Trilogy Collection

She looked across the road, finding it impossible to place it. It had seemed to come from there but there was no one on the street. Then something seemed to move at the edge of her vision and she looked up and realised she was across the road from Mucky Melvin’s. He was waving at her out of his upstairs window.

Mucky Melvin was really old and really smelly; one of the people her mum and dad always told her to keep away from. She wasn’t quite sure why – though the estate kids always speculated about it, if any of them ever asked a grown-up, they got the usual answer: ‘Because I said so.’ She knew he was disgusting though, because the council had to keep coming up to his house to fumigate it and get rid of all the rats. Hundreds of them, apparently. He lived like a tramp. He barely left his house, but when he did venture out, all the kids used to torment him and call him names. Noncey Melvin, they used to taunt him, and Smelly Melly. She didn’t know what a nonce was, but she knew it was something bad. It was why they threw eggs at his house all the time too and, as Josie crossed the road, she could see the tell-tale streaks down the walls and the windows – only some of which still had panes of glass in.

‘Alright, Melvin,’ she said, stepping onto the opposite pavement. ‘What’s up?’

He was leaning out, one hand on the handle of the window, his shoulder-length hair, which was greying, hanging in stringy curtains either side of his filthy face. He was wearing the same thick brown cardigan he usually did – the cardigan someone had once pointed out was the same colour as his few remaining teeth. ‘If I throw you some money down,’ he asked her, ‘will you get me some fags from the Paki shop?’ He pulled his features into what might have been a smile. ‘You can get yourself some sweets.’

Josie thought about it. She knew very well that she was meant to keep away from Melvin. Her mum was always telling her she had to ignore him. Given today, this was what made her mind up.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Chuck us it down then. How much can I have for sweets?’

Melvin grinned. ‘You can have a tanner, but don’t be spending it on separates. I’ll let you have one of my cigs when you come back.’

Result! Sweets and fags! Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a bad day after all. Cheered up, for the moment anyway, Josie skipped back from her errand at the Paki shop, carrying the cigs – a packet of Woodbines – and the promised sweets. She’d chosen a quarter of Yorkshire mixture because of how long they lasted. A delicious mix of glassy sweets that you could suck for hours. She took her time though, to savour the first, which was pear shaped. So instead of walking the way she’d gone to the shop, she used the back-garden route. It made sense anyway – just in case her mam or dad were watching out for her.

She knocked at Mucky Melvin’s back door and shouted through the hole in the smashed glass at the side, shuddering automatically as she took in her surroundings. She’d never been round here before and felt a little sick and scared. What about the rats? They’d all be in here somewhere, wouldn’t they? There were certainly plenty of places for them to hide; the grass was massively overgrown, only flattened in small patches, where it had been used as a dumping ground for God knew what. There was currently an old, filthy armchair, what looked like a metal kitchen sink, and at least 20 overflowing bin bags strewn around. A playground, she decided, for all those filthy scary rats. She turned and banged harder on the rotting back door.

‘Melvin, it’s Titch,’ she called. ‘I’m back!’

Instead of coming to the door, Melvin opened another upstairs window.

‘Good lass,’ he said. ‘You’ll have to fetch ’em up for me though, Titch, I’ve hurt my back. Just come up – door’s open!’

Josie watched as he closed the window and disappeared. She sighed. This hadn’t been part of the plan and she stood on the doorstep undecided. Bleeding hell, his house stank, and now she had to go inside it. The other kids would take the mick if they even knew she had done his shopping, let alone actually gone in his house. Pulling a face, in advance of the stink that she knew would hit her nostrils, she took a deep breath as she turned the handle and stepped inside. And it was worse than she’d imagined. She felt immediately nauseous, seeing it and smelling it. What a bleeding pigsty it was. There was filth everywhere. Wallpaper was peeling from the walls, and someone had written all over them in red paint. Words like ‘nonce’, ‘Mucky Mel’ and ‘dirty bastard’ were scrawled over the entire downstairs room.

‘Hurry up, Titch!’ Melvin called down. ‘I’m dying for a fag. Don’t take all fucking day!’

