I am Ed

Chapter 1:

Getting Out

Today was my sixteenth birthday, the seventh of August 1988, I’d had enough of waiting to grow up. I was tall enough to pass for eighteen and I already heard about a job in a supermarket stacking shelves. The plan was to get the most boring job I could get my hands on in order to motivate me to write hit songs. Living at home was no longer an option. Eating turds or rolling around in vomit must feel better than sitting around waiting to die alongside my brothers and my fragile mum.

A voice in my head kept telling me ‘get out of this hellhole’, and it was all I could think of. My brain was working overtime trying to figure out the great escape plan. I was ready to get away from all that I know, which was fuck all. I was attached to nothing, apart from my guitar, a gift from my dead father.

My mum and three younger brothers were like ghosts to me, we passed each other but rarely spoke, I didn’t feel as if I belonged with them or to them, I guess you could say I was a loner or at least, I felt like one.

Our poor mum looked as if she was about to keel over, dragging her feet behind her and eyes dead like fathomless holes. One of my brothers, Steve, was already involved in circles you didn’t want anyone you cared about to move in. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to work out where this whole family was heading. I’d seen it around, too many times. You get the gist. I had to take drastic action even if it was selfish.

I jumped on bus 31 to Camden. I know... only Camden, not very far from Kilburn but I felt as if I was on my way to somewhere far away, somewhere I could belong, surrounded by gig venues and punks, sharply dressed mods and smelly food stalls serving people from all over the world.

The supermarket on the high road was busy, before I entered I made sure my hair was neat and my shirt was tucked in properly. I took a deep breath and stepped inside the sharply lit store, I approached a till.

‘Can I speak to the manager?’ I asked the mousey girl; she was sweet looking. Her mouth was chewing gum and she looked too young to have a job, which was encouraging.

‘You’re after Mr Brown? Over there.’ She pointed to a tall, skinny, peak-faced man in a brown suit.

‘Thanks.’ I smiled at the girl and walked towards the man, who was busy helping an old lady get some beans down from the top shelf and putting them into her trolley.

‘Mr Brown?’ I said sounding less confident than I had hoped.

‘Who’s asking?’ He looked straight at me and I felt like the girl on the till: mousey and young, I mustered up some courage.

‘Ed, Ed Henderson, I’m after a job. I can do anything, I’m strong and reliable.’ I had carefully researched first impressions after I read the relevant pamphlet at my school: ‘How to Get a Job’. It seemed to have done the trick.

‘Ok, Ed Henderson…right. Come with me lad.’ We walked into his smoky little office in the back and he chucked a form at me.

‘First, you need to fill this in. Sit yourself down and take your time.’ He pointed to a chair.

It was easy enough, I used my best handwriting and to be fair, it wasn’t bad.

Mr Brown inspected my squiggles for half a second and then he looked at me as if to work out if I was any good.

‘When can you start?’ he finally said.

I felt heat travelling from my neck towards my face. I hated when that happens. My not-so-cool interior exposed. At least it made Mr Brown's face soften, he looked kinder.

‘Eh… eh… any time,’ I stuttered which didn’t help with the tomato face situation.

‘I need someone to stack shelves before the shop opens. Someone who is strong, not lazy. You will be paid weekly, and if I catch you slacking or stealing, you will be sacked on the spot and not paid for that day. Is that clear?’ Mr Brown's face looked scary again, his lips so thin that the skin above them crinkled like dried prunes.

‘Yes, Mr Brown, that is clear, I will not let you down.’ I said as if I meant it because I did.

‘You can start tomorrow, five o’clock in the morning. Matt will be here to let you in and show you the ropes.’

‘Thank you Mr Brown, thank you.’

As I walked out of the shop I broke into a triumphant smile. Perhaps I was becoming more of a man. This morning I could feel see the beginning of a moustache appearing on my much too smooth face, a sign I was ready to take on the world.

I just a landed my first job. At last, the road to my new destiny was paved and I was on my way to freedom.

