I was starting to feel like there was another story brewing in the midst of the -p reception. People were coming up to me and asking if I’ve finished packing or if I’m going to miss my friends. I didn’t know what they were talking about. But then it hit me like an atom bomb hitting a distant place but still leaving the stench of devastation. We were going to move to Leeds.
I tried to talk to my mum about this new catastrophe but I couldn’t get pass my adoring family. The family, who I was going to leave and go to another place where I didn’t know anyone; well I’ll know Bill but he’s not exactly the person I want with me in a dark alley in Leeds. When I went to ask my mum about the move she told me that we would talk about it later. When I persisted, she kept on telling not now. I had finally had enough and I shouted out,
“No! I want to talk about it now!” That’s when I realized some of Bill’s fury hatred and his devil like personality had gone into my mum already. She hit me. She really hit me. What was worse is she did it in front of everybody, no shame. That’s what Bill would have done. I ran out the room trying not to show my tears. Bill followed me but I just slammed the door in his face. I could hear the hall slowly regaining the chatter, which had drowned out because of my mother. My mother. Who certainly didn’t care about me? Otherwise she would have at least asked me about Leeds or just told me about it before I found out from someone else. I picked up the courage to slowly go into the room. If my mum had ever done something even remotely like this before she would have hugged me and sorry straight away because she would have realised what she would have done. But this time it was different; she had the Bill in her. I sat on the chair next to her and waited as people came to us to congratulate us.
We didn’t speak all the way home because we both didn’t make the first move. I finally said sorry in a low pitched, murmured voice.
“I’m sorry too, but you shouldn’t have embarrassed me like that,” she replied but not in her usual voice. I could have argued on by saying how she embarrassed me by slapping me in front of the whole hall but frankly I couldn’t be bothered. Her voice sounded somewhat different now. I hadn’t noticed before, as I hadn’t heard her speak since the reception party. The voice had a hint of something added to it but I didn’t know what it was. It became clearer as the time went by.
The next day was all about packing. My mum was rushing around, trying to find suitcases and phoning up old friends to say the last goodbyes. I was over what at had happened. I was actually looking forward. I think it was because I started to see m my mum happier than she had ever been. One thing I wasn’t looking forward to though was Leeds. A conciliation prize was that we were going to go to Paris before we went to Leeds. It was going to be mum and Bill’s honeymoon and my first real holiday. I did go down to the coast to Brighton once with mum, for a few days. But this was my first. You see we couldn’t afford going on holidays because mum was the only one bringing in the money. My dad obviously couldn’t. I actually don’t know what happened to my dad. Every time I would bring it up, mum would change the subject. I guess my mum has been my dad for all my life and I wanted it to stay that way.
The packing was hard; it was very hard. I mean, how did they expect me to pack all my life in one suitcase and in less than half a day. I had to decide what was going and what was not. Saying goodbye to my room and house was hard but saying goodbye to all my friends was just absolutely impossible. They are the sort of friends you spend six or seven years of your life with. I went to the bathroom to collect my on last few things and what did I find? Shaving cream all over the sink and some even on the mirror. Keeping good up keep of Bill’s beard took some doing. It grew like a forest. It would be clean-shaven one day and like a bush the next. I had finished my packing and got ready for leaving.
A few of my mum’s closest friends had come around to help with the packing. She was weeping one minute then all elated the next. I didn’t know if she was coming or going. We said our last good byes to everything and got into the car. Bill gave the movers the address to his house in Leeds and started the car. As the car slowly rode down the road, I looked at my house and my waving friends. Who would know that one day I would call these the good old times?
We reached in France in a couple of hours. I was so anxious to go to Disneyland. I wanted to go on all the rides and I couldn’t wait to meet Mickey Mouse. I was a bit old for it but when I was a kid I loved Mickey Mouse and his big ears. The three days in Paris were great, mum and Bill had a great time; I did too. Disneyland was great and even Bill wasn’t too bad. Don’t get me wrong its not like I started to like him but his stupidity was hilarious. He always tried to make me laugh but I didn’t. I only laughed inside because his jokes made no sense and he mad an idiot of himself. Mum and Bill were going on like bunnies. Always kissing and hugging, it made me sick. But the time finally came when we had to leave and go home or should I say to Leeds. We into the airport but his time instead of going back to Heathrow we went to ‘Leeds International Airport’.
