A Real Man in My Life Ch. 02

Hence shelf stacker, door supervisor, security guard, debt collection, because he wasn't old enough to be a bailiff. His uncle taught him to drive and he passed his test first time, which meant he could go out and drive mini-cabs as well. This was of course when Parker met him again.

His mother insisted his wages were paid to him in cash or even better to her, and she knew from contacts how much he got so she took all of his money in one way or another. To make it worse she stopped some of the benefits they were entitled to because of it.

She hadn't worked since before Gray was born and on reflection he did wonder why she was so keen not to claim stuff she could have. Quite simply, she would accept no help from those interfering social services bastards or job centre bastards, placing the burden on her and him to care for his brother.

Gray sipped more of his coffee and smiled, he smiled whenever he mentioned his brother Terry, insisting that he felt no anger for his lost childhood and teens and the restrictions on his growing up.

One of his jobs was a warehouseman in the local supermarket so by default he did the grocery shopping to save Mum time, before he came home. She would give him a list, the money and demand them and the receipt back so she could check.

Like something out of a Roald Dahl book he would often walk to his jobs and save his bus fare for simple things that his contemporaries (such as me) took for granted. He confessed that he had a real sweet tooth and loved Cadburys chocolate above all things, and like Charlie Bucket he would save his money and buy a single bar and eat it walking home, slowly enjoying each morsel, careful to make sure he binned the wrapper and left no evidence that he'd had one.

Even this luxury was eventually denied him by a nosey neighbour telling his Mum that he looked like he'd really enjoyed that bar of chocolate he'd had walking home, enjoyed every square of it he did, pleasure to watch him. His Mum flew into a rage, slammed the door on the neighbour and sat in the kitchen waiting for him to get home, fuming to herself, brewing up like an over-pressurised boiler, waiting to explode.

When he got in, she proceeded to berate him and his slovenly attitude, drinking straight from a half empty bottle of supermarket own label vodka, and his greed at enjoying himself when she had nothing, no treats in her life, fucking nothing! She slammed her bottle of vodka down on the table to point that out.

But now she knew he was capable of walking to work that was that -- he would fucking walk and she'd have the bus fare for groceries, not wasted on children's sweets for a big stupid baby like him. She demanded to know what he had to say for himself, but he didn't respond, knowing of old that this was not going to end well whatever he said or did.

She grew angrier and angrier at his lack of response and eventually she started to throw things at him, including pots and pans, and kitchen utensils - he showed me the scar on his forehead from a well-aimed frying pan he was unable to dodge -- and losing his temper he finally pinned her to the wall, as she howled and screamed in her impotent fury and frustration at his seemingly effortless restraining of her. She spat vodka flavoured spittle into his face but he was used to that.

"I'll fucking have you, you stupid cunt!" she screamed, then with an evil look in her eye, "I'll have the fucking pair of you!"

Using his training he dropped her on her arse and ran, straight to the living room and the fearful, crying Terry and he barricaded them both in. After an hour's ranting and throwing herself at the door, the police arrived because the worried neighbour who had started it all with her disclosure of the chocolate bar had called them.

Getting no response at the front door and knowing that kind of house, they went to the back door and let themselves in, seeing her at the door and the damage she'd inflicted on it and smelling the booze on her breath they took her out to the front garden and the flickering curtains of the informal neighbourhood watch.

Gray opened the door once the policeman shouted who he was and seeing the blood on his head, face and shoulder he patched the wound on the gentle giant's head, smiling and chatting with Terry who was just starting to calm down.

The Woods family were reported to Social Services and seeing as they didn't consider that the huge young man was at risk from the mother and it was a Friday, they were put on a waiting list.

Mavis whined to the police officers, occasionally screaming abuse at the moving net curtains, that she had nothing, nothing for herself besides a crippled dunce of a child and another ungrateful idiot that frittered her hard earned money away on fripperies without a thought for her; the one with nothing.

