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