---

On the bus ride home I felt like whistling but I didn’t, in case someone saw me. Walking up to our house, I decided it wasn’t a good idea to share my news with the family just yet; it was all part of my plan, which had nothing to do with any of them. I needed to be clever about this, mainly because I didn’t want to panic Mum, she was in such a bad way already. I could do it on the weekend when she was less stressed, moving out was going to have to wait anyways until I had some steady money coming in. Perhaps she would be pleased, I pondered, one less mouth to feed I guess. I’d visit her often, that’s what I’ll tell her.

Thinking about my plan made me feel good, I was someone, a young man with a destiny. I held my head high, my chest protruding though my grimy T-shirt with the deep breaths I was taking… I was happy; today I had moved one step closer towards my goal and it felt great.

As I got off the bus on West End Lane a pang of guilt struck me, my mum was always harping on about education but it just wasn’t for me; I knew what I wanted to do with my life. There was only one plan and I was sticking to it, I was going to become a musician, a great one. I needed her to understand that. She knew that I loved playing my guitar but she always told me that music was a good hobby, but nothing to pin your hopes on. Better off with a proper job, like a postman or electrician, something reliable. She didn’t understand the desperate urge that I had and I couldn’t blame her for that, she didn’t know how music made me feel, how I didn’t have a choice in it. My head was buzzing, you see, I could feel it in my bones, that everything would work out. Now I had to convince my mum and the rest of the world, even if they didn’t get it now, one day they would. I will show her, and everyone else, not today but soon.

---

As I walked into the house I knew something was terribly wrong, Steve, my little brother, was frantic, trying to dial 999.

‘What are you doing?’ I shouted.

‘It’s Mum, she’s not breathing, she’s gone all white, her body is cold and I can’t feel the pulse.’

‘Steve, calm down, are you stoned? Where is she?’ I said.

‘In the lounge, on the sofa, Ben’s with her, I think she’s dead Ed. Dead! Hello!’ He shouted at the phone. ‘Fuck! Answer! … Hello! Hello!…Yeah, it’s my mum, she’s cold… limp, we need help, she’s on the sofa and I don’t know what to do. What shall we do? Tell me what to do!’ He paused, listening to a question. ‘She doesn’t seem to be…’

He gave the address, then put the phone down, his face pale as a sheet, his hands trembling, he didn’t let go of the phone, his knuckles white as he squeezed it hard.

‘She’s in there.’ he said without moving from the hall.

Fred, my youngest brother, was standing in the middle of the room, staring at me with his gaunt eyes, as if he was pleading to make it all ok. Then… everything slowed down like it does in movies.

I was afraid. I didn’t want to see her. My heart was racing fast. Steve had said the word dead. My chest was thumping and I felt like vomiting. Carefully I took another step forward, the messy room was shrinking around me, giving me no space to breathe. I had no air in my lungs, I was gasping and I felt dizzy and lightheaded. In front of me, sunken in on the brown sofa, with her hand hanging off the side was my small mother, crouching at the side of her, my brother Ben.

He looked up at me. He looked strangely calm so I sat down next to him. He whispered.

‘She’s gone all cold. I don’t know what to do. I don’t think there is anything I…’

My heart was beating fast and I could taste the sweat that was now trickling down my face. I have to keep it together. I am the eldest, I have to be... The panic felt as if it was about to explode, I took a breath, a deep one.

‘Is there a pulse?’ I managed to ask.

‘I don’t know, I can’t find it.’ Ben reached for mums’ wrist.

I touched her knee. It was cold. I grabbed a grubby old blanket that our dead dog used to sit on it, I put it over her body. One of her eyes were half open, staring blankly towards the TV, which was blaring out the credits from EastEnders. I kicked the remote with my foot and the TV turned off. The room was still now, my other two brothers sat down next to me.

I could hear sirens getting louder, even though it felt like a second ago we spoke to the emergency services. There was a knock, no one moved, another knock, a little harder this time.

‘Open the fucking door,’ I shouted a little too loud as my brothers were right next to me, I couldn’t take my eyes off Mum’s body.

The house filled up with ambulance staff and chaos. Someone asked us who the eldest was, and I answered, ‘Me. I’m Ed’

‘How old are you?’

‘Sixteen–I just turned sixteen.’

The slow-motion pace reversed and turned into a frantic fast-forward rush. They were prodding and touching her, machines were attached to her limp body, but it was no use. People were shouting above me but I was in a cocoon and it didn’t seem real.

