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So, that’s where it all began. Feels pretty good to get it off my chest, if I’m honest.

It makes me smile to think I once confided in the Old Bill. Having said that, he was all right was PC Kendall. Not like some of the sharks I’ve since met.

So many coppers are on the payroll of villains, you wouldn’t believe it. No integrity or conscience. Always on the take. I know because I’ve dealt with the unscrupulous bastards. They are worse than most of the gangsters I’ve mixed with. Reason being, they couldn’t give a shit who they trample on. Play ball or get nicked, that’s the option for many.

I’m rambling now, so let’s go back to my story. From the day my mother died, my life wasn’t my own for a while. Saying it had its ups and downs wouldn’t just be an understatement. I’d liken it to a Boeing 747 hitting a hurricane.

I was twelve, naïve, and honestly thought I had hit rock bottom. I hadn’t. There was far worse to come.

You know the name: Tommy Boyle. Now read on and I’ll explain what happened next …

*

Tommy was walking along the canal looking for the stray dog he’d made friends with, when he was unexpectedly jumped on and bundled to the ground.

‘No. Give me that back. It’s mine,’ Tommy insisted as his duffel bag was ripped from his shoulder and the contents tipped on the grass.

‘Shut it, ya little squirt,’ said one of the lads, aiming a sharp kick at Tommy’s head.

Another boy pinned Tommy to the ground.

‘Oi! Whaddya think you’re doing, Marshall? Leave him the fuck alone,’ bellowed a voice in the distance.

When his attackers fled without his belongings, Tommy sat up and locked eyes with a dark-haired lad who looked slightly familiar. ‘You all right?’ the boy asked.

‘Yeah. Thanks for that.’

‘You’re the new boy at school, ain’t ya?’

Tommy nodded and stood up. The boy was a lot taller than him. ‘You in my year?’

‘Yeah. I’m Danny. Danny Darling.’

‘I’m Tommy Boyle. Who were them boys, by the way? Do they go to our school?’

‘Nah. They live on the Walworth Road side. Us Bermondsey boys don’t like ’em. You won’t get no more grief from that lot. I already did three of ’em over.’

Tommy’s eyes widened. ‘Are you a good fighter then?’

Danny grinned. ‘Yeah. I’m a boxer. Gonna be a pro one day. You should try it, ya know. Look at my muscles,’ Danny bragged, taking off his jacket.

Tommy felt Danny’s biceps. ‘Wow! I dunno if I’d be any good, mind. I’m too short.’

‘No, you’re not. A lot of the best boxers are short lads. There’s all different weights in boxing. Come on, I’ll show you the gym.’

And just like that a friendship that would last a lifetime began.

Lynn’s Boxing Club was off Albany Road, and as soon as Tommy walked inside he was filled with a sense of excitement.

The smell, talk and general atmosphere was electric and Tommy couldn’t take his eyes off the lads sparring in the ring. Alexander had never been into boxing, therefore Tommy had little knowledge of it up until now.

‘See that lad in the photo on the wall – the one in the blue shorts holding a trophy?’

‘Yeah.’

‘That’s my elder brother, Ronnie. He’s turned semi-pro now, but my trainer reckons I’m far better than he was at the same age.’

‘Really! How old are you then? And how old’s Ronnie?’

‘I’m in your year at school, you numpty. Thirteen, I am. Ronnie’s eighteen, and I got a younger brother Eugene who’s ten. I also got a sister, Donna. She’s fifteen. You got brothers and sisters?’

‘Two sisters: Hazel and Linda. I don’t live with ’em no more, though. I got sent to live with my uncle.’

‘Why?’

‘’Cause my mum died in a car crash and I then found out my dad weren’t my real dad.’

‘That’s well shit. Bet you miss your mum.’

‘I do.’

‘I miss my dad too. He’s been in prison for the past ten years, but he’ll be out soon.’

Tommy’s eyes widened. ‘Why has he been in prison?’

‘Because he murdered someone. He shot them with a gun.’

‘My sister Hazel murdered someone too, with a paving stone.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. The police took her away then sent her to a bad girl’s home.’

‘Wow! That’s mental. Shall we spar in the ring? I won’t hurt you, I promise. I wanna teach you how to protect yourself.’

Tommy grinned. ‘Yeah, I’d like that.’

‘There we are. All tucked in. Would you like me to bring you up a mug of cocoa and a couple of chocolate digestives, Tommy?’ Uncle Ian asked.

Tommy faked a yawn. ‘No, thank you. I’m very tired tonight.’

Uncle Ian kissed Tommy on the forehead. ‘Night, night then. Don’t let the bed bugs bite,’ he grinned.

When his uncle left the room, Tommy smiled as he thought about his magical day. It was seven weeks now since his mum had died, and this was the first time he’d felt truly happy since.

