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Suzie Darling was a funny, loud lady with auburn hair, dimples and a welcoming smile. She swore a lot and her house was clean, but not particularly tidy. Tommy immediately felt at home as he sat on the brown Dralon sofa.

‘You OK, Tom? Not gone all shy, have ya?’ Danny joked.

‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Tommy lied. He had lain awake most of the night thinking about Uncle Ian. Tommy was yet to get sexual urges himself, but he knew lads who had, and he couldn’t help worrying his uncle had been sexually aroused when he’d got out of the bath. Was that why Alexander always called him a weirdo? Was Uncle Ian some kind of pervert?

‘Whaddya think of me mum?’

‘She’s nice and very pretty. Where are your brothers and sister?’

‘Eugene’s playing football, Donna’s gone down Petticoat Lane with her mate and Ronnie’s a biker, so he could be anywhere. They’ll all be home for dinner though. No one cooks a roast like my mum. She works in the Prince of Wales pub as a cleaner. Do you know it?’

Tommy shook his head.

‘She don’t earn much, but Ronnie does. He pays for most of our food, bills and rent as my dad’s inside.’

‘Does Ronnie work as a boxer? Is that his actual job?’

Danny chuckled. ‘Nah. He earns some from the boxing, but he does other stuff too.’

‘Like what?’

‘Same as me dad. Ronnie’s a ducker and diver.’

Knowing Danny’s father was banged up for murder, Tommy decided not to ask any more questions.

Danny was right about one thing. Suzie Darling cooked an ace roast. Tommy had thought nothing could beat his mother’s and felt disloyal even admitting as much to himself.

‘Want some more pigs in blankets, Tommy?’ Ronnie Darling asked. Danny had told them about the tough time Tommy had been through. They were all shocked who the lad lived with. Ian and Sandra Taylor kept themselves to themselves in this neck of the woods, but even so they weren’t liked. Rumours had surfaced a few years back – about Ian in particular.

Tommy grinned and gratefully accepted the food. He liked Ronnie, who had arrived home dressed in black leathers. He was funny and extremely cool.

‘Want some more parsnips?’ asked Suzie, shoving a load on Tommy’s plate. The poor little mite looked like he needed feeding up a bit.

‘Thank you, Mrs Darling. This is like a Christmas dinner. It was very kind of you to invite me round.’ Tommy’s mother had always told him ‘Good manners cost nothing.’

‘You’re very welcome, my love. Our Danny speaks highly of you. Anytime you want to pop round, feel free. But please call me Suzie. Mrs Darling makes me sound like one of the blue-rinse brigade down East Street market,’ Suzie chuckled.

‘Do you really live at number forty-four, Tommy?’ asked eleven-year-old Eugene. He was quite impressed with Danny’s new friend, but he and his pals played knock-down ginger at Tommy’s aunt and uncle’s house. They called them ‘The Stinkies’.

Kicking his youngest brother under the table, Ronnie quickly changed the subject. ‘Danny says you like football, Tom. Who do you support?’

‘I did support Celtic, but since finding out my dad ain’t my dad, I don’t want to support them any more. Spurs are my team now.’

Ronnie ruffled the boy’s hair. Tommy was a good lad; he could sense that, with an air of vulnerability about him. ‘Wanna come over Millwall with me and Danny next Saturday? I’ll treat you.’

Tommy’s eyes shone. He had yet to attend a proper football match. ‘You bet I do. Thank you.’

‘Here she is, the latecomer. Dinner’s in the oven, burnt, young lady,’ tutted Suzie. ‘Serves you right for saying you’d be home by three and coming in at four.’

Tommy was rather taken aback when the stunning girl with big blue eyes and glossy long blonde hair sauntered into the kitchen. She was wearing a white catsuit and red platform shiny boots like those people serving in the record shop yesterday. He nudged Danny. ‘Is that your sister?’

‘Yeah. That’s our Donna. Pain in the bloody arse, she is,’ Danny laughed.

Eyes as big as organ stops, Tommy stared at the girl. At that moment, he had his first ever sexual feeling and it felt like heaven.

