the stairs.
Gutted that his brilliant day had been spoiled, Tommy flung himself on his bed and wept. He so wished he could speak to his sisters or hold Rex in his arms once again. He missed his mum most of all though. Why did she have to die? He hated living here.
Ever since his mother had died, Tommy had taken to leaving the radio on low of a night. For some reason, the music comforted him and made him sleep better.
David Bowie’s ‘John, I’m Only Dancing’ was playing when Uncle Ian crept into his room. Tommy decided to pretend he was asleep, as he usually did.
Normally, Uncle Ian would kiss him on the head and turn the radio off, but tonight he was lurking and breathing heavily.
‘Leave me alone. What d’ya think you’re doing?’ Tommy squealed when his uncle put his hand under the blankets and started tugging at his pyjama bottoms.
‘Shut it. You belong to me now.’
Tommy tried to scream, but Uncle Ian pinned him down and pushed his face against the pillow.
Wriggling like an eel, Tommy didn’t stand a chance against a man who weighed seventeen stone.
Tears streaming down his face, Tommy wanted to die. He had thought losing his mother was the worst thing imaginable, but it wasn’t. This was.
Tommy threw a stone into the canal and watched it skim across the muddy water. He’d spent the past few days hanging out here, could not face going to school.
Stroking the stray dog he’d nicknamed Lassie, Tommy pondered his predicament. He had debated whether to call PC Kendall and tell him what had happened, but not only did he feel too ashamed to do so, the pervert’s words were still fresh in his mind: ‘This has to be our little secret, Tommy. You mustn’t tell Auntie Sandra or anyone else. Nobody would believe you anyway.’
The awful happenings of Saturday night had only lasted a few minutes, but to Tommy it had felt like an eternity. One thing he was sure about was it would never happen again. He couldn’t and wouldn’t allow it to. The pain had been indescribable and he was still struggling to walk properly and go to the toilet.
‘There you are!’
Tommy jumped at the sound of his friend’s voice.
Danny Darling plonked himself next to Tommy. ‘Why ain’t you been at school? I was gonna knock on your door yesterday, but I didn’t want to get you into trouble.’
‘Not been well.’
‘What’s up with you then?’
‘Just a bug.’
Danny eyed Tommy with suspicion. He hadn’t known him that long, but Tommy’s sparkling eyes and big grin had disappeared completely. ‘Has something happened? That Walworth mob ain’t picked on you again, have they?’
‘No. Not seen ’em.’
‘Well, you were fine over Millwall last Saturday and I can tell you’re not now. What’s wrong? I might be able to help.’
Tommy angrily threw another stone into the canal. ‘You won’t.’
‘Has something happened to one of your sisters?’
‘Dunno. Don’t hear from ’em.’
‘You ain’t had agg with those weirdos you’re living with, have you?’
Tommy wanted to cry, but instead kept a stiff upper lip. No way could he tell Danny the truth, but he desperately needed some advice. ‘If I tell ya something, you got to promise me that you will never breathe a word to anybody.’
‘I won’t.’
‘Swear on your mum’s life.’
Danny did as Tommy asked.
‘I think my uncle’s a pervert. He made me share a bath with him and I noticed he had a big stonker when he got out. I’m scared of what might happen next, Danny. Say he comes into my room of a night or something? Say he touches me?’
‘The dirty shitbag. Ronnie was right then. He always said he was a nonce. Why don’t you let me tell Ronnie? He’ll sort the bastard out for you.’
‘No. You can’t tell anybody. You promised you wouldn’t.’
‘OK. I won’t. What about your aunt? Was she at home when he got in the bath with you?’
‘No. She stays at her sister’s sometimes. If he comes into my room, Dan, what should I do? What would you do?’
‘I’d hide a big dagger under my mattress and stab the dirty fucker.’
‘Where can I get a big dagger from?’
‘Come with me. I’ll show you.’
‘So, how was school today, Tommy?’
‘Fine,’ Tommy lied, without looking up. He shoved a whole sausage in his mouth. Mealtimes were the only time he spent in his aunt and uncle’s company now and he couldn’t bolt his food down quick enough. How could that perve act like nothing had happened? Tommy couldn’t even look the bastard in the eye, let alone have a normal conversation with him. The most upsetting thing for Tommy though was that Ian was his mother’s brother. His mum had been such a kind, funny, gentle woman. How could they even be remotely related?
‘I thought we might go to Battersea Dogs’ Home this weekend, Tommy. I know how much you miss Rex and your mum and sisters. Perhaps a new furry companion is the tonic you need to perk you up a bit?’
‘The cats won’t be happy,’ Sandra hissed.
Ian smiled at the woman he’d married out of convenience. He worked long hours at the factory, was the breadwinner, so she would have no say in the matter. ‘I was thinking of a small dog, dear. What do you reckon, Tommy? Would a dog make you happy?’
Tommy pushed his plate away, his face distorted with anger. ‘I don’t want a dog. I don’t want nothing off you.’
When Tommy bolted up the stairs, Sandra scraped the remains of his dinner into the bin, then silently washed the plates. They’d had to move out of their last address as a local lad had accused Ian of inappropriate behaviour. The case had never gone to court, the boy had withdrawn his allegations, and Ian had sworn blind to her he was innocent.
‘You OK, love?’ Ian asked. ‘Tommy will be fine. He’s missing his family and dog, that’s all.’
Sandra nodded. She had an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach. Perhaps she should cancel stopping over at her sister’s next weekend. Only, if history were to repeat itself, she couldn’t bear the thought of vigilantes throwing eggs and bricks at the window again. She actually liked living round here.
‘I’m sorry,