Bill was becoming annoying again. All he could talk about was Leeds. I was sick of that word. Throughout the plane journey all he told my mum about was how in ‘Leeds’ there were good schools, houses and jobs. He even said that in Leeds there were better supermarkets. I was trying to enjoy the aeroplane experience but I couldn’t with him yapping on. Our plane landed in Leeds and we got off it. As we were walking down the stairs, which had been wheeled in next to the plane, Bill took a deep breath and said,
“That’s real Yorkshire air for you.” I did the same but all I could smell was the stench coming from Bill’s direction. Bill got us a cab and I couldn’t help feeling that Leeds actually didn’t look such a bad place. The houses did look good. People looked nice as well. But as the cab journey went on the worse it became. The houses became worse and the people looked worse. After one hour in the cab we arrived at Bills.
It was still in the afternoon so children were still playing outside. As soon as we got out they stopped kicking their ball and they came over to Bill and said,
“Hello Mr. Hopkins. Did you have a good trip?” Bill told them about me and I sort of already had made my first new friends. This place wasn’t bad. Even though the other streets in the neighbourhood were full of derelict houses, Bill’s street wasn’t bad. The people were also very nice. Apart from Bill I liked everything else. I liked my new house, my street, my new friends and the best part was that Mum was happy too. I even started school after a week or so. Mum didn’t want me to miss out on my education. Everything was working out for the best.
For the first few weeks Bill dropped me and picked me up from school. But soon I started going by myself. My school was really good. The teachers were great and soon I was going to do my GCSE’s. The only bad thing about my school was that I had to walk through a bad part of the neighbourhood. I often thought people looked at me peculiarly there. I had to walk all by myself because no one from my school took the same way home as I did. But sometimes you can always think that. Bill was earning enough so mum didn’t have to got to work but she got bored so she got herself a part time job in a little charity shop. Life still was great until it started happening. The worst time of my life was about to fire up.
It was a normal day like any other but when school finished I noticed five boys hanging outside. I think they were about 20 years old. They called out to me but
I don’t know what they called me. It was a really bad word I think. I didn’t take any notice and walked of in a faster pace but they were not to far behind. I turned around a corner and started running. I don’t know why I did that. I suppose I was a bit scared because they kept on taunting me. I was never a person to retaliate and there were also five of them. I knew all I had to do was get into my street. When I did, I looked around the corner and they were not there. I told my mum and Bill about this and they told the school.
I think the school must have done something because the next day they were not there. Maybe it was a one off. Maybe they just picked on me on that day. But the next day they were there again. And this time they looked in a worse mood. I walked out of the school and tried my luck by walking past them. It didn’t work. They huddled round me in a circle chanting cruel names. Before I didn’t know why they were doing this to me. I mean there were plenty of other teenage boys to terrorise. Why me? But soon I knew. These boys weren’t used to the idea of ‘ethnic minorities’. I saw a gap in the circle and ran as hard as I could. I dropped my school bag but I didn’t care. This was only the second time it had happened but I was terrified. I ran and ran and ran. I ran all the way home. I was safe, for now. The next morning I started walking to school and when I turned around the corner of my street, I found my bag. Nothing left of it but a pile of black ashes.
It kept on going on for a few days they wouldn’t be there, they would probably be terrorising some other poor kid. I was completely defenceless. I wanted it to stop. It slowly became worse. Words turned into punches, punches turned into kicks. It got so bad that I even changed schools. It was O.K for a little while but soon they found me again. It continued. What was going on to me affected my mum. She and Bill started having fights. Bill slowly turned into what I expected of him. But right now I didn’t care about that. I was like a deaf man shut out from the world.
One day in November, where the leaves of the trees had fallen and covered the whole playground in a brown colour, it set the scene for my worst day ever The bell rang. School had finished. I liked school. As long as I was there I was safe but I dreaded the end. Usually as soon as I would step out of that gate I would suddenly turn into a punching bag but this time it didn’t happen. They weren’t there every day but the day they were there I could sense them, waiting for me. This day I did sense it but they weren’t there. I felt there was something wrong but I took it as a blessing and walked hurriedly. I carried on straight through the alley when a voice from behind said,
“Where do you think you’re going?” I knew it. I had made that transition to punching bag again. I turned around and to my surprise I only saw one but he was the worst one. I think he was the leader because he always spoke first and made the first move. He lunged at me with a punch but I dodged it. I could smell alcohol in his breath. He was free to hit and I didn’t hesitate. He staggered back and checked his lip for blood like in the films but this was real not same studio in Los Angeles. He reached into his back pocket and got out a knife. It wasn’t big but it could do damage. He lashed it a few times at me but it missed. I had to do something or it would cut me sometime. I quickly glanced around for any objects I could defend with. The only thing was a brick. I quickly bent down and grabbed it. He once again attempted to attack me but I just dodged in time. He stumbled for a few seconds, which made him vulnerable. I saw my chance and thrust the brick towards his head resulting in a blow with tremendous shock. I dropped the brick out of my hand and stepped back slowly.
