One of the new Indian families is comin out next door. Fuckin hundreds of em, all standin on the path, and there’s more on the way. Dunno if Mum’s told em about me, or they just see it in me eyes, but they’re lookin at me like I’m some fuckin serial killer or something. Still, what do I fuckin care? I walk straight past em and carry on across the road to Kenny's gaff. Wanna double check, you know. Make sure. But a quick butchers in the front window and it's fuckin clear there ain't no one about.
So, I'm headin for the boozer. See what I can find out there. Mind you, what with Kenny back, Charlie movin in on me mum, and her gettin mixed up with Ronnie fuckin Swordfish, gettin hammered's the only thing makes fuckin sense about now. But as I’m gettin closer, I'm thinkin if it's such a good idea. I mean, I was sent down for havin a knife to some old girl's throat who was old enough to be me mum, and that sort of thing don't go down well round here. Goin for a copper, I think they'd swallow that, but not an old girl. But, fuck it. I done me time. Ain’t I? I ain't expectin no fuckin welcome home party or nothing, banners and shit, you know. All I want's a fuckin pint.
I blow out me cheeks and go in. Least it's gonna be warmer in here.
Tony's servin a punter. He looks over at me soon as I come in, like he's expectin me. But he don't do nothing, just carries on pourin some geezer his pint. Don’t take his eyes off me, though. Dribblin Albert proppin up the bar at the far end, wearin a dodgy-lookin syrup. Dad's factory mates, they're dotted about, and some of em off the market. Apart from Albert's new syrup, it's like fuckin walkin back in time.
As I’m headin for the bar, there’s a hand comes on me shoulder from behind.
'Son?'
It's me Uncle Derek. I turn round, and he looks fuckin awful. Hair's all thinned out, and he's got these black bulges under his eyes like he ain't slept for fuckin years, and he looks so fuckin scrawny.
'Your Auntie Ivy and your Auntie Gwen’s sittin over there,' he says.
He nods his head to a table in the corner by the door.
'Your mum said you probably be poppin in.'
I’m smilin over at me aunties, and they’re both wavin back, grinnin at me like a pair of fuckin idiots. Don't know if they're pleased to see me or fuckin terrified. They’re both wavin that stupid sort of wave all mums and aunties do when you're a kid, really quick and frantic, like the Queen Mum on speed.
'What you want, son?' Uncle Derek says, holdin up a fiver.
'Pint of bitter, please, Uncle Derek. Cheers.'
He tells me to sit down with me aunties, that he won't be a minute.
Me Auntie Ivy gets up and Auntie Gwen shoves over a bit when I come over, and I drop down between em.
Auntie Ivy leans in, gives me a peck on the cheek. She tries to put her arms round me, but sort of stops herself, and sits back.
'You're looking well, love,' she says.
But it don’t feel like she’s even talkin to me. It’s like she's just sayin the words, and they sort of crumble in the air soon as they come out her mouth.
'Isn't he, Ivy?' Auntie Gwen says, sort of too fuckin full on to be fuckin believable. 'I mean, you know, all things considering.'
And there it is. There it fuckin is. All things considerin. He's just come out the nick after seven fuckin years for havin a knife to an old girl’s throat then goin for a load of coppers, so all things considerin, the fact he ain’t fuckin glassed the fuckin pair of us by now, well, that’s a fuckin touch, ain’t it? All things con-fuckin-siderin.
And all these cunts here. Not one of em's worth pissin on.
Auntie Ivy's lookin over at the bar where Uncle Derek's still waitin, and Auntie Gwen's fiddlin about in her handbag.
Pub door opens. In walks Kenny. Looks like shit. Hair all shaved off. Baggy tracksuit bottoms, shitty green anorak torn all to fuck at the arms. And he's fuckin huge. Huger than when I saw him last. He's like a fuckin elephant. And all these people, all these people he’s walkin through, they’re smilin at him, big and wide, and they’re sayin, ‘All right, Kenny?’, and ‘How you doin, Kenny?’, and they’re slappin him on the back, and they fuckin love him.
