Essex Boy: My Story (4 page)

Other times we would get trays and create sledges to go down these hills in the field that were like mini sand dunes.
Or we would make a den behind the bins by the house and entertain ourselves
for hours, creating all kinds of imaginary situations, hiding out from our enemies and plotting great military campaigns.

One day we realized that someone had left the key in the patio door of one of the empty houses, so for a couple of weeks we turned that into our own house.
The fun lasted until a new family
moved in, which was very annoying.
Can you imagine – at six and ten years old we were getting on like we owned our own home.
It was quality!

My mum’s sister,Tina, came to live with us at one point, as she had come out as a lesbian and divorced her husband.
She moved into our house along with her girlfriend and two of her kids,
Nyanda and Claire, while her son Scott stayed with their dad.
Nyanda was around our age and would come out to play with us.
We formed a great little trio, as she was just as up for creating
adventures as we were – if not more so!

Once, we found a spray can and an axe in the dumping area – I know what you’re thinking, and I’ve no idea why either!
– and Nyanda smashed the axe into the can to see
what would happen.
Unsurprisingly it exploded all over us, and we were covered in purple paint.
We tried to get it off but couldn’t, so we had to go home.
Our mums didn’t know whether
to laugh or go mad!
They practically drowned us in white spirit, and Daniel and I had to have our heads shaved.

We always got so dirty that we had to have baths at the end of every day.
When we came home from school, or from out playing, Mum would say, ‘Right, kids, straight in the bath before you
do anything!’
She made sure she kept us as clean as she could.

One day we were walking through the field when a ferret suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
It ran up to Claire and was clinging to her leg.
She was screaming like anything, so Daniel got hold of
a cardboard box and used it to try and pull the ferret off her.
It worked in the end and the animal ran away, but I guess that is what you get in a country area, with loads of farms around!

We were a bit obsessed with fires too, which sounds bad, but we weren’t pyromaniacs or anything – I think most kids like the power of setting something alight, without really
understanding what the consequences might be.
A few times we started fires in the dried grass and straw in the fields, and then watched them burn, quick as anything, until the whole hill was
blazing.

Another time someone told us to try spraying deodorant through a lighter to get a really good flame.
We sneaked upstairs to give it a go, and Nyanda said to me, ‘I’ll do it out the
window, so we don’t get caught!
Lean out of the next window and you can watch.’

So I did.
But neither of us knew just how big the flame would be, and suddenly I’d lost half my eyebrows and had singed hair!

We weren’t always destructive, though, in case you think that was all my childhood was made up of!
The three of us decided to set up a business called Bricks R Us.
We would collect bricks
from the dump by the house and spend hours writing our names on them, imagining that they would then be ready to sell.
Not that we ever did sell any, but the plan was there .
.
.
maybe even then
Dad’s business talent was filtering down to us, if not very well.

They were probably the best times of my childhood, when Nyanda and her family were living there with us.
But eventually they all moved out, and the house seemed really empty.
So my mum rented
the box room to a builder who was working on new houses on the estate.
He lived up north, but stayed down with us during the week.
He was fine, but he mostly stayed in his room and didn’t
have a lot to do with our family.
He wasn’t much of a replacement for Nyanda!
And so life carried on in this way for a while, and we were as happy as we could be without my dad there, while
Mum held it all together for the three of us.

Torn in Two

One day, when I was about seven, Mum told us she was going on holiday to Turkey for two weeks with her mate Lynn.
She hadn’t been very well with a kidney infection, and
the doctor said a fortnight relaxing somewhere warm and away from her usual life would do her good.
Obviously we would have loved to go as well, but knew we couldn’t afford it, so were happy
that she went.
She never went on holiday, and she deserved one.
We were to go and stay with her brother Gary, which was a bit like a holiday to us anyway, so we were happy with that.

The day she left, she dropped us off, and getting tearful told us, ‘Behave yourselves, and remember I love you!
I’ll be back in no time at all.’
And then she headed off.

A few hours later, as we were settling in, my dad came round and started arguing with Gary.
We were trying to listen in, but could only make out bits of what was being said.

Dad was telling him, ‘I want the kids to come and stay with me.’

And Uncle Gary replied, ‘Look, Mick, she’s asked me to look after them.
They’ll be all right here, I like having them round.’

But my dad insisted, ‘That’s ridiculous.
They’re my kids, and if she’s going to fuck off to Turkey, I want them staying at my house!’

And with that he came and found us, saying, ‘Kids, get your stuff and get in the car.
You’re coming with me.’

We didn’t know what to do.
We wanted to listen to our dad, but we had been told to stay at our uncle’s, and we were happy there.
But in the end he was so determined he was right, we
went and got our stuff and climbed into his car.

