A Cockney's Journey (26 page)

    “Left, left, left right left, about turn, right, right, right left right. Change your feet, laddie, keep in rhythm, left, left, left right left, swing those bloody arms with your feet,” the governor’s right hand man would scream at the top of his voice. In rain, snow and howling winds, he never let up, changing your lead from left to right whenever he felt like it, causing chaos in the ranks. Being in prison wasn’t easy. In fact, it was bloody hard and miserable. The only consolation I had was the fact that once out, I would never in a million years return.
    While playing for the rugby team, it was common practice to train three nights a week in the prison gym. Other cons used the gym’s facilities, which included snooker, table tennis, weights and five-a-side football. After training one evening, I witnessed a horrific gruesome attack on two inmates. Three guys carrying socks started scowling in anger, running over, smashing these guys across the head and body with their socks. I didn’t know it at the time but they were filled with snooker balls. I stood, gazing in horror, while these guys got seriously beaten. The blood spurted all over the gym floor. Nobody said or did fuck all to help those poor guys; they just acted like nothing was going on and that’s what prison is like. Because you’re in each other’s faces 24-7, you’re afraid to speak out, for fear of reprisals. Many a time I’ve even witnessed screws turning a blind eye when a nonce (sex offender) was being given a slap. Most nonces, after several beatings, ended up down the block, being banged up on a rule 42 for their own protection. Some of the inmates acted like fucking deranged animals, looking for any reason whatsoever to give you grief. The best form of defence while you’re in the nick is simply to keep a low profile and blend in without being noticed. If you draw attention to yourself, in any way, shape or form, on your head be it. During my sessions with Father Bruce, I found complete peace and serenity. Unfortunately that inner peace soon left me when I was back on the wing, surrounded by bitter aggressive cons.
    The next few weeks flew by and before I knew it, I had been inside for five months, knowing in eight or nine weeks I’d be eligible for parole, if I kept my nose clean. Father Bruce asked me if I would like to be baptised and confirmed at Rochester Cathedral in a couple of weeks’ time. I had no hesitation in accepting his kind offer. Being trustee, I now started escorting prison workers to the farm and eventually the women’s prison that was being built just on the outskirts of Rochester’s town centre. Mind you, all the prisoners I escorted were trustees and most of them were only two weeks away from being released. Consequently, I never had any problems on our journeys to and from the prison. I wish the same could be said of my escorts to and from the hospital wing. There was this one guy who was a complete and utter dipstick. I used to take him on a regular basis to see the prison doctor. On one particular occasion returning to the wing, the muppet legged it, heading towards the twenty foot wire fence. I watched in amazement while he scaled the fence. To give him credit, for a dickhead, he could climb. Within minutes, the prison sirens were wailing and the whole area was full of laughing screws. He reached somewhere near the top, crying out that he would top himself if challenged. What happened next came as a complete surprise to everyone. He flung himself off the fence, crashing down onto the exercise yard’s concrete floor. He spent the rest of his sentence in the hospital wing, after breaking both his legs and fracturing his right elbow and wrist.
What a plum,
I thought to myself.
    The following week, me and two other cons were baptised and confirmed in Rochester Cathedral. The ceremony was performed by the church’s bishop, Well, I think he was a bishop; he wore a tall pointed mauve headpiece. The ceremony was a beautiful occasion. There have only been a few occasions in my life that I felt so close to Jesus, and my confirmation was one.
    Bank holiday Monday, the day after Boxing Day, wow! What a battle; cons versus Lewes Prison’s screws. There was loads of hype going around, seeing as Rochester’s cons rugby team had beaten Pentonville last year. Apparently, this is a yearly event, but Rochester had only one victory marked up on the shield. Unfortunately, last year’s victory was a flash in the pan; a last minute fluke drop goal winning the game. However, this match wasn’t going to be decided in the final minute; more like the first forty-five! We were out-played, out-run and out-fought for the first half. Going in for tea, we were 38 points to nil down. Rudi got battered to fuck; we all did. The whole team limped off the field in disgust at the score line. Lewes’ screws were big strong motherfuckers; their average age was thirty-five plus, while ours was only nineteen.
