The Sting. Kimberley Chambers
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Darlings are bad people, Tommy. The last lad Danny got friendly with was found floating in the River Thames.’
Tommy’s eyes widened. ‘No way! Really?’
Norman ruffled Tommy’s hair. He was a handsome kid and he could see why Ian was so smitten with him. ‘Yes. Really. Keep away from the whole family.’
‘What did PC Norman want to talk to you about?’ Uncle Ian enquired later that evening.
‘Not much. Just told me to be a good boy. Can I go to my room and play some records, please?’ Tommy was confused. He felt at ease with Danny and his family, much more at ease than he did with his uncle and aunt.
‘Not so fast. I bought you some presents earlier. They’re on the kitchen top.’
Instinct told Tommy he shouldn’t accept any more big presents from Uncle Ian, so he was relieved to see only sweets and football magazines.
‘Well?’ Uncle Ian grinned.
Apart from flying saucers and blackjacks, Tommy wasn’t a fan of penny sweets. Linda had loved them. She’d scoff bagfuls. But he was chuffed with the football magazines; he only had one out of the five. ‘Thanks, Uncle Ian. Can I go to my room and read my mags, please?’
‘Not until you’ve had some supper and a bath.’
Tommy froze. He was yet to get big stonkers himself (that’s what the lads at school called them) but he was sure Uncle Ian had had one last time they shared a bath. ‘I’m not hungry, I ate at Johnny’s. And I’m not dirty, I had a strip wash at the sink this morning.’
‘I won’t force you to eat, but you have to have a bath, lad. Auntie Sandra doesn’t like us to use too much water, so now’s the time to have one.’
‘No. I don’t want one.’
Uncle Ian knocked back his drink and paced the room. ‘You are starting to get on my nerves, Tommy. I have been very kind to you, and not only are you lying to me, you are also defying my orders. Do you see me as some kind of a fool? Do you? I know exactly where you have been today and who with, you lying little toerag. Now do as I say. Go run a bath.’
‘OK. But I’m getting in it on my own, not with you.’
Uncle Ian grabbed Tommy by the shoulders and pushed him up against the wall. ‘I make the rules in this house, not you.’
Tommy felt extremely uncomfortable. Uncle Ian reeked of alcohol, his eyes were glazed and he had a twisted, vicious look on his face that reminded Tommy of Alexander when he’d come home drunk and lash out at his mother.
‘Bullies come in all shapes and sizes. Always stand your ground, Tommy, even if there are four of ’em or a bloke is bigger than you. You’ll survive if you get a good hiding. It’s better to fight back than surrender,’ Ronnie Darling had told him earlier today.
‘Tommy, Tommy! Get back here,’ Uncle Ian bellowed, when his nephew kicked him hard in the ankle and bolted up the stairs.
Gutted that his brilliant day had been spoiled, Tommy flung himself on his bed and wept. He so wished he could speak to his sisters or hold Rex in his arms once again. He missed his mum most of all though. Why did she have to die? He hated living here.
Ever since his mother had died, Tommy had taken to leaving the radio on low of a night. For some reason, the music comforted him and made him sleep better.
David Bowie’s ‘John, I’m Only Dancing’ was playing when Uncle Ian crept into his room. Tommy decided to pretend he was asleep, as he usually did.
Normally, Uncle Ian would kiss him on the head and turn the radio off, but tonight he was lurking and breathing heavily.
‘Leave me alone. What d’ya think you’re doing?’ Tommy squealed when his uncle put his hand under the blankets and started tugging at his pyjama bottoms.
‘Shut it. You belong to me now.’
Tommy tried to scream, but Uncle Ian pinned him down and pushed his face against the pillow.
Wriggling like an eel, Tommy didn’t stand a chance against a man who weighed seventeen stone.
Tears streaming down his face, Tommy wanted to die. He had thought losing his mother was the worst thing imaginable, but it wasn’t. This was.
Tommy threw a stone into the canal and watched it skim across the muddy water. He’d spent the past few days hanging out here, could not face going to school.
Stroking the stray dog he’d nicknamed Lassie, Tommy pondered his predicament. He had debated whether to call PC Kendall and tell him what had happened, but not only did he feel too ashamed to do so, the pervert’s words were still fresh in his mind: ‘This has to be our little secret, Tommy. You mustn’t tell Auntie Sandra or anyone else. Nobody would believe you anyway.’
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