Читать книгу Pete: My Story - Pete Bennett - Страница 7
ОглавлениеMum’s biggest problem, once she had me, was finding affordable babysitters when she went to work. I don’t think people ever minded having me because I was always a pretty happy kid, but most people around our way had enough trouble caring for their own children, never mind someone else’s. There was a lovely Indian family who I used to stay with quite a lot. Mum even bought a set of bunks so I could sleep over there without putting any of them out of their beds. Their mum was called Rosen and she made great curries.
Mum took me out with Rosen’s kids one day and a white van driven by a couple of men cruised past. One of them leant out the window and shouted abuse at us, assuming we were all Mum’s children, spitting at her before accelerating off. I couldn’t understand why anyone would be so horrible to a woman with small children. Mum tried to explain to me about racism and how some people hated other people simply because they had different-coloured skins. I remember it making me feel sad, but also puzzled because I really liked people who were different and new, interesting and surprising. I liked Rosen’s family because the women wore swathes of brightly coloured fabric and their house was full of exotic smells. I liked the way they talked with their musical-sounding accents and the pictures they had on their walls.
Bit by bit over the coming years I learnt about the National Front and their hatred of anyone who wasn’t like them. At the same time I was aware I was also growing to be more different, and therefore more vulnerable, myself. Mostly I liked the way I was, but I didn’t always like the reactions I got from other people.
When I was about four, Mum went on another short tour with the Communards, and left me with a different local family for a few days. When she came back she found me playing on my own in the car park outside their house. The lady who was supposed to be looking after me had left her front door open so she could watch me, but had fallen asleep on the sofa. Mum went berserk, ranting and raving that anything could have happened to me while she slept. She must have been very torn between her need to make money, her love of music and performing, and her maternal urge to look after me herself all the time.
The same family had a pit bull terrier. I always loved dogs and wanted to cuddle them all the moment I saw them, but this mean bastard had other ideas as I threw my arms around its neck, and sank its teeth into my face. Luckily it missed my eye but it ripped open my top lip and there was blood everywhere. Mum was there at the time and rushed me down to the hospital, where we sat for several hours with her holding my lip on, waiting for the surgeon. I was shaking uncontrollably and crying but Mum always stayed incredibly quiet and calm in these crises, although she fainted dead away once the whole thing was over.
When the surgeon did eventually get round to us Mum and four nurses had to lie across my body to stop me fighting him off as he set to work with his needle and thread. She made them put in an extra stitch after they thought they had finished because she was so determined I wouldn’t end up scarred, which didn’t endear her to them, or me at the time. Despite her best efforts there’s still a tiny scar, but you can hardly see it.
The babysitting problem was eventually solved by the intervention of Mum’s cousin, Poofy-Cousin-Marcus, who had already helped bring up his brother’s four kids when his brother was away at sea, so he knew what he was doing when it came to nappy changing, kids’ meals and nursery school runs. He was totally happy mincing around the kitchen all day, scrubbing and bleaching. He stayed with us on and off for years and I caught him slipping money under my pillow when my first tooth came out and was convinced from then on that the tooth fairy was a balding poof with glasses and painted-on eyebrows. He was great, throwing himself into the role of nanny with gusto and filling all my criteria for being different, interesting and funny. He was completely happy gossiping with the mothers at the school gates, or showing off how white he had managed to get the wash that day.
‘Mmmm,’ I heard him purring at a neighbour who was pegging out her washing on her balcony one day. ‘Yours haven’t come up quite so white this week, have they, love?’
One of his boyfriends broke his heart while he was living with us and he disappeared into his bed for about a week, unable to face the world. As it was his birthday, Mum and I sorted him out a cake with a candle to cheer him up, taking it in to his bedroom. He emerged from under the sheets to blow the candle out.
‘So,’ Mum said. ‘Make a wish.’
‘I wish I was dead,’ he shrieked, whipping the sheets back over his head.
I remember going into his bedroom once and pulling his bedclothes off to wake him up, just as he let out a gigantic fart. Cool!
Mum continued to take me on tour with her from time to time. We went to Germany for six months with a band called Rausch when I was about six. They were a very dark bunch, surrounded by lots of drugs, which Mum didn’t like. She was always lecturing me about not doing drugs, especially cocaine, which she said made people sadistic and cold and evil. It wasn’t a particularly happy time for Mum but I enjoyed myself. I always enjoyed myself. We were in Berlin just before the Wall came down and the whole world changed in one night. Mum had been predicting it would happen, having seen it in a vision. I remember watching it coming down on the news and knowing it was important because everyone was talking about it and celebrating, but I didn’t really understand why. What was a Communist?
One of the band members in Germany really took to me and would laugh every time he saw me, calling me ‘Charlie’.
‘Why are you calling him Charlie?’ Mum wanted to know. ‘His name’s Pete.’
‘Because he is like Charlie Chaplin.’
He wasn’t the last person to say that and I liked the fact that I could make people laugh by clowning around. It always felt good to be the centre of attention, particularly if it was happy attention. All the world loves a clown.