'Oh, he's such a nice boy, that young Kenny,' Auntie Gwen says. 'Isn't he Ive?’
Auntie Ivy's lookin at Kenny as if he's some sort of fuckin film star or something, you know, eyes all gone big and fuckin glazed over and shit.
'And after all he's been through,' Auntie Gwen says.
It's like they forgot I'm even fuckin here.
Kenny’s standin at the bar now, and Uncle Derek’s talkin to him. Kenny looks over at me. Nothing on his face. Fuckin nothing. Fucker ain't right. Clocked that a long time back. Tony lands a coke on the bar in front of him, and Kenny downs it in one and goes straight back out the boozer like he’s in some sort of fuckin hurry. Don’t even pay for his drink.
I gotta go after him, see what the fucker's up to. I sit tight a couple of seconds so it ain't too fuckin obvious I'm on his case.
Uncle Derek’s back with the drinks.
‘Sorry, Uncle Derek,’ I says, squeezin out from me Aunties. ‘Promised Mum I’d only be a while, you know? See you later.’
Soon as I say it, I see they’re fuckin thinkin I’m some sort of rude cunt who ain’t changed his fuckin ways for no one. And, you know, maybe I fuckin ain’t.
Outside, Kenny's nowhere in sight. It's fuckin pissin down and, fuckin bollocks, I've left me coat inside. But I ain't goin back in there. No fuckin way. And no way I'm goin home cos I'll just have me mum fussin round me, makin me cups of bleedin tea all night and drivin me fuckin mad. Besides, Charlie's probably round by now, seein how it all went.
And I gotta keep movin cos the standin still's fuckin killin me.
So, I'm walkin. Walkin in the rain and the wind and the cold. Anywhere. And me Doc Martens are smackin on the pavement, echoin like an empty heartbeat. And I tell you what, that's the loneliest sound in the whole fuckin world.
I'm closin me eyes as I walk now, and I'm in the dark, just me and that sound, and I'd do anything to break it in two. Anything. I open me eyes and start runnin.
For a while the sound gets louder, the smackin becomes a poundin and the poundin a crashin. And the rain's cuttin in me face like nails from a cannon, and I'm fightin against the wind, and I'm fightin against meself. It's like everything's rushin past me all at once; shops, lamp-posts, houses, parked cars, and I wanna know what it's like to never stop runnin, to hear me lungs burst, to feel me face smashin into the pavement.
There's just pain now. Chest, side, head. Just pain. And through it all, I keep on runnin, skiddin round corners, crossin empty streets, and I can't hear nothing no more. And every couple of seconds I close me eyes just so I can feel.
I'm turnin into the Bethnal Green Road. Cars everywhere, headlights blurred in the rain. And some fucker's crawlin across the road on his hands and knees through a fuckin river. Must be pissed or stoned or mental or something. Car horns blarin, people windin down their windows, all shoutin at him. I'm slowin down a bit cos he's lookin at me. And I sort of recognise him. He ain't sayin nothing, just lookin. And then I see it's Jimmy fuckin Lawson, from school, the geezer what done up the Baby Jesus' face with Smarties and a fag.
I'm stoppin, slowin down. He's callin me over, wavin me to him. But I can't hear nothing but the sound of me own wheezin. And I'm lookin at Jimmy Lawson and I ain't never see such a state in all me fuckin life. If it weren't for the fact he's out here on his hands and knees, I'd swear by the look on his face he was fuckin drownin.
And I keep on runnin.
The rain's lettin up, but I'm soaked to the skin, and I'm shiverin. Can't run no more. I'm dead on me feet. Stumblin. Ain't even walkin straight, and me bones is shiverin and achin, and I dunno where the fuck I'm goin.
I stagger on through the dark, blind and in tears.
***
Dunno how I got here, but I'm standin outside the gates of the London City Crematorium, where they put Dad. The iron gates are shut. A big fuck-off padlock makin sure it stays that way. I fall to me knees and I'm lookin through the bars, holdin on tight, and it scares the shit outta me cos I dunno if I'm on the outside lookin in or on the inside lookin out. I’m like that fuckin ages, and at the end all I wanna do is see me mum. Hold her close.
