**A Special Bond**
Tommy was certain he was about to get the hiding of his lifenot from the local troublemaker, Baz, but from his own mum.
He whistled as he walked home, but his stomach twisted into knots. Oh, he was in for it now.
Auntie June, Mums best mate, had caught him with a fag. He couldve lied, said someone handed it to him, butwell, Auntie June had seen it *in his mouth*. What was he supposed to say? *They stuffed it in my gob, like some sort of party trick?*
Tommy pretended he hadnt spotted her, and to her credit, she didnt shriek or wallop him. Just gave him a long, knowing look before carrying on.
Still, Tommy wasnt daft. Auntie June had definitely grassed him up, and Mum would be waiting with *the slipper*. He was on his third lap around the block when he spotted Granny.
Oh, brilliant. The heavy artillery. This was against the rulesnow shed go full waterworks, wailing about how shed raised half the neighbourhoods kids as a retired headmistress, and yet her *one* grandson was running wild. How ashamed Granddad would be, spinning in his gravealong with every ancestor going back to the Norman Conquest.
When Tommy was little, this bit terrified him. Hed imagine the ground buckling as all those disgruntled forebears tossed and turned. Then, one day, it clicked. The next time Granny started on about *eternal restlessness*, Tommy piped up, *”Well, at least theyre not getting bedsores like old Mrs. Jenkins down the road!”*
Granny clutched her pearls. Mum nearly choked laughing. The slipper was forgottenthough *she* got a tea towel snapped at her for her trouble.
Now, Granny was power-walking toward him.
*”What are you doing out here? Why arent you home?”* Her eyes darted about like *she* was the one caught smoking. *”Had a row with your mum?”*
*”N-no I havent even been home yet.”*
*”Havent been? Whereve you been all this time?”*
*”School, then football, then just walking”*
*”Lets have a look at you.”* Here it comes, Tommy thought. The breath test. The interrogation. *”Why are your hands so red? Where are your gloves?”*
*”Left em at home, Nan.”*
*”And your mum didnt notice? Whats *that* about? Lift your trouser leg.”*
Tommy obliged. Granny gasped like hed revealed a war wound.
*”What in blazes?”*
*”What, Nan?”* Tommy panicked.
*”Why are your ankles red? Where are your thermal socks? And your *scarf*?”*
Mortification burned through him. Then he spotted Baz lurking by the alley, grinning under his stupid red beanie. Cheers, Nan. Could she *be* more embarrassing? Maybe shed lost the plot. Early-onset something. Shed always been sharp as a tack before.
*”Nan whats five times five?”*
*”Twenty-five,”* she said, baffled.
*”Whats the square of the hypotenuse?”*
*”The sum of the squares of the other two sides. Thomas, have you not done your maths? She didnt even check? Right, were *going* home. I *swear*, that girl”*
Waitwas Granny on *his* side? Could he dodge Mums lecture? Had he slipped into a parallel universe? Were they all robots? Was this even his *real* nan?
*”Nan, which sides my appendix scar on?”*
*”You havent *had* your appendix out.”*
Okay, definitely her.
She dragged him home at double speed, huffing like a steam train.
Mum was in the kitchen, wearing her nice dress, curls done, new earringsand *heels*? At home? Since when?
*”Tommy-love!”* She hugged him. *”Wash up, dinners nearly ready. Mum, you staying?”*
*”Whys this child wandering the streets? Afraid to come home, is he? *This* is what happens when you Where are his gloves? His thermals? Its *freezing*. But no, youre too busy with your *fancy man*”*
*”Mum. *Stop*.”*
*”I *wont* stop! Tommy, pack your things. Youre coming with me.”*
*”Why, Nan?”*
*”To *live*, sweetheart.”*
Tommy pictured a lifetime of Grannys nitpicking. Hard pass.
