Date: Wed, 11 Oct 2006 05:03:33 +0100 (BST)
From: Mike Arram <mikearram@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: The Son of the Chav Prince - 13

Andy and Matt stared at Justin across the dining table.  `Damien said his
best friend was called Gussie?' exclaimed Andy.
  `Not just that, but I went back to the file Mike Mason gave me, and there
it was.  The so-called eighteen-year-old who interrupted the bastard
beating up me son was Daniel Hackness.  Daniel and Gussie.  Damien and his
mum were living in the same smelly hovel as our two.  Not only that, I'm
pretty sure the kid called `Steve' who tipped off Mike was our Danny, from
the description.  Those boys!  I don't know whether to laugh or cry.'
  Matt looked troubled.  `The question is, what do we do now?  The two boys
are here in Walbrough, and they'll probably still be at that house.  We're
duty-bound to tell their parents.'
  `Why, Dad?'  Justin was anything but agreeable to that idea.  `I owe
those boys a lot.  There is no way I'll shop them to their obnoxious
parents.  Danny saved me kid's life, and he had the generosity to make sure
I knew where Damien was.  There's not enough money to reward that sort of
goodness.'
  Matt gave a tired sigh.  `You're right, Danny has been a hero, and we
should be grateful to him for saving Damien.  Unfortunately, that's a
separate issue from his and Gus's running away.  We can't keep their
whereabouts from their parents.  It would just not be fair.'
  `Fuck fairness!' snarled Justin.  `Those kids deserve what happiness they
can get.  You two should know that more than anyone.'
  Andy broke in at that point.  `Their parents have rights too.  You might
think about their feelings, now you have a child of your own.  They may be
going about managing things the wrong way, but they are worried sick about
Gus and Danny.  It's not fair to leave them in such a state.'
  Justin growled something inarticulate, which to Matt and Andy indicated
that he recognised, but did not agree with, the force of their arguments.
  Terry strolled in to the middle of their discussion, and was properly
amazed to discover that Danny and Gus had been instrumental in saving
Damien and uniting him with his father.  `So, when you gonna tell their
folks?'
  `I think Andy and I will do something about it tonight.  What do you
think?'
  `I think you'd best leave it till tomorrow, give the poor kids one last
night together.  It's probably only right, though, to give the Hacknesses
and the Underwoods a heads-up.  You got their numbers?'
  Terry moved on quickly. `How'd it go with yer kid, Justy?'