When she said she had nothing, that wasn't strictly true of course. She had always had the occasional glass of whiskey at the end of the day, but started to drink heavily as her boys got older, and she became more and more anti-social and aggressive towards them.

Gray had started to sleep in Terry's room some months before because mum only got pissed at night and he'd noticed that sometimes when he helped Terry with a shower, there were bruises on his body, around his ribs and stomach, as if Mum had given him a few good punches if Terry did the slightest thing she objected to. He now knew that whatever he did in retaliation could be and probably had been revisited on his defenceless brother.

He came up with a plan; rather than hide the booze he rationed it.

Most of the local off-licenses knew that they weren't to sell her spirits because at the lack of support from the social workers the police had warned them not to, and most of them stuck to it. The neighbours knew about it of course (See her, that mad bitch with the two boys? You know the off-licences aren't to sell her booze no more? Shocking innit...) and on the two occasions a 7-11 store manager broke the ban, the local police knew about it before Mum had reached home.

Using this to his advantage, he'd buy it for her from the supermarkets and hide it.

Gray was out late Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights -- his three eighteen hour work days - so he'd hide the real booze on Sundays, Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays content that by Thursday she be so desperate that as soon as she found it she neck it straight down and would be slumped across the sofa or in her chair or on the floor in her pissed stupor and he would look after Terry.

He asked Terry if Mum was hitting him, and he indicated that she was; but only when she was really drunk. If Terry was upright, she'd punch him in the ribs or kidneys, Gray never found out what her supposed reason was -- he guessed she didn't really need one. As Terry grew into a man, she started on his belly and finally his testicles.

Gray saw a few tears on his brother's face and promised him that he'd look after him whatever.

So Gray would bring out the hidden booze and not leave the house for his late pub shifts until Mum was out cold, then would dash home during his meal break to put Terry to bed seeing mum in heap on the floor, across the table, halfway up the stairs or just sprawled where she fell.

And he would leave her there, often bathed in her own urine. The carpets had long since disappeared and 'her' armchair reeked. As she got worse she even tried to punch Gray but he was a trained bouncer and knew how to deal with pissed up fighters.

It worked most of the time and Terry stayed generally safe and unbruised.

As he approached his twentieth birthday, Gray came home at gone three in the morning after an extremely busy Friday night working the pubs then the nightclubs to find his mother in an unnatural heap at the bottom of the staircase, and trained as he was in first aid he couldn't bring her round. He phoned for an ambulance and the police were called just in case.

Mum was declared dead at the scene by an emergency doctor, and 16 year old Terry was taken into care while Gray went to the police station to 'help with enquiries', seeing as there was a police history between him and his mum.

Locked in an interview room, still in his black suit but deprived of his tie and shoe laces, he was eventually released after lunch the next day by which time the post-mortem confirmed that his late mother's injuries were conducive with someone falling downstairs while extremely inebriated, which the blood tests showed she was. Her time of death was given as 2215-2300 hours when Gray was stood on a pub door talking to three police officers about an incident where some underage girls had kicked off when he refused them entry to the pub he was working. It was notable because they had threatened him that unless he let them in, they'd tell their parents and the police he'd offered to let them in in return for sex.

But the second the rather precocious blonde fifteen year old made the threat, he'd secretly pressed the transmit button on his radio so every doorman and a few policeman within three miles heard the discussion. He even got her to say it again.

The police sergeant was listening in three hundred yards away and walked slowly along to where he was stood with the grinning trio. The sergeant wished Gray a good evening and asked what the problem was. The three young ladies endeavoured to back away but a second officer stopped them. Tears were shed, parents called, and that was that.

The sergeant and PC that had dealt with the girls had clocked off at three, and for some reason no one wanted to phone them. So the detective had called up the CCTV of the event and wouldn't let him go until they'd confirmed that he'd not left the town for those hours.

To make matters worse, the officer investigating his Mum had gone home at 4am thinking his colleague was taking care of the young bouncer; his colleague had thought likewise.

