Tommy was certain he was about to get the thrashing of his lifenot from the school bully, Mick, but from his own mum.
He whistled as he walked home, but his chest clenched. Oh, he was in for it now.
Auntie Maggie, his mums best mate, had seen him with a ciggie. He couldve lied, said someone handed it to himbut no. Auntie Maggie saw it between his lips. What was he supposed to say? *They shoved it in my mouth, like a prank?*
Tommy pretended not to notice her, and thankfully, she didnt scream or clip him round the earjust gave him a long, hard stare before walking off.
But Tommy wasnt stupid. He *knew* Auntie Maggie had already ratted him out, and now his mum was waiting with the belt. Hed already circled the block twice when he saw Gran.
Oh, brilliant. Heavy artillery. This was a banned move. Now Gran would start with the tears, the *”I taught hundreds of children as a headmistress, but couldnt raise my own grandson right!”* How ashamed she was. How Grandad must be spinning in his graveand the great-grandad before him, and all the ancestors, rattling their bones underground.
When he was little, that bit terrified him. Hed imagine the earth shifting as the dead turned over beneath it. Then one day, it clicked. Next time Gran wailed about ancestors spinning, Tommy said, *”Well, thats good, innit? Stops em getting bedsoreslike old Mrs. Wilson from down the road!”*
Gran clutched her chest. Mum burst out laughing, forgetting the beltthen *she* got a tea towel whipped at her by Gran.
Now Gran was hurrying toward him.
*”What are you doing out here? Why arent you home?”* Her eyes darted like *she* was the one caught smoking. *”Had a row with your mum?”*
*”N-no I havent even been home yet.”*
*”What dyou mean, not been home? Whereve you been all this time?”*
*”School, then football, then walking.”*
*”Oh, is that so?”* Tommy braced. Here it came*”Breathe on me.”* Then the interrogation. *”Whats this? Look at your hands! Red raw! Where are your gloves? *Where?*”*
*”Left em at home, Gran.”*
*”At *home*? And your mum didnt check? What kind of mother? Show me your ankles!”*
Gran yanked his trouser leg up, gasped, and wailed.
*”Whats this?”*
*”What, Gran?”* Tommy panicked.
*”Why are your ankles red? Where are your long johns? And your *scarf*?”*
Tommy burned with shame. Then he spotted Mick watching from the alley, his red beanie bobbing. Oh, *Gran*why now? Was she losing it? Shed always been sharp as a tack, but this?
*”Gran whats five times five?”*
*”Twenty-five,”* she said, baffled.
*”Whats the square of the hypotenuse?”*
*”Sum of the squares of the other two sides. Tommy, whats got into you? Did you skip your homework? She didnt even check? Unbelievable. Come on, lets gojust look at the state of her!”*
WaitGran was on *his* side? Maybe hed dodge Mums lecture. Was this a parallel universe? Had robots taken over? Was Gran even *Gran*?
*”Gran, which sides my appendix scar on?”*
*”You *dont* have one. They never took yours out.”*
Okay, still Gran.
She dragged him home by the wrist, huffing and puffing. Mum was in the kitchen, the smell of roast filling the air. She wore her good dress, curls pinned up, new earringsand *heels* indoors? Since when?
*”Tommy, love”* She pulled him into a hug. *”Wash up, dinners ready. Mum, you staying?”*
*”Whys this child wandering the streets? Scared to go home, is he? Well done, *well done*trading your own flesh and blood for *Where are his gloves? His long johns? Its freezing!* But no, you dont carewhy would you? Youve got your”*
*”Mum, *stop*. Are you eating with us or not?”*
*”No! Im never setting foot here again, understand? Andyou know what?”* She turned to Tommy. *”Pack your things, love. Youre coming with me.”*
*”Why, Gran?”*
*”To *live*, Tommy. With me. Lets go.”*
*”Nah, dont fancy it”*
The thought of Grans naggingno thanks.
*”Mum, Tommys staying *here*. In his home. With his *family*.”*
*”What home? You threw it all away! Tommy, *pack*.”*
*”Mum, if you dont stop, IllIll have to”*
*”What? *What*? Kick your own mother out?”*
*”Yes!”*
*”You *wicked*after all Ive!”*
Mum didnt let her finish. She grabbed Gran, *actually* manhandled her onto the landing, and slammed the door. Gran shrieked about calling the police, demanding Tommy back, something about a *prisoner*.
Mum hauled Tommy into the loungewhere a bloke sat stiffly, eyeing him.
*”Tom no lies. This is your dad.”*
Gran howled outside. Mum stood limp. The man rosetall, thin, with Tommys eyes. He held out a shaky hand.
*”Hello son.”*
Tommy recoiled, backed into the door.
*”Butyou said he *died*”*
*”Tess”* The man looked at Mum, miserable.
*”No, Dave*your mum* told him that. Said it was better than than knowing the truth.”*
Banging on the door.
*”Policeopen up!”*
*”Tess, maybe I should go”*
*”No. No more hiding. Tommy, well explainjust wait, love, dont be scared”*
Mum opened the door. Gran burst in, wild-haired, with a constable and nosy neighbours.