***

The two boys were contemplating yet another culinary disaster on their tea
table.  Gussie looked sceptically at his plate.  `I think those black
flecks add something to the taste, I really do.'
  Danny was not about to try defending the indefensible.  `There is a sort
of tang to it, that's true, but omelettes should definitely not be
crunchy.'
  Danny's mobile went off just then.  It was Terry.  `Sweet babes, get
packed.  You been sussed by Justy, and he's told Matt and Andy.  They're
gonna ring your parents tomorrow, early.  You need to be on the road
tonight, unless you want to go back home.'
  `Oh jeez, no!'  Danny broke the news to Gus.  `Have you got any ideas,
Terry?'
  `As it happens, I do.  I want you to take the train to Leeds, get a bus
out to the airport and be there around nine this evening if you can.'
  `What then?'
  `You'll find out when you get there. You both got your passports, haven't
you?'
  `Yeah.'
  `See you at nine, babes.'
  As Danny was hefting his pack and wondering what to do with the house
keys, the doorbell went downstairs.  He caught Gus's eyes.
  Gus shrugged.  `They can't have got to our parents yet.  Perhaps it's
Jehovah's Witnesses.'
  A dark male figure was on the other side of the frosted glass of the
front door.  When Danny opened it, he discovered Justin grinning at him.
Before he knew it, he was enveloped in a strong hug, and his mouth was
being invaded by a serious kiss.
  Justin broke off, licking his lips.  `Mmm, sixteen-year-olds taste so
good.  Where's Gus?'
  `Here!' Gus had come downstairs behind Danny, and now he too was being
hugged and kissed by a grateful Justin.
  `Glad I found you two babes.  I just had to come and give you a proper
thank-you.  Bless you both, you saved me little boy's life and gave him to
me.  What can I say?'
  Pragmatic as ever, Gus promptly replied, `You could say that you don't
want the £3,000 reward back, Justin.'
  Justin laughed.  `It's the very least I could do for you two angels.  But
seriously, babes, as well as coming to say thank-you, I'm here with a
warning.  Matt and Andy know where you are, and they're gonna tell your
parents too.  Iss time you moved on.'
  Danny answered.  `We'd guessed we'd been sussed.  It was the newspaper
report wasn't it?'
  `Yup.  So where're you going?'
  `We'll send you a postcard when we get there, Justy, if that's alright.'
  `OK, be cautious.  Just doan forget, you two, that I owes you big time.
If you ever need me, I'll be there for you.  You hear?'
  `Yeah, thanks Justy.  We won't forget.'
  Gus added, `And say goodbye to little Damien for me.  Tell him I'll see
him again when I can.  Oh, and would you take these books back to the
library for me?  I don't want to chalk up fines I can't pay.'
  Justin laughed and agreed.  They all three hugged and Justin headed back
to the hotel, carrying a bag of Gus's books.  Not long afterwards, the boys
said goodbye with mixed feelings to the first home they had lived in
together.  Danny put the keys in an envelope and posted them to Mr
Heslerton, along with a note that they wouldn't be collecting the deposit
back from him, so not to bother about it.  He also posted off a brief
resignation note to CostFayre.  It troubled him that he could not work his
notice, Daniel was that sort of man.
  They were at the station in time for the Leeds train, and were soon
clipping along through the Yorkshire countryside, golden in a fine
midsummer evening.  Danny had his shades on to block the rays of the
lowering sun from his eyes.
  It was still quite light when they reached the city and headed out to
find the airport bus.  They had a long wait before it turned up, so it
wasn't until a quarter past nine when they reached the terminal building of
the curious hilltop airport.  The sky was darkening into dusk, and the
runway lights were coming on.  A Ryanair flight roared into the air above
the control tower as they looked around.
  `What now?' asked Gus.
  `Let's go and get a drink.'
  The boys found a sandwich bar and got cokes.  Danny rang Terry's number,
but there was no answer.  To kill time, they sat at a small table and
watched the world of package tourists and businessmen move past, trundling
cases behind them.  Finally, an announcement requested Mr Underwood and Mr
Hackness to come to the information desk on the concourse.
  Terry was there, smiling broadly.  `Now, sweet babes, I have been ringing
friends and I've found you a refuge where no one will think of looking for
you.  How's your French?'
  `Er ... Gussie's is brilliant and mine is mediocre.  Why?'
  `Cos you are going to France, my babes, to an old friend who'll take care
of you and who knows all about you.  She'll give you room and board and odd
jobs to keep you busy.  Her name is Madame Cirier, and she runs the Domaine
Peacher at Courçon near La Rochelle.  She's used to refugees.  Ready to
go?'
  `How do we get there?'
  `Your transport awaits.  Take this package for me.  It's got English
breakfast tea for Madame and a stack of Euros for you.  Now come this way.'
  Terry escorted them through a doorway and past an immigration officer who
checked their passports and bags.  Then they were outside on a windy tarmac
apron.  The sky was darkening to deep blue and stars were beginning to
appear.  A big, long-distance helicopter sat waiting for them, its rotors
already turning slowly and its powerful navigation lights blinking.
  `You can't be serious,' gasped Danny.
  `I certainly can.  We owe you two boys for what you did for Damien, so
this is a thank- you from me and from Justy.  It will take you to the
airfield at Niort, refuel and then after dawn drop you at Courçon.  Now,
babes, hugs.'
  So they hugged and kissed Terry.  He told them he would be in touch when
any news broke that they should be aware of.  As he moved back towards the
terminal, the boys got on board.  The crewmen belted them in and the pilot
received the all-clear from the tower.  The roar of the rotors was loud in
the cabin and abruptly the floor lifted while their stomachs sank.  They
were rising rapidly, heading south across England to the Channel and France
beyond.  Danny was suddenly possessed by a feeling of adventure so powerful
he became light-headed.  This was escape!

