Harry Oldham is writing a novel based on his criminal and sordid past. To do so, he has returned to live at Park Hill, where he grew up, and the place that he once left behind. That was then and this is now, in which the old world collides with the new. (Parts 1 to 14 are available to read in the menu)

Part 15

July 1982

My date with Louise was a disaster.

An Officer and a Gentleman had sold out, and we watched Porky’s instead. She wasn’t impressed, complaining about the hoots and whistles from the audience that greeted each unruly scene.

Louise had a cold, and sniffed her way through the film, and I was in a lousy mood. We didn’t say much to each other, and I tried to make up for the silence by holding her hand.

My heart wasn’t in it, and I didn’t know what I would rather have been doing, but it wasn’t being with the girl that everyone on Park Hill fancied.

I kept thinking about the conversation I’d had with Paolo in the Brown Bear. Nobody had spoken to me like that before, and certainly hadn’t made me question myself.

As I sat in that dark cinema, I thought about Paolo a lot. If I could have chosen where I wanted to be, it might have been with him, and that concerned me.

I tried to kiss Louise, but she pulled away, and when I tried to put my arm over her shoulder, she elbowed me in the ribs. There was a ripple of laughter from behind; somebody was taking the piss. I turned around and there was a nerdy kid smirking at me. I reached over, grabbed him by the shirt until the buttons popped off, and headbutted him on the nose. That was when Louise got up to leave.

When we got back to her flat, Jack was laid on the settee watching the World Cup on TV.

Louise went to her bedroom without saying anything, and that meant that I was unpopular. Jack shunted along the settee and made room for me to sit down. “I take it that your big date didn’t go well.”

Jack was wearing only a pair of black football shorts, and I saw how athletic his body was. He sat with his knees bent, his smooth legs covered in cuts and bruises that he’d got on the football pitch, and for the first time, I noticed how tiny his feet were. These little feet could tickle a football better than anyone.

He pressed his toes into my thigh, and massaged the top of my leg, and I kind of liked it.

“You’re acting like a bum-bandit.” Jack ignored me and didn’t stop.

He looked serious. “The coppers have been around to check that I hadn’t done a  runner. They went to see Andy too, but he was out, and that made them freak out a bit. They found him at the shops.”

“What did they say?”

He flashed his famous cheeky smile. “They said that if the Falklands War hadn’t already ended, they’d have sent me to fight the Argentines. That’s what should happen to all bad lads.”

I thought that Jack would make a good soldier one day. He was brave, quick witted, and always eager to please, and joining the army might get him away from here.

“Something’s up Harry, because you’ve been acting strange.”

“Yeah, I guess there is.”

“You can talk to me if you want.”

I desperately wanted to tell Jack everything, about Frank Smith, Paolo and the bad guys who took advantage of me. I looked helplessly at him and could see that he cared and wanted to help. I couldn’t fight back that feeling of love – brotherly love – for someone I’d known most of my life, but there was something else too.

“I’m in trouble Jack and I don’t know what to do about it. And I can’t tell you anything, because if I did, I’m afraid that I’d lose you, and that’s something I couldn’t cope with.”

Jack rubbed his toes harder against my leg. “You’d never lose me. No matter how bad it is. We’re mates, and mates stick together… like we’ve always done.”

Back home, there was an envelope with my name on it that had been pushed through the letterbox. There was a note inside telling me to ring a telephone number.

My parents were in bed, and I had to talk quietly while I made the call in the hallway. 

“It’s Harry. What do you want?”

“Harry. Good of you to call. Your next job awaits you.”