There was no phone in the room, he couldn't afford a mobile and was trapped. He pressed the panic strip on the wall, but no alarm bells went off and no one came, that was broken down apparently.

At eight o'clock the next morning and with an almost bursting bladder he shouted through the glass in the door at a passing cleaner asking to be let out to use the bathroom. The startled cleaner ran to the main police station and could only find two traffic officers. Graham's rather peeved attitude did little to endear him to the traffic cops and they told him to calm down.

He said he was quite prepared to calm down but he didn't want to be beaten up if he pee'd on the floor having been locked in the room for nearly five and a half hours.

The traffic officer escorted him to cells so he could use the toilet there not allowing him to use the staff toilet three doors away from the interview room. At the cell block Gray asked when he could go home, but the new custody officers had come on at 0600 and didn't know who he was or what he was doing. A sergeant was found who picked up some paperwork from someone else's tray that backed up Graham's story. The first investigative officer had written, "Disabled boy left with known inebriate - booze -- duty of care?" with the question mark underlined three times.

None of these new officers were detectives and it showed. There was some discussion about whether this aspect of the incident should be investigated.

It was suggested that he be locked in a cell until that case officer could be contacted. Graham pointed out that he hadn't even been arrested -- one of the traffic officers pointed out that could still be arranged.

The raised voices had a passing inspector stopping at the metal gates. Gray recognised the rank and asked if he could speak to him.

The inspector listened to what was going on and took the boy back to a main office where he was sat down and given another cup of tea and a few biscuits he'd managed to find. The town centre CCTV had been copied and was waiting for collection, even though the pub CCTV had virtually cleared him.

The inspector had checked Graham's record -- he didn't have one. So the inspector told him 'not to leave the country' for a few days and they'd be in touch. He asked the newly arrived station enquiry officer to make sure Graham had all of his stuff and to let him go as the inspector had a meeting to attend.

Graham hadn't slept in 28 hours and bar two almost stale digestive biscuits hadn't eaten in 18 hours and at a shade after mid-day Gray found himself outside of the town main police station with his jacket over his shoulder, two cups of tea and two biscuits between him and starvation and no money and no way of getting the four miles home. He thought about asking the police for a lift but figured they'd probably just arrest him for vagrancy or something.

He walked, after all he was used to that.

His feet were sore, his cheap doorman shoes were designed to look smart not be comfortable for walking long distances and he felt the blisters painfully starting on his heels, and his thigh and calves were screaming at him. The more he walked, the more tired he felt. Once he reached home he sat down in the bare kitchen had no idea what he was going to do next.

He was a capable, honest, hard-working boy that had been treated like a criminal just because his alcoholic mother had died in her own stupor. He didn't have access to the money that was in her name, didn't know when the rent needed paying or the gas or the electric -- no standing orders for his Mum - didn't trust them cheatin' bastards, he didn't know where Terry had been taken, and... to cap it all, no matter what his relationship with her had been, his Mum had died not twelve hours ago, and now he was on his own.

He was fuming; there was no apology from the police for locking him up because technically they hadn't, not in a cell at least, but still nothing just because he was obviously a bouncer, and a big rough-looking one at that.

Even though he was dog tired, hungry, thirsty and extremely footsore, he tried to find out where his brother had been taken by social services. He poured through the phone book, one that hadn't ended up on the fire as kindling, and the duty social worker didn't want to talk to him because he was led to believe that Terry's father was the next of kin and much as he thought he understood the Data Protection Act, really didn't.

Gray pointed out that no one had seen Dad in sixteen years. The social worker was well used to dealing with aggressive and argumentative chavs like this tosser and said that was ridiculous, he knew that Terry's father was helping police with their enquiries.

"That was me!" shouted Gray, "Graham Woods!"

"Now then Mr Woods, there's no reason to lose your temper is there..."

Gray pointed out that he'd spent the night locked in a cold room, sat on a metal chair bolted to the floor because his mother had died, and now his brother (who had never been looked after by anyone but them before) had been dragged off and anything could be happening to him.

