My Dad's a Policeman (4 page)

Chapter Eight

There was no chance of oversleeping. It seemed I’d just dropped off when I was woken by a loud noise. I reached under my end of the pillow for my phone and saw it was 6.20 a.m. I lay very still and listened. Wayne was fast asleep and breathing regularly beside me. The noise came again, louder this time. Then I realised with a jolt it was Wayne’s old man on the bog. Their bathroom’s next door to Wayne’s bedroom but he could have been sitting right next to me for all the noise he was making, shitting and farting after a night on the booze. It was disgusting! Wayne slept on. I guess he was used to it, as well as the smell that seeped under the door. I heard the bog roll unravel at 100 miles an hour, then the bog flush and the bathroom door open. The dirty pig hadn’t washed his hands! More worrying were his footsteps, going downstairs.

‘Hey, wake up,’ I hissed in Wayne’s ear, poking him in the ribs. ‘Your old man’s up and it’s only six thirty.’

Wayne groaned and opened one eye. ‘Don’t worry, man,’ he mumbled. ‘He’ll go back to his room with his tea. You can get out then.’

We lay side by side on our backs again, me wide awake and Wayne slowly surfacing, as the noises of Wayne’s old man making tea floated up from downstairs. The walls in these houses are so thin you can hear everything, and I mean everything. Wayne’s old man is a big clumsy slob who lumbers rather than walks, so the noise he makes is amplified. I felt like Jack hiding from the giant in ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’ as I lay still and listened.

I heard Wayne’s dad turn on the tap to fill the kettle, open a cupboard door and then set down a mug on the kitchen work surface. He did it with so much force it’s a wonder the pottery didn’t smash. It went quiet and I guessed he was pouring boiling water on to the tea bag. Then we heard him lumbering up the stairs and his bedroom slam shut.

‘You’ve got until seven,’ Wayne said. ‘Then he comes to wake me.’

That was enough for me. I was out of bed so fast that my head span. I had on my trousers, shirt and jacket, and was stuffing my feet into my trainers, before Wayne had clambered out of bed.

‘I’ll see you out, man,’ Wayne said, standing and scratching his balls unattractively. ‘Good luck with finding Tommy.’

‘Thanks.’ It was then I realised I still didn’t have any money. ‘You couldn’t lend me a tenner, could you?’ I knew I was asking a lot; I couldn’t have lent him money, but then he’d never asked.

‘Sure, man,’ he said easily. ‘No problem.’ I watched as he reached under the corner of his mattress and brought out a wad of £5 notes. There must have been over fifty quid there and I gasped in amazement.

‘Where d’you get that?’ I asked, feeling that perhaps it was better I didn’t know.

‘From the old man’s trouser pocket, when he passes out. It’s what keeps sis and me going. He don’t give us anything.’

Impressed by Wayne’s courage – nicking from his dad whilst he lay drunk – I accepted the two £5 notes. I wondered briefly why Wayne and his sister hadn’t been taken into care, for it seemed as though their lives were as bad, if not worse, than Tommy’s and mine. Perhaps social services didn’t know about them, or perhaps they were too scared to confront Wayne’s dad? Whatever, Wayne seemed to have the situation under control.

‘Thanks,’ I said, really grateful. ‘I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.’

‘You already have, man. All the nights you put me up. Now for fuck’s sake, be quiet when you go or we’ll both get it.’

I followed him to the bedroom door and he slowly, silently, opened it. He paused and we listened to the sounds coming from his old man’s room across the landing. The floorboards were creaking as he moved around, presumably getting dressed. Wayne signalled for me to go forwards. I tiptoed after him as he went down the stairs and to the back door. He silently turned the key and let me out.

‘Take care, man,’ he whispered, and closed the door behind me.

With money in my pocket and a plan of action I was now feeling pretty positive, better than I’d felt last night. First I’d walk to McDonald’s in town and get myself a big breakfast – £1.99. It would be warm in McDonald’s and I could stay as long as I liked. Then I’d put £5 on my phone and text Mum to tell her I was OK, before I went to rescue Tommy. I’d go to his school and snatch him from the playground at morning break.

