A Cockney's Journey (10 page)

    “Alright, Eddie, Just finished?” Brian asked.
    “Yeah, Bloody hard graft, I’m knackered.”
    “We’re going round the café for a couple of hours, fancy it?”
    “Not tonight, I’ve been up since five. I need some grub and sleep. What you doing tomorrow?” I asked, yawning.
    “We’re all meeting at the pit at ten,” Tony said.
    “OK, I’ll see you in the morning.”
    I shook hands with the both of them and went through the gate. I opened the back door and on the table was a half-drunk bottle of whisky.
Oh no, not now
. I shut the door and took a deep breath. I stood there in silence, my eyes and ears monitoring every sound and movement. I slowly walked across the kitchen floor. I looked around to see if any dinner had been left for me; nothing was visible. My instinct told me to get out of the house, but I never listened. I heard a grunting noise from the living room and then all of a sudden he came staggering out of the living room and down the hallway, finding it hard to keep his balance. He fell against the wall while holding an empty glass. He spotted me and glared. I froze rigid to the spot.
    “Oh, you’re in, you little shit,” he slurred.
    “Yeah, I’ve just finished work. Where is every one?” I asked.
    “Your mother, brothers and sisters are out for the night.”
    “Oh really? Where have they gone?” I asked quietly.
    “None of your business,” he screamed. He walked over to the table and poured himself a large glass of whisky. He was staring at me with eyes that were bloodshot and wild with anger. He gulped down the whisky like it was water. I stood there in silence, not moving a muscle, for I knew that the slightest thing would set him off. I could feel the fear consuming my body. He staggered to where I was standing and, putting his arm around my shoulder, he grabbed my collar. I felt his grip tighten as he crunched my collar into his fist.
    “Come on, then. Tell me about your job,” he muttered while he dragged me towards the living room, clasping the bottle and glass in one hand. He pushed me on to the sofa and slumped into the chair. I looked around the room and noticed the table lamp was smashed on the floor. There were broken china pieces around the hearth and the fire was still smouldering from the lack of coal. They must have had another fight.
Keep your mouth shut, Eddie boy, and say nothing,
I told myself. I sat there motionless, but the expression on my face must have given me away.
    “Get paid, did you?” he said, with a nasty smirk. He struggled to pull himself up out of the chair.
    “Well? Answer me, boy!” he shouted.
    “Yeah, I did. It was hard work and a very long day.”
    “How much did you get?” he growled.
     If I lied, he would search me, the thought of him touching me made me cringe. I didn’t want to antagonise him or give him an excuse to hurt me.
    “Seven pounds,” I whispered.
    He was now standing over me swaying; his wild, staring eyes reflected the hatred that he felt towards me.
    “Show me,” he said, waving his arms aggressively.
    I tried to stand up but he was in the way so I slid along the sofa, stood up and put my hand in my jeans pocket. He grabbed my wrist.
    “I’ll do that!” he screamed, yanking my hand out and stuffing his own into my pocket. I felt him grab the envelope. By this point, he was swaying all over the place and suddenly he lost his balance. He fell backwards and my pocket was separated from my jeans as he landed on the coffee table with an almighty crash. The weight of his body snapped the legs in half. He looked up screaming at me.
    “You fucking bastard! How dare you push me!”
    He struggled to get to his feet and slipped over on the debris. Still clutching my envelope, he hit the floor again but this time he released my wages from his grip. I acted quickly; I lunged forward and grabbed my money, with two choices on my mind.
Do I go up the stairs and out the front door, or through the kitchen?
I opted for the stairs; my heart was pounding as I reached them.
    “I’m gonna fucking kill you when I get hold of you,” he screamed at the top of his voice.
    I legged it up the stairs, but as I reached the top, I felt something smash against the back of my head. The force sent me sprawling into the passage. I jumped up and ran towards the front door. My head was spinning like mad; my head and neck was ringing wet. I was shaking; if he caught me, I was finished. I put my hand on the latch, shaking uncontrollably. He reached the top of the stairs, laughing like a mad man. I had seconds to get out. I turned the latch but nothing happened.
Oh my God! It’s locked!
I turned round to face him. He stood there, breathing heavily, swaying from side to side. In his right hand was a broken table leg. I froze in terror, anticipating what was coming next. He staggered towards me.