“What have I done?” I thought to myself. My adversary hurtled to the floor; his knife fell out of his hand. The blood trickled from his head and developed into a pool on the dead, brown autumn leaves, which lay on the ground in the middle of the alley. I did what any person would do at this situation. I didn’t care if he was alive or dead. I ran; I didn’t even look back. My legs felt like they had 2 rottweilers stuck to them and they wouldn’t let go. They got heavier and heavier: it became harder and harder to run. I got to the front door of the house and fumbled with the keys. I finally got it open and shut it behind me. While catching my breath back I turned into a pool of tears. I don’t know how that boy was but soon they were going to be the least of my worries.
I pulled the duvet back and got out of the bed. I was still half asleep and little dazed. I went into the bathroom to wash up when I suddenly heard a knock on the door. This wasn’t an ordinary knock. This was the sound of someone beating a base drum. I turned the tap off to listen to whom it was. But all I could hear were muffled voices so I decided to go down and see who it was. I slowly walked down the stairs, still in my pajamas. I saw mum looking at me with a worried expression on her face. I got down a little further and I could see pass the doorframe. I saw black shoes, then black trousers and finally the upper part of the body. It was one of my most fearful people. The Police. I once had a run in with the Police when I was walking down a street with my friends. They had stopped us for no reason, just cause we looked like we were up to no good. I have hated most Police since then. The next thing he said wasn’t muffled or unclear.
“Can you please come down the station to answer a few questions?” the officer said in a low, seemingly voice. I didn’t even have the time to change; I put on a coat and got into the patrol car.
Walking down the corridor of the police station was intimidating. Loads of people that had been hauled in were making faces at you and lunging halfway forward. I followed the officer into a room. This wasn’t an interrogation room like in the movies, this only had one table and on it one tape recorder. The police officer kept on asking questions and I knew what they were about. He said something about a key witness who saw me at the scene of the crime. What they, really wanted to say if that a key witness saw me hit that boy on the head with a brick. The murder weapon, they called it. The sort of brick you use to build houses. The sort of brick you teach racists bullies a lesson with. They didn’t say or know that did they. I told them everything I knew. They went out of the room for a few minutes and came back but this time they had someone else. His name was Ronny Mathews and he said that my parents had appointed him. My parents, he meant Mum. I didn’t know what they were doing. They were whispering to each other and going in and out of the room. They finally came back with a few more officers. What came next stunned me. They handcuffed me, brought me to my feet and told me my rights.
I couldn’t believe even after I had told them about everything that had really been going on, they still charged me. I was still dazed with everything that had happened to me during the past few days or so. They had held me at the police station in one of their cells. I had a cell to myself. I was thankful for that. Even if anyone in his or her right mind could be thankful to stay in a police cell overnight, I was. One of the so-called guards came with food now and then. I don’t know why they were called guards. All they did was go on breaks, which lasted for about an hour. What did I care? I wasn’t going to try anything foolish. But there was a rough looking man, who had been giving me, self-stabbing looks and that’s what I needed the guard for. Protection. The other boys in the gang weren’t going to be too happy about what I did. What I did. I wasn’t too happy about it either but I wasn’t repenting. I had sinned but he deserved it. Those days were the worst days of my life. I was absolutely miserable. People could see I had problems but not so much as to help me by sorting them out.
Mum had come to see me. The time was limited. But even five minutes seemed like a lifetime. It would if you had nothing appropriate to ask. If it were a normal day, she would have asked about my day. But what would I say now.