He took us back to his nice two-bedroom house – he had moved twice since first leaving home, each time to a nicer place, as he had been working hard at the docks to build himself back
up.

The two weeks passed by without anything major happening.
We were at school in the day, and the evenings were just like our usual visits – we played a bit out front, had some food, watched
TV and headed to bed.
There are just two things that stick in my mind from that fortnight.
The first is the packed lunches.

Every day at primary school we would get a packed lunch to take with us.
I had never paid too much attention to what other kids had in their little bags or boxes, but mine was pretty much always
the same when we were living with Mum.
At night she would cook two sausages, and when they had cooled she would cut them in half from one end to the other, and put them inside two slices of bread
to make us a sausage sandwich each to take to school the next day.
I had always thought that was fine – let’s face it, she didn’t really have enough food at home to do us dinner
each day, let alone a posh packed lunch.
She always made sure there was food in us, no matter what it was – she just didn’t have the cash for anything complicated.
Some nights we ended
up with tomato sauce sandwiches for dinner – literally ketchup inside two pieces of bread.
But it filled me up, and I knew no different.

So when I opened my lunch that first day staying with Dad, I was pretty taken aback.
Inside were cheese and ham sandwiches, a pot of little pieces of chicken, a packet of crisps, a yoghurt, an
orange, a carton of juice and a biscuit.
I just stared at it – this was like a bloomin’ feast!
Even my friends who were busy digging in to their own food stopped to admire my lunch
– they knew what I usually had, and this was probably the first time ever they wanted to swap with me!
I got stuck right in, and made the most of it with a grin on my face.
But it was one of
the first times I stopped and really thought that things in my house weren’t right.
And although a lot of the other kids in my area were in a pretty similar situation to us, we really did
have less money than my dad, and things you don’t think about much, like packed lunches, were a clear sign of that.

The other thing I remember from that fortnight is one of my only really positive memories of Stacie.
Dad wasn’t very good at helping us with our homework, and I wasn’t great at my
schoolwork – I always struggled with it.
For some reason one night there was one bit of work I really needed to get right.
I forget what it was – probably some kind of basic project.
The next morning while we were getting ready for school I was crying, as I was worried about the homework.

Stacie came in and said, ‘What are you crying for?’

‘I have to give my homework in this morning and Dad didn’t help me out.’

‘Bloody hell, Kirk,’ she laughed.
‘You should have told me, babe!’

And she sat down with me then and there and we got it done, and then she dropped me off at school and I was able to give it in.

It is the only lovely moment I can remember ever having with Stacie, so it stuck in my mind.
I thought to myself, ‘If you were like this a bit more, we’d have more chance of actually
getting on.’

Then the two weeks finished and carried on into the next, and we realized we were still at Dad’s.
We started thinking, ‘This is weird, where is Mum?’
We thought we would be
going home by now.
But we didn’t ask – we didn’t ever ask Dad much about Mum as it felt strange to, like we should avoid talking about one parent with the other.
Our life with
each of them was a secret from the other.

Then, a few days later, I was in the playground at school one lunchtime, and my mum and her friend arrived and came running over.

‘Oh, my baby Kirk, I am so sorry!
I’ve been trying to get to you before now, believe me, I have!
I would never leave you for longer than I had to,’ she said, scooping me into a
massive hug, as though we hadn’t seen each other in years.
She was crying, but I was so happy to see her.

The school let her take Daniel and me out for the afternoon and she explained, ‘I have been trying to get you back ever since I came home from holiday, but your dad wouldn’t let me.
I had to go to the police and everything.
He had just taken you, so I had to get the police and the courts and everyone to tell him to give you back.’

Then we walked into Tilbury to the shops, and I was trying to get my head around everything Mum had told us, when suddenly Dad and Stacie pulled up in their car, and well, they weren’t
happy.
‘Kids, come and get in the car.
Now!’
Dad called out to us.

‘Do nothing of the sort!’
Mum told us.
‘Mick, they’re staying with me.
Leave us alone!’

And that was it – the whole thing kicked off.
Me and Daniel had no idea what to do.
It was horrible to watch.
They were screaming at each other in the middle of the street, and Dad started
sounding a bit aggressive, so Mum told us to go and shut ourselves in a phone box.
Everyone in the street had stopped to look, and it just made things worse that Stacie was there.

We ran in the phone box, and in the end Daniel called the police as it just seemed to be getting noisier and scarier.
But as soon as we did that, Dad went.

