Benny softened and held out his right hand. ‘Nice to meet ya, Tommy.’
‘Likewise.’
‘So, what’s your story?’
‘Whaddya mean?’
‘How did you end up here?’
‘My mum died and then I found out my dad weren’t me real dad. You?’ Tommy asked. Ray had reassured him that all his details would remain confidential and he was only to tell the others what he was comfortable with.
‘My mum didn’t want me living with her no more. She got a new bloke and me and him didn’t get on.’
‘That’s well bad.’
‘So is my mother, the dirty stinking whore.’
‘So, what’s it like in here? Ray and Connie seem all right.’
‘They’re OK. But don’t believe all that bullshit Ray told you on arrival. Did he mention the no-bullying policy?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, that’s bollocks. One of the lads tried to set fire to my hair on the way home from school last week. He is one nasty fucker.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘I ain’t no grass. You’ll find out for yourself soon enough. I’ve only been here a week and I know the rules already. Act sweet in front of Connie and Ray, and what happens outside of the home stays outside of the home. Got that?’
Tommy nodded, then pointed at the sketches on the wall. ‘They yours? I like the dog.’
‘That was my dog, Spike. I drew him myself.’
‘No way! That’s well ace. My dog has gone to live on a farm in Essex, but I’m gonna find out where and visit him soon. If I give you a picture of Rex, would you draw him too?’
‘There ain’t no such thing as a dog going to live on a farm in Essex, Tommy. Not in our world. That’s what we’re told when they kill ’em off.’
Tommy suddenly felt sick. ‘What?’
‘A farm in Essex means your dog was taken to the vet and put down. I know ’cause the same thing happened to my Spike.’
A lone tear rolled down Tommy’s cheek. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
Tommy spent the rest of his birthday with his head under the blankets. He couldn’t get Rex’s trusting face out of his head. He’d loved his smell, his big slobbery kisses, and throwing sticks for him in the park. They’d been mates, best mates, and now he would never see Rex again. He was gone, like everyone else Tommy cared about.
‘You OK, Tommy?’ Ray tapped on the door. ‘I brought you a sandwich and a drink.’
‘I don’t want anything, thanks. But I’m sure I’ll feel better tomorrow,’ Tommy lied. He’d had to get out of meeting the other lads and having dinner tonight. Could not face food or company, so had feigned illness.
‘OK, lad. Give Connie or me a shout if you need anything.’
When Ray’s footsteps drifted away, Tommy propped his pillow up against the wall and punched it repeatedly.
He was no longer that innocent young boy he’d been before his mother died. He was now a streetwise, angry young man.
The course of true love never did run smooth.
William Shakespeare
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