What would happen after that, I wasn’t exactly sure. But it would go something like this: Tommy and me would hitch a lift to the port at Dover and sneak on board a ferry going somewhere hot and sunny faraway. Wherever we landed I’d get a job and support Tommy and me. Then when we’d make our fortunes. When we were adults and couldn’t be put into care, we’d come home to Mum and live happily every after. Obviously the plan needed fine-tuning, but it sounded good to me.

The early morning air was cold but – walking fast and with the promise of a McDonald’s breakfast and sunnier climes to come – it didn’t seem so bad. The February sky was beginning to lighten and, at 7.30, I passed a newsagent that was open for the paperboys to deliver newspapers. I went in and bought £5-worth of phone credit. It wasn’t a shop I’d been in much before and the owner didn’t know me, so if he wondered why I was out so early he didn’t say.

Quarter of an hour later I stepped into the bright lights and warmth of McDonald’s. There weren’t many customers at this time, just a few workers stopping off for breakfast. I ordered the Big Breakfast, which came with a hot drink – I chose hot chocolate – and I took it to a corner seat well away from the window, which looked out over the High Street. As I ate, I loaded the credit on to my phone and texted Mum. She hadn’t replied to the text I’d sent last night and I was getting worried.
R u ok? Txt me. Luv Ryan xxx
. She texted back almost immediately:
Yes, where r u?
I texted back:
Can’t say but safe xxx.
She didn’t reply and I hoped I hadn’t worried her and made her reach for the bottle.

I returned my phone to my jacket pocket and finished my breakfast. I could have eaten it all again easily but that wasn’t an option. Having spent £5 on phone credit and £1.99 on the breakfast, I had £3.01 left, and I needed that for later. I hadn’t brushed my teeth or washed since yesterday morning and I was beginning to feel dirty. One thing Mum always insisted on, no matter how rubbish our clothes were, was that Tommy and me always brushed our teeth and washed at least once a day, but there was no chance of that right now.

The restaurant was very warm and, now I’d eaten, I was starting to feel more relaxed and a bit sleepy. There was an hour to go before the second part of my plan – rescuing Tommy – could begin. I folded my arms on the table and put my head down. I closed my eyes and must have dropped off without realising it, for suddenly I was woken by a hand on my shoulder shaking me. I looked up to see a McDonald’s worker clearing the table.

‘Time for school,’ he said, trying to be clever. I checked the clock on the wall: it was exactly nine o’clock. I stood up and, before I left, I went downstairs to the toilets for a pee and a wash. I splashed warm water over my face and rubbed my finger over my teeth, then dried my hands on the hot-air dryer.

Outside, the High Street had come alive since I’d entered McDonald’s. Shops were opening and cars and buses crawled up the road in a steady procession. I didn’t want to waste money on bus fare, and I still had plenty of time before the next part of my plan, so I decided to walk to Tommy’s school. I guessed it was about a mile and half. It’s the primary school I went to, so I knew it well. I knew the layout of the building and the routine of the day. I knew which class Tommy was in, and I knew there was a place you could stand – just outside a window – where you could see the kids. They could see you but the teacher couldn’t, as long as you were careful. Wayne and me had gone there at the start of term and made faces at the kids through the window until the teacher turned quickly and saw us.

As I walked, I pictured me standing there and Tommy looking up and seeing me. I saw the look of surprise on his face, which would then turn to relief. I could imagine his little face lighting up with happiness as it dawned on him that his big brother had come to rescue him and I gestured to him to meet me by the playground at morning break. I’d chatted to him there when I’d bunked off school before.

Yes, I had it all planned out, and could picture it. Morning break was at 10.20, in an hour’s time.

What I hadn’t planned for, or pictured, was Tommy’s reaction when I explained our escape!

‘I’m not going,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to.’

Chapter Nine

‘What are you talking about, Tommy?’ I said. ‘Of course you want to come.’

