on his way.
‘That’s a bit big for in here, Billy,’ Debbie said, horrified by the monstrous-looking thing with which her son was gleefully bashing up the flat.
Billy put his arms around her. ‘Lighten up, Debs, it’s Christmas and he loves it. Nae matter about the damage, the furniture’s old anyway. Oh, and I hope you don’t mind, but I felt so sorry for Andy sitting downstairs on his own that I invited him up for dinner. The poor bastard has nae family nearby so I said he could spend the day with us.’
‘Whatever,’ Debbie said as she marched out into the kitchen to peel the potatoes and veg.
Andy was pleasant enough but permanently stoned and spent most of his days in his own little trance. He wasn’t particularly the type of influence she wanted around her precious son. Charlie had enough problems of his own without having any more. Deciding to keep her thoughts to herself rather than start World War Three, Debbie lost herself in daydreams of her brand new life. She would have a nice house with a big garden. Charlie would behave impeccably, at home and at school. Maybe she would get him a dog, a cute little puppy for him to play with and love …
Her daydreams were interrupted by a knock at the door. She wasn’t expecting any visitors so she guessed it was either Andy arriving or one of the girls from next-door. Looking through the peephole, she could see no one.
‘Surprise!’ shouted her brother as she opened the door. Debbie’s heart turned over. Her Christmas was destined to be shit as it was, without this. Laden with two big sacks full of presents, Mickey followed his sister into the kitchen and accepted her offer of a can of lager.
‘Sorry I couldn’t get round before, sis, but I’ve been so busy. You know how it is.’
Debbie was a bundle of nerves as she dragged her brother into the living room. He usually turned up when Billy wasn’t about and she knew that there was no love lost between them.
Mickey grinned. ‘All right, Billy, how you doing?’
‘Yeah, fine,’ Billy answered politely. Inside he was seething. He hated Mickey with a passion. Just hearing that cocksure voice wound him up practically to the point of no return.
‘What have you brought me, Uncle Mickey?’ Charlie yelled, bouncing up and down with excitement as he spotted the two big sacks in the hallway.
Mickey smiled falsely at the child that he’d tried, but was unable, to like. He was however determined to carry on his role as doting uncle, for his sister’s sake if no one else’s. ‘By the looks of it, Father Christmas has brought you enough as it is,’ he said, winding the kid up. ‘Maybe I should take my presents home with me and give them to some other poor little boy who hasn’t got any?’
‘Nooooo!’ Charlie screamed at the top of his voice. ‘My presents, I want them!’
Billy sat with a fixed smile while he watched his son open the expensive presents his shit-cunt of an uncle had bought him. Charlie leapt up and down with pure delight at his latest haul.
A toy garage full of cars; a robot that walked about at the switch of a button; a cowboy outfit which looked like the real thing; and finally an electronic train set with stations, people, warning signs … the whole fucking lot! Unable to watch any more, Billy was saved by a knock at the door and Andy’s arrival. He dragged his pal into the kitchen, handed him a can of Strongbow and downed his own in record time. He was furious, really wild, and needed to calm himself down.
Opening the kitchen window, he nodded at Andy to shut the door, requested one of his joints and leaned out of the window for a smoke, hoping to mellow his temper. He felt undermined once again, like he was the weak man in his own fucking house. He’d brought his son so many presents, but nothing could compete with the top-of-the-range stuff that Mickey fucking Big Potatoes had turned up with.
Billy flicked the last of the joint out of the window and took a deep breath before walking back into the living room. Debbie was calling him and he didn’t want to mug himself off, that would really give old Mickey boy something to get his teeth into. ‘What’s up?’ he asked.
‘Look,’ she said, handing him a wrapped up box. ‘Mickey’s bought you a present.’
‘Thanks,’ Billy said, ungratefully.
‘Well, open it then. Look at what he got me,’ Debbie said, her eyes shining.
Billy glanced at the expensive gold cross hanging around her neck from a thick gold chain.
‘Aye, that’s nice,’ he muttered as he tried to get the wrapping off his own present. Billy took one look at the gold hoop earrings inside and quickly shut the box. He knew without a doubt that Mickey was taking the complete and utter piss out of him, and was unable to control himself. ‘Earrings? Bird’s fucking earrings! Do I look like some kind of shit-stabber or what?’
Mickey gave him a cocky smirk. ‘Well, I knew you wore them,’ he said with assumed innocence, pointing at the two sleepers in Billy’s right ear, one of which had a cross hanging from it.
‘Not like these I fucking don’t!’ Throwing the box on the floor in temper, Billy grabbed Andy by the arm. ‘We’re off to the pub,’ he said as he stormed out the door.
Debbie was really annoyed with her brother. ‘Why did you have to buy him them, Mick? He’s not stupid, you know. He can see you’re taking the piss out of him. You’re bang out of order,’ she insisted.
‘What am I meant to have done wrong?’ he said, holding up his hands and still acting the innocent. ‘I knew he wore earrings. The ones he had looked old, so I bought him a new pair. I don’t understand what his problem is.’
Debbie sat on the sofa with her head in her hands. She didn’t need this shit, not today of all days. It was all right for her Mickey, he’d fuck off soon and have a decent Christmas elsewhere. It was her that was stuck here and would have to bear the brunt of Billy’s temper.
‘Cheer up, sis. What’s the matter?’ Mickey slung one arm around her shoulders. ‘You’re not frightened of the cunt, are ya? He ain’t ever clumped you, has he? ’Cause I swear, if he ever lays a hand on you, I’ll fucking kill him.’
‘Stop it, Charlie!’ Debbie screamed as her son rammed his new car into her legs for the second time. She felt ill with worry but had no choice other than to lie. ‘Of course he’s never hit me. It’s just that … oh, I dunno, Mick, sometimes I’m not sure if I’m that happy with Billy.’
‘Liar, liar, liar.’ Charlie leapt out of his car and viciously kicked his mother in the leg. ‘Daddy kicks you … I saw him. He kicks you like this,’ he said proudly.
Debbie grabbed her son, smacked him and put him in his bedroom. She couldn’t speak openly in front of Charlie. He had a strong bond with Billy, was a clever little sod, and would probably repeat her conversation word for word. Turning the telly up to drown out her son’s screams, she sat down again next to her brother, who looked concerned.
‘Tell me about this kicking thing then, sis?’
‘I swear, Mick, he doesn’t kick me. Take no notice of Charlie. He has an overactive imagination. I am thinking of leaving Billy, though. Charlie’s behaviour is going from bad to worse and Billy doesn’t support me with disciplining him. He laughs when he swears and encourages him to be naughty. He thought it was hilarious when Charlie
