It wasn’t just the house, it was the people. They were just so amazing. Right from the start. Especially Richard. Right early on, when they asked me how old I was, I just said, ‘Sixteen,’ without thinking about it. They were all sitting round drinking beer and smoking. After I’d said it I got all bothered because they were all so straight with each other… and here was I telling stupid lies! So I plucked up my courage and blurted out, ‘I’m not sixteen really. I’m only fourteen.’

‘Oh, dear,’ Richard said. He looked quite appalled. I was certain he was going to tell me I had to leave. But it turned out he was just shocked that my dad had been hitting me when I was just fourteen.

‘That means he can’t sign on,’ pointed out Jerry.

‘I’ve been begging. I want to find a job…’ I began.

But Richard – you’ll never guess what he said.

‘You’ll just have to be a parasite off us for a couple of years.’

Actually I don’t think Jerry liked it, but Vonny said quickly, ‘One more won’t make any difference.’

Could you believe that? Talk about landing on your feet! They really liked me, they wanted to take me on and it wasn’t as though they were rich or anything; they were all signing on except Richard. He even offered to bring home bits of work from the bicycle shop.

I was so pleased. I mean… they didn’t even know me. I could have been in Bristol a hundred years and not found people like them.

Even Jerry came round. He was a bit different from the other two. But then he smiled and he said, ‘Perhaps I can teach Tar some shoplifting techniques.’ And he gave me a wink.

‘Oh, I don’t think that would be a good idea,’ said Richard. ‘If he gets caught he’ll either get sent home or put into care, and we don’t want that, do we?’ he added, beaming at the fridge.

They started talking about how I could earn some money but I was suddenly thinking about Gemma. I just realised… I’d found us a place to live! She could come to stay after all. And they’d help her like they were helping me and we’d have this amazing set of friends, more like a family, really, all here waiting for her.

Straight away I told them about her and… well, it was a bit disappointing, because they weren’t so keen.

It was partly my fault, because I wasn’t sure whether she was coming for a visit or for good, but I was hoping she’d come for good and I wanted them to help me convince her. I told them about the problems she’d been having at home but…

‘The point is, Tar, you’re asking a lot of her, aren’t you?’ said Jerry. ‘She’s got to give up her education, her parents, everything for you…’

‘It’s not like that,’ I said. But was it? I started to talk about her parents again, but Vonny said, ‘I had arguments with my parents, too, but I didn’t have to leave home.’

I felt incredibly glum. I so much wanted her to come with me but I hadn’t looked at it like that before. I guess I’d been pretty selfish.

‘Do you want her to come very much?’ asked Vonny.

I felt like crying. ‘I love her,’ I said.

I heard Jerry snort with laughter. I don’t know why he shouldn’t believe me. Vonny looked a bit doubtful, too. But I think Richard believed me.

‘We’ll have a look at her,’ he promised again. ‘You’re one of us now,’ he told me, and he grinned over my head.

‘He’s only fourteen, Richard,’ said Vonny, a bit crossly.

‘You can fall in love at any time,’ said Richard. ‘I was always falling in love at fourteen.’ And they all laughed.

Later on I told them I wanted to ring up my mum, and you know what? They all chipped in a quid each so I could have a good long chat with her.

People think my dad is worse because he beats me up, but Mum’s worse really. He’s easy; I just hate him. I hate him because he lets things get into a mess and blames everyone and won’t do a thing to stop it, and because he treats me and Mum like dirt. I guess I hate Mum too. The trouble with her is, I love her as well.

Dad used to go to the pub and then drink all evening. He was just a pisshead, though. Mum was at it all day. No one knew – even Dad didn’t know for ages. She just drank enough to keep herself topped up. It was only when it got worse and she was drunk when he came home that he started to cotton on.

It used to be all right. I mean, it was awful but it wasn’t horrible. She was quite attractive when she was a bit tiddly – sort of feathery and giggly. But later on it got worse and she got ugly with it, falling over and weeping and moaning and being sick.

Dad should have seen that she was ill, that she couldn’t cope, but he just got angry. He’d come back and the whole house would be a tip and Mum would be lolling about cursing and swearing, or passed out on the floor. They had these terrible rows. Really terrible, black rows, screaming and threatening to kill one another and smashing things – really violent. Only at first they never touched one another, except by accident.