In the end they put her on the ambulance stretcher. They were starting to carry her out. Stop! I wanted to shout, don’t take her! But nothing came out. I couldn’t speak, I froze.

Mum was being carried out, her body leaving. The thought that she was never going to come back appeared and I screamed... ‘Not again. Please. No. Not again.’ This had happened to me, to us, before. The ambulance staff left after mumbling a few comforting words that I couldn’t understand.

The living room was abruptly empty, medical debris scattered around the room. I sat down.

I could hear the ambulance drive off and the house was calm again, free of chaos, the four of us sat down on the floor in the hallway with our backs to the wall, heads buried in our hands. It was so silent, so fucking dead quiet, not even a breath. Fred had tears pouring down his face, although he didn’t make a sound. The rest of us were static, staring into the floorboards.

---

We could hear a police car pulling up outside, the blue lights lighting up the house. Somehow, it felt right that something was happening, even if it was the pigs turning up.

They tried pressing the broken doorbell and then they knocked and we all stood up like robots. I was completely frozen, unable to move to get to the door handle.

‘Anyone here? Open up. It’s the police.’ A firm, authoritative voice echoed through the door.

The knocking and voices got louder. I just had to make it to the door. My body felt disconnected from my brain. Walk, idiot! Get to the goddamn door.

I gripped the handle and opened the front door to a couple of policemen.

‘Hi, my name is PC Plant. Who is the eldest out of you lot? You?’

‘Yes, it’s me,’ I said, looking down at my feet.

‘Can we come in?’ The policemen looked at all of us sitting on the floor in the corridor.

‘Sure’ We walked through to our living room. The room had pizza boxes stacked in the corner, some empty beer cans and clothes thrown on the floor.

‘Can we sit down?’ The officer had taken off his hat.

‘Sure.’ I said, clearing the mess from the floor in front of them.

We all stood there, still, looking at the officers sitting on the sofa where our mother just laid dead.

‘Boys, I’m sorry to hear that your mother passed away. We are very sorry for your loss.’ The older out of the two paused dutifully. ‘The doctors believe it was a heart attack. She is currently at St Mary’s, being examined. After that, she will be taken to the mortuary, and they will be awaiting instructions.

‘How old are you… er…?’

‘Ed, my name is Ed and I am eighteen years old,’ I lied.

‘Where is your dad?’ The police officer took notes.

‘Dead.’ I was imagining the officer writing “Orphans” in capitals on his notepad.

‘How old are your brothers?’

‘Ben is fourteen, Steve is sixteen and Fred is thirteen.’ I couldn’t lie too much about Fred’s age because he looked about eight years old right now. They scanned us up and down; a sorry sight, four teenage boys, limbs too long, spotty faces and greasy hair. We were tall but skinny, they probably wondered whether we were malnourished. We weren’t, we just ate a lot of rubbish. Our weekly baths didn’t do the trick anymore. We were scruffy and poor. The standard for the area we lived in. They’d seen it all before, judging by the unaffected expression on their faces.

‘Do you have any other family that we can contact?’ The policeman asked.

‘Well, there’s Auntie Linda. I can call her. And Mum has lots of friends. I guess I need to tell them,’ I muttered under my breath.

‘Do you want me to call your aunt? What’s her number?’ He looked straight at me, like he really meant what he said. Before I could answer his radio started making loud noises and he lost his concentration for a second. His face changed expression and he looked distracted and concerned. Something was up. He signalled to his colleague to take over.

‘So, your aunt. Where is she?

‘In Wembley, she’s on her way here now,’ I lied.

‘Are you close?’

‘Yeah, very,’ said Ben.

I cleared my throat. ‘She practically lives here.’ I wanted them to leave so I could work out the best way to handle this.

‘Can you cope with your brothers? As you are the only one of age I have to make sure that you can care for them.’

‘I can care for them fine.’ My voice sounded weak, barely a whisper.

PC Plant came over and whispered in his partner’s ear. Their radio was going crazy; there was an emergency somewhere..

---

‘Ok,’ he said. He went quiet for a while as if to work out what he should do.

Ok what? I thought.