Moving to South London hadn’t been easy. Uncle Ian and Auntie Sandra lived in a two-bedroom house off the Old Kent Road. Tommy’s mother’s house had been spotlessly clean, but Auntie Sandra’s wasn’t. It was shabby, dusty, smelled of cat’s piss and very often there were shit stains down the toilet for days on end. She didn’t even have a toilet brush and bought the most awful toilet paper. It wasn’t soft like his mother had used. It was like grease-paper, and Tommy struggled to clean his bottom properly with it.

Auntie Sandra was a short, fat woman who ate like a horse. She rarely bathed and her hair was long, grey and greasy. She stank too, of sweat and another odour Tommy could not quite distinguish. She was all right towards him, but he could sense she didn’t really want him there.

Uncle Ian, on the other hand, had been very welcoming and generous. He bought Tommy all his football magazines, and as many sweets as he wanted. He’d recently surprised him with the best kite Tommy had ever seen. It looked like a big multicoloured eagle. Uncle Ian had even promised to buy him a portable TV for his thirteenth birthday, which he could watch alone in his bedroom. Tommy was elated by this news, as the small TV downstairs was rarely switched on. Auntie Sandra and Uncle Ian only ever watched the news and Tommy felt awkward asking if he could watch Top of the Pops or The Big Match. He would also feel a bit silly watching such programmes with them. Neither of them were into pop music or football. They listened to the radio and played board games such as chess or draughts.

Starting a new school hadn’t been easy either. Tommy had felt invisible at times, like a lost sheep. Hopefully, now he’d met Danny all that would change. They were walking to school together tomorrow and going back to the boxing gym after their lessons.

For once, Tommy drifted off into a happy sleep. But at 4 a.m. he woke in a cold sweat. It was the usual kind of nightmare. In this particular one, Hazel had hit Rex over the head with a paving stone and killed him. Then his mother had told him she wasn’t his real mother.

‘I didn’t know you lived at number forty-four. Nobody likes your aunt and uncle, ya know. My mum calls them oddballs,’ Danny informed Tommy after school the following day. ‘And your aunt well stinks,’ he added.

Munching on a bag of chips dripping in vinegar, Tommy suddenly didn’t feel hungry any more. He felt embarrassed.

Uncle Ian was a short, dumpy man who wore thick-rimmed glasses and old-fashioned clothes. Tommy thought he looked like the comedian Benny Hill, but he was far less cool. At least Benny Hill was funny. ‘My mum was nothing like my uncle.’ Tommy squirmed. ‘Wanna see a photo of her?’ He carried one around with him; it made him feel she was still with him.

Danny nodded, then studied the image. ‘She is very pretty. She looks like Barbara Windsor. My brother Ronnie well fancies Barbara.’

Tommy handed Danny another photo. ‘That’s my sisters and my dog Rex.’

‘Are you keeping in touch with your sisters?’

‘No. I tried to, but the phone has been cut off where Linda is living and she hasn’t replied to my letters. I don’t even have an address for Hazel.’

‘Where’s your dog?’

‘Alexander found him a farm to live on in Essex.’

Danny felt sorry for Tommy. It had been tough for him over the years because his dad was inside, but at least he had his brothers, mum and sister. ‘Wanna come round mine for Sunday dinner? My mum cooks an ace roast.’

Tommy nodded. Auntie Sandra’s roast was the worst he’d ever tasted. ‘Yes, please. You sure that will be OK with your mum?’

‘Yeah, course. Don’t say where you’re going, though. My family have got a bit of a reputation round ’ere. Your aunt and uncle might try and stop us being pals,’ Danny warned.

‘I won’t. I promise.’

‘Cool. You wanna go to the boxing gym now?’

Tommy grinned. ‘Yeah. Race ya there.’

On the Saturday morning, Tommy was bored, so lay on his bed reading his football magazines. Danny wasn’t around today. His elder brother had recently bought a car, so he’d driven Danny up north to watch Millwall play away.

Tommy much preferred spending time alone in his room than downstairs. He had very little in common with his aunt or uncle, which made it a struggle to find subjects to talk to them about. He had a portable radio in his room, so would rather listen to his favourite stations, alone.

A tap on his bedroom door made Tommy jump. ‘Who is it?’

‘Uncle Ian. OK to come in?’

‘Yes. Of course.’

Tommy smiled as Uncle Ian sat on the edge of his bed. As usual, he was at a loss for what to say. If a person didn’t like pop music, TV, or football, Tommy had come to the conclusion it was difficult to have a conversation with them. Those were the main topics of conversation in his old house.

‘Sandra is going to visit her sister in the Isle of Sheppey today. She won’t be back until tomorrow. So, I thought you and I might do something nice.’

Tommy’s heart sank. Saturday afternoons were all about listening to the football results come in. ‘Like what?’

‘Well, the wind seems reasonably strong. How about we go to the park and fly your kite? I thought I would treat you too. I know how much you want a record player in your bedroom.’

Having missed his old record player almost as much as he missed Rex, Tommy flung his arms around his uncle’s plump shoulders. ‘Thank you. I would love that.’

Flying the kite was a bit of a let-down. The wind had dropped and the kite wouldn’t stay up in the air for long.

