Raven, page 5
‘Yeah, she can, and she can read better than me.’
Ida poured boiling water onto twice-used tea leaves in the pot and carried it over to the table. She brought across two cups and saucers and sat opposite her son. As she poured the weak tea, she studied his face. The tautness in his jaw made him look more like a man than a boy and his eyes held a festering anger. She bit down on her bottom lip, worried about how and when her son’s temper would manifest itself. He had many of his father’s traits, including Kevin’s explosive character, and one day, Ida knew that it would land her boy in deep trouble.
For now, with more pressing worries on her mind, she gratefully sipped her hot tea, nursing the warm cup in her cold hands. There was no milk or sugar to add to the tea and very soon, the tea leaves would be gone too. Her mind raced. The kids still hadn’t had anything to eat, and the rent was due on Monday. She was penniless. Kevin had left her without a pot to piss in. Yet she was silently grieving the death of the only man that she’d ever loved. Her rescuer, she’d called him, the day they’d met. He’d been her hero. A punter had been roughing her up and Kevin Kelly had swooped in. He’d dragged the lad off her before giving him a good beating.
Ida had stood against the alley wall and watched as Kevin had kicked the lad half to death. Then he’d taken her by the hand and pulled her out the alley and into a nearby club. There, he’d cleaned her wounds and she’d drunk his whisky. As she’d looked over the edge of her glass at her tough and brave hero, she’d instantly fallen in love. She hadn’t known that he’d owned the club and several more besides. Or that the punter he’d kicked the shit out of owed him money. And neither had she known that he was Liverpool’s biggest gangster who would turn out to be a right nasty bastard. Yet, no matter how many women he took to his bed, or how many times he’d given her a slap, she had never stopped loving the man.
The pent-up sorrow that she’d held in began to spill out. A tear slipped from her eye and then another.
‘Don’t cry, Mam,’ Thomas said. ‘I’ll look after us, I promise.’
Ida dabbed at her wet cheeks. ‘I know you will, darling,’ she sniffed. But deep down, she already knew what she’d have to do. In order to keep a roof over their heads and food in her children’s bellies, Ida Kelly would have to go back on the game.
4
A week later, his first day back at school since his father’s death, Thomas sat behind a wooden desk at the back of the class. His eyes bored into the rear of Eugene’s head. He could feel his cheek twitching with anger at the thought of Eugene Hawkins terrorising his little sister. It had been just before his dad had been killed. Thomas had seen Beth in the schoolyard, standing forlornly and trying desperately to put the head back on one of her dolls. The other was on the ground and by the look of the dirty shoe print on the doll’s face, someone had stood on it. Beth never spoke or even looked up at him but he could tell that she was deeply distressed.
Thomas had demanded to know who had done this to her dolls and she’d pointed at Eugene. He would have gone over right there and then and smashed in Eugene’s face but he had to look after his sister and get her home.
The bell rang, signifying lunchtime, snapping Thomas from his recollections of that day. He watched as Eugene packed away his books and then ambled out of the room. Thomas followed.
In the school corridor, kids were piling out from other classrooms. Teachers were yelling, ordering them to stop running. Thomas kept his narrowed eyes on Eugene.
Outside, in the schoolyard, Eugene met up with his mates. Thomas thought they were a right bunch of posh nancy boys. Eugene’s father was a local councillor and good friends with the headmaster. But Thomas knew that Eugene’s father had been on his dad’s payroll. Most of the Old Bill had been too.
Eugene sauntered towards the school gate, laughing and joking with his prissy pals. Thomas seethed. His fingers curled around the handle of the knife in his coat pocket.
Yards away from the gate, as if sensing that someone was watching him, Eugene turned around and stopped when his eyes fell on Thomas. His mates stopped walking too and checked to see who or what Eugene was looking at. When they saw it was Thomas, they nudged each other and mumbled amongst themselves. The tension felt thick. Everyone seemed to sense that there was going to be a confrontation.