So I started helping out. I’d come back from school and do the shopping and cook tea, or I’d tidy the place a bit, just so it looked as though she’d done something, instead of lying in bed all morning and getting drunk in the afternoon, which is what really happened.

It was like, just me and Mum. We barely saw Dad; he was out in the morning and again in the evening. He didn’t care so long as he got his dinner all right. She was always telling me how she didn’t know how she’d cope without me. She made a real fuss of me. I liked it. It would have worked but… my mum, she’s such a shyster.

I mean, she didn’t have to bother after that, see. At first I was just helping her. But… I started coming home and she’d be lying dead drunk on the settee next to a pile of ironing or something and beg me to do it because Dad needed his shirts and he’d be furious if she hadn’t done them. I didn’t mind the work, but I knew she was just using me. The thing that really annoyed me was, when she was going out somewhere, or when someone was coming round, she managed to get it together then. The house would be cleaned then. The shopping would be in then. But if it was just me and Dad, she never lifted a finger.

It started to get me into trouble. One day I was sitting in maths trying to write a shopping list and Mr Webster the maths master caught me.

‘Well, at least you can add up properly,’ he said. I guess he knew what was going on because he smiled and gave it back to me. But he must have told the headmaster or someone and someone obviously got in touch with Mum and Dad at home.

I got home a couple of days later and they were both there waiting for me, dead drunk, both of them. They were furious. He was going on at me for doing her work and interfering and encouraging her to drink. He was going on at her for using me like a skivvy and interfering with my education, and she was screaming at him for getting between her and her son and telling me how much she relied on me and needed me while she was ill.

She was really drunk. She started clinging on to me. She does that. She wraps her arms round me and starts moaning and crying and tells me how much she loves me, and I have to help her stand up. It’s horrible. And then… Dad just really lost his temper. He was suddenly coming at both of us with his arms out and his eyes bulging. I thought he was going to kill her. She ducked behind me and I got it right on the side of the face. He knocked me flying. I was just getting up to see if Mum was okay when he came in with the boot…

It was me he was after, all the time! I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t understand it. He kicked me right round the room. Mum was lying next to the table while it was going on. I saw her find a can of lager and take a swig. Then she got up and flung herself at him and he left me alone after that and went running upstairs. I heard him charge out of the house a moment later and start up the car. Mum was dabbing at my cuts with a flannel. They made me spend a week off school but I was still bruised when I went in the next Monday. No one ever complained to my mum and dad again.

The thing I could never work out was what he was getting at me for. I mean, if it was Mum, that’d be normal. I’m not saying I wish it had been her, but I could have understood what was going on. So why me?

I still can’t work it out.

Things improved for a bit but then it started up again. Dad really used to hate me doing the housework for some reason, so I used to try and get it done before he came home. That way he might think she had done it. So Mum left more and more of it to me, and she was getting drunk earlier and earlier and I felt guilty because I was giving her less to do. They were having more and more rows and I was getting beat up more often…

That’s why I left. The trouble is… she depended on me. See? I kept thinking of the rows they must be having. I kept thinking about how angry he was going to get, how he’d tell her she’d driven me away…

She just said, ‘David…’ Then she waited for me to explain myself.

I started to talk. I can’t remember what – stuff about me being all right, about finding somewhere to live and everything being okay, and the people being okay and how I was eating enough and looking after myself. You know.

When I finished there was nothing. I could hear her smoking, that was all. Half the time my mother is falling about, or grabbing hold of me or the tablecloth or the wall or anything else that’s nearby. But this time I felt that she was wide, wide awake, like a bird or a fish that never slept, listening to everything and waiting.

‘I’m sorry I went away,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to, I mean. And… are you all right, Mum? Mum, say something, won’t you?’

‘I can’t say much, Tar,’ she said in a fairly ordinary voice. ‘He’s upstairs listening.’ Then she dropped her voice to a harsh whisper and she said, ‘He’s started to beat me…’

And the bottom just fell out of everything.

You know, I’d never thought of that. I’d never thought he might do that. But it was so obvious! It was only me being there that stopped him. It felt like someone had picked up the entire world about ten feet and then dropped it on a concrete floor. And it was all my fault.

She started then, the way she does. I’d thought she was stone cold sober at first, but she was as drunk as ever, really. It was night time after all.