Life returned to normal back at Uncle Ian and Auntie Sandra’s house. The dinners were bland, Auntie Sandra spoke to him only when she could be bothered and Tommy spent most of his time in the sanctuary of his bedroom, playing his records and listening to the radio.

On the Saturday he was due to attend the Millwall game, Tommy heard the tap-tap he’d come to dread on his bedroom door. The bath incident had not been mentioned again and Tommy was far too embarrassed to tell Danny about it. ‘Who is it?’

‘Uncle Ian. OK to come in?’

‘Yes. Of course.’

Uncle Ian smiled as he plonked his fat self on the edge of Tommy’s bed. ‘Sandra is visiting her sister in the Isle of Sheppey again this weekend, so I thought we might do something together. I found a shop that sells those aeroplanes. I’ll treat you to one, then we’ll fly it over the park. Sound good to you?’

Uncle Ian stank, a mixture of stale sweat and smoke. Tommy had a strip wash every morning at the bathroom sink, but he’d never noticed his uncle or aunt do so. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m going out with a friend today.’

‘Can’t you cancel seeing your friend? I thought you wanted one of those aeroplanes.’

‘No. Thank you for offering, but I’m not bothered about having one now.’

Uncle Ian eyed Tommy suspiciously over his thick-rimmed glasses. ‘You’ve been going out an awful lot recently. Where exactly are you going today?’

‘Football. I’m going to watch Millwall.’

‘You will do no such thing, lad. I am not having you mixing with hooligans. You are my responsibility now.’

‘But I can’t let my friend down and we are going with an adult. My friend’s older brother is eighteen,’ Tommy protested.

‘Who is this friend of yours? Only you’ve been spending a lot of time with him recently. You’re hardly ever at home.’

Fighting the urge to inform Uncle Ian that this wasn’t his home and never would be, Tommy bit his tongue. He felt like crying. ‘Johnny – he’s in my class at school,’ he lied. ‘Please let me go, Uncle Ian. I’ve always wanted to go to a proper football match. I promise I won’t be home late. We can spend the evening together and do whatever you want then. Please, I beg you.’

Uncle Ian softened and handed Tommy a pound note. ‘Go on then. Enjoy yourself. But I want you home here by seven at the latest.’

Feeling a sense of relief wash over him, Tommy took the money and smiled. ‘Thank you.’

Uncle Ian stood up. ‘Your friend Johnny. What’s his surname?’

There was a lad called Johnny in his class, so Tommy decided to play it safe. ‘Rodgers.’

As he left the room, Uncle Ian frowned. He knew the Rodgerses and wasn’t aware Johnny had an older brother. Tommy had better not be lying to him. He hated liars.

Tommy was buzzing as he walked towards Millwall’s ground. Fans were already singing at the top of their voices and the delicious smell of fried onions wafting from the burger and hotdog stalls made him feel a bit emotional. His mum had cooked lots of meals with onions and that smell reminded him of happier times. He was genuinely happy today though, and was sure his mum would approve of his new friend and Danny’s family. They were all very kind to him.

‘You hungry, Tommy?’ asked Ronnie Darling.

‘I am. Get us a burger,’ ordered Eugene.

Ronnie grabbed his younger brother in a playful headlock. ‘Nobody asked you, ya little squirt. And you’ll get sod all until you say the word please,’ Ronnie chuckled.

When a group of men collared Ronnie for a chat, he handed Danny a fiver and told him to get them some food.

‘Doesn’t your brother know a lot of people,’ Tommy said to his friend.

Danny grinned proudly. ‘Yeah. My dad’s even more well known, ya know. My whole family are really. Nobody messes with us. That’s why them boys who picked on you ran off sharpish.’

Not wanting to pry, Tommy changed the subject. ‘Isn’t your brother a biker all the time?’ Ronnie wasn’t wearing black leathers today. He was dressed in faded flared jeans, trainers, and a black bomber jacket. He looked no different to any other football fan.

‘Ronnie’s a biker when he wants to be a biker,’ Danny laughed. ‘He’s the master of disguise, my brother. The pigs hate him.’