Wow – that whole episode took a bit to sink in!
It was weird for me.
In a strange way I liked the fact that my dad had tried to keep us.
Up until then it had always felt
like he was happy to see us, but happy to give us back too, so although I would have chosen to live with my mum over living with him, it was nice to feel like he still wanted us.
I understand now
that he definitely wanted his kids, but at the time it wasn’t the best experience for us.

Our parents should never have been fighting to take us away from one another.
The reality was that we needed them both.
In my perfect world it would still have been the four of us living
together as a family.
I’d have killed for that to happen.

I was mad at Dad for another reason, too.
When he had first left, he told Daniel and me that we were the men in charge of the house, and that we should look after our mum.
So why would he
suddenly want to leave her alone without us?
She had already lost her husband; she didn’t deserve to lose her kids too.

But it was far from over.
After that, Dad took Mum to court to fight for custody of us.
According to Mum, he told the courts that she was a bad mother and that he wanted us to have more time
with him.
He claimed she didn’t have the money to look after us and she never bought us new clothes.
He said when we went to his house we smelt dirty and of cat piss, and that we were getting
badly treated.
It wasn’t true; Mum treated us really well.
And like I said, she made us have baths every day.
The only reason we might have smelt is because of our clothes.
We didn’t
have a tumble dryer, so getting all the clothes washed and dried wasn’t easy for Mum, and I sometimes thought they smelt a bit damp.
But that was it.
I guess at the time it was turning into a
fight between them, so they were bad-mouthing each other.
I never heard what Mum said about Dad, but she probably played a lot on him being a bad father who had left the family.
I am sure all sorts
of dirty tactics were coming out!

Mum told us a man would be coming round to see if we were happy living at home with her.
She never referred to him as Social Services, but looking back that is obviously who he worked for.
One
evening the three of us were curled up on the sofa together, eating our tea and watching television.
At the time my favourite shows were
The Queen’s Nos
e and
Fun House
with
Pat Sharp.
They were proper good!
And we were watching
The Queen’s Nose
when there was a knock at the door.

Mum answered and came and sat right back down where she had been before.
This guy popped his head round the door and said, ‘Hello!
And who are you then, boys, and how are you?’

‘I’m Kirk.
I’m fine.’

‘I’m Daniel.
I’m good.’

And that was it.
He nodded at us, had a quick look around, and then said he had seen enough and left.
Mum couldn’t believe it.
I could see her thinking, ‘Is that it?
Was that a good
thing, or a bad thing, or what?!’
It was nowhere near as bad as you would think from the TV.
They always make out like Social Services take the kids in for some serious questioning about
their parents, but this was so casual I didn’t even really notice it happening.
He was just a friendly guy visiting our home to see how we were getting on.
And although a lot of people get
defensive about Social Services visiting, I don’t think it’s a bad thing – it sounds daft, but if you get a dog from the RSPCA you get your home checked out, so maybe all future
parents should be looked at like that.
It’s weird to think society is more careful about potential dog owners than parents!

Then Mum had to get us new clothes and take pictures of us in them to prove to Social Services that she was getting us what we needed.
And all the time, even though I was only seven years old, I
was thinking how crazy it was that Mum had to prove to some board somewhere that she was a good parent.
How can you really prove that?
Surely the biggest thing is love, and we were getting that by
the bucketful.

So the man from Social Services wrote up his report and apparently said he didn’t see anything Dad had mentioned, but he had seen a loving mum cuddled up to her two kids, and why would
someone want to break apart a close family like that?
So we stayed with Mum, but afterwards it was made official that we were to see Dad every weekend.

In a way I was annoyed at Dad for trying to get custody, as it had been hard on Mum, but in another way I was secretly pleased that he cared enough to want to see us more.
I think it was the bad
things he said about Mum that upset me the most.
But I’m not a dad myself, so I don’t know what passion made him want to fight for us.
Maybe in the same situation I’d do anything
to see my kids more.

I don’t know if my dad would really have wanted full custody, though.
I do believe that on some level he wanted us to be with him – we were two boys, and my dad is a proper man, so
two boys is his dream.
I like to think if he was on his own he’d have wanted to take us in a heartbeat.
But my take on it is that my stepmum would not have liked it.
And I can’t blame
her – I wasn’t hers, and I could be a right little shit of a kid at times.
I hated this woman and I let her know it in the way I ignored her, or was rude to her, so why would she want
me there all the time?
Dad loved us, and was trying his best, but his priority was Stacie.
He didn’t want a second failed relationship, so he would have done anything to keep hold of her,
believing she was the woman he would grow old with.
I did love going to see him, but I never felt at home around Stacie, and I couldn’t fully enjoy it.
So, for me, staying with Mum was what I
wanted anyway.