coming towards her with her usual bag of goodies. Nudging Tracey to follow her lead, she leaped out from behind the wall and grabbed Jeanette by her stupid ponytail. ‘Give us your sweets and your money,’ she demanded.
Jeanette’s eyes filled with tears. She’d had run-ins with Susan Hutton in the past and was petrified of her. ‘I can’t, the sweets are for my little brothers and the money is my mum’s change.’
Tracey was desperate to impress her new friend. Spotting the puppy, she aimed a kick at its head.
The dog’s yelp was enough to make Jeanette change her mind.
‘Just take it,’ she said, handing over the bag and her mother’s change.
Susan released her grip on Jeanette’s hair and pointed a finger in her face.
‘If you say one word to yer mum or dad, I’m gonna do the same to your dog as what my bruvver did to Terry Smith.’
Jeanette shook with fear as she picked up poor Simba. ‘I promise I won’t say a word. I’ll pretend to mum that I lost the pound note she gave me.’
‘Best yer get yourself home then,’ Tracey said, giving her a sly kick in the ankle as a farewell present.
Arm in arm, Susan and Tracey ran down the road laughing their heads off. Satisfied with their five minutes’ work, they sat on a wall and counted their earnings. Fifty-two pence, two Curly Wurlys, a Mars bar, two Sherbet Fountains and a big bag of penny sweets.
Susan smiled at her friend. ‘Go back to the shop, buy some bubble gum and get some change so we can split the money.’
Susan stuffed her face with penny sweets as she watched Tracey run off up the road. Up until a couple of months ago, she hadn’t a friend in the world.
Tracey Davis and her family had recently been moved from Canning Town to Stepney. Tracey’s brother, Andrew, had apparently mugged an old pensioner in Newham and the old dear had later died of head injuries. There had been a lot of ill-feeling in the area about the incident and Tracey and her family were rehoused by the council on the Ocean Estate in Stepney. Her brother, Andrew, was now in prison paying for his crime. On sharing secrets about their brothers, Tracey and Susan had an immediate bond. Both shared vindictive personalities and, having palled up, were a match made in heaven.
Tracey was out of breath as she ran back to her mate. ‘That’s your half and that’s mine,’ she rasped, as she counted out the money.
Susan giggled. ‘Let’s have a bet. First one to eat a Curly Wurly gets the packet of bubble gum.’
Tracey laughed as she counted down. ‘Three, two, one – go.’
Mouths full, the race was on.
Unaware that his sister was making money out of his name, Tommy Hutton trudged out onto the playing fields with the other lads. He smiled at his pal, Freddie, as Finchy gave them their orders.
‘Right lads. No kicking, spitting, biting, punching or slide tackling from behind. Got it?’
Twenty-two heads nodded and the whistle was blown. Today’s game of footie was a proper match for once. Usually they just trained or had a game amongst themselves, but this was different, it was one wing against another.
Tommy already had his orders. He was to scythe down the Paki kid, Ranjit Patel. Apparently, Patel had set fire to his family home, killing his kid sister and grandmother. Tommy got his chance within minutes, seeing his prey lying on the ground, he pretended to go for the ball, but instead kicked the sicko full in the mouth, loosening two of his front teeth. Tommy was immediately shown the red card.
‘It was an accident, sir. I went for the ball.’
Finchy was having none of it. ‘You’re off, Hutton. Go and sit down on the grass and I’ll deal with you later.’
Tommy smiled to himself as he sat alone watching the game. He’d hated Feltham when he’d first arrived. In fact, he’d made a right prick of himself, crying himself to sleep night after night. Things had changed after about six weeks. He’d got his head together, found his inner strength, and hit it off with Freddie Adams.
In the early days of being caged, Tommy had kept himself to himself. He’d spoken to some of the lads, but not at length. A couple of them were all right, but a lot of them were thickos. Bored with his own company, he searched his wing for someone on his wavelength. He couldn’t find anyone but, as luck would have it, Freddie then turned up.
For the first couple of days, Tommy eyed the new boy suspiciously. Freddie was a typical jack the lad. He had a way with people, knew how to work them, had them eating out of his hand. Tommy found himself alone with Freddie for the first time about a week later. They clicked immediately and were best buddies within the hour.
Freddie was in for murder as well, but had gone one better than Tommy. He’d nicked his brother’s gun and shot his victim straight through the head. Obviously, he lied in court. He said he was just threatening the lad and the gun had gone off accidently. The judge had fallen for Freddie’s baby face and boyish charm, and had given him a rather lenient twelve years.
‘I was lucky really, I sort of acted simple. I think the jury thought I was a bit backward and by the time the case ended, even the judge felt sorry for me,’ Freddie boasted.
Tommy was fascinated by his new-found friend. Freddie was a year younger than himself, but acted far older and wiser. He came from Manor Park and his older brother and uncle were armed robbers, so maybe that’s where he got it from.
Tommy’s attentions were turned back to the present as he noticed the commotion on the football pitch. Seeing Freddie had gotten his marching orders, Tommy smiled as he walked towards him. Freddie’s intended target had been Kevin Wallis, who was a complete weirdo and by all accounts a nonce-case. Rumour had it, he was locked up for fiddling with a six year old.
‘I was daydreaming. I didn’t see yer do him,’ Tommy said, as his pal flopped on the grass next to him.
‘I elbowed the cunt as I went up for a corner. I did that good a job, I think I nearly took his eye out.’
Tommy laughed. ‘Whaddya think our punishment will be this time?’
Freddie shrugged. ‘Don’t know, don’t care. We’ll be all right, Finchy knows we only do the wrong ’uns.’
At the end of the game, both Tommy and Freddie were summoned into Finchy’s office.
‘Look lads, I won’t go to the guv’nor, but that’s the second week in a row two lads have received medical treatment on your behalf. I have to punish you, so it’s no TV for either of you for a week, starting from tonight. Now go and get showered, then back to your cells, both of you.’
Tommy and Freddie were in high spirits as they got showered and changed. Their punishment was a piece of piss. Freddie’s cell was right next door to Tommy’s, and they’d learnt how to communicate by tapping on the wall. They had their own code and were able to have some basic conversations.
‘Right, I’ll see yer at dinner,’ Freddie said, as they reached their cells.
‘What we gonna do if we can’t watch telly?’ Tommy asked.
‘We can have a nice little chat. We need to talk and plan our future.’
Tommy shook his head. ‘We’re gonna be locked up for years. What’s the fuckin’ point?’
Freddie grabbed Tommy by the shoulders. ‘Look at me, Tom. We might be boys now, but when we get out we’ll be men. We have to be ready for it.’
Tommy smiled. As usual, his pal was right.
ETHEL HUTTON STOOD outside the hardware store in Dagenham Heathway and eyed the contents suspiciously. A stout woman, Ethel had an old-fashioned dress sense, grey curly hair, and due to her