    During the second half, Lewes had pushed their scrum down from one end to the other, easily bagging another try. Half an hour to go and 48 points behind, unbelievably, we started to get on top and run them ragged. There’s something to say about young legs. The Lewes team had started to flag rapidly as we pushed forward. One, two, three tries went over, followed by two successful kicks. The last ten minutes were very bruising; untold fouls and seriously late tackles stemmed our progress. Then, out the blue, Rudi was sent off for what I can only describe as an innocuous challenge. The referee, who was a screw, saw the incident as violent conduct, which he would, really, wouldn’t he? I mean, his mates were being battered in the final quarter of the game. In the dying moments, I slipped past two knackered screws, bearing down to convert a try. Suddenly from nowhere, I took a full blow from this screw’s elbow in my face; the impact made me drop the ball and I lay on the floor in a crumpled heap, holding my bleeding nose. This screw ran past collecting the ball and deliberately stamped on my bloody ankle. The referee then decided to blow the final whistle, ignoring the fact that I’d just been seriously fouled. We trudged off the field having been beaten 48 points to 26. That, I might hasten to add, was the last time I ever played bloody rugby.
    My time in prison was now coming to an end. Standing in front of the prison board, waiting to see if my application for parole was successful, I was over the moon to see that it was. The governor informed me that I would be returning to society in seven days. The euphoria I felt cannot be described; knowing my nightmare would soon be over. You know the old saying
once bitten, twice shy
.
    Friday morning at 7:30, I was standing with my back to the prison gates and my personal belongings under my arm. Sighing with relief and taking a deep breath of fresh morning air, I vowed that never again, would I ever put myself through such trauma, and I never did.
    My father-in-law arrived with Sue, to take me back to the Old Kent Road for one almighty big piss up. Three weeks down the line, after settling back into normality, I started work on a building site in Bermondsey. Not the best of jobs, labouring, but it put food on the table and paid the bills. I turned my back on all the guys I knew before getting put down; making a completely clean break. In fact, I got so wrapped up with my family that I never made any more close friends again. The reason was simple; everyone that I had held in high esteem would end up either getting me into trouble, hurting me or taking the piss out of me. So, my decision would be to stay alone; all my soul needed was my family. Unfortunately, my earlier decision would prove catastrophic when my marriage ended, and I was left totally alone to deal with the trauma of a divorce with no support from anyone. However, I’m a born survivor and that’s exactly what I did; I survived.
    Over the next two years, I kept flitting from one job to another in a vain attempt to better myself. Echoing in my ears over the years was my old man’s words, “You’re nothing; you’ll never amount to sod all, and you will always be a loser. You’re a poor excuse of a man.”
    I’ve never agreed with anything that he’s said or done to me. However, the way my life has panned out makes me think he was right.
    My second son, Stephen, was born. Even to this day, I believe God blessed me with my sons, regardless of the fact that they were to be taken from me years later, after a bitter divorce. Mind you, I ended up with the jewel in the crown in my Edward, my third son! It’s funny how you can be wrapped around people for years, not knowing that they hate you. Love really does make you blind. Anyway, as I said, I flitted from one job to another. The need to earn more money than I got from labouring was paramount. It was while labouring on a site that I met Leroy; he would prove instrumental in my future. Taking the time in lunchbreaks and Saturday mornings to teach me his trade, which was carpentry, eventually Leroy persuaded our boss that he needed a mate to help him fit kitchens and carry heavy fire-check doors up the stairs. So, for the next year, I ended up fitting kitchens and hanging doors for an extra twenty pounds per week. Leroy drummed it into me that in years to come nobody would just want chippies.
    “You must watch and learn other trades, Eddie. All builders in the near future will be looking for multi-traders; guys who can turn their hand to anything,” he kept reminding me daily.
    Leroy was a hundred percent right. During the early eighties, the term
multi-trade
was commonly used for guys with experience in all aspects of the building game. Having a family to look after, I decided to blag my way through the next few years masquerading as a carpenter multi-trade, getting hired and fired more times than I can truly remember. My love for horseracing started to get seriously out of hand and I would sometimes lose a whole week’s wages in one afternoon. I would then have to go home, lying that I never got paid. How the fuck did Sue ever put up with my gambling, my mood swings when I lost and the elation when I had it off, which was not very often, and sulking when I was skint? Bloody hell, how the fuck did I allow myself to get sucked into that sort of depressing life? I was always looking for a quick buck any way possible; chasing rainbows and dreams that would never materialise. That, I’m afraid, is Yours Truly - a dreamer!
    It was a hot summer’s day when our new neighbours moved in; Danny, Maureen and their six-year-old daughter Natasha. We all hit if off straight away, especially Danny and me. Sue and Maureen would go out drinking, while Danny and I baby-sat. We took it in turns baby-sitting for each other, which worked out really well. Twice a month on a Friday night, and sometimes more depending who was performing, Danny and I would go to the Marquee Club in Soho where up-and-coming rock bands performed live. Oh boy, we saw some tasty bands in that club! Bit cramped but definitely sublime.