*”Reports of a disturbance”*
*”Nothings wrong. Just family dinner. My husbands back from Aberdeen. Our son.”*
*”But your mother”*
*”Hes an escaped convict! Arrest him! Tommy, come *here*he wont hurt you!”*
*”Mum, enough dramatics.”*
*”Your papers, sir?”*
*”Course.”*
*”Any convictions?”*
*”None. Worked offshore since school.”*
*”My apologies”*
*”Arrest him! He ruined my daughters lifeshe couldve had *anyone*!”*
*”Mum, *stop* embarrassing me!”*
Mum shut the door.
A *dad*? Eleven years without onewhy now? He had Mum, Gran and a living father. But Gran said he
Tommy had spent years ashamed of his *criminal* dad, killed in a drunken brawl. Thats what Gran whispered*dont tell anyone, such a disgrace*.
Turns out theyd *all* lied. Mum, Gran. A dad who wasnt dead.
*”Tom”* Mum saw it coming but didnt stop him. He snatched his jacket, shoes, and bolted.
Tommy ran, crying. Who to trust? If his own family betrayed him
*”Tommy!”* Mum shouted after him, but he didnt stop, clutching his clothes, barefoot.
*”Oi, kid”* Mick. Tommy didnt care. Couldnt get worse. *”Hold upwhos chasing you?”*
Mick grabbed his arm.
*”Whos after ya?”*
*”No one. Piss off.”*
*”Its brass monkeys out here. Youll catch your death.”* Mick mused, *”I was in hospital last yearate like a king. But you? Youre the soft type.”*
*”And youre what feral?”*
*”Suppose. Cmon, mines close. Mums on a train shiftshes a guard.”*
*”You live *alone*?”*
*”Aye.”*
The flat door looked gnawed by animals. Inside was clean but Tommy couldnt place it.
*”Keep your shoes on. My rooms here.”*
Posters covered Micks wallsBowie, Queen, The Clash. Tommy only knew Bowie.
Mum never let him stick posters uphe had one of The Beatles, traded for six holographic stickers. A dream: a glass-topped table, like Micks, scattered with postcards.
Anda *guitar*.
*”Yours?”*
*”Aye.”*
*”Tea?”*
Tommy nodded. Then his stomach growled. Shouldve eaten *before* running away.
*”Hungry? Fancy spaghetti hoops on toast?”*
Tommy shrugged. Never had it.
*”Mate, youre missing out.”*
Mick boiled pasta, fried onions, dumped in a tin of hoops, mixed it all. Tommy had never tasted anything so good.
They drank tea in chipped mugs, sugar cubes wrapped in blue train-printed paper.
*”Erm whats your real name?”*
Mick laughed.
*”Mike. Mike *Simmons*.”*
*”Why *Mick* then?”*
*”Dunno. Just stuck.”*
*”Play us something?”*
Mike strummed, sang*properly* good.
*”Youre like a rockstar. Whos this band?”*
*”Queen, you *plonker*.”*
*”Foreign, innit?”*
*”So?”*
*”Know Bowie, though. *Ashes to ashes*”* Tommy sang. Mike joined in on guitar. Brilliant.
*”You gotta go home. Theyll have the bobbies out by now.”*
Tommy scowled.
*”Whats up?”*
So he told him.
*”Dont be daft. A *dad*? Thats *mint*. Mines dunno. Mum says hes an astronaut.”*
*”Really?”*
*”Nah. She picked me up from a foster home after a shift. No gran, no grandadjust us. But she *kept* me. Ill finish school, make her quit trains. Dont be a prat, Tomsort it. *Their* mess, not yours.”*
*”Cheers, Mike.”*
*”For what?”*
*”Everything.”* Tommy hugged himtight.
Mike was right. He walked Tommy home.
The whole street was searchingMum, Gran, neighbours, a constable and *him*. The *dad*.
They explained it laterhow Mum fell pregnant, how Gran never wanted her with Tommys dad. But they stayed together. Then Dad left for work, Mum stayed with Tommy and Gran *wrote* to him, pretending Mum had remarried, telling him to stay away.
Dad sent a furious reply.
Then he met someone elsejust moved in with her. Mum found out, divorced him.
Theyd been writing again for three years. Dad lived alonecouldnt lie to that woman, said he loved someone else.
*”Why?”* Tommy asked Gran. *”Why?”*
*”I wanted happiness. For her. For you.”*
*”What about *Dads* happiness?”*
*”Forgive me please.”*
On Tommys birthday, he invited Mike. Mike gave him a Bowie posterand *Mum* let him pin it up.
Not Mike. The poster. *Ashes to ashes, funk to funky*
Tommy forgave them allGran, Mum, Dad.
*”Grown-up stuff,”* Mike had said.
And when Gran found out Mike lived alone? She *adopted* himfed him pies, stew, helped him nail his maths GCSE.
Theyve been best mates ever since. Like brothers.
At the caravan park summers, theyd sing with the guitar, eat spaghetti hoops like kingseven when theres *real* food.
And Dad? Tommy loves him. Hes got half-siblings nowall get along. But with *him*?
Something special.