‘Eh, well, that settles it. Ed, You are in charge for now. Let us know if you need any help. Here is the number for Social Services if you need it.’ He handed me a leaflet and underlined a number twice that was already in bold letters at the top. ‘You or your aunt, need to get in touch with the hospital right away about your mother’s body.’ The policemen stood up and put their hats on.

‘We better be off. Boys, we are so sorry for your loss…’ They looked genuine and I felt a pang of desperation. ‘We’ll be back to check on you later.’

I sincerely hoped they wouldn’t.

After the officers left, the silence took over again. I decided that it was a good idea to give Fred a hug, he looked so upset and young. We weren’t a family that showed affection as a rule. I squeezed his shoulder and patted his back, he fell into my arms and cried, I wanted to fix this for him so badly.

When dad died, mum had sorted things out. Now I was the head of the house and I didn’t know what the hell to do. As I thought about that, it dawned on me that they were all staring at me.

‘Fred, it’s going to be all right, I promise, everything will be ok. Just give it some time. Trust me.’ I was squeezing him. ‘I just need to think. Work it all out. A plan…then it’ll be fine.’ I wasn’t convinced about that.

I had no clue how to fix this, that was the thought that kept on spinning round my head, my life had taken a new turn. I know what I had to do, I have to be strong, I have to look after my brothers. For her…that’s what she would want.

The kitchen was filthy and washing up was stacked around the sink. A pile of dirty clothes by the garden door gave off an unsavoury stench. This was a shit hole.

There was a time when things were better around here. After Dad died Mum just gave up and stopped caring. It was as if she was waiting for us to grow up so she could just curl up and die.

I had cooked, not even an egg. I found some beans in the cupboard and I gathered heating those up wouldn’t be too hard. Adrenaline gave me an energy burst and I blurted out, a little too loudly: ‘How about we clean up some of this mess?’

None of us knew how, but before long the four of us were making movements that suggested tidying.

We worked together in silence, grateful for something to do. I realised at that very moment that my brothers were now my responsibility, we belonged together, and as I wasn’t getting out of here anytime soon, I needed a plan. We were the kind of family nobody cared about, the dregs of society. We had to stick together; now more than ever.

Chapter 1:

Getting Out

Today was my sixteenth birthday, the seventh of August 1988, I’d had enough of waiting to grow up. I was tall enough to pass for eighteen and I already heard about a job in a supermarket stacking shelves. The plan was to get the most boring job I could get my hands on in order to motivate me to write hit songs. Living at home was no longer an option. Eating turds or rolling around in vomit must feel better than sitting around waiting to die alongside my brothers and my fragile mum.

A voice in my head kept telling me ‘get out of this hellhole’, and it was all I could think of. My brain was working overtime trying to figure out the great escape plan. I was ready to get away from all that I know, which was fuck all. I was attached to nothing, apart from my guitar, a gift from my dead father.

My mum and three younger brothers were like ghosts to me, we passed each other but rarely spoke, I didn’t feel as if I belonged with them or to them, I guess you could say I was a loner or at least, I felt like one.

Our poor mum looked as if she was about to keel over, dragging her feet behind her and eyes dead like fathomless holes. One of my brothers, Steve, was already involved in circles you didn’t want anyone you cared about to move in. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to work out where this whole family was heading. I’d seen it around, too many times. You get the gist. I had to take drastic action even if it was selfish.

I jumped on bus 31 to Camden. I know... only Camden, not very far from Kilburn but I felt as if I was on my way to somewhere far away, somewhere I could belong, surrounded by gig venues and punks, sharply dressed mods and smelly food stalls serving people from all over the world.

The supermarket on the high road was busy, before I entered I made sure my hair was neat and my shirt was tucked in properly. I took a deep breath and stepped inside the sharply lit store, I approached a till.

‘Can I speak to the manager?’ I asked the mousey girl; she was sweet looking. Her mouth was chewing gum and she looked too young to have a job, which was encouraging.

‘You’re after Mr Brown? Over there.’ She pointed to a tall, skinny, peak-faced man in a brown suit.

‘Thanks.’ I smiled at the girl and walked towards the man, who was busy helping an old lady get some beans down from the top shelf and putting them into her trolley.

‘Mr Brown?’ I said sounding less confident than I had hoped.