    My taste in music is very diverse. It has been known for me to listen to Pink Floyd, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Led Zeppelin, Pavarotti, José Carreras and Black Sabbath in the same evening. I just love music. My interests in life were vast; Danny’s, however, remained insular, preferring to get stoned and pissed, while listening to rock music. I moved on from that scene, leaving Danny boy’s head still hovering in the clouds. Don’t get me wrong; I had my fair share of wacky baccy during those three years, getting stoned more or less every weekend. Danny, though, smoked the shit every single day. I can’t remember in those three years, ever seeing him not being under the influence of marijuana, which was extremely sad.

CHAPTER TWELVE
    It was a freezing cold February evening and the boys were in bed, asleep. Sue and I were watching the box, both trying to hog the electric blow heater. Suddenly we heard a loud noise and screaming coming from the back yard. Jumping up, I moved swiftly to the back kitchen and wiped the condensation from the widow. I noticed Danny running about with a flashlight. Opening the back door and being hit by a bitter gust of wind, I shouted out, “Everything alright, Dan?” No reply came, so I called out again. This time Dan responded.
    “Maureen reckoned she saw this figure at Natasha’s bedroom window,” he informed me. By this time, I was in the yard looking around with Danny.
    “What did he look like, Dan?” I asked curiously, thinking she was probably pissed and him stoned.
    “Tall figure, wearing a black hat and cloak,” he said looking slightly puzzled.
    “What?” My blood ran cold at his description of the intruder. “Are you sure, Dan?” I asked nervously.
    “Maureen says it acted like it was looking for someone.”
    Oh shit, it can’t be. Why now? He’s left me alone for the last four years. No, it can’t be him. Impossible, I thought to myself.
    “Dan, did you see him, or what?”
    “No, not a sign, although…” Dan hesitated. “I thought I saw a shadow glide over the back wall and when I say glide, I mean more like float,” he said, shaking his head, trying to make sense out of what he just said.
    I looked round. Sue was standing by the back door, wrapped in a blanket. Her face was expressionless as she listened to Danny’s remarks.
Fuck me, this is all I need. Two bloody paranoid neighbours trying to convince me that Tyzak was on the prowl looking for me.
Maureen appeared in the yard then, looking distraught.
    “Did you see him, Dan?” she asked, slurring.
My God, she is pissed.
    “No, except, err…nah, nothing at all, girl, you must have imagined it” he said, trying to convince her that she must have hallucinated. Mind you, Maureen did like her booze and Danny, well, need I say more? I’m surprised they didn’t see King Kong hanging from their bloody washing-line wearing pink pyjamas, considering the state they were in. Man, what a win-double.
    “I’m telling you, Dan. There was someone at the window, dressed in black, I swear. I know I’ve had a drink, but believe me, I know what I saw,” she said swaying and slurring even more.
    “OK, let’s have a look in the coach yard,” I said, trying to pacify her. Our yards backed onto the local hire company’s yard. So, like an idiot, I climbed the wall and started shining Danny’s flashlight across the roofs of five blue coaches.
    “Wait there, Ed. I’ve got another torch indoors. Won’t be a sec,” Danny informed me, disappearing down the yard and into his kitchen. Suddenly, in the freezing darkness, the eerie silence was broken by a thunderous crash, which made my heart jump up into my throat. At that point, Danny came running out of the house brandishing his torch, flooding the area where I was standing in light. Across the courtyard, on top of the last coach was, to my horror, this figure dressed in black.
Fucking hell, she bloody did see someone,
I thought to myself. Gazing in disbelief and pointing the flashlight at the figure, I was joined on the wall by Danny who, in turn, pointed his torch to where mine was trained. We both looked at each other in complete shock. The figure proceeded to leap from coach to coach, heading in our direction. The only consolation in my mind was the fact that it wasn’t Tyzak.
    “Stop right there, pal, otherwise I’ll bash the granny out of ya,” I said, trying to bluff him into stopping his approach.
    “Yeah, that makes two of us,” Dan blurted out. The figure stopped on the fourth coach, staring at us. All of a sudden we heard a whirring sound above and then the whole coach yard and surrounding houses were flooded in light.
    “Don’t move, you’re surrounded. Put your hands above your head and stay put.” The officer was shouting orders through his microphone while leaning out of the police helicopter. Within seconds, the whole area was swarming with old Bill. The guy turned and leapt back across the coaches towards the building, dropping down to the ground and disappearing from view. We heard glass being smashed frantically, followed by loud cracks and bangs; he was obviously determined to get into the building to escape the old Bill. Maureen had sobered up during the whole incident.