Eugene stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets and stood with his hip poked out to one side. His relaxed shoulders and easy manner irked Thomas. Eugene showed no fear of him, or any remorse for what he’d done to Beth. That was about to change. His father wasn’t around anymore so it was down to him to show the likes of Eugene Hawkins that they couldn’t mess with his family.
‘Shouldn’t you be babysitting your dunce sister?’ Eugene asked spitefully. ‘Or is she busy playing with her dolls?’
Thomas saw red. His feet pounded across the yard towards Eugene, his fists flaying as rage engulfed him. He wasn’t sure if Eugene had hit him back or not. If he had, Thomas felt no pain. But somehow Eugene managed to get his arms around Thomas’s torso and the pair wrestled until he felt himself falling to the ground. The weight of Eugene landing on top of him winded Thomas, and then he felt a sharp pain in his ribs as Eugene punched him.
‘I’ll have you,’ he seethed, and reaching into his coat pocket, he felt the handle of his knife.
As he went to pull it out, Eugene suddenly jumped off and Thomas peered up to see the headmaster standing over him. The man was tall and thin, his long, pale face reflecting his annoyance.
‘Get up!’ Mr Graves barked.
Thomas, thankful that the knife was still in his pocket, pushed himself to his feet. Mr Graves grabbed him by the top of his ear and twisted it sadistically, which caused Thomas to wince in pain.
‘Fighting again, Thomas Kelly. You’ll be expelled from school this time, especially now that you haven’t got your father to fight your battles.’
‘Get off me,’ Thomas yelled.
When Mr Graves attempted to drag Thomas by the ear back towards the school building, Thomas swung his arm round and his swift fist landed in Mr Graves’s groin. The blow caused the man to release his grip of Thomas’s ear and double over in pain.
Thomas’s ear throbbed. He swung out again, this time catching the side of Mr Graves’s head. The headmaster remained on his feet but was still bent forward with his hands protectively clutching his man parts. ‘You are expelled from this school indefinitely!’ he barked.
‘Good,’ Thomas spat. ‘I’m never coming back to this shithole again. You were all scared of my father, the lot of you. And I’ll make sure that you’ll all be scared of me too.’ He glanced around. A crowd had gathered. Stunned faces stared back at him. He spotted Eugene.
‘I’ll be coming for you first,’ he warned and wagged his finger at him. ‘Watch your back ’cos I swear I’m going to rip your head off and shove it up your posh backside.’
Thomas walked out of the school with his shoulders pushed back and his chin jutting forward. He was no longer a schoolboy. He was a man now. And he’d do whatever it took to look after his mother and little sister, just as his father would have expected from him.
*
Half an hour later, the gravel on his father’s drive crunched under his feet as Thomas marched up to the front door. Full of confidence, he hammered on it until the nervous-looking elderly housekeeper answered. Without saying a word, he walked past her and into the big front room where the throne chairs were and the oversized portrait of his dad. Thomas immediately noticed that the painting was gone. He heard the doors bang close behind him and turned to see Morris Palmer standing there with Mabel beside him.
‘What are you doing here?’ Morris asked, his voice gravelly.
The giant of a man had worked for Thomas’s dad. He’d been Kevin Kelly’s right-hand man. He guessed that Morris had probably taken over the business and was now the guvnor of the Portland Pounders. Thomas cleared his throat. His bravado had vanished and he suddenly felt very small in the presence of the massive man. ‘I’ve come for a job.’
Morris laughed as he walked towards him. He took a puff on his cigar and blew the smoke directly into Thomas’s face. Thomas leaned back and turned his head away. Meanwhile, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mabel was at the cocktail cabinet and pouring two glasses of brandy.
‘You’ve come for a job. What sort of job? My shoe shiner? Or perhaps you’d prefer to be on the docks, a bum boy for the perves?’
Thomas felt disgusted at the suggestions and spat, ‘No way. I’m Kevin Kelly’s son. I know how the business works and I want a part of it.’ He pushed his chest out, trying to regain his bravado, but inside he was shaking.
‘Fuck off, you silly cunt. You’re only just out of short trousers. A part of the business,’ Morris guffawed. ‘Did you hear that, Mabel? The lad wants to be a part of the business.’
