Little Lamb Lost
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EnglishVoice Age
Teen (13-17)Accents
British (England - Yorkshire & Humber)Transcript
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Chapter one, the rest of the family are at it again in the big room. It's been like this since Uncle John buggered off somewhere. I've been trying to listen to Bruno Brooks do the charts, but the only radio at home is the Grenada in the sideboard. When everyone's around, I have to have it turned down so low that it's hard to hear. Otherwise dad will blame me. I wish we had some headphones, ones with a really long wire like I saw Wolfie and Ken using on the telly, but we don't. So I have to half listen to the charts and half listen to what they're bleating on about dad's there. Mr Gary Tudor Shop steward pillar of the pigging community. Stopping some of Uncle Eddie's home brew again. Our s as well. And my mom, obviously she's the loudest of the lot. Always making sure everyone knows what she thinks about whatever's going on. If I knock up the volume from 4 to 5 on the dial, it'll be her saying to me, dad to tell me to turn down the flipping noise. She makes more noise than any of us. Don't know how she dares, but that kind of talk will catch me a hiding and the charts aren't worth that. Not at all. The family have always come round ours. Not sure if it's because my dad is the eldest of his lot, Eddie and Bev, or if it's because my mom wants to be at the center of it. All could be either, could be both any road, nobody would want to gather at Uncle Eddie's flat up junction road. Not only is it pokey, but as his home brew, it's all over. He's filled his wardrobe with fishing tackle and so his club has piled all about and there's always some bag of stuff. He's pied from somewhere cluttering up the shop. Our beds is small as well. She got lucky though and got on the council list early and managed to get a house off the squares. She keeps it clean as well. Too clean to have the likes of me. Dad and Eddie traps in, in between shifts at the pit. I suppose it wouldn't be as bad. Now with everyone on strike saying that Eddie still looks like he's been on face every time he comes by. Mom says it's because him and his mates chalky and skin have been robbing coal and selling it door to door. Mom doesn't like our Eddie out of a lot of them are already or 10 pole to his mates is my favorite. Treats me right. His pals all call him 10 pole. And last summer I spent loads of time hanging out at the old don with him. Chalky and skin so much that they started calling me Tadpole. 10 Pole and Tadpole. They used to say, I don't like being made to feel small if someone did it at school or would have to scrap with them. But when it's already in his mates, it doesn't seem so bad. All their names take the **** a bit. Joy is a half black lad. Only one in the village skin looks like he should be chasing joy about head shaved and that, but they're the best of mates and already obviously the names like the band, but he's lanky as well like a tent pole and that's what they called him at school before 10 pole. Juda got famous and they just changed it a bit. So it isn't as bad when they call me. Tadpole makes me feel like one of them. Not just a kid tagging along. Our BEV doesn't really talk to me that much. She's got a thing for babbies, but when we grow up a bit, she stops paying us any mind unless that's what our James says. But he's done the same. I don't see anything of him since he got a job and a missus bev hasn't got any kids. She's pretty young like she married John straight from school. I don't know why she hasn't got any kids since she likes Bobby. So much. Maybe if she had one and she watched it grow up, she wouldn't be like she is. That's not likely since John's gone. John seemed ok to me. Always smiling. Used to see him off and about in the village. Whenever I was out with my mates always stopped and said, hey, help, always dress good. Did John bit flash? Some folks say never saw him with our BEV much. But then she's always around here nattering with me mom and stopping me from hearing radio so I can see why. Anyway, John's gone. It's all anyone talks about these days. He got up on the morning and never came home for his tea. Nobody likes the coppers. But after a couple of days even my dad said they should call them coppers. Don't care about any of us around here. Especially not with everything that's going off. Should have heard me mom giving them an earful. I got clipped around the log hole for ear wigging when I left from dad. But that was worth it. Mom spoke to the bobbies. They sent round like she would to me and to the kids and they just sat there the rats on their laps and stupid little notebooks writing stuff down. They left looking like I do if I have to see the egg master funny. But my mom made it clear. They didn't give two shits about where John was one less minor