    “Can’t escape now,” he said with an evil grin. I backed up against the door, trembling from head to toe. I couldn’t think straight. He raised his arm and smashed the table leg down on my shoulder. The pain shot up my neck and down my arm. He was getting ready for a second blow when there was a loud knock on the front door. I turned and pressed my face against the door, I was just about to scream for help when he grabbed my throat.
    “Quiet!” he whispered in a menacing tone. He dragged me away from the door. I could hear faint voices on the other side of the door. There were three loud rapid knocks. He squeezed my throat so tight that I couldn’t breathe properly. Then it happened; the letterbox opened and a shaft of light lit the passage up.
    “I know you’re in there. I can see you,” a voice blasted through the letterbox. “Now open up, it’s the police!”
    He released my throat and dropped the table leg. I struggled to get air and started to take deep breaths.
    “Get to your bedroom, now!” he whispered, “or I’ll make you suffer all night, do you understand me boy?”
    I crept up to my bedroom and leant over the banisters to listen. After a few moments, I heard the front door unlock.
    “We have received a complaint of a loud disturbance,” the police officer confirmed.
    “There must be some mistake, officer. I’m just repairing the table down stairs.”
    “Anybody else at home?” the officer asked.
    “No, just me, they’re all out for the evening.”
    “Well, keep the noise down, OK?”
    “Sorry, officer, it won’t happen again.”
    
Is that it? Bloody useless the old Bill.
    I walked down to the bathroom and flicked the light on; my hands were covered in blood. I peered in the mirror but I couldn’t see anything. Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed there was blood running down the back of my head onto my neck. My ears pricked to attention at the sound of him descending the stairs noisily. Still shaking, I washed my hands and started to dab the flannel on my head and neck. I rinsed out the flannel in the washbasin and the blood splashed everywhere. After a while, the bleeding stopped. I cleaned up the mess and walked out of the bathroom. I stood on the landing, listening, but not a sound came from downstairs. I wondered where my mum was. She might have gone to her sister’s in Camberwell. She’s got a big house. If I can get out, I’m going there, I thought. I crept downstairs and still no sound. I walked up to the front door, quietly turning the latch. It was bloody locked. I turned round, slowly moving towards the top of the stairs. I peered down into the darkness. I heard snoring coming from the direction of the living room. He’s asleep, I thought. I stepped on the tread and there was a loud crunching noise. I froze, standing on the broken whisky bottle. I waited in silence, but nothing, so I moved slowly down the stairs, his snoring getting increasingly loud. I moved past the living room and into the kitchen. I put my hand on the back door handle. I was shaking; beads of sweat were running down my face. I turned the handle and pulled. The door opened a bit, but sprung back shut with a loud clattering noise.
    “What the bloody hell’s going on?” he screamed angrily.
    I quickly slid under the kitchen table, shaking uncontrollably. I held my breath and pulled my knees up into my chest, curling up like a ball. He staggered through the kitchen cursing and he stood there in the dark. The only sound I could hear was his heavy breathing. The stink of whisky filled the kitchen air. After a brief spell, he left the kitchen and stood at the foot of the stairs.
    “You in your bedroom?” he shouted. When he didn’t get a reply, he screamed, “Answer me, boy, or else, you little bastard.” I rolled out from under the table, panic-stricken. I stood in front of the back door in silence, listening with my hand on the handle, as he screamed out.
    “Where the fuck are you, booooooy?”
    I pulled the door but it sprang back again. It took a few seconds for it to sink in that the bloody top bolt was on. I threw the bolt back and ran out the door. I ran so fast down the street I nearly fell over. The blood was pumping round my body so quick my head started bleeding again. When I was a safe distance from the house, I stopped running. I felt cold and exhausted. I stood at the bus stop waiting for the number twelve to Camberwell, deep in thought…
    “Keep still, young man!” the dentist cried. The nurse held me down as the dentist grabbed hold of my molar; the whole of his hand was practically in my mouth. He pulled and twisted my tooth with what I can only describe as pliers. The pain was unbelievable; as he pulled, I went with him. To and fro, we went.
    “Listen, sonny, Do you want this tooth out or what?” the dentist said impatiently. I couldn’t answer him as my gob was stuffed with wedges and swabs, plus he had his hand down my neck!