The social worker had of course only heard 'locked up; and told Gray that Terry was in the best place and being taken care of by PROFESSIONALS and if he waited until Monday morning he could bring some more clothes to the town hall and make an appointment to speak with the social care team. Perhaps then he'd be allowed to see his brother - under controlled circumstances and conditions.

Thinking on his feet Gray and back to the excuses he'd been badgered with when he was rent collecting, he gave a 'I know I'm beat' sigh and said that was all OK but who was going to come and get Terry's medication. During the pause he added that he would need his water tablets for Sunday morning, he even read the label to him.

This was rubbish, their mum took 'water tablets' not Terry and they had in fact taken all of his meds but this knobber wasn't to know that.

Gray thought on his feet again, being a debt collector encouraged this, and said if he wanted to come round to get it he'd have it ready. He guessed the last thing the social worker would want to do is go out on a Saturday afternoon to that shitty estate and he told Gray to hold the line.

Gray pushed the phone to his ear, opened his mouth to improve his hearing and held his breath, hearing some faint discussion in the background, something else he'd learned when debt collecting.

He heard the words 'at Priory Park' and that rang a bell, it was an old people home across town. So guessing that was all the information he'd get he put the phone down.

He had a shower, slept on his bed for an hour setting the cursed alarm clock that his mother normally set, and when he woke partially rested put on jeans and a T-shirt then jumped on his old pushbike and after checking in the Phone Book for the address, headed across town to The Priory Park Centre.

He arrived late afternoon, introduced himself to a passing care assistant and was shown through to a large day room and was pleased to find Terry sat watching football on a huge TV and surrounded by other people (most of them elderly) and apparently loving it.

Terry was sat in a large high backed chair that looked far more comfortable for him than the one at home, which was part of Mum's three piece suite.

He was wearing a polo shirt and tracksuit trousers, not the faded pyjamas he'd worn for most of his life. Mum had kept Terry to himself and away from people that might abuse him -- for some reason this never included her.

She had taught him at home and he could read and spell out a few words, and had basic maths skills. But he'd lacked company - other than the doctors and nurses that would come to visit when Mum would allow it, that was it.

Gray introduced himself to the supervisor and explained who he was. The supervisor knew the basics of what had happened the night before and was the first person to show any kind of compassion to him, and the gentle hand she put on his arm was almost enough to put him over the edge, and she saw it.

"Let's go and see Terry," she said with a kindly smile, and he was given a mug of tea and some sandwiches as it was afternoon tea. Terry was sat next to an older gentleman that like him was a West Ham fan and they were deep in conversation about the outcome of the second half of the match and the failings of both teams. The old boy had no problem with Terry's speech impediment and chatted to him like he didn't have one.

Gray watched as he saw his brother more animated than he ever had been before. Terry was the talk of the centre as he was such as lovely boy and he loved the old dears cooing over him, Terry had never been the centre of positive attention before and his glowing face showed it. Graham smiled too.

"There," said the supervisor, "I told you he was OK didn't I."

Being a Saturday Gray didn't think for a second he was going to get to meet anyone that could tell him anything, but low and behold as Gray sat there holding his brother's hand and explaining about Mum a tall man arrived and sat next to them.

"You must be Graham," he said, "Terry's told me all about you," and a huge grin spread across his face. It was the start of a great friendship between all three.

Paul had been the night duty social worker and had popped in to see how Terry was doing and sat and chatted with both younger men about the passing of their mother and that Terry could stay as long as he liked. At the end of the football match (a win for the Hammers) Terry fell asleep in his chair. Paul took Terry to the office and invited him to sit down again, bringing out a box of Mr Kipling's cakes, something that Gray and Terry could barely remember having.

Paul kept pushing the box to the wide eyed boy saying that he'd had several long chats with Terry overnight and that morning and he was aware of their situation. Paul was a long served social worker by trade and had worked with families with problems, and admitted himself surprised that he'd never met Terry before.