‘No, I don’t,’ my little brother said, his face up against the wire netting. ‘I like it at Mary’s. She doesn’t get drunk.’

‘We’re not going back to Mum’s,’ I hissed. ‘We’re going on a boat to another country. I’m going to look after you.’

I saw I had his attention now and that of the other kids who were with him. ‘Where?’ Tommy asked. ‘Where you gonna take me? You haven’t got money.’

‘I have,’ I said. ‘Look.’ Delving into my pocket I pulled out the three £1 coins I’d had as change from my McDonald’s.

‘That ain’t much,’ some smart-arse kid standing next to him said. ‘I get more than that as pocket money every week.’

‘I’m not talking to you,’ I snapped. ‘Go and play.’ I was keeping one eye on the dinner ladies. I knew it wouldn’t be long before one of them spotted me and came over to find out what I was doing.

‘Tommy, listen to me,’ I said anxiously. ‘This is what we’re going to do. In a minute I want you to go and tell one of the dinner ladies that I have something to give you. Then when she comes and unlocks the gate you grab my hand and we’ll make a run for it. You will have to run very fast. Do you understand?’ I knew the dinner lady wouldn’t be able to leave the other children and come after us. She’d have to go back inside and raise the alarm, by which time we’d be on our way.

Tommy was staring at me, his large brown eyes even wider than ever, like flying saucers. He’s such a cute-looking kid.

‘Then what?’ Smart-arse said. ‘What you going to do then?’

‘Yeah, what you gonna do then?’ Tommy repeated.

‘We’ll hide until the police stop looking for us,’ I said. ‘Then we’ll get a lift in a lorry to the boat. Once we’re on the boat we’ll be safe.’

Smart-arse had gone quiet now, clearly impressed by the mention of police, lorry and boat. More impressed than Tommy was.

‘Na,’ Tommy said, having thought about it. ‘I’ll stay at Mary’s. She gives me loads to eat and I can play with her son, Andrew. He’s five, same as me, and he’s nice to me.’

‘I’m nice to you,’ I said, feeling hurt. I decided to change my approach and appeal to Tommy’s feelings. I hadn’t got long to put my plan into action: once the whistle blew for the end of break Tommy would be back inside the building until the lunch playtime.

‘Tommy,’ I said, lowering myself to his height and putting my mouth closer to the wire netting. ‘I love you, and Mum loves you, but she can’t look after us right now. She’s upset that we’re not together. I’m going to look after you until she’s better. I miss you, Tommy. Don’t you miss me?’

‘Yeah,’ Tommy said casually, unfazed, ‘but Mary said we’ll be seeing each other at contact. You, Mum and me. She told me last night that I hadn’t to be upset because we’ll all be seeing each other two or three times a week. Didn’t your foster carer tell you that?’

In truth, I hadn’t stayed long enough at Libby’s to find out – not that it would have made any difference to my leaving. I was getting desperate now. One of the dinner ladies had spotted us and kept looking over. I was also annoyed by Tommy’s rejection. ‘Contact isn’t living together,’ I said. ‘It’s just a couple of hours at a centre, and a social worker will be there watching us the whole time.’

‘That’s what Mary said. She said the social worker was there to make sure we were OK, so Mum can’t get drunk again. Mary said I’ll be living with her while everything is sorted out. We had sausages, beans and mashed potatoes for dinner last night. Then apple pie and ice cream. What did you have?’

I shrugged. I hadn’t had dinner at Libby’s. I couldn’t blame Tommy for the way he felt. At his age he’d been won over by the promise of regular meals, a kid his own age to play with and an adult looking after him who wasn’t drunk or throwing up. He couldn’t see the bigger, long-term picture as I could. Or, perhaps, that’s all there is to life – food, friendship and someone responsible to look after you?

‘Can I help you?’ the dinner lady said, finally coming over. She was in her late fifties with very wide hips; she’d been at the school when I was here. ‘Oh, it’s Ryan,’ she said, recognising me. ‘You’ve grown. How are you? Shouldn’t you be at school?’