    “He isn’t completely numb,” the nurse mentioned.
    He pulled again but harder this time.
    “Got it!” he said, ecstatically. He held aloft the pliers, looking at the tooth. Well, half of it anyway. “Blast!” he said. “It’s broken off.” He looked into my mouth and pulled the wedges out. “Hospital for you, son, they’ll have to cut this one out. I’ll give you a letter for the dental department at King’s College Hospital.”
    I sat up and rinsed my mouth out, still in agony. I left the surgery and sat down in the waiting room. After a few minutes, the receptionist came over and handed me a letter for the hospital.
    “You must be accompanied by an adult, otherwise they won’t attend to you.” she informed me kindly.
    The following day, I arrived at King’s with my mother. I was pumped up, feeling dopey and groggy with my mother’s own painkillers. We made our way down the corridor towards the dental department. She handed in my letter to the receptionist and we were told to take a seat and wait for our name to be called. We sat there for two hours in total silence. My face was swollen; the whole right side of my jaw was throbbing uncontrollably. Then it happened; my name was called. We both stood up and entered this small room that the receptionist pointed at. There were plastic covered foam benches all around the walls with a door at the end. We sat down and immediately the door opened. Standing in front of me was a guy dressed in a white robe and wearing a mask. Behind him were two female nurses.
    “Come this way, son. Mum can wait here for you,” he said in a low muffled voice.
    I walked into the room and immediately saw the dentist chair. There was a black cylinder and mask by the side. My pulse rate quickened and I felt scared.
    “OK, son, hop onto the chair, there’s a good fellow.”
    Both the nurses helped me on the chair, putting a bib around my neck.
    “Comfortable, are we?” asked the short blonde nurse.
    I just nodded my head in shock.
    “Open your mouth, please,” said the tall dark-haired nurse.
    My eyes were following every movement in front of me. She propped open my mouth with rubber wedges and she then proceeded to cover my face with this hideous-smelling rubber mask.
    “Right, when I tell you to, take a deep breath and then count to ten, OK?”
    I nodded, acknowledging her command. She turned the valve on the cylinder, prompting me to breath in. One, two, three. I was gone in the black abyss of sleep.
    I awoke flat out on the benches in the small room; my mouth was stuffed with blood-soaked swabs. I felt light-headed and extremely nauseous. My head was pounding and my pulse rate was unbelievable. I could feel it throbbing in every part of my body. I tried to stand up but my legs were like jelly. I fell and slumped back on the bench, totally out of it. The room was spinning round like I was on a fairground ride. My brain wasn’t functioning; it was completely numb. All my senses were gone. My mother dragged me out of the room and into the corridor, swaying to the exit. Once outside, the fresh air hit me like a sledgehammer. I dropped to my knees as they buckled under me. A passer-by helped my mum pick me up and they dragged me to the bus stop, plonking me down on a bench. We both sat there waiting. I slowly started to come around.
    “Here’s our bus. Come on, get up boy,” she shouted.
    I stood up swaying like a drunk; I put my hand on the centre pole, pulling myself onto the platform.
    “You’re not getting on my bus in that state, sonny Jim,” the bus conductor said, shaking his head in disgust. “I’ve got my passengers to think about. Sorry.”
    We both got off the bus; my mother was still cursing as she hailed a black cab. I was bundled into the back and promptly dozed off again. Once I got home, I slept for a further eight hours.
    My train of thought was broken by the sound of the bus pulling up. I looked up and saw that it was the number twelve to Camberwell. I fished in my pockets and retrieved two pence. As I jumped on the bus I heard a voice behind me call my name. I looked over my shoulder. It was Brian’s mum, Auntie Joyce. She was waving me over to where she was standing. I jumped off the bus and ran over to her.
    “You all right, Eddie?” she asked.
    “Not really, Joyce.”
    “Mrs. Young told me the police called earlier at your house, some sort of disturbance. She reckoned it sounded like someone was being murdered.”
    Mrs. Young was our next-door neighbour, and the local daily news.
    “Where’s your mother, Eddie? She’s not at home. I’ve just knocked. The house is in total darkness.”
    “He’s in the house asleep. Drunk again!” I said. “I haven’t a clue where my mum is. I was getting a bus to Camberwell to see if she’s at her sister’s.”
    She opened her handbag and handed me a scrap of paper.