to cause them trouble probably run off when our bev is round. My mom doesn't say too much bad about John when she goes home. Her and my dad talk different. Like dad says, John owed money about the village. Mom says she saw him with this bird or that they talk about a posh tart a lot lives up Meacham drive with the rest of the 10 bob millionaires. Well, she's always prancing up and down main road like she owns the place. Getting boss into town in that flipping suit, acting like she's too good for the rest of us says mom, she's talking about the Tart. Mrs Stafford again. Bev just smiles at her. No point interrupting me. Mom. When she's on one, my dad stares into his jar of home brew. He has to be careful with the bottles. Mam washes them and gives them back to Eddie. He uses the pop deposit bottles from the milkman. Even has some crates for fetching it about with him. Every now and again, me and my mates rub a few off the back of the milk float and save the bottles for Eddie. All the lads smash him up or try returning him to make a few Bob. But we always save ours for Eddie's home brew just because that soft lad of our husband of hers is an over man man. Went on. You call him soft blood be Guard Street that makes Stafford. He can be nasty to deal with my dad chimed in would rather deal with Jerry or one of the other deputies and him any day. Yes. But the deputies are like us, aren't they, Jerry? And the others are doing their bit for us. Sharing. Since they're still earning, you could have gone as deputy Gary. Now, I'll have none of that. Judas aren't Gaffers. No way. I'm ***** love. And you bloody well know it. Dad shot me, mom down there. He's talk like that. But then again, everyone at work listens to him. So why wouldn't he want to be in charge? I don't know. Well, says our Bev, John talks well enough about the Stafford. They drink in that probably likes uptown more. And he says that **** isn't so bad and Carol is a laugh whenever he's there for the darts. I darts says dad, my mom could have killed a lesser man with the look she shot him with right. Then it was about then that Bev went home and my mom let me dad have it. Gary, you should watch what you say around her. She's not to that kind of talk. John's gone missing. She doesn't want to hear about that sort of stuff you can **** right off Marie. She's my sister, not yours. And I just about brought her up on my own. John was not going up to that pub to play darts. You and I both know and what that Slag Carol Stafford is doing. There when **** goes bloody nowhere. But the Catholic Club is an easy guess. I could see my dad was getting riled up. The chart show was almost over and I looked at his empty deposit bottles on the side six time for bed before dad starts in on me. I turned off the radio and there was the mistake. He noticed me and went off about waste in electric. Then how I was a feckless sod lounging around his house. All thought of John and that Carol Bird was gone. Took him about quarter of an hour before he lost his rag and sent me upstairs. I heard him blaring on at my mom for another hour or so before she came up to bed. I was asleep before dad came up next day was a good one. Already came around to collect his bottles early on. I was out in the backyard. Right? Pole shouts chalky from the back gate. You come in with this. I shouted through the kitchen door to me. Dad to ask if I could go out. And since he didn't say no, I set off with Chalky and uncle Eddie to fetch skin from his birds flat over the bridge. I like knocking about with them. Everyone knows Eddie. It takes ages to walk through the village with him because there's always someone wanting a quick word. Eddie always goes off to the side a bit so I can't hear what he's saying. But it's probably just folk asking about our John or when he'll have some more home brew or if he can get hold of any back or something like that. Any road when he's off having his little chat, Chalky talks to me like I'm one of his mates. We share a *** near bottom of Broadway. I don't smoke, but Chalky passes me anyway and I take a drag and pass it back. Eddie asked me about school football girls, everything. After a while, the talk with me drops off. Chalky keeps asking Eddie if he knows where John's gone. Keeps on at him, tells a story about seeing him at the snooker club acting odd. Eddie just laughs. It all off. Tells Chalk to shut his gob skin pops out of an alley somewhere before I've even seen him. Eddie and Chalky don't even break stride and we all just carry on walking like he was always there. Skin's all right like the others, but he doesn't talk to me that much. Just sort of carries on like I'm not there like my dad on a good day or how I wish my mom was when I've been tagging today though. Skin seems like he's in a great mood. Eddie says it's because he shagged his bird last night. Skin looks at me and tells me it will make any man happy getting a