Josie had to swallow her nerves as she made her way up the stairs. The filthy, threadbare carpet stuck to the soles of her shoes, but she took her time, careful not to have to grab the handrail. She was beginning to feel a prickle of fear, and despite having her coat and scarf on she shivered as she realised that she could see her breath. God, this house was even colder than hers was. She wanted to hold her nose, so offensive was the putrid smell, but she was afraid that Melvin might catch her doing it.

Reaching the landing, she realised she didn’t know where to go. There was one door to the left and two to the right, all of them closed. ‘Where are you, Melvin?’ she called.

The response was immediate and she almost jumped up in the air, dropping her bounty, as a door shot open just to her left.

‘Boo!’ Melvin said, chuckling at her startled expression. ‘Come on in, kiddo. I have to sit back down. My back’s buggered.’

Melvin’s laugh was disgusting, Josie decided, as she followed him back in. Like he had a throat full of phlegm that he needed to spit out. His feet were bare, and he had on some filthy, striped pyjama bottoms over which the dirty brown cardigan hung open. His face was wrinkled and, close up, she could see how much his greasy hair was matted. It was easy to see why the other kids teased him so much. He was mucky. Filthy, dirty, mucky. Like he hadn’t had a wash in a year. Josie didn’t want to go anywhere near him and flinched from his touch as she handed him his fags and her hand brushed his long, yellow-brown fingernails.

‘Hey,’ she said as he took them. She was anxious to be gone now. ‘Don’t forget you promised me a couple.’

She waited impatiently, blinking to try and adjust her eyes to the dim room. It was the same room you could see from the street and as she glanced towards the window she saw that, instead of nets and curtains like most people had, there was what looked to be an old blanket blocking out the daylight. It appeared to be held in place by nails and had been cut up the centre so it could be moved apart, like proper curtains.

‘I promised you one, Titch,’ Melvin corrected her, as he passed her a Woodbine. ‘Here you go.’

He set about lighting one for himself and immediately had a coughing fit. ‘Oh fucking hell, this is fucking murder on my back,’ he spluttered.

Josie regarded her single cigarette, which felt not quite enough. Despite her haste to be gone, the smoke wreathing between them gave her an idea. ‘Can I smoke this one here, Melvin, and then take another one with me?’

‘I’ll think about it,’ he said, passing a lit match towards her. ‘I might. If you keep me company for a bit.’

She puffed her own fag into life and drew on it. She didn’t feel quite so queasy now. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll stay for 10 minutes, but that’s all. Me mam will be looking for me if I’m any later.’

‘Saw ’em coming to take your brother off earlier. Is it true then, he’s being locked up?’

Nosey bleeder, she thought. Trust him to already know that. Always peeking out of his bleeding window, minding everyone else’s business. How did he know so much anyway? He lived a long way up the street from them. Yet he did. Somehow, Melvin seemed to see everything.

‘Not locked up.’ She corrected him. ‘Just gone to like a boarding school, me mam said. He’ll be back after Christmas.’

They both smoked in silence for just long enough for Josie to begin to feel uncomfortable. She’d finish up, she thought, and get out of there, back into the daylight. She was just looking for somewhere she could stub out the cigarette when she noticed that Melvin was now struggling to take off his dressing gown, his cigarette clamped between his lips, smoke blowing in his face. ‘You’ll freeze in here if you take that off,’ she told him. ‘Have you got an ashtray? I don’t know what to do with this.’

‘Just use the floor, kid,’ Melvin told her, grinding his own out against the floorboards with his slipper. ‘I’m back into bed, me,’ he said. ‘Can you give us a hand getting this off?’

Happy that he wasn’t expecting her to hang around any longer, Josie started to pull the sleeve of his dressing gown in an attempt to help pull it from his shoulders.

Never in a million years did she see it coming.

Some time later, Josie let herself out of the smelly house. White-faced and sickened, she silently walked to her own house and, refusing her dad’s offer of food – her mam was out – she went through the kitchen to where the bath was. After scrubbing herself till the water went cold, she went and told her dad, who was now parked in front of the telly, that she had a belly ache and was going to bed.

She counted out the steps up to her bedroom, numb with shock. No thoughts. Not yet. She couldn’t think.