‘Yes, I heard. I suppose your mother sent you here to beg?’
‘No, she didn’t, and I’m not begging. I just want what’s rightfully mine.’
Morris jabbed Thomas firmly in the chest with his fat sausage finger and his bushy eyebrows knitted together. ‘You listen to me, boy, good and hard. Your father’s dead so I’m the boss now. You’ve got his name but you’re getting fuck all else. Is that clear?’
Thomas wasn’t ready to give up and said, ‘I’m not asking for money for nought. I’m prepared to work hard. I’ll graft.’
Morris poked him in the chest again, harder this time. ‘Piss off out of my house and don’t show your ugly mug round here again or you’ll end up buried in the same grave as your sicko father. Now, is that fucking clearer for you?’
Thomas could see that Morris wasn’t talking in jest. He meant every word. The man’s threat was real and he had no doubt that Morris would carry it through. Thomas felt his throat constricting with fear. Unable to utter a word, he nodded.
‘Right, you little prick. Now you know the score so FUCK OFF,’ Morris growled.
Thomas didn’t wait to be told twice and dashed past the mountain of a man. After anxiously fumbling with the doorknob, he hurried out. But not before hearing Morris spit, ‘What a piss-taking prick. I bet he ends up taking after his depraved father.’
Any dreams that Thomas had of working in his dad’s business were dashed, but away from Morris now, his anger mounted. He was Kevin Kelly’s son, but he’d been made to look weak, a fool. He scowled, determined that one day he’d make Morris Palmer eat his words. His dad would never have stood for this. And if his dad was watching over him from beyond the grave, then Thomas was hell-bent on making him proud.
His father’s words rang in his head. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. That’s what his dad had always said. And once he’d shown Morris Palmer who the real boss was, he’d get his revenge on that Georgina Garrett bitch too.
*
Ida peered at her reflection in the mirror. At thirty-two, she wasn’t too old to pull in the punters and she’d kept a tidy figure after birthing two kids. But the shame of it! She lived in a respectable street with neighbours who had decent jobs. The thought of going back to work in the labyrinth of Liverpool’s run-down slum areas left her feeling sick inside. She dreaded the notion of rotten, stinking men pawing at her body, yet she had no other option. She’d managed to avoid the rent man thus far and Thomas had pinched a loaf of bread and some veg, but they couldn’t continue to live hand to mouth like this. A second visit to Mabel had proved fruitless so now Ida resigned herself to selling herself for sex.
She heard the front door slam shut and went to the top of the stairs, calling down, ‘Is that you, our Thomas?’
‘Yes, Mam.’
Ida dashed down the stairs and found her son in the kitchen, peering at the empty larder. ‘What are you doing home? You should be at school.’
‘I’m not going back there.’
‘But you must, son. An education is important if you want to get on in life.’
‘My father wasn’t educated and he did all right.’
‘Your father’s work wasn’t legit – you know that. You’re not going to follow in his footsteps. I won’t have it. Don’t you want better for yourself?’
Thomas turned from the larder and Ida was shocked to see his face twisted in anger. She’d seen that same look on Kevin’s face many times.
‘You never complained about what my dad did for a living all the while you were getting his money,’ Thomas growled accusingly. ‘And don’t you ever bad-mouth my father again.’
Ida didn’t like her son’s tone, and began to fear her hold over him. Nevertheless, her voice hard, she said, ‘Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Thomas Kelly. You’re getting a bit too big for your boots lately.’
‘I’ll talk as I see fit, Mam. Let’s face it, you’re not going to earn any money; it’s going to be down to me. So, that’s it. I’m not going back to school. I’ll go out and graft or else we’ll all flippin’ starve to death.’
Before Ida could say anything, Thomas marched out of the kitchen and into the front room. She quickly followed, determined to talk him round and persuade him to finish his education. But as she went to voice her argument, they heard a heavy knocking on the front door. ‘Oh no, that’ll be the rent man. Quick, duck behind the sofa,’ she whispered urgently.