‘Cor, look at that, Uncle Ian!’ Tommy was transfixed by the red and orange plane some boy was flying.

‘Do you like aeroplanes, Tommy?’

‘Never been in a real one, but I like that. It’s ace.’

‘Let’s go and ask the boy’s dad where he bought it from then.’

‘Why?’

‘So we can get you one.’

‘No. You’ve been too kind to me already and I don’t expect you to keep buying me things.’

‘I can afford it. That’s why I go to work in the factory.’ Uncle Ian put an arm around Tommy’s shoulders. ‘I just want you to be happy.’

Tommy felt uncomfortable, but couldn’t put his finger on why. ‘I am happy. Thank you,’ he mumbled.

Tommy was thrilled with the record player from Dixons, then even more elated when Uncle Ian handed him a fiver and suggested they stop at a record shop. ‘You’re going to need some vinyl to play on it, aren’t you? Go on, take it,’ his uncle urged.

Tommy excitedly leapt out of the rusty Morris Minor. Slade were currently topping the charts with ‘Cum On Feel The Noize’ and he couldn’t wait to get his hands on that. ‘How much can I spend?’

‘All of it. Want me to come inside the shop with you?’

‘No,’ Tommy said, rather too abruptly. Record shops were for cool dudes and he would hate to be spotted inside one with his uncle. ‘I shall be a while. I’ll meet you back at home.’

Uncle Ian pointed towards a pub. ‘I’ll be in there. Just poke your head around the door when you’re ready. I thought we’d stop and get fish and chips on the way home for our tea.’

‘OK. See you soon.’

Tommy had never been inside a record shop in South London before and this one was buzzing. The Sweet’s ‘Blockbuster’ blasted out of two giant speakers and the bloke and lady serving behind the counter both wore tartan flares, high shiny red platform boots and black leather jackets. They looked like twins.

Tommy was in his element as he sorted through the vinyl. Seven-inch singles weren’t cheap any more, had gone up to fifty pence each, and this was the first time he’d ever had the luxury of buying ten all at once.

Tommy bought Slade, The Strawbs, The Faces, Gary Glitter plus six more, then left the store with a big smile on his face.

‘Did you enjoy today, Tommy?’ Uncle Ian asked, before stuffing a whole wally in his mouth.

‘Yes. Thank you.’

‘Best dish in the world this, you know.’

Tommy nodded in agreement. He’d already devoured his cod and chips.

‘Fancy a game of chess?’

‘I don’t know how to play chess,’ Tommy replied honestly.

Uncle Ian squeezed his nephew’s hand. ‘I will teach you.’

Tommy was dying to go upstairs and play his new records, but he didn’t want to seem ungrateful or unsociable. ‘OK, thank you.’

Uncle Ian set the board up. ‘Have you made some new friends at school now? I noticed you’ve been coming home later.’

‘Yes. I have actually. Is it all right if I go out with them tomorrow afternoon? We’ve organized a game of football over the park,’ Tommy lied.

‘Of course. You be good to me, Tommy, and I will be good to you, if you get my drift?’

Tommy didn’t understand, but smiled and nodded nevertheless.

Tommy stared at the TV in silence. It had been Uncle Ian’s idea they pack up the chessboard and watch Match of the Day together.

‘Who’s that who just scored?’ asked Uncle Ian.

‘Martin Chivers.’

‘What team does he play for?’

Tommy glanced at his uncle as though he were an alien. Surely everyone knew who Martin Chivers played for? He had scored the two away goals in the 1972 UEFA Cup Final, for goodness’ sake.

‘I’m going to run a bath. Sandra doesn’t like us to use too much water, but seeing as she isn’t here, we’ll make the most of it.’

Having missed the regular baths he was allowed to have at home, Tommy nodded in approval. He wanted to be clean and look his best to meet Danny’s family tomorrow. ‘OK, thanks.’

*

The first warning bell rang in Tommy’s head when his uncle informed him they couldn’t be using two lots of water and they had to share the same bath.

‘Erm, can’t I have a bath after you?’

‘No. The water will be dirty and cold. Didn’t you ever share a bath with your mother and sisters? Or your dad?’

‘Well, yeah. But not for ages. I used to get in after my sisters.’

‘We can’t upset your Auntie Sandra. I had to fight tooth and nail to take you in and she always checks the water bill.’

Tommy breathed deeply. He could not think of anything worse than having to share a bath with Uncle Ian, but the man had been so kind to him recently, he could hardly refuse. ‘OK then.’

Uncle Ian’s body looked even more awful with no clothes on and Tommy averted his eyes from the rolls of fat. Thankfully, there were lots of bubbles in the bath and Tommy sat frozen against the end with the plug hurting his bum, while his uncle splashed about like a beached whale at the other, cracking unfunny jokes.

‘Want me to scrub your back, Tommy?’

‘No, thank you. Can I go to bed now, please?’

‘Of course. Let me get you a towel to dry yourself.’

Having not gone through puberty himself, Tommy was shocked as his uncle struggled to get out of the bath. His willy looked huge and hard. Like a snake.