    “Told ya, didn’t I?” she blurted in Dan’s ear.
    “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Dan said, lighting up a fag. After a while, the old Bill apprehended their prey and the evening’s silence returned. Rubbing my hands together, I hoped the friction would warm them up. I started to blow into my cupped hands, trying in vain to bring some sort of life back to my numbed fingers. Feeling bloody cold and practically frostbitten, I decided to call it a day and bade my farewells to Dan and Maureen. Once inside, Sue and I went straight up to bed, feeling cold, tired and slightly traumatised. We both cuddled up, promptly falling fast asleep.
    I awoke suddenly to the sound of whispering in the bedroom. Focusing my eyes in the dark, I scanned the room, half asleep, trying to see where the faint whispers were coming from. After a few moments, I started to get a grip on my waking senses. The hairs on my arms stood on end, the bedroom freezing from the lack of heating. The whispers seemed to be in the corner of the room, yet I couldn’t see anything. I knew it wasn’t any of the boys, because the faint whispers sounded a bit hoarse. I slid out of the bed, shivering, and stood, peering towards the far corner. Suddenly, my attention was drawn to the sound of yet more faint whispers but this time coming from the landing outside the boys,’ bedroom. Slowly creeping around the bed, not wanting to wake Sue, I felt my way in the darkness. I stood on the landing, noticing that the faint whispers had ceased. Facing the boys’ bedroom door, I listened to their breathing, which I could hear easily, seeing as the door was slightly ajar. I turned round towards our bedroom, with the sole intention of slipping back into the warm bed, thinking I must have imagined the voices, when suddenly an icy breeze rushed up the stairs to where I stood. I shivered violently, trying to catch my breath. There was no fear in my body, only curiosity.
Why are they visiting me?
Then I heard faint voices in the boys’ room so, slowly and quietly, I pushed the door open and entered the room. The voices stopped immediately. Leaning over, I switched the boys’ night-light on. I gazed in horror, as lying across Daniel’s face was this fucking huge black tomcat. Screaming like a madman, I grabbed the cat by the throat, dangling it at arm’s length. Sue jumped out the bed and, when she realised what was happening, she ran hysterically into the boys’ room, grabbing Daniel and giving him a cuddle. Stephen sat bolt upright crying and sobbing. I ran down the stairs, opened the yard door and threw the cat like it was a tennis ball. The bloody cat had ripped my arm to bits. Standing over the kitchen sink and running water over my bleeding arm, I shouted up to Sue. “Daniel alright?”
    “Yeah, just a bit shaken,” she said, sounding relieved.
    “The bastard must have run in while we were out in the yard, earlier,” I said.
    “How the hell did you know, Eddie?” she asked, looking, more than a bit puzzled.
    “Well, it’s like this,” I paused, thinking she wouldn’t be able to handle the fact that I was warned by the spirit world. “I was busting for a jimmy and luckily I heard the bloody thing as I walked past their bedroom,” I lied most convincingly.
    “Come on, Ed, let’s get back to bed. The boys are freezing,” she said, while jumping into bed with them.
    “What a bizarre night this has been,” I said, slipping into bed, feeling thankful for
their
intervention. Leaning over, I kissed Sue, Daniel and Stephen goodnight. All four of us cuddled up to keep warm and fell blissfully asleep.
    The following morning, I slipped out of bed and peered through the bedroom window. While shivering there, I noticed that the whole street was covered in a blanket of snow, much to the kids’ delight. Bloody snow now.
Ain’t it cold enough?
I thought, trudging down the stairs half-heartedly. Sue was drinking tea, while watching the boys throw snowballs in the back yard.
    “Who made the snowman?” I asked yawning.
    “I did before they got up. It’s bloody perishing out there,” she said, cupping her hands around the hot mug of tea. The boys were wrapped up like little teddy bears, running around like loonies and laughing their heads off.
    “Here you are, Ed,” Sue stuffed a mug of piping hot tea into my hands. Thanking her, I sat down on the sofa, stretching my legs out, so my feet were in touching distance of the blow heater. Sunday;
how I loved Sundays
, I thought while sipping my tea. After we all had breakfast, Danny knocked on the front door. He told us that the guy the old Bill nicked last night was an escaped convict. He reckoned he heard all about it on the local radio station early this morning. Apparently, he’d been on the run from Brixton prison for five days.
    “Anyway Ed, that was last night. Today’s another day, you still coming down the boozer dinnertime?” he asked.
    Well, I’ve never missed a Sunday pint in years. There’s nothing like a few beers and then coming home to a mouth-watering Sunday roast and, of course, watching
Match of the Day
.
