record shop in South London before and this one was buzzing. The Sweet’s ‘Blockbuster’ blasted out of two giant speakers and the bloke and lady serving behind the counter both wore tartan flares, high shiny red platform boots and black leather jackets. They looked like twins.
Tommy was in his element as he sorted through the vinyl. Seven-inch singles weren’t cheap any more, had gone up to fifty pence each, and this was the first time he’d ever had the luxury of buying ten all at once.
Tommy bought Slade, The Strawbs, The Faces, Gary Glitter plus six more, then left the store with a big smile on his face.
‘Did you enjoy today, Tommy?’ Uncle Ian asked, before stuffing a whole wally in his mouth.
‘Yes. Thank you.’
‘Best dish in the world this, you know.’
Tommy nodded in agreement. He’d already devoured his cod and chips.
‘Fancy a game of chess?’
‘I don’t know how to play chess,’ Tommy replied honestly.
Uncle Ian squeezed his nephew’s hand. ‘I will teach you.’
Tommy was dying to go upstairs and play his new records, but he didn’t want to seem ungrateful or unsociable. ‘OK, thank you.’
Uncle Ian set the board up. ‘Have you made some new friends at school now? I noticed you’ve been coming home later.’
‘Yes. I have actually. Is it all right if I go out with them tomorrow afternoon? We’ve organized a game of football over the park,’ Tommy lied.
‘Of course. You be good to me, Tommy, and I will be good to you, if you get my drift?’
Tommy didn’t understand, but smiled and nodded nevertheless.
Tommy stared at the TV in silence. It had been Uncle Ian’s idea they pack up the chessboard and watch Match of the Day together.
‘Who’s that who just scored?’ asked Uncle Ian.
‘Martin Chivers.’
‘What team does he play for?’
Tommy glanced at his uncle as though he were an alien. Surely everyone knew who Martin Chivers played for? He had scored the two away goals in the 1972 UEFA Cup Final, for goodness’ sake.
‘I’m going to run a bath. Sandra doesn’t like us to use too much water, but seeing as she isn’t here, we’ll make the most of it.’
Having missed the regular baths he was allowed to have at home, Tommy nodded in approval. He wanted to be clean and look his best to meet Danny’s family tomorrow. ‘OK, thanks.’
*
The first warning bell rang in Tommy’s head when his uncle informed him they couldn’t be using two lots of water and they had to share the same bath.
‘Erm, can’t I have a bath after you?’
‘No. The water will be dirty and cold. Didn’t you ever share a bath with your mother and sisters? Or your dad?’
‘Well, yeah. But not for ages. I used to get in after my sisters.’
‘We can’t upset your Auntie Sandra. I had to fight tooth and nail to take you in and she always checks the water bill.’
Tommy breathed deeply. He could not think of anything worse than having to share a bath with Uncle Ian, but the man had been so kind to him recently, he could hardly refuse. ‘OK then.’
Uncle Ian’s body looked even more awful with no clothes on and Tommy averted his eyes from the rolls of fat. Thankfully, there were lots of bubbles in the bath and Tommy sat frozen against the end with the plug hurting his bum, while his uncle splashed about like a beached whale at the other, cracking unfunny jokes.
‘Want me to scrub your back, Tommy?’
‘No, thank you. Can I go to bed now, please?’
‘Of course. Let me get you a towel to dry yourself.’
Having not gone through puberty himself, Tommy was shocked as his uncle struggled to get out of the bath. His willy looked huge and hard. Like a snake.
Suzie Darling was a funny, loud lady with auburn hair, dimples and a welcoming smile. She swore a lot and her house was clean, but not particularly tidy. Tommy immediately felt at home as he sat on the brown Dralon sofa.
‘You OK, Tom? Not gone all shy, have ya?’ Danny joked.
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Tommy lied. He had lain awake most of the night thinking about Uncle Ian. Tommy was yet to get sexual urges himself, but he knew lads who had, and he couldn’t help worrying his uncle had been sexually aroused when he’d got out of the bath. Was that why Alexander always called him a weirdo? Was Uncle Ian some kind of pervert?
‘Whaddya think of me mum?’
‘She’s nice and very pretty. Where are your brothers and sister?’
‘Eugene’s playing football, Donna’s gone down Petticoat Lane with her mate and Ronnie’s a biker, so he could be anywhere. They’ll all be home for dinner though. No one cooks a roast like my mum. She works in the Prince of Wales pub as a cleaner. Do you know it?’
Tommy shook his head.
‘She don’t earn much, but Ronnie does. He pays for most of our food, bills and rent as my dad’s inside.’
‘Does Ronnie work as a boxer? Is that his actual job?’
Danny chuckled. ‘Nah. He earns some from the boxing, but he does other stuff too.’
‘Like what?’
‘Same as me dad. Ronnie’s a ducker and diver.’
Knowing Danny’s father was banged up for murder, Tommy decided not to ask any more questions.
Danny was right about one thing. Suzie Darling cooked an ace roast. Tommy had thought nothing could beat his mother’s and felt disloyal even admitting as much to himself.
‘Want some more pigs in blankets, Tommy?’ Ronnie Darling asked. Danny had told them about the tough time Tommy had been through. They were all shocked who the lad lived with. Ian and Sandra Taylor kept themselves to themselves in this neck of the woods, but even so they weren’t liked. Rumours had surfaced a few years back – about Ian in particular.
Tommy grinned and gratefully accepted the food. He liked Ronnie, who had arrived home dressed in black leathers. He was funny and extremely cool.
‘Want some more parsnips?’ asked Suzie, shoving a load on Tommy’s plate. The poor little mite looked like he needed feeding up a bit.