‘Who’s asking?’ He looked straight at me and I felt like the girl on the till: mousey and young, I mustered up the courage.

‘Ed, Ed Henderson, I’m after a job. I can do anything, I’m strong and reliable.’ I had carefully researched first impressions after I read the relevant pamphlet at my school: ‘How to Get a Job’. It seemed to have done the trick.

‘Ok Ed Henderson…right. Come with me lad.’ We walked into his smoky little office in the back and he chucked a form at me.

‘First, you need to fill this in. Sit yourself down and take your time.’ He pointed to a chair.

It was easy enough, I used my best handwriting and to be fair, it wasn’t bad.

Mr Brown inspected my squiggles for half a second and then he looked at me as if to work out if I was any good.

‘When can you start?’ he finally said.

I felt heat travelling from my neck towards my face. I hated when that happens. My not-so-cool interior exposed. At least it made Mr Brown's face soften, he looked kinder.

‘Eh… eh… any time,’ I stuttered which didn’t help with the tomato face situation.

‘I need someone to stack shelves before the shop opens. Someone who is strong, not lazy. You will be paid weekly, and if I catch you slacking or stealing, you will be sacked on the spot and not paid for that day. Is that clear?’ Mr Brown's face looked scary again, his lips so thin that the skin above them crinkled like dried prunes.

‘Yes, Mr Brown, that is clear, I will not let you down.’ I said as if I meant it because I did.

‘You can start tomorrow, five o’clock in the morning. Matt will be here to let you in and show you the ropes.’

‘Thank you Mr Brown, thank you.’

As I walked out of the shop I broke into a triumphant smile. Perhaps I was becoming more of a man. This morning I could see the beginning of a moustache appearing on my much too smooth face, a sign I was ready to take on the world.

I just landed my first job. At last, the road to my new destiny was paved and I was on my way to freedom.

---

On the bus ride home I felt like whistling but I didn’t, in case someone saw me. Walking up to our house, I decided it wasn’t a good idea to share my news with the family just yet; it was all part of my plan, which had nothing to do with any of them. I needed to be clever about this, mainly because I didn’t want to panic Mum, she was in such a bad way already. I could do it on the weekend when she was less stressed, moving out was going to have to wait anyways until I had some steady money coming in. Perhaps she would be pleased, I pondered, one less mouth to feed I guess. I’d visit her often, that’s what I’ll tell her.

Thinking about my plan made me feel good, I was someone, a young man with a destiny. I held my head high, my chest protruding through my grimy T-shirt with the deep breaths I was taking… I was happy; today I had moved one step closer towards my goal and it felt great.

As I got off the bus on West End Lane a pang of guilt struck me, my mum was always harping on about education but it just wasn’t for me; I knew what I wanted to do with my life. There was only one plan and I was sticking to it, I was going to become a musician, a great one. I needed her to understand that. She knew that I loved playing my guitar but she always told me that music was a good hobby, but nothing to pin your hopes on. Better off with a proper job, like a postman or electrician, something reliable. She didn’t understand the desperate urge that I had and I couldn’t blame her for that, she didn’t know how music made me feel, how I didn’t have a choice in it. My head was buzzing, you see, I could feel it in my bones, that everything would work out. Now I had to convince my mum and the rest of the world, even if they didn’t get it now, one day they would. I will show her, and everyone else, not today but soon.

---

As I walked into the house I knew something was terribly wrong, Steve, my little brother, was frantic, trying to dial 999.

‘What are you doing?’ I shouted.

‘It’s Mum, she’s not breathing, she’s gone all white, her body is cold and I can’t feel the pulse.’

‘Steve, calm down, are you stoned? Where is she?’ I said.

‘In the lounge, on the sofa, Ben’s with her, I think she’s dead Ed. Dead! Hello!’ He shouted at the phone. ‘Fuck! Answer! … Hello! Hello!… Yeah, it’s my mum, she’s cold… limp, we need help, she’s on the sofa and I don’t know what to do. What shall we do? Tell me what to do!’ He paused, listening to a question. ‘She doesn’t seem to be…’

He gave the address, then put the phone down, his face pale as a sheet, his hands trembling, he didn’t let go of the phone, his knuckles white as he squeezed it hard.