I go home past The Barmy, jump the fence, and go and sit on the swings for a while. Don't seem like yesterday since we was all playin football up there on the slope with Dad and all me mates. And that time when Kenny goes in goal and makes a tit of himself and Robbie Jenkins scrapes his leg cross the tree in a tackle and has to go home with his jumper tied round his knee to stop the blood pissin out. Don't seem like fuckin yesterday.
And no one ever tells you stuff like that's gonna end. Not your mum, not your dad, not your teachers. Fuckin no one. I mean, you know nothin lasts forever, you know that, but that's sort of different, that's sort of in your head. But you don't know it inside, you know, deep down. And when it happens, when it all goes to fuck, that's when you know you don't get none of it back. That's when you know you're on your fuckin own.
***
It's early hours when I'm comin down our street. Passed Thommo's gaff on the way. Front garden's all grown over and the windows are boarded up and the front door's got graffiti all over it. Old man's done a runner or banged up, that's fuckin obvious. And poor old Thommo, cos he got sectioned, he ain't even got a fuckin lettin out date. Just another poor cunt, like the rest of us.
Cos there's holes in this world, see. Holes. And the likes of Thommo, and Keith, and me, and Kenny, we just sort of fall through em. We weren't never bad kids, we just didn't have nothing to hold on to, that‘s all.
I'm outside Kenny's, about to cross over, when the street lamp buzzes and goes out, then it comes on again, sort of like it's talkin to me. I stop and look at it, at the light. And I'm tryin to see what Kenny see all them years back, that Christmas when it was pissin down with rain and I got me Raleigh Chopper.
I know he see something cos it was writ all over his face. Me, I can't see fuck all.
I cross over home, and let meself in.
The little light's on in the front room and the curtains are open a bit. Mum's asleep in Dad's chair and the telly's gone all white noise where she's fell asleep waitin up for me. I go over and pull the curtains to, quiet, so I don't wake her up. And without thinkin, I find meself lookin over at Kenny's.
And there's his face. At the bedroom window. Starin into the street lamp.
Mum's woke up behind me, and yawns.
'You all right, love?' she says. Then she sees the state I'm in. Tells me I'll catch me death and goes to fetch a towel.
I don't turn round. Can't get me eyes off Kenny. I wanna go over there. Have it out with him. But I've got this cold sweat come over me, and I'm shiverin like fuck with the cold and the rain.
'He's up there all the time,' Mum says, back with a towel, dryin me hair from behind, slowly, her fingers pressing in. I shut me eyes. 'Funny,' she says, 'it's like he's looking for something the way he stares out of that window, don't you think? It's just the saddest thing.'
I'm thinkin, it's sad and it ain't. I mean, it's sad when you look at it from the outside, but when you really look at Kenny, you know, really look, it's the only time he ever fuckin comes alive.
'Do you remember when he was here?' Mum says, half a laugh comin out the same time as a yawn. 'I used to catch him in our room all the time, looking across at that light. Used to drive your father mad.'
I nod me head, smilin at the thought of me dad gettin pissed off with Kenny bein in their bedroom, and I drop the curtain and turn round.
And there's Mum, lookin at me same way Kenny's lookin at that street lamp. It's like I'm fillin her up, sort of shinin in her eyes.
'Have my bed tonight, dear,' she says. 'You need a proper night's sleep. Look at you.''
Yeah, I'm thinkin. Look at me.
I see there's some blankets and a pillow piled up one end of the settee she's put for herself. But turfin me own mum out her bed me first night back, bless her, after all I done to her? I won't have none of that, and she's too tired to argue.
She yawns again, covers her mouth as she's doin it, and heads off to bed.
'Goodnight, dear,' she says, from the doorway.
I nod me head again, this time with a lump in me throat. And when she's gone, I peel off me clothes, climb onto the settee and wrap myself up so tight I can't fuckin move.