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.
‘Thank you, Mrs Darling. This is like a Christmas dinner. It was very kind of you to invite me round.’ Tommy’s mother had always told him ‘Good manners cost nothing.’
‘You’re very welcome, my love. Our Danny speaks highly of you. Anytime you want to pop round, feel free. But please call me Suzie. Mrs Darling makes me sound like one of the blue-rinse brigade down East Street market,’ Suzie chuckled.
‘Do you really live at number forty-four, Tommy?’ asked eleven-year-old Eugene. He was quite impressed with Danny’s new friend, but he and his pals played knock-down ginger at Tommy’s aunt and uncle’s house. They called them ‘The Stinkies’.
Kicking his youngest brother under the table, Ronnie quickly changed the subject. ‘Danny says you like football, Tom. Who do you support?’
‘I did support Celtic, but since finding out my dad ain’t my dad, I don’t want to support them any more. Spurs are my team now.’
Ronnie ruffled the boy’s hair. Tommy was a good lad; he could sense that, with an air of vulnerability about him. ‘Wanna come over Millwall with me and Danny next Saturday? I’ll treat you.’
Tommy’s eyes shone. He had yet to attend a proper football match. ‘You bet I do. Thank you.’
‘Here she is, the latecomer. Dinner’s in the oven, burnt, young lady,’ tutted Suzie. ‘Serves you right for saying you’d be home by three and coming in at four.’
Tommy was rather taken aback when the stunning girl with big blue eyes and glossy long blonde hair sauntered into the kitchen. She was wearing a white catsuit and red platform shiny boots like those people serving in the record shop yesterday. He nudged Danny. ‘Is that your sister?’
‘Yeah. That’s our Donna. Pain in the bloody arse, she is,’ Danny laughed.
Eyes as big as organ stops, Tommy stared at the girl. At that moment, he had his first ever sexual feeling and it felt like heaven.
Life returned to normal back at Uncle Ian and Auntie Sandra’s house. The dinners were bland, Auntie Sandra spoke to him only when she could be bothered and Tommy spent most of his time in the sanctuary of his bedroom, playing his records and listening to the radio.
On the Saturday he was due to attend the Millwall game, Tommy heard the tap-tap he’d come to dread on his bedroom door. The bath incident had not been mentioned again and Tommy was far too embarrassed to tell Danny about it. ‘Who is it?’
‘Uncle Ian. OK to come in?’
‘Yes. Of course.’
Uncle Ian smiled as he plonked his fat self on the edge of Tommy’s bed. ‘Sandra is visiting her sister in the Isle of Sheppey again this weekend, so I thought we might do something together. I found a shop that sells those aeroplanes. I’ll treat you to one, then we’ll fly it over the park. Sound good to you?’
Uncle Ian stank, a mixture of stale sweat and smoke. Tommy had a strip wash every morning at the bathroom sink, but he’d never noticed his uncle or aunt do so. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m going out with a friend today.’
‘Can’t you cancel seeing your friend? I thought you wanted one of those aeroplanes.’
‘No. Thank you for offering, but I’m not bothered about having one now.’
Uncle Ian eyed Tommy suspiciously over his thick-rimmed glasses. ‘You’ve been going out an awful lot recently. Where exactly are you going today?’
‘Football. I’m going to watch Millwall.’
‘You will do no such thing, lad. I am not having you mixing with hooligans. You are my responsibility now.’
‘But I can’t let my friend down and we are going with an adult. My friend’s older brother is eighteen,’ Tommy protested.
‘Who is this friend of yours? Only you’ve been spending a lot of time with him recently. You’re hardly ever at home.’
Fighting the urge to inform Uncle Ian that this wasn’t his home and never would be, Tommy bit his tongue. He felt like crying. ‘Johnny – he’s in my class at school,’ he lied. ‘Please let me go, Uncle Ian. I’ve always wanted to go to a proper football match. I promise I won’t be home late. We can spend the evening together and do whatever you want then. Please, I beg you.’
Uncle Ian softened and handed Tommy a pound note. ‘Go on then. Enjoy yourself. But I want you home here by seven at the latest.’
Feeling a sense of relief wash over him, Tommy took the money and smiled. ‘Thank you.’
Uncle Ian stood up. ‘Your friend Johnny. What’s his surname?’
There was a lad called Johnny in his class, so Tommy decided to play it safe. ‘Rodgers.’
As he left the room, Uncle Ian frowned. He knew the Rodgerses and wasn’t aware Johnny had an older brother. Tommy had better not be lying to him. He hated liars.
Tommy was buzzing as he walked towards Millwall’s ground. Fans were already singing at the top of their voices and the delicious smell of fried onions wafting from the burger and hotdog stalls made him feel a bit emotional. His mum had cooked lots of meals with onions and that smell reminded him of happier times. He was genuinely happy today though, and was sure his mum would approve of his new friend and Danny’s family. They were all very kind to him.
‘You hungry, Tommy?’ asked Ronnie Darling.
‘I am. Get us a burger,’ ordered Eugene.
Ronnie grabbed his younger brother in a playful headlock. ‘Nobody asked you, ya little squirt. And you’ll get sod all until you say the word please,’ Ronnie chuckled.
When a group of men collared Ronnie for a chat, he handed Danny a fiver and told him to get them some food.
‘Doesn’t your brother know a lot of people,’ Tommy said to his friend.
Danny grinned proudly. ‘Yeah. My dad’s even more well known, ya know. My whole family are really. Nobody messes with us. That’s why them boys who picked on you ran off sharpish.’
Not wanting to pry, Tommy changed the subject. ‘Isn’t your brother a biker all the time?’ Ronnie wasn’t wearing black leathers today. He was dressed in faded flared jeans, trainers, and a black bomber jacket. He looked no different to any other football fan.
‘Ronnie’s a biker when he wants to be a biker,’ Danny laughed. ‘He’s the master of disguise, my brother. The pigs hate him.’
Not understanding what Danny meant, Tommy decided the best thing to do was smile politely.
‘Hello, Ian. How are you and Sandra keeping?’ asked Mr Patel the newsagent.
‘Yes, we’re fine, thank you. Could you make