Ida crouched behind the sofa and ushered her son towards her. But Thomas remained stood where he was, peering out through the net curtains that covered the bay window.
‘Thomas… come here… he’ll see you.’
She heard the rent man’s voice on the other side of the front door. ‘I know you’re in there, Mrs Kelly. Open up.’
‘I’m not having this. I’ll tell him to sling his hook,’ Thomas seethed.
To Ida’s horror, she saw her son walk into the passageway and then heard him opening the front door.
Ida stood up and sloped into the passageway, her mind racing as she tried to come up with an excuse for not paying the rent and arrears.
‘Ah, young Thomas. Where’s your mother?’
‘Get lost.’
‘I don’t think so,’ the collector said. ‘Step aside.’
‘I told you to get lost.’
‘Let him in, Thomas,’ Ida ordered sharply.
The man stepped over the doorstep with Thomas glaring ominously at him. He walked into the small passageway and came face to face with Ida. The weedy-looking rent collector with greasy, lank black hair and beady eyes, ran his tongue over his thin lips and leered at her. As his eyes roamed over her from head to toe, Ida’s stomach turned.
‘Mrs Kelly, always a pleasure to see you,’ Mr Raynor drooled.
‘Come back at the end of the week and I’ll have the money I owe you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m rather busy. Good day to you.’ Ida spun on her heel and went to walk away from the man but he called after her.
‘I’m afraid the end of the week will be too late. You’ll be evicted by then if you don’t pay your arrears.’
Ida turned briskly back to face him. ‘We’ve lived in this house for years and never once been late with the rent. Doesn’t that count for anything?’
‘But circumstances have changed, Mrs Kelly. I know it was your late ex-husband who paid the rent and now it’s apparent that you can’t afford it without him. So, tell me, how are you going to find the means to meet the payments?’
‘I’ll pay it. That’s all you need to know.’
The rent man peered over his shoulder at Thomas and then stepped closer to Ida. His voice was barely more than a whisper when he leaned towards her and said, ‘We could come to another arrangement. You could pay off some of your debt to me in another way. Get rid of the boy. What do you say?’
Ida’s immediate thought was to tell the horrid man to sod off, in no uncertain terms! She felt insulted that he’d even suggested such a thing. But then the reality of her situation hit her like a steam train. She had no means to pay the debt and she’d already decided that she’d have to whore herself to support her family. Opening her legs to this weasel would be no different than selling her body on the streets. She hated herself for doing it but said to Thomas, ‘Go and meet our baby from school.’
‘But school isn’t finished for hours yet,’ Thomas protested.
‘Well hang about until it is,’ she ordered, tight-lipped and glaring at him. ‘I have things to discuss with Mr Raynor.’
Thomas huffed. ‘I’m not a kid, Mam. I should be included in any discussions.’
‘Just do as you’re told, Thomas,’ Ida barked.
Thankfully, her son didn’t defy her and slammed the front door as he left.
Mr Raynor stepped towards her. ‘Now then,’ he said, ‘we can clear a week’s rent in half an hour.’
Ida’s stomach turned in disgust. She wanted to cry but she knew what she had to do. ‘Put the bolt across the door,’ she instructed, but determined not to have the man in her pristine front room on her sofas, or in her bed, she walked through to the kitchen.
Once there, Ida turned to face Mr Raynor. She lifted her skirt up to her thighs and over her stockings.
Mr Raynor, with his eyes fixed firmly on the tops of her legs, quickly undid his trousers and let them slide to around his ankles. ‘Suck it,’ he ordered.
Ida lowered herself to her knees to take his flaccid penis in her mouth. A foul body odour emanated from between his legs and she had to fight back the bile that rose in her throat. As her lips moved back and forward over his manhood, Mr Raynor groaned in pleasure. Ida felt sick to her stomach and silently cursed Kevin for leaving them nothing and making her sink so low. She could only hope that Mr Raynor would finish quickly and her vile ordeal would be over soon.
*
Thomas steamed down the street with his arms swinging. He hated that his mother treated him like a child. He was the man of the house and it was about time that he was shown some respect instead of being dismissed to babysit his sister.