*”Hes staying *here*,”* Mum said firmly. *”With his family.”*
*”What family? Youve thrown it all away for Right, *Thomas*, were *leaving*.”*
*”Mum, if you dont stop, Ill Ill have to”*
*”What? *What*? Throw your own mother out?”*
*”YES!”*
Granny wailed about betrayal. Mum didnt let her finishjust *yanked* her onto the landing and *slammed* the door.
Granny screeched about calling the police, demanding custody, something about a *jailbird*.
Mum hauled Tommy into the loungewhere some bloke sat stiffly, eyeing him like a bomb about to go off.
*”Tom this is Well. No point lying. This is your dad.”*
Granny howled through the door. Mum stood frozen. The mantall, lanky, with Tommys eyesstood and awkwardly offered a hand.
*”Hello son.”*
Tommy *flinched*.
*”Butyou *died*.”*
*”Annie”* The man looked gutted.
*”That wasnt *me*,”* Mum whispered. *”It was *her*. She said it was better you thought”*
The doorbell rang. *Pounded*.
*”Police! Open up!”*
The room erupted. Granny, a PC, and half the neighbours burst in.
*”We had reports of a disturbance”*
*”Just a family dinner,”* Mum said tightly. *”My husbands home from Aberdeen. *Our* son.”*
Granny shrieked about *escaped convicts*. The officer sighed.
*”Sir, any prior convictions?”*
*”None. Worked oil rigs since I was eighteen.”*
Granny wasnt having it. *”He *ruined* her! She couldve married a *doctor*”*
*”Mum, *enough*!”* Mum shoved them all out and locked the door.
A *dad*? Eleven years without onewhy now? He had Mum. Granny. A *living* dadbut Granny said hed died in a pub brawl. A *shameful secret*.
Except it was all lies.
Mum reached for himbut Tommy *bolted*. Grabbed his coat, shoes, and *ran*.
He sprinted, crying, lost. Who to trust? If your own family lied
*”TOMMY!”* Mums voice faded behind him.
*”Oi, mate.”* Baz materialised beside him. *”Whos chasing ya?”*
*”No one. *Piss off*.”*
*”Its brass monkeys out here. Youll catch your death.”* Baz shrugged. *”Come mine. Mums on shift.”*
Bazs flat was *lived-in*. PostersThe Clash, Queen, Oasispapering the walls. A *guitar* propped in the corner.
*”Fancy a brew?”*
Tommy nodded. His stomach growled.
*”Hungry? Hows pasta with sardines sound?”*
Tommy shrugged.
Baz cooked like a proonions sizzling, tinned fish mashed in. It was *amazing*.
Over tea (in proper mugs, sugar cubes pinched from a café), Tommy asked, *”Whys everyone call you *Baz*?”*
*”Dunno. Just stuck. Names *Barry*, buteh.”* He grinned. *”Wanna hear something *proper*?”*
He played *Wonderwall*. Badly. But Tommy *laughed*.
*”You *gotta* go home, mate.”*
Tommys smile died.
*”Lookhaving a dads *boss*. Mines dunno. Mum says hes an astronaut.”* Barry snorted. *”Shes a trolley dolly. Found me on a layover. No family, just us. But shes *solid*. Dont be a divasort it.”*
Tommy *hugged* him.
Later, they talked. Mum, Dad, Grannythe whole mess. Dad *had* left for work. Granny *had* faked letters. Mum *had* filed for divorce. But theyd reconnected.
*”Why?”* Tommy asked Granny.
*”I wanted *better* for you both.”*
*”And *him*?”*
She crumpled. *”Forgive me.”*
On his birthday, Barry came. Gave him a *Queen* poster*Mum let him hang it*.
Tommy forgave them. *”Grown-up stuff,”* Barry said.
Granny *adopted* Barryfed him roast dinners, tutored his maths.
Years later, theyd still meet at Barrysstrumming *Wonderwall*, eating sardine pasta like it was gourmet.
And Dad? They had something special.