Chapter 4 (#ub0b25701-d126-509d-97b1-76fe329d1888)

Dear Mam (and say hello to the old man I suppose)

Well, it’s been a week and I’m settling in okay. There’s some right fucking divvies in here though, and they think I’m mental. I’ve made some friends; especially one called Billy and guess what? My other mate’s called Vincent! Ha, and I always thought you was the only cow daft enough to give a son a name like that. (Only kidding.) Hope you’re all well and thanks for the ciggies and chocolate. I could do with some more stuff though, Mam. I don’t suppose you could nick me a radio from somewhere? (Only fucking joking, sir, I know you read my letters.) Can you send me some photos as well, for my room, and ask our Lyndsey if you see her, if you can have a Jimi Hendrix poster to send me. I’m not wasting a stamp on her, but I’ve put a letter in here for our Titch, hope she’s okay. The other day, me and Vincent got caught pinching biscuits from the kitchen. It was a right laugh; you should have seen the fat cook woman chase us. She caught up with Vincent and pulled his hair, I nearly pissed myself laughing. We both got put on ‘no privileges’ for it, but it was worth it. It’s too boring if you don’t have a laugh. It’s a massive place this, wait till you see it, it’s like a big country manor. You’ll feel as common as muck when you come down. It’s fucking freezing though; even the fucking cockroaches are wearing overcoats. That reminds me; when you come see me, bring my big coat. You know, the one I would have worn to school if I had ever gone. Ha-ha. Right, Mam, I’m off now, it’s nearly lights out and I know I’m very clever, but I haven’t learned how to see in the dark yet. See you soon.

All my love, Vinnie xxxxxxxxxxx

Alright Titch

Thought I’d drop you a line seeing as how you’ll be missing me torturing you by now. Ha-ha, only kidding, I hope you’re okay and you better have cried for ages when I left. It’s ace here, I might even stay. (Joke.) I hope you’re staying out of trouble. I’ve heard that the girls’ approved school is miles worse than here, can’t have you getting sent off as well. I’ve met some good lads here, but I’ve had loads of fights as well. Tell the boys that I’m giving Bradford a good reputation, and let Brendan know that I’ve started boxing so I’ll be able to knock him out when I come home. I’ve asked me mam to send some photos, but don’t let her send one of you, I don’t want fucking nightmares on top of everything else. Ha-ha, just kidding, Titch. My mates were laughing the other day when I was telling them about you. I told them that you always say you’re strawberry blonde and not a ginner. See, even they think you’re a funny little fucker. Well I’m getting off now, Titch, and I don’t think you’ll be allowed to visit with me mam. Write me a letter back though, with all that going to school like a little swot, I know you can write.

All my love, Vinnie xxxxxxxxxxx

June read Vinnie’s letter to anybody who would listen. She had it with her, in her handbag, at the Bull.

He’d only been gone for two weeks and she had been working herself up into a right state waiting to hear from him. ‘He’s punishing me, the little bleeder!’ she’d moaned to Jock the week before. ‘Either that or he’s narked at you.’

‘Narked at me?’ Jock had answered. ‘What have I done?’

June looked at her hulk of a husband. Took in the baggy suit trousers, the greying shirt – with its familiar tramlines of braces – the equally greying hair, that had once been the same flaming red of his two younger children, the bulbous nose, the bulky middle … took it all in and considered where to start. ‘Nothing,’ she’d replied irritably. ‘Exactly that. Nothing. You couldn’t even be arsed to wave him off when he went!’

‘Oh, that’s right,’ Jock had shouted then, ‘blame me, you always do.’ He’d shook his head dismissively. ‘I can read the lad like a book, June. He’s making you sweat for not putting up a fight for him, that’s all. He’ll write, don’t you worry, and when he does, it’ll be to whine at you for summat, just like it always is.’

Jock had been right. Not that she’d ever dream of giving him the satisfaction of hearing it from her. In fact when the long white envelope had plopped through the box that morning, she’d pounced. As soon as she saw the Brighton postmark across the top, she’d swiped it up from the mat and stuffed it down her nightie so that she didn’t have to share it with the miserable git.

Still hadn’t, in fact, and would only do so when she felt like it. After what he’d said about his own son, it was no less than he deserved. She had it now though, in her bag, just as she’d had since she’d got it. She’d been dying to get it out and parade it down the Bull.

Which she’d already done – they’d been in there an hour now – but the more pissed she became, the more often she would get it out to dissect.