‘She’s in there.’ he said without moving from the hall.

Fred, my youngest brother, was standing in the middle of the room, staring at me with his gaunt eyes, as if he was pleading to make it all ok. Then… everything slowed down as it does in movies.

I was afraid. I didn’t want to see her. My heart was racing fast. Steve had said the word dead. My chest was thumping and I felt like vomiting. Carefully I took another step forward, the messy room was shrinking around me, giving me no space to breathe. I had no air in my lungs, I was gasping and I felt dizzy and lightheaded. In front of me, sunken in on the brown sofa, with her hand hanging off the side was my small mother, crouching at the side of her, my brother Ben.

He looked up at me. He looked strangely calm so I sat down next to him. He whispered.

‘She’s gone all cold. I don’t know what to do. I don’t think there is anything I…’

My heart was beating fast and I could taste the sweat that was now trickling down my face. I have to keep it together. I am the eldest, I have to be... The panic felt as if it was about to explode, I took a breath, a deep one.

‘Is there a pulse?’ I managed to ask.

‘I don’t know, I can’t find it.’ Ben reached for mums’ wrist.

I touched her knee. It was cold. I grabbed a grubby old blanket that our dead dog used to sit on it, I put it over her body. One of her eyes were half open, staring blankly towards the TV, which was blaring out the credits from EastEnders. I kicked the remote with my foot and the TV turned off. The room was still now, my other two brothers sat down next to me.

I could hear sirens getting louder, even though it felt like a second ago we spoke to the emergency services. There was a knock, no one moved, another knock, a little harder this time.

‘Open the fucking door,’ I shouted a little too loud as my brothers were right next to me, I couldn’t take my eyes off Mum’s body.

The house filled up with ambulance staff and chaos. Someone asked us who the eldest was, and I answered, ‘Me. I’m Ed’

‘How old are you?’

‘Sixteen–I just turned sixteen.’

The slow-motion pace reversed and turned into a frantic fast-forward rush. They were prodding and touching her, machines were attached to her limp body, but it was no use. People were shouting above me but I was in a cocoon and it didn’t seem real.

In the end they put her on the ambulance stretcher. They were starting to carry her out. Stop! I wanted to shout, don’t take her! But nothing came out. I couldn’t speak, I froze.

Mum was being carried out, her body leaving. The thought that she was never going to come back appeared and I screamed... ‘Not again. Please. No. Not again.’ This had happened to me, to us, before. The ambulance staff left after mumbling a few comforting words that I couldn’t understand.

The living room was abruptly empty, medical debris scattered around the room. I sat down.

I could hear the ambulance drive off and the house was calm again, free of chaos, the four of us sat down on the floor in the hallway with our backs to the wall, heads buried in our hands. It was so silent, so fucking dead quiet, not even a breath. Fred had tears pouring down his face, although he didn’t make a sound. The rest of us were static, staring into the floorboards.

---

We could hear a police car pulling up outside, the blue lights lighting up the house. Somehow, it felt right that something was happening, even if it was the pigs turning up.

They tried pressing the broken doorbell and then they knocked and we all stood up like robots. I was completely frozen, unable to move to get to the door handle.

‘Anyone here? Open up. It’s the police.’ A firm, authoritative voice echoed through the door.

The knocking and voices got louder. I just had to make it to the door. My body felt disconnected from my brain. Walk, idiot! Get to the goddamn door.

I gripped the handle and opened the front door to a couple of policemen.

‘Hi, my name is PC Plant. Who is the eldest out of you lot? You?’

‘Yes, it’s me,’ I said, looking down at my feet.

‘Can we come in?’ The policemen looked at all of us sitting on the floor in the corridor.

‘Sure’ We walked through to our living room. The room had pizza boxes stacked in the corner, some empty beer cans and clothes thrown on the floor.

‘Can we sit down?’ The officer had taken off his hat.

‘Sure.’ I said, clearing the mess from the floor in front of them.

We all stood there, still, looking at the officers sitting on the sofa where our mother just laid dead.

‘Boys, I’m sorry to hear that your mother passed away. We are very sorry for your loss.’ The older out of the two paused dutifully. ‘The doctors believe it was a heart attack. She is currently at St Mary’s, being examined. After that, she will be taken to the mortuary, and they will be awaiting instructions.