***

Justin, Matt and Andy pulled into the big perimeter mall.  It was very hot
and the air was shimmering above the tarmac of the car park where Andy left
his Mercedes.  They hurried to gain the welcome relief of the
air-conditioned interior, looking for the Gap outlet.
  `So this is a first,' smiled Matt, `shopping for clothes for my grandkid,
and me only just thirty.'
  `Think of me, Dad,' muttered Justin.  `I never bought kid's clothes in me
life.  I dunno what to do or what to get.'
  `Let's be logical.'  Andy had adopted the tone he used when he wanted it
understood that he had more of a clue than anyone else.  `I took his
measurements and the nurses gave me his approximate kid's sizes.  We'll
work from the top down.  Now, hats?  Does he need a hat?'
  `Without a hat you get sunstroke apparently, so my mum told me when I was
a kid,' mused Matt.
  `Did you wear a hat?'
   Matt shook his head.
  `Did you ever get sunstroke?'
  `No, I can't remember that I did.'
  `Then let's forget the hat.  Underwear.  Do kids wear vests?  I can
remember them in winter.  I'll get a pack.  OK.  Now underpants.  What's in
nowadays, boxers or briefs?'
  Justin shrugged.  `I like boxers, but I think iss briefs these days.
What about this lot with dinosaurs and King Kong?  They look the sort of
thing a violent and alienated six- year-old would appreciate.  Thass me
boy!'
  Andy gave a quirky look. `Three packs then.  Socks are pretty standard,
throw those in, six multi-coloured packets are bound to be enough.  Now the
hard stuff ...'
  The three men were loaded with bags of jeans, shorts, trousers, sweaters,
tees, tops, jackets, pyjamas and coats when they left.
  Andy headed for a Starbucks and told everyone to sit down.  They looked
at the small continent of plastic bags they had piled up.  `Can a kid that
small need all this?'
  `We have yet to do shoes,' Matt observed.
  Shoes followed after their skinny lattés, and it was a hard grind.  In
the end Andy groaned, `Just go for quantity, some of them have got to fit.
My God, aren't they tiny little things?  I can't believe I was ever this
small.'
  Matt laughed.  `I'm sure you were even smaller.'
  Justin suddenly looked nervous.  `I hope he likes them.'
  They drove back direct to the hospital.  When Damien was introduced to
his grandparents, he exclaimed, `But you're blokes too!'
  `Sure are,' Matt agreed with a grin.
  `Fookin' `ellfire.  Aren't there no women in our family?'
  `We have mums.  You'll get to meet them,' offered Andy.
  `OK, our kid, it's time you got dressed.  What about this clobber?'
Justin asked.
  `S'alright,' Damien sniffed.  He squirmed out of bed, then looked
pointedly at Matt and Andy.  `You gonna watch?'
  `No, we'll wait in reception.  Your dad can take care of you.'
  Father and son selected clothes to suit the boy, and Damien fought hard
and unsuccessfully to mask his pleasure.  Finding shoes to fit was the big
problem.  Damien was quickly bored with the putting on and taking off and
the walking around to check comfort.  Only three of the twelve pairs suited
his exacting standards.  He got furious when his father commented that he
should have learned to tie his laces by now.
  `Why weren't you fookin there to teach me then, yer ...'
  `Enough of the "fuckings" too.'
  `So ... why?'
  `It's very rude'
  `You says it all the fookin time.'
  `Iss different for grown-ups.'
  `Why?'
  Oh for God's sake, thought Justin.  This is some sort of cosmic revenge.
The Animal of Seven Sisters has to domesticate the wild child he spawned.
Strangling his frustrated anger, he thought back to how the cleverer sort
of primary-school teacher had dealt with him.  `You know that bastard
Julio?'
  Damien looked hard at his father and gave a scowl that Justin recognised
all too well, as it was his own.  `Why you bringing that fooker up now?'
  `When he shouted at your mam, what was the word he used all the time?'
  `So?'
  `You want to be like that cunt?'
  `Fookin no way.'
  `Then don't use the word "fookin"'
  Damien pondered.  Justin had him.  `OK, I won't.'
  `Good.'
  `But "cunt" is OK, then?'
  `Oh for crying out loud ...'