bit like that and raises his eyebrows and gives me a massive grin. Skin's a funny lad. He checks the coin return of every phone box we pass just in case always seems to be checking around him, stops and checks *** packets he sees on the floor lifts bin lids as we go past, if they're out, mom would never let us keep our bin in front yard. But there are more near the flats as we cut through and over the field. Chalky and Eddie are kicking each other's eels as they walk. And I'm watching, laughing at them when skin just sort of appears next to me pushing a bike. Skin says, push this for me. Tadpole. Not really a question. So I take the angles off him. It's a squeaky thing with a basket. Looks like an old lady bike. I asked Skin where it came from. He says it's his auntie's and he's borrowed it because we've got some stuff to pick up today. When we get back to the houses on Broadway. R goes off and talks to some bloke who looks like he's just come from an N F meeting. I, he's always on chalky skin asked me if I've ever heard the saying, mam ran off with a black man. Of course, I have skin says, so was that bloke? And maybe Chalky is his half brother? Isn't it nice to be part of a family reunion? He says to me, Chalky tells him to sod off. Eddie comes back with a great big arm full of empty coal sacks, straps them onto the bike and skin takes it from me and starts riding off her head. Eddie shouts after him to leave them by the bunker at Dave's house. Skin waves. And a few seconds later, I can hardly see him anymore. As we walk back towards the village, Eddie and Joy's talk goes back to our John Joy says he reckons that he's done a runner, run up some debt or got in with the wrong sort and done a bunk way. I see it is your job was definitely up to summit. He had good gear. Always off drinking with some bird or another up town. Never seemed as short as the rest of us are your bev, always out and in bread line. But he was never short of a bob or two for his nights out. Where's the money been coming from? He doesn't go in BEV gets her bits of coal from us. Shame because she's a nice bird. Your BEV could do a lot better than John. Shut your gob chalk chimes in unusual for him because he seems angry and he's normally calm and smiley no matter what's going on. Bev is not some bird. She's my little sister and John is her husband. So you'll watch what you say about them around me. I'll cop you for a hide in. Understand me? ******* get Jesus said, sorry, like says Joy, clearly shocked. And so was I, I think I already saw that because he was straight back to smiling. Any road John will turn up probably just got a bit of work away down south from one of his mates in the pub and forgot to say something. Right kid after that, we walked on quiet for a bit. When we got back to the village, Eddie said I should go off home because I had some stuff to do. But not before we walked past a gang of kids from school near Kings Way felt proper good that walking with Eddie and chalky shoulders back as if I were one of them rather than a kid like them banging about on road as I went off to home. Me mate caught up with me and even he was banging on about our John. He says his dad says that our John knocked our be out and that my dad's done him in and buried him up the pit. And when the strikes done, the couples will be around saying they found him and they've got to take my dad away for murder. I laughed because as much as my dad is a temper, kids have got to run along with a story and make it bigger. Next week, our John will be living on pit top with raggy arms. The ghost story of a bloke who lost his arms and went nuts in a pit accident and lives on the pit top and runs off with the kids who play up there, we all know the story, but we all play up there anyway and nobody's ever seen out. So, when I'm getting told me dad's killed my uncle, it's the same sort of silly as that stupid kid stuff. And I'm feeling like out but a kid having spent the morning knocking about with Eddie and the lads. So I tell my mate to ******** and get gone. It's funny everyone talking about what's gone off. I reckon it's because everyone's bored. Hardly anyone's working. Most of the local blokes are off taking turns on pickets either here or nearby at meetings, talking about not working or drinking at home like my dad does at the end of the day and talking about thatcher being a **** coppers, being noses or fights they heard about seems like when tools went down, everyone needed something to keep them occupied. Like a lot of old nans gossiping this week, it's our John. Next. It will be a story about someone scabbing that will turn out to be. Now, can't see how anyone around here would ever scab. They'll be run out of the village or worse. If I ever want to make sure my dad goes into a rage, then all I have to do is bring up a scab that will see him go off for an hour that will end in screaming at something or someone