‘I’ve been so scared,’ she said. ‘Every night he gets so drunk and I never know what he’ll do next. It’s so lonely. I can’t get the housework done, darling. I try… you know what he’s like… so fussy, so angry when things aren’t right. It’s not his fault, I’ve been a bad wife and a bad mother. You shouldn’t have left me, David; you know that, don’t you?’

There was a pause. ‘Yes,’ I said. Well, what else could I say?

‘You know how much I’ve relied on you… and I’ve been trying so hard… oh, darling, how could you…?’

I could almost feel her sliding down the sofa on to the floor and dissolving, weeping. I felt that her tears would trickle out of the telephone and on to my hands.

‘Listen, Mum…’ I could hear the sound of her sobs. ‘Mum, just stop crying, please stop and we’ll talk about it. Is it bad, Mum? Is he hitting you hard?’

‘Darling, please come home, please… He’s been saying that I drove you away…’ And she was weeping and weeping and weeping…

‘All right, Mum, please stop… look, I’ll come home, I’ll come home. It’s not forever. I’ll come home.’ I would have said anything, then. It was so terrible him saying that it was her who drove me away, because it wasn’t true at all. It was him who drove me away. But… it was true, too.

‘I’ll come home. All right?’

‘When?’

‘Soon. Mum, there’s just a couple of things I have to do first.’

‘You could do it now. You could walk away and catch a coach…’

‘I haven’t got any money.’

I could hear her drawing a breath of cigarette smoke as she thought about it. ‘Hitchhike,’ she told me.

‘I’ll come as soon as I can.’

‘And you haven’t got any money? But I thought you said you were all right…’

Then she was off about me looking after myself. She always worries about me. She always wants to know that I’ve eaten properly and that I’m wearing decent clothes. That sort of thing. She’s a good mother really. Or she would be if she managed to get off the bottle.

Then she started asking me questions. I was scared about saying too much… she was asking me about the people I was with, where I was, what my address was, what their names were. She said she wanted to thank them in some way, but I didn’t trust her. She got angry because I wouldn’t tell her.

‘Don’t you trust me, David? Don’t you trust me?’ she kept saying. And of course I didn’t but I could never say, ‘No, I don’t trust you,’ so I had to make excuses. It went on and on. The pips kept going but I stuffed more money in. I spent three quid talking to her. I only stopped when the money ran out and the phone went dead in mid-sentence.

I hate my mum more than my dad, because my dad only scares me but my mum makes me feel dirty and useless. She undoes everything I want to do with myself. I felt so shit when I went away from that box. I’d promised her to come home, I promised her everything I’d sworn I wouldn’t promise. I knew I shouldn’t have rung!

She always does it. She can make me do anything. She used to do it for fun sometimes, just to amuse herself. She did it in front of Gemma when Gemma came round to see me… just talked and talked and made me go around the house doing stupid jobs for her until I got so anxious and confused I started dropping things and getting embarrassed. I saw my mum glance at Gemma. I knew what was going on. Gemma did too, I’m sure, although she never said anything. My mum was showing off.

But I’d promised her to go back and I can’t break promises… not to Mum. Not to her of all people. Now I’d have to ring Gemma and tell her not to come. Now I’d have to go back home and the whole mess’d all just carry on forever…

I was walking around for ages. I got back to the house hours later. It was late. I was hoping they’d all have gone to bed but the light was on in the basement. They’d all want to know how I’d got on.

I went away and walked around for a bit more, but the light was still on, so I thought, Oh, well, get it over with…

Richard said, ‘But of course you’re not going, you know that, don’t you?’

I was so surprised. I really didn’t expect them to say that.

‘No,’ said Vonny. ‘Gemma was right about that. Leaving home was the best thing you ever did.’

I said, ‘But I promised…’

‘She made you – that’s not a promise,’ said Jerry.

‘I don’t think confessions under pressure count,’ said Richard.

‘But he’s hitting her…’

It went on for hours. I just didn’t see any way I could leave her like that. They said all sorts of things to try and convince me. Vonny reckoned that now that he’d started hitting her, he’d keep doing it, so I couldn’t stop it anyway. Richard was going on about how I wasn’t responsible, which I knew anyway but it didn’t help.

He said, ‘She can’t look after you and you can’t look after her, can you?’

Everything they said was true. I’d thought all of it myself before. The trouble was it didn’t make any difference. It didn’t matter, none of it. What mattered was, he’d started beating her up since I went away and maybe I could stop him doing it by going back…