‘Na, staff training day,’ I lied, hoping she wouldn’t notice I was wearing my school uniform.

I looked at Tommy in the faint hope he would change his mind and tell the dinner lady I had something to give him, then we’d make a dash for it. But he didn’t.

‘Kiss,’ he said. ‘I’m going to play.’ He pursed his lips through the wire netting, ready for me to kiss him. The dinner lady smiled.

I kissed him just as I did every night and every time we said goodbye. Only now of course I wouldn’t be kissing him goodnight for a very long time and this goodbye could well be our last.

‘See you at contact,’ he said, and ran off to play with his mates. The dinner lady smiled again and followed them.

Digging my hands into my trouser pockets, I began to move away from the wire netting. Now what? What the hell was I supposed to do now? I didn’t feel like running away without Tommy, but how could I stay? I had nowhere to go and very soon I’d be out of money again. It crossed my mind to go to my school, only a ten-minute walk away. It would be warm and I would get a free dinner, but, after Mum’s, I guessed school was the next place the police would look for a runaway.

The school whistle blew behind me for the end of break and I turned and looked at the playground, full of happy smiling kids running to line up. I saw Tommy jostle his way into line, ready to go into the school, and just before he went in he turned and I gave a little wave. He waved back, then disappeared up the steps and into the building. I’d no idea when, or if, I would ever see Tommy again.

With my plans now in shreds and my hope gone, the cold sliced through me like a knife. I guessed it was zero degrees. I sank lower into my jacket and headed back into the town. At least there I could keep warm in the shops until I’d decided what to do.

As I walked, head down against the wind, I suddenly felt very small and alone. In some ways I envied Tommy and his ability to simply accept what was on offer and make the best of it, but at my age I couldn’t do that; I thought and worried too much. My family, such as it was, had been torn apart and I was largely to blame. If I’d looked after Tommy better, cleaned the house more, stopped Mum from drinking and kept out of trouble, very likely Duffy would have gone away satisfied and Tommy, me and Mum would still be together. Having a dad would have helped too, I thought. How different our lives would have been with a proper father! Suddenly I felt very angry that my dad hadn’t been there for me. The police had computers with information on everyone and there was the internet. He could have traced me if he’d wanted to. So I had to think my father didn’t want to know me which is the worst rejection for a boy.

The clock on the old Town Hall showed 11.20 a.m. as I entered the High Street. I went through the revolving doors of Debenham’s department store and felt the rush of hot air from the overhead heating duct. I could have happily stood there for the rest of the day, but the security guard to the right was already looking at me. I knew from my previous visits to the shop, when I’d bunked off school before, that – as long as I didn’t bring attention to myself or stay too long in one department – I would be left to wander in the warm.

Ten minutes later, I was wandering through the sports department – my favourite, with all the latest gear – when my phone bleeped. My heart sank. It wasn’t the bleep of an in-coming text, but that of a low battery. I took the mobile from my pocket and my fears were confirmed: the battery warning light was flashing red. I guessed I had about five minutes before the phone went off completely. The charger was at Mum’s. I could have kicked myself for forgetting it.

Then I had a flash of inspiration. Wayne had the same phone as me. Time to ask him for another favour. Before the battery died completely, I texted quickly:
Can I cum after skool 2 charge fone?
I guessed he’d be in lessons now with his phone set to vibrate. I hoped he had his phone in his pocket and not his bag or he wouldn’t feel it.

With my mobile in my hand, I continued through to the luggage department, full of expensive suitcases, briefcases, hold-alls and handbags of every size and colour. My phone bleeped again with another low-battery warning, then a few seconds later with an in-coming text.

Wayne:
Sure man, but make it l8er. Old man on nights. Where ru?

I texted back:
Town. Wot time?

As I waited for a reply I continued out of the luggage department and into Ladies’ Fashion. The minutes passed, as did the rows and rows of expensive dresses, but no text came from Wayne, telling me what time I should go to his house. Then, a few minutes later, my phone gave one final bleep as the battery died and the screen went blank.