    “It’ll take more than snow to stop me going down the pub,” I said laughing. A couple of hours later, Danny and I were trudging through the snow on our way down the local. Inside, the open fire blasted out a welcoming heat.
    “Two pints of lager, please, love. Oh and two bags of nuts as well,” I said pointing a fiver in the barmaid’s direction. While waiting for my drinks, I caught a glimpse of this blonde woman, perched on a stall by the bar. She wore tight denim jeans, tucked into knee-high brown boots, with a matching brown jacket with tassels hanging from the arms. My attention was drawn back to the bar where my drinks were ready, however, I kept one eye trained on the beauty sitting at the bar.
    Cheers, Ed. Tasty, isn’t she?” Danny said, raising his eyebrows.
    “Yeah, not many! Mind you, Dan, she looks somewhat familiar. I’m sure I know her,” I said.
    “You wish! In your dreams, maybe?” Danny remarked sarcastically.
    I couldn’t keep my eyes off her; all I could see was the side of her face. Then it dawned on me who she was.
My God, she’s still bloody gorgeous.
She sat with her elbows on the bar, sipping her wine and looking into the mirror behind the bar. I glanced over at the mirror and our eyes made contact immediately. She spun round on the stool, looking directly into my eyes, just like she used to do and her smile told me it
was
her, after all these years. Danny looked completely gobsmacked and extremely jealous.
    “Candy! Blimey, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” I said, moving rapidly around the bar.
    “Eddie, oh my God, it’s really you!” she cried, putting her arms around my neck and planting a smacker on my lips. Everyone in the pub stood watching her actions, as she jumped up and down in excitement. She held me at arms length, looking me over.
    “Bloody hell, Ed. You’ve turned into a right tasty young man!” she said pulling me back towards her and giving me another large hug.
    “Candy,” I said, trying to control my excitement, “I’d like to introduce you to a mate of mine, Danny.” I’d nearly forgotten he was there.
    “Hi,” she said, and then continued directing her attention towards me. “How long has it been, Ed?” she asked.
    “About six years, or so,” I smiled, recalling the last time we saw each other. “You still got that old banger?” I said laughing.
    Her eyes sparkled as if my comment brought back loving memories. “Nah, that was crushed a few years ago,” she smiled, her beautiful eyes wide open and staring deep into my eyes with a loving look.
Wow!! She really is an angel
. My head started to spin, while my whole body tingled.
Oh boy, what a beauty.
    To this day, I’ve never ever met anyone whose eyes made my whole body tingle like Candy’s. I often think of her, wondering if she was the one and I didn’t know it at the time. It wouldn’t surprise me if I had truly missed the boat with Candy. That, however, will never be known; not in this life anyway. Maybe we will meet again in another dimension. I truly hope so.
    We sat in the pub chatting and drinking for hours, with poor old Dan playing the gooseberry. I tried to bring him in on the conversations, but Candy kept cutting him short every time. Dan would stand up and declare, “My round, same again?” and we would both say yes and thank him. While he stood at the now packed bar waiting to be served, Candy came out with some startling revelations.
    “Eddie,” Candy said, pausing, “there’s something I’ve got to tell you, ever since you first started work in the market.” She paused again, sighed and lit a cigarette. “That night, when you sorted out my car, do you remember, Ed?” she asked, inhaling and blowing out a cloud of smoke.
    “Yeah, I’ll never forget that night; for more reasons than one!” I replied, smiling.
    “Well, it was then that I realised that…” again she paused, looking deep into my eyes. “What I’m trying to say, Eddie, oh this is so difficult! Look, Ed, I am bloody crazy about you. Not a day has gone by without you crossing my mind; wondering where you were and if you were happy. I know it’s pathetic, but I can’t help the way I feel,” she said, her eyes starting to well up. Reaching into her handbag, she pulled out a hanky and promptly blew her nose and gently dabbed her eyes. “I couldn’t say nothing, believe me, Ed, when I tell you that I wanted to, but I just couldn’t. You were only fifteen. I used to lie in bed, wishing I was the same age as you and then everything would be alright.” Candy sighed, her eyes sparkling again. I didn’t know what to say. To be honest, I was completely shocked. Here, sitting in front of me, was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met and she’s professing her undying love.
    “You should have bloody told me, Candy. I didn’t care that I was only fifteen. I felt and still do feel the same as you. But it’s too late; six bloody years too late,” I said, feeling completely pissed off.
    “If you love me like I love you, why is it too late?” Candy asked, shrugging her shoulders and looking puzzled.
    “Because I’m married with two sons now,” I sighed.