your brother gave Bill that bat he gave him an activity. Instead he’s carried the bloody thing around with him like a disease. But all said and done, Alf’s done more than steal someone’s spoons this time, Girl.’
In that moment Fred had decided to advise Bill how to defend himself.
‘Look upon this more as a tactical retreat, than defeat, Son.’
Tears of anger and frustration welled into Bill’s eyes.
‘Never go looking for a fight. That’s wrong, but if one comes looking for you that’s different. You must win by fair or foul. You hear me?’
‘But they’re bigger than me, Dad.’
‘Forget Queensbury rules. Size doesn’t matter. Think foul, fouler the better. Strike a decisive blow because if yer don’t you’ll end up the loser. Believe me, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. At the end of the day, size has nothing to do with it.’
‘But how, Dad?’
‘Pick-up whatever’s to hand, Son. Better make sure it’s something heavy and start swinging.’
‘Whatever are you teaching him, Fred? I’ve never heard the like,’ scowled Lily.
Fred ignored her. ‘Always go for their ringleader, Son. He’s easy to spot.’
‘Biggest mouth and trousers, you mean,’ Lily muttered from deep in her washing up.
‘Bring him down, any way you can, Son. Eyeball him and keep the fucker down. You end it, Son. And fast. If nothing else, kick him hard in his balls. That’ll fix him.’
‘Fred. Watch your language in the house! You know I don’t approve.’
‘Sorry, Girl. But the boy needs help.’
‘And not before time. Him almost without a tooth in his head. Judging from the size of that Alf there might be value in your Dad’s advice. That or an approach from behind.’
‘Your mum’s right, Son. But sometimes I wonder what I’ve married into.’
Lily shook her head and wiped her hands on her apron. ‘I know little of those things, but that’s how Charlie protects his patch at the track.’
Fred turned back to the hob, pulled his chair closer to the blaze. Lily joined him and in silence as sweet as music they had a cup of tea.
Lily frowned. ‘That Alf’s a danger to the public.’
‘So is the dentist, Girl, but he roams free.’
Bill brooded for days before his darker side emerged. There was almost a constraint in the air when he took his bat out from under his bed and held it firm. As he swung it back and forth angry tears of white-hot rage welled up inside him. He swore retribution would be his. There were no shades of grey only black and white.
Not much of a cricket bat anymore, but it’s a fine weapon, he thought.
Bill knew he needed to find Alf and bring him down.
‘Bigger they are, the harder they fall,’ Fred had said.
That night Bill hardly slept but when he did, he dreamed of victory over Alf and his bullying mates. Towards dawn he dozed to the muted sigh of the wind in their chimney.
When he rose he shook from head to foot, but not from the cold. It was anticipation and excitement at what lay ahead of him. Now it made perfect sense. Fred was right. If he could defeat Alf, their ringleader, he shouldn’t have to fight Stan or Jack. Bill was determined to get those three monkeys off his back once and for all. The question was no longer, if he could defeat Alf, but when. And the when, he’d decided, was now.
His bat held firmly under his arm he hoped for the best but planned for the worst.
At least I can’t lose any more front teeth.
Driven by ferocious determination, Bill took long, slow breaths, and then began to search the streets for Alf, his tormentor.
CHAPTER 2
BILL’S REVENGE SUMMER 1936
Bill spotted Alf rolling a smoke outside the school toilets. Engrossed with chatting up a girl, he never noticed when Bill stepped quietly around the back. As he stood silent in the shadows, Bill plotted his attack. Strong toilet smells and coping with his sweaty fear began to turn his stomach.
Not a good time to retch.
His wait seemed eternal. He clutched his bat until his grip was so firm he had trouble loosening it. Finally the girl became bored, wandered off and left Alf alone with his smoke. The coast was clear. Bill knew he would never have a better moment to seize his opportunity but fear of failure almost consumed him. If Alf sensed a problem or pre-empted Bill’s attack, he knew he would lose. The bigger boy would disarm Bill and thrash him severely.
Bill took one last deep breath. No turning back now! He stepped out of cover with his raised bat and lashed out at the big boy’s knee.
Alf saw the bat coming but distracted with his smoke, too late. Whack! The bat connected. Alf let out a shriek and went down like a sack of spuds. That’s easy, thought Bill. He’s down! Now to keep him down.
‘You little fucker!’ cried Alf.
Bill didn’t hesitate. His dad’s words rang in his ears. ‘You end it, Son. And fast.’
He knew to win he had to finish it. He brought his bat down so hard on Alf’s foot he thought he heard it crush his toes. Alf groaned and stayed down with a whimper. Bill hit him again hard across the fleshy part of his back. He heard—a dull splat, like a slab of raw meat dropped onto the counter at the butcher’s shop. He realised he dare not get too carried away. If he hit Alf on the head he might kill him and although he wanted to, he was afraid of the consequences.
Down came Bill’s bat, again and again. Woofs and sighs as he pummelled into Alf. Every sinew in Bill’s body was pumping. Every now and again, a wet clap followed by a groan.
‘Try and get up,’ roared Bill. ‘Come on, fight like a fuckin’ man!’ But Alf couldn’t. He started to sob. His eyes went bloodshot.
‘Please, Bill. Stop! You’re hurting me.’
‘At least yer called me Bill. I’m not sweet little Willy Honeykins any more, am I? You big useless fucker!’
Alf inclined his head. His mouth gaped open in astonishment at the punishment he’d received.
Bill paused, rotated on the spot. His eyes wild. ‘Your reputation’s bad, Alf. If yer don’t want to defend yourself like a man, here’s one more. Arsehole!’
This time Bill swung his bat higher and harder. Thump! The big one! He hit Alf across his right hand. Alf screamed with pain.
Bill smelled victory and it was sweet. He promised more and worse to come with his clenched fist. ‘If yer ever come near me again, I swear, I’ll fuckin’ kill yer, Alf. Yer hear that?’
There was a long dazed silence. Bill felt a muffled nothingness, as though he had watched this scene played out from inside a glass bubble. Suddenly he felt exhausted.
Alf knew he was in trouble. The second day would be worse and nothing could stop bruises from showing the third day. Alf sucked in his breath. He looked pitiful. ‘I’m sorry about your bat, Bill. I’ll never bloody do that again’
‘Do yer promise?’
‘I promise!’
Bill felt sudden remorse but tried not to show it. Alf’s tear stained face and lank brown hair no longer made him look threatening. Bill straightened up and as he did Alf flinched and cowered back.
Bill placed his bat back under his arm. ‘You and I are through, Alf. Unless you or your bully mates want to make it otherwise.’
Bill