***

Matt and Andy smiled broadly when Justin and Damien walked into the
hospital reception hand-in-hand.  Justin was hefting a big shoulder bag
stuffed with the rest of the boy's clothes, and carrying another in the
hand that wasn't holding Damien.
  `You look great, Damien,' Andy complimented him.
  `You really do.  I could get you modelling work,' laughed Matt.
  `Does it pay money?'  Damien looked up at him consideringly.
  `It made my fortune.'
  `I'll think about it then.'
  Matt went on, `Andy and I are going back down to London now, Damien, so
this is goodbye for a bit, but only a little bit.  You really are our
grandson ^Ö weird though that seems to us ^Ö and we won't forget it.  We'll
be over at Andy's house, which is near your dad's cottage, pretty soon,
just to see how you're getting on.'  Matt held out his hand, and Damien
took it gingerly and a little suspiciously.  Then with a bit more
confidence he shook Andy's hand.  But he didn't smile or say goodbye,
though Justin hugged both his parents.
  `This your car?' Damien wanted to know the instant he saw the blue Jaguar
XK convertible.
  `One of them.  Like it?'
  `Iss OK, I s'pose.'
  After Justin put the bag of clothes in the boot, he wondered where to put
Damien.  He ought to have a child seat, he realized.  Since he couldn't go
purchase one immediately, he decided to use the smaller of his son's bags
instead.
  `Up front then, kid.'  Once belted in on top of the bag, Damien looked
absurdly small.  The doctors had told Justin the boy was underweight and
under his proper height.  His teeth also were a mess, riddled with decay,
nearly melted from his diet of soft drinks, crisps and chocolate mitigated
only by an intermittent brushing.
  `Now, little one, we're going home.'
  `Where's home?'
  `Iss in Suffolk, which is a long way away, at a place called Haddesley
Cottage.  You remember Gus?'
  `Yeah, I remembers him.  He's me friend.'
  `He comes from Haddesley too.'
  `Will I see him?'
  `No.  He's living somewhere else right now, but he might turn up
eventually.  I live in Haddesley Cottage wiv me boyfriend, Nathan.  He'll
be like your second dad.'
  `No he fookin won't.  Not sure if I likes you yet.'
  Justin scowled to himself.  The kid, so adult on one level, was totally
wilful on another.  But he strangled the irritation with a great effort and
drove out of the hospital car park.
  `We there yet?' The question first came twenty-five miles out of
Walbrough, and was repeated regularly every ten miles thereafter.
  Half-demented, Justin pulled in at the first McDonald's he came to on the
A1.  `Let's have a drink, and you need a pee by now probably.'
  `I want two large fries and an ice cream,' was Damien's order.  `The food
in that hospital was fookin crap.'
  `Less of the fookin.  Iss not lunch yet.'
  `Lunch?  I want me fookin dinner.'
  `Lunch is what you have midday, and it's only eleven.  I'll get you one
large fries and a box of juice.  You can't drink pop all the time.  It's
melted your teeth.'
  `You're fookin tight, you are!'
  `I'm also your dad, so watch your mouth.'
  `Or fookin what?  You gonna fookin beat me up too?'
  Justin was furious by now, and red-faced.  He mastered himself with an
effort that was recorded by angels in gold letters in a big book.  `I won't
hit you ever, Damien.  Dads don't do that to their kids ... at least not
good dads.  I want to be a good dad.'
  `Then get me the fookin fries and ice cream.'
  `Ice cream is a treat, not something you can have every time you like.'
  `Fook you then.'  The boy stomped off back through the services.  Justin
had no choice but to pursue, till the boy stopped back at the car, furious.
  Grimly, Justin asked, `Don't want anything at all?'
  `No!'
  `Back in and belt up, then.'
  They drove on southwards.  At least Damien was so furious that he forgot
to ask whether they were yet at Haddesley.  Justin drove silently.  By one
o'clock Damien was casting wistful eyes at every Little Chef he saw.
Finally, as they passed an American- style diner, Justin asked brightly,
`Fancy lunch?'
  `Yuh.  OK.  But it's dinner, not lunch.'
  `Whatever.'
  So half an hour later they were sitting over one child's and one adult's
cheeseburgers and fries, eyeing each other up.
  `Damien,' Justin finally said, `see that green gunk on your plate?  You
eat a mouthful of that or it's no ice cream.'
  `Fook off.  Thass for rabbits.'
  `Iss also for little boys who hope to survive their dads.'
  `Wha ..?  Oh, funny.'
  `Seriously.  The doctors told me you were eating so badly with your mum
that you have real health problems.  Ever heard of malnutrition?'
  `Nuh.  Wass it mean?'
  `It means your body's sick cos you eat all the wrong stuff.  You have
malnutrition.  I gotta get you to our dentist as soon as we're home cos of
the mess your teeth are in.  Kid, you have to change the way you eat.  I
did too when I went to live wiv Nathan, and now I'm healthy and fit.  He
won't take crap and he's a big bloke.'
  `So wass he gonna do ... beat the shit out of me if I don't eat what he
wants?'
  `No, he'll sneer at you cos you're a little wimp who'll never be strong
enough to wrestle him.  We gotta get you fit, so you can do stuff in school
like soccer and PE without people laughing at you.'
  For the first time, Damien looked alarmed.  `School?'
  `Yeah, school.  Nathan's already seen Mrs Chancellor, the headteacher of
Castringham Church of England School, to make sure you get a place.  You
start in year 1 in September.  You been to school, haven't you?'
  `Well ... sorta.'
  `What's that mean?'
  `Well, I never went in Pudsey cos mam was too stoned to get me there.
Then we came to Walbrough and the Women's Shelter ladies took me, but they
put me in the hall cos of me language, and I kept bein' picked on by the
other kids, the cunts.  When we got the flat, I wouldn't go and mam was too
busy wiv Sunni May, so I stayed and helped.'
  `That's gonna change, Son.  School is important.  You gotta go.'
  `Did they make you go?'
  `Oh yeah, I was really keen on school.  Never missed a day.  Happiest
days of me life.'  Justin's fingers were crossed under the table.  He had
last attended a school with any regularity at the age of thirteen.  He
tried to look virtuous, which was not an expression natural to his face.
  They drove on quietly through the English countryside to Damien's new
home, each full of his own thoughts.