Not understanding what Danny meant, Tommy decided the best thing to do was smile politely.

‘Hello, Ian. How are you and Sandra keeping?’ asked Mr Patel the newsagent.

‘Yes, we’re fine, thank you. Could you make me up an extra-large bag of penny sweets, the kind that twelve-year-old boys like. And I’ll take a copy of every football magazine you have, please.’

‘Ah, is this for young Tommy who is staying with you?’

‘I’m actually Tommy’s guardian now. His mother unfortunately died in a car crash.’

‘Oh, I am very sorry to hear that. I see Tommy earlier with his friend, young Danny. They buy bubble gum to take to the match with them.’

‘Danny who?’

Mr Patel handed Ian five magazines and a big bag of mixed sweets. ‘Danny Darling. Everybody knows young Danny around here,’ he chuckled.

With a face like thunder, Ian threw the money on the counter, snatched the magazines and sweets out of Mr Patel’s hands and stormed out of the shop.

Tommy Boyle joined in with all the fans chanting ‘We are Millwall, from the Den’ as he left the ground. Everyone was buoyant and the atmosphere was awesome. Millwall had scored a late winner, but the funniest part of the day had been when the peanut seller had asked Ronnie to look after a sackful. Ronnie had started chucking handfuls in the air, then everybody nearby joined in, including Tommy. The crowd then started singing, ‘We hate peanuts and we hate peanuts,’ which Tommy thought was hilarious. He’d felt part of something for once, a tribal feeling.

‘Wanna come back to ours?’ Danny asked, when they made it back to the Old Kent Road.

Tommy’s heart suddenly lurched. ‘No. Erm … I better not.’

‘There’ll be lots of nice grub. Mum always lays out a big spread for us after we’ve been to football.’

‘I can’t. Uncle Ian said I got to be home by seven.’ The thought of spending another evening alone with his uncle without Auntie Sandra being around filled Tommy with dread. Say he insisted they share another bath together? Tommy had already made his mind up. No way was he doing that again. It made him feel dirty, not clean.

‘Right, I’m off to meet a bird, lads. Make sure you take Eugene straight home, Dan,’ ordered Ronnie Darling.

‘Thank you so much for taking me to the game today, Ronnie, and paying for me to get in,’ said Tommy.

Ronnie ruffled the boy’s head. ‘You’re very welcome, pal. So, you still a Spurs fan? Or you gonna be a Millwall nutcase, like us?’

Tommy grinned. ‘Millwall, definitely.’

‘You’re late,’ Uncle Ian snapped.

Tommy stared at his feet. He’d literally salivated at the mouth when Danny informed him his mother was preparing chicken, ham, beef, pork pies, pickles and hot crusty bread, so had ended up having his tea at his pal’s house after all. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘So, where have you been?’

‘Erm, with Johnny,’ Tommy lied. ‘His mum invited me in and I didn’t want to come across as rude. I won’t be late again, I promise.’

Uncle Ian forced a smile. ‘Come and say hello to our guest.’

Tommy followed his uncle into the small dining room that was adjoined to the lounge. The chessboard was out and there was a bottle of brandy on the table. The man grinning at him was fat, bald and looked older than Uncle Ian. ‘Hello,’ Tommy said awkwardly.

‘This is my friend, PC Norman. He’s off duty tonight and wants to have a word with you. I’ll leave you to it,’ Uncle Ian said, shutting the door.

Tommy eyed the policeman suspiciously. He looked nothing like PC Kendall or any of the other local bobbies in Barking. He wasn’t wearing a uniform and Tommy could not but wonder if one would even fit him.

‘Sit down, Tommy.’ Norman patted the seat next to him.

Tommy did as he was told. ‘Have I done something wrong?’ he asked innocently.

Norman smiled. ‘No. But you are knocking around with a bad crowd. I have said nothing to your uncle as I didn’t want to get you into trouble, but those Darlings are bad news. I know you have been to the Millwall game today with Danny. I also know you went back to Danny’s house. You must promise me you will have no more to do with that family. Your Uncle Ian has been very good to you, taking you in when nobody else wanted you, so you need to be a good boy for him.’