“Oh yeah, I had a great day. Apart from me being arrested I also had plate gruel and had a man charging at me with a metal fork.” Is what I would have said? It wasn’t very easy for my Mum either. I asked where Bill was and she changed the subject entirely. I knew what he was doing. Blaming what I did on my mum. Acting like it was the end of his world, but not because of me. Because of his reputation and what it would do to him. Mum didn’t quite say any of this but I could work it out. I mean this is Billy Willy and he lived up to his reputation, at least the one I had drawn up for him. The only decent thing he did was hiring a lawyer. Not the best one either. He was always late and never acted like the lawyers in the movies who would say stuff like,
“You don’t have to answer that”. But there was nothing like that.
I wasn’t easting but even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t eat the poison the police fed me. All I did all day was answer few questions. Huh! A ‘few questions’ is what they said. I always got clothes and other things from home. But one day, I got a parcel with a suit inside it. I knew what it was for. The day is what my Mum called it. She meant the trial. Ronnie Matthews was going on about how it the trial was quicker than usual. I didn’t care. If the police didn’t see my side of the story how would some strangers, picked at random? My mum didn’t even say anything about it. My mum, of all people should have at least asked about it. Ronnie met up with me every day to discuss how I was going to answer questions in court and then the day finally came.
I looked pretty good in my new suit. Mum had bought it specially. Funny how you can buy something so nice for something so horrible. I still kept to myself. I was reserved. People came up to ask me how I was doing and I said nothing. That was a privilege I got with what was going on. We waited outside the courtroom. I remember laughing to myself because of the funny wigs that the lawyers wore. The doors to the courtroom opened and the hustle and bustle you could hear from outside went away. I slowly walked in with Ronnie to my side. I walked passed my mum and saw her wipe away a tear. I kept on walking until I reached the table and as we sat down the courtroom regained its noise. Up till now. Everything that had happened to me was not what I imagined but this was. The judge walked in and the noise died down again. Everybody stood up. Then sat back down. I waited for my trial to commence.
Over the course of the trial the judge and the jury were told all the key facts and accounts from witnesses. I didn’t have any witnesses but the deceased, as the people in the court called him, had many. The key witness, who had seen me at the scene of the crime, was a thirty-year-old man. But I hadn’t seen anyone. The trial went on. More facts were said and more people came up to give their accounts. Then it was my turn. I slowly walked up to the box. I tried to speak but it was as if the words wouldn’t come out. I also didn’t know where to start. So I started at the beginning.
I told them all about my mum and Bill and soon got to Leeds. Their faces told me they understood. I told them about the gang and the bullying. Bullying was an understatement. Their faces showed sympathy. I then moved on to the alley. I got to the part about the brick and looked at the jury. Their faces now were of disgust and hatred. The trial from then on went slow. I was till dazed. I didn’t see the point in going over and over the same facts. Then the day came. The verdict. I had seen my mum the night before and Ronnie was saying something about there being two charges. One was murder and one was manslaughter. He was sure I wouldn’t get murder but maybe manslaughter. It didn’t give me a lot of comfort. I was becoming worse. I was nearly deaf. Not that I couldn’t hear anyone but I wouldn’t. I wanted the trial to end but that didn’t necessarily mean it would end.
The time had come. One person from the jury stood up. The judge asked him if they had reached a verdict. He said yes.
“What do you find the defendant on the count of murder?” asked the judge. The courtroom hushed for the answer.
“Not guilty!” said the man. The courtroom gave a mixed response. Some sighed with relief some didn’t.
“And what do you find the defendant on the count of manslaughter?” asked the judge. The courtroom did the same. I looked back at my mum and this was the only time my heart was pounding. The man only said one word,
“Guilty!” it was like a knife straight through my heart. Went shattering through the courtroom. My mum burst into tears. But there was still more. The judge said my sentence. I didn’t quite hear it but I could sense it was long.
Things happened quickly, like they had for the past few months. I didn’t get much time for goodbyes. But I had finally got out of my slumber and woken up. Before I didn’t care. Now I did. I knew I was going to jail. Mum was whom I worried about most. Bill did turn out the way I said but it only mum got affected. I saw my mum for the last. I hugged her for the last time. I kissed her for the last time. She told me to take care for the last time. It was going to be the last time for a long time. I got into the van handcuffed and thought if mum had seen what Bill was like she would have never married him. If she hadn’t married him we would have never moved and none of this would have ever happened. Well you can’t change what has happened. So life went on. I didn’t know what was going to come but I didn’t anticipate it either.
Well that’s how I came to know what jail is like or at least will come to know. But that’s another story. Next time know what people really are like not what they seem like. Before you get yourself into trouble.
