I got up, got dressed, no socks. I had ’em last night. Where do they go, socks? So I tiptoed down the corridor and tapped on their door. Mam always knows where there’s socks. I opened the door. Philip’s lying there, Mam’s a lump under the covers.
I cleared my throat. The lump moves and a face pokes out. Never seen her before.
I closed the door. Jesus Jesus Jesus. Where’s my mum?
I went downstairs. I got the cereal out. It was getting late. I was thinking I ought to get Davey up. I was scared. There was a movement upstairs – someone going to the loo. Him. I froze. The footsteps stopped. I sat down to eat my cereal and then they started up again. Along the landing. Down the stairs. It’s him. He came all the way down and stood behind me, but he still made me jump when he spoke.
‘Robbie.’
I jumped so hard I spilt the cereal down me front – down THE T-shirt! I started frantically mopping it up.
‘What is that?’ he said, staring at the T-shirt.
‘Metallica,’ I said. ‘Mum gave it me.’
‘Did she now?’ He pulled a face. ‘Well, don’t go wearing it to school. You’ll get battered.’ He nodded upstairs. ‘Two teas, there’s a good lad.’ I looked up. He winked.
‘Yeah, yeah, no problem,’ I said.
He turned to go. Upstairs, I could hear Davey moving about.
‘Philip?’
He turned his head.
‘Where’s me mam?’
He shrugged slightly. ‘She’s left us, Robbie.’
‘Where to?’
‘I dunno. Her sister in Manchester, I suppose.’ He turned round to watch my reaction. ‘It’s just us now, eh, son?’ he said.
I wasn’t his son. And yeah. It was just us now.
Davey came down. Philip put his arm round him. ‘Dat’s ma boy,’ he said. That’s what he says all the time.
Davey yawned and he turned round to look at me and he saw the T-shirt. His eyes almost jumped out of his head.
‘You’re not going to wear that to school, are you? Dad! Don’t let him wear that to school. He’ll get battered.’
‘That’s his lookout, isn’t it?’
‘But, Dad …’
‘Two teas – quick, like, eh, Robbie?’ said Philip.
I looked up at him and in that moment, while Davey was looking at me and not at him, he put his finger to his lips, nodded his head at Davey and winked again. Then he turned and left us to it.
It wasn’t fair, that, making me keep his dirty little secrets for him, like it was me and him in it together. Like I was his mate. If I was Billie, I’d have whacked him right there and then. Davey was going to find out – he was bound to. He had a right to know that his mum had gone and his dad was upstairs in bed with another woman. But I wasn’t going to tell him, because I always do what Philip tells me, every time.
I can see it in his eyes when he looks at me. ‘You’re shit,’ his eyes say. ‘I made you shit and I’m going to keep you shit, and there’s nothing you can do about it.’
He’s right. I am shit. I can never forgive him for doing that to me. And I can never forgive myself for letting him. So instead of just telling Davey anyway, I went round the house looking for a note. I wanted her to tell him, see. There was a note last time she left. I went round and round the house looking for it, but of course I never found one because if there ever was one, Philip had already taken it away.
But I knew what was going on, really. There was a note. The T-shirt was the note. The visit last night was the note. The time she’d spent with Davey before she came in to see me was the note. She wanted our goodbyes to be nice and if she’d told us face to face then it would have been horrible. But I wish she had told us, because now it was all on my plate – what to do about Davey and everything. And I hadn’t got a clue.
There was only one good thing in my life that day. Yeah – you got it. The T-shirt. That was all I had left of my mum. It was her goodbye and her thanks, and her way of saying she loved me, and her see you later. I was wearing it under my school jumper, next to my skin and that’s where it was going to stay. In my mind, I’d already decided it was never coming off, ever. Until I saw her again, anyhow.
I told Davey I’d left it at home to keep him happy. It was all right – no one could see. We’re at the bus stop. Kids gathering. The bus to Reedon High comes sailing past. I’m not taking any notice. I’m not even thinking. I’m trying to feel T-shirt and Metallica and good …
And then this splash comes out of nowhere. Big splash, right down my front. I pull my jumper out – and it’s only Ribena. I could smell it. Blackcurrant all over my school jumper. Which meant …
‘Who did that!’ I screamed. ‘Who did that?’
‘Someone on the bus – I saw it coming down,’ yelled Davey. ‘I think they spat,’ he added.
‘I’ll kill them,’ I roared. ‘I’ll bloody mash them!’ Because it was soaking right through … yeah! Right underneath to the sacred T-shirt. No way was I going to let Ribena get on my Metallica T-shirt. Blood, maybe. Piss, shit, bring it on. But Ribena and Metallica?
Never.
I hoiked off my school jumper. There was a big stain right on the pale patch next to the skeleton’s legs.
‘Who did that? I’ll kill them!’ I howled. I wasn’t thinking I was that mad.
Davey’s eyes practically fell out of his head when he saw what I had on. ‘What are you doing?’ he hissed. ‘You can’t wear that! It’s asking for it. Put it on – people’ll see.’
I’d had enough. I’d been bathed in snail juice, humiliated and left by the only person who really loves me. The T-shirt was all I had. I pulled it out and stuck it in his face. ‘I don’t care any more, Davey. This is ME,’ I told him. ‘See? This. Is. Me!’
But Davey wasn’t looking. He was staring up the road behind me. ‘Here comes Riley,’ he whined. ‘Put it on, put it on, quick.’
I put it on quick enough then. No point in getting battered for nowt. And I was quick too – I move fast for a big lad. I got the jumper on in loads of time and stood there looking all innocent while Martin Riley, the King of the Chavs, and his little bunch of mini-chavs came up behind me. No one would have guessed that under that school jumper I had a detailed description of everything they hated most written all over my back.
Except that I’d not pulled the jumper down far enough. It was up at the back. While I was standing there feeling safe and right, Riley and his chavpack was reading – they could just about read – the word ‘Motherfucker’ writ right across my arse. The first I knew of it was him pulling up my jumper.
‘Gerroff!’ I yelled.
Riley read the rest of the message. His eyes bulged; his face turned puce. ‘You pervert,’ he barked.
‘I can explain,’ I said.
Then him and his mates closed in and I hit the deck.