also hear the perve’s laboured breathing.

‘Tommy, Tommy, wake up. Look, I am sorry if I shouted at you when you came home. But I miss what we had. I want us to be close again,’ Ian slurred.

When the perve began to stroke his face, Tommy wasn’t taking any chances. He pulled the dagger from under his pillow and plunged it straight in the left-hand side of Ian’s neck.

Stunned, Ian fell backwards on the bed.

‘You dirty bastard,’ Tommy bellowed.

Having guessed it would come to this, Tommy had already packed the treasured photos of his mum, Hazel, Linda and Rex in his duffel bag, along with PC Kendall’s phone number, his Millwall programmes and records.

‘Tommy, help me. Call an ambulance,’ Ian rasped, holding the neck wound.

Tommy took one last look at the fat bastard. ‘I hate you, ya nonce. I hope you die.’

‘Please. Please help me.’

Aware that his once grey-looking sheets were rapidly turning to claret, Tommy grabbed his belongings, ran down the stairs and legged it along the street as fast as his little legs would take him.

CHAPTER NINE

The nearest phone box was only a couple of minutes away, but it was out of service, so Tommy ran towards the Old Kent Road.