Tommy was a bit taken aback. ‘OK,’ he muttered.

‘The Darlings are bad people, Tommy. The last lad Danny got friendly with was found floating in the River Thames.’

Tommy’s eyes widened. ‘No way! Really?’

Norman ruffled Tommy’s hair. He was a handsome kid and he could see why Ian was so smitten with him. ‘Yes. Really. Keep away from the whole family.’

‘What did PC Norman want to talk to you about?’ Uncle Ian enquired later that evening.

‘Not much. Just told me to be a good boy. Can I go to my room and play some records, please?’ Tommy was confused. He felt at ease with Danny and his family, much more at ease than he did with his uncle and aunt.

‘Not so fast. I bought you some presents earlier. They’re on the kitchen top.’

Instinct told Tommy he shouldn’t accept any more big presents from Uncle Ian, so he was relieved to see only sweets and football magazines.

‘Well?’ Uncle Ian grinned.

Apart from flying saucers and blackjacks, Tommy wasn’t a fan of penny sweets. Linda had loved them. She’d scoff bagfuls. But he was chuffed with the football magazines; he only had one out of the five. ‘Thanks, Uncle Ian. Can I go to my room and read my mags, please?’

‘Not until you’ve had some supper and a bath.’

Tommy froze. He was yet to get big stonkers himself (that’s what the lads at school called them) but he was sure Uncle Ian had had one last time they shared a bath. ‘I’m not hungry, I ate at Johnny’s. And I’m not dirty, I had a strip wash at the sink this morning.’

‘I won’t force you to eat, but you have to have a bath, lad. Auntie Sandra doesn’t like us to use too much water, so now’s the time to have one.’

‘No. I don’t want one.’

Uncle Ian knocked back his drink and paced the room. ‘You are starting to get on my nerves, Tommy. I have been very kind to you, and not only are you lying to me, you are also defying my orders. Do you see me as some kind of a fool? Do you? I know exactly where you have been today and who with, you lying little toerag. Now do as I say. Go run a bath.’

‘OK. But I’m getting in it on my own, not with you.’

Uncle Ian grabbed Tommy by the shoulders and pushed him up against the wall. ‘I make the rules in this house, not you.’

Tommy felt extremely uncomfortable. Uncle Ian reeked of alcohol, his eyes were glazed and he had a twisted, vicious look on his face that reminded Tommy of Alexander when he’d come home drunk and lash out at his mother.

‘Bullies come in all shapes and sizes. Always stand your ground, Tommy, even if there are four of ’em or a bloke is bigger than you. You’ll survive if you get a good hiding. It’s better to fight back than surrender,’ Ronnie Darling had told him earlier today.

‘Tommy, Tommy! Get back here,’ Uncle Ian bellowed, when his nephew kicked him hard in the ankle and bolted up the stairs.

Gutted that his brilliant day had been spoiled, Tommy flung himself on his bed and wept. He so wished he could speak to his sisters or hold Rex in his arms once again. He missed his mum most of all though. Why did she have to die? He hated living here.

Ever since his mother had died, Tommy had taken to leaving the radio on low of a night. For some reason, the music comforted him and made him sleep better.

David Bowie’s ‘John, I’m Only Dancing’ was playing when Uncle Ian crept into his room. Tommy decided to pretend he was asleep, as he usually did.

Normally, Uncle Ian would kiss him on the head and turn the radio off, but tonight he was lurking and breathing heavily.

‘Leave me alone. What d’ya think you’re doing?’ Tommy squealed when his uncle put his hand under the blankets and started tugging at his pyjama bottoms.

‘Shut it. You belong to me now.’

Tommy tried to scream, but Uncle Ian pinned him down and pushed his face against the pillow.

Wriggling like an eel, Tommy didn’t stand a chance against a man who weighed seventeen stone.

Tears streaming down his face, Tommy wanted to die. He had thought losing his mother was the worst thing imaginable, but it wasn’t. This was.