bedroom window, ‘I hate you, you pig bastards,’ he shouted, as the car smashed on the coal bunker below.
Shivering, James climbed into bed and sobbed himself to sleep.
THE NEXT SIX months were probably the worst in Maureen’s life. She’d fully expected her Tommy to be charged with manslaughter and receive a lesser sentence, but it wasn’t to be. The authorities had decided to make an example of him. The jury had found him guilty of murder and he’d received fifteen years for his crime. As the judge announced the sentence, Maureen felt her legs go from under her.
‘Noooo! It was an accident. Tell ’em, Mum, tell ’em,’ were the words she heard her son scream as her friends helped carry her out of the court.
Once a respected pillar of the community, Maureen felt this was no longer the case. Everywhere she went she heard the whispers, noticed the stares, and even the rag-and-bone man now gave her a wide berth. No one had actually blamed her face to face and even Mary Smith had squeezed her hand outside the court and offered her words of comfort. Maureen had felt terrible about this. She had expected the murdered lad’s mum to come at her like a rabid dog, but Mary hadn’t blamed her at all. Mary’s friends and family most certainly did. Maureen could see the hatred in their eyes. It was as though they were silently trying to tell her that if she had been a better parent, none of this would have happened.
Her mother-in-law and her own friends had been fantastic. They were always popping round to check she was all right and she was never left alone for long. Maureen’s social life had flown right out of the window from the day that Tommy was arrested. She could never face going to the bingo hall again. Mary and her friends had used it for years and Maureen couldn’t face the gossip and the shame. She’d even stopped joining in with the regular Saturday-night parties. How could she dance, drink and be happy, when her son had wiped out a young boy’s life? The odd cup of tea with a friend or a quick pop up the shops was all she could manage these days. She seemed to have lost her sparkle, her sense of humour, and the lack of activity suited her down to the ground. Maureen’s thoughts were disturbed by her daughter’s whining voice.
‘Mum, I’m bored sitting upstairs. Can I go outside and play? I’m sorry for what I said the other day, and I promise I’ll never say it again.’
Maureen shot her daughter a disdainful look. Susan had been grounded for the last two days and had been sent to her room in disgrace. The headmistress of her daughter’s school had contacted Maureen and asked her to pop in. Apparently, Susan had been threatening some of the kids there. She’d been demanding their dinner money, while bragging about Tommy.
‘You either pay up, or when my bruvver gets out, I’ll make sure you’re next on his hit list,’ she’d boasted cockily.
One of the teachers had witnessed Susan demanding money from fellow pupils on numerous occasions. When questioned, two of the kids had broken down. This was why the headmistress was now involved and Maureen was bloody well furious.
‘You can go out, Susan, for two hours. But, I swear, girl, if I ever hear that you’ve been bragging about your bruvver again, I will personally fucking doughboy yer. Do you understand me?’
Susan nodded and walked away.
Maureen made herself a brew and went upstairs to see James. Her poor baby was a shadow of his former self and she was so worried about him. James had idolised Tommy and had followed him about like a lost puppy. Now his brother was no longer about, James spent most of his time alone in his room. Maureen’s heart went out to him as she opened the bedroom door. He was kneeling on the carpet playing with a toy truck, his face a picture of sadness.
‘Are you all right, darling?’ she asked.
‘Yes, Mummy,’ James said quietly.
Maureen sat on the bed and handed him a white paper bag. ‘I bought you a present from the baker’s. It’s a gingerbread man, your favourite.’
James took the bag and sat on the bed next to her. He wasn’t hungry, but nibbled his present out of politeness. ‘Mummy, when you go and see Tommy again, please let me come with you. I’ll be a good boy, I promise.’
Maureen held him close to her. Tommy was in Feltham Borstal and it was miles away, a poxy journey. With money being tight, she’d only been there the once herself. ‘Where Tommy’s staying is not a very nice place, James. I’ll take you there when you’re a bit older.’
James threw himself against her chest and sobbed. Lifting his head, he looked her in the eyes and pleaded with her. ‘Please take me to see him, Mummy. I don’t care if it’s not nice. Please, Mum, can I go?’
Maureen looked into his angelic little eyes and didn’t have the heart to say no. She didn’t want James to visit a bloody borstal, but what could she do? ‘OK, I’ll arrange a visit and take you, but first you must eat all that gingerbread man and promise me that you’re not gonna sit in your bedroom all the time from now on. Mr Benn’s on telly in a minute, let’s watch it together, eh?’
James smothered her with kisses. ‘When can we go, Mum? Can we go tomorrow?’ he asked excitedly.
Maureen cupped his precious face. He looked happier now than she’d seen him in months. ‘You musn’t be impatient, James. Mummy has to organise some money and book the visit. I’ll try and sort something out tomorrow, see if I can scrape together the train fare for this weekend.’
James picked up his gingerbread man and tucked into it. He was so excited, he couldn’t wait to see his big brother. Surely once Tommy saw him, he’d want to come back home. And then they’d be happy again, like they were before.
Susan was filled with excitement as she watched Jeanette Dickenson walk into the sweet shop. Grinning, she urged her friend Tracey to follow her and hide behind the furniture shop. Susan couldn’t stand Jeanette Dickenson. Jeanette had everything in life that she didn’t. Her mum was slim and modern, her dad had a good job. She had a brand new Chopper bike, a cute little puppy called Simba, and she always had loads of money for sweets and stuff.
Peeping around the wall, Susan saw Jeanette coming towards her with her usual bag of goodies. Nudging Tracey to follow her lead, she leaped out from behind the wall and grabbed Jeanette by her stupid ponytail. ‘Give us your sweets and your money,’ she demanded.
Jeanette’s eyes filled with tears. She’d had run-ins with Susan Hutton in the past and was petrified of her. ‘I can’t, the sweets are for my little brothers and the money is my mum’s change.’
Tracey was desperate to impress her new friend. Spotting the puppy, she aimed a kick at its head.
The dog’s yelp was enough to make Jeanette change her mind.
‘Just take it,’ she said, handing over the bag and her mother’s change.
Susan released her grip on Jeanette’s hair and pointed a finger in her face.
‘If you say one word to yer mum or dad, I’m gonna do the same to your dog as what my bruvver did to Terry Smith.’
Jeanette shook with fear as she picked up poor Simba. ‘I promise I won’t say a word. I’ll pretend to mum that I lost the pound note she gave me.’
‘Best yer get yourself