‘How old are you… er…?’

‘Ed, my name is Ed and I am eighteen years old,’ I lied.

‘Where is your dad?’ The police officer took notes.

‘Dead.’ I was imagining the officer writing “Orphans” in capitals on his notepad.

‘How old are your brothers?’

‘Ben is fourteen, Steve is sixteen and Fred is thirteen.’ I couldn’t lie too much about Fred’s age because he looked about eight years old right now. They scanned us up and down; a sorry sight, four teenage boys, limbs too long, spotty faces and greasy hair. We were tall but skinny, they probably wondered whether we were malnourished. We weren’t, we just ate a lot of rubbish. Our weekly baths didn’t do the trick anymore. We were scruffy and poor. Standard for the area we lived in. They’d seen it all before, judging by the unaffected expression on their faces.

‘Do you have any other family that we can contact?’ The policeman asked.

‘Well, there’s Auntie Linda. I can call her. And Mum has lots of friends. I guess I need to tell them,’ I muttered under my breath.

‘Do you want me to call your aunt? What’s her number?’ He looked straight at me like he really meant what he said. Before I could answer his radio started making loud noises and he lost his concentration for a second. His face changed expression and he looked distracted and concerned. Something was up. He signalled to his colleague to take over.

‘So, your aunt. Where is she?

‘In Wembley, she’s on her way here now,’ I lied.

‘Are you close?’

‘Yeah, very,’ said Ben.

I cleared my throat. ‘She practically lives here.’ I wanted them to leave so I could work out the best way to handle this.

‘Can you cope with your brothers? As you are the only one of age I have to make sure that you can care for them.’

‘I can care for them fine.’ My voice sounded weak, barely a whisper.

PC Plant came over and whispered in his partner’s ear. Their radio was going crazy; there was an emergency somewhere..

---

‘Ok,’ he said. He went quiet for a while as if to work out what he should do.

Ok, what? I thought.

‘Eh, well, that settles it. Ed, You are in charge for now. Let us know if you need any help. Here is the number for Social Services if you need it.’ He handed me a leaflet and underlined a number twice that was already in bold letters at the top. ‘You or your aunt, need to get in touch with the hospital right away about your mother’s body.’ The policemen stood up and put their hats on.

‘We better be off. Boys, we are so sorry for your loss…’ They looked genuine and I felt a pang of desperation. ‘We’ll be back to check on you later.’

I sincerely hoped they wouldn’t.

After the officers left, the silence took over again. I decided that it was a good idea to give Fred a hug, he looked so upset and young. We weren’t a family that showed affection as a rule. I squeezed his shoulder and patted his back, he fell into my arms and cried, I wanted to fix this for him so badly.

When dad died, mum had sorted things out. Now I was the head of the house and I didn’t know what the hell to do. As I thought about that, it dawned on me that they were all staring at me.

‘Fred, it’s going to be all right, I promise, everything will be ok. Just give it some time. Trust me.’ I was squeezing him. ‘I just need to think. Work it all out. A plan…then it’ll be fine.’ I wasn’t convinced about that.

I had no clue how to fix this, that was the thought that kept on spinning around my head, my life had taken a new turn. I know what I had to do, I have to be strong, I have to look after my brothers. For her…that’s what she would want.

The kitchen was filthy and washing up was stacked around the sink. A pile of dirty clothes by the garden door gave off an unsavoury stench. This was a shit hole.

There was a time when things were better around here. After Dad died Mum just gave up and stopped caring. It was as if she was waiting for us to grow up so she could just curl up and die.

I had cooked, not even an egg. I found some beans in the cupboard and I gathered heating those up wouldn’t be too hard. Adrenaline gave me an energy burst and I blurted out, a little too loudly: ‘How about we clean up some of this mess?’

None of us knew how, but before long the four of us were making movements that suggested tidying.

We worked together in silence, grateful for something to do. I realised at that very moment that my brothers were now my responsibility, we belonged together, and as I wasn’t getting out of here anytime soon, I needed a plan. We were the kind of family nobody cared about, the dregs of society. We had to stick together; now more than ever.