**A Special Bond**
Tommy was certain he was about to get the hiding of his lifenot from the school bully, Gaz, but from his own mum.
He whistled as he walked home, but his chest tightened. He was in for it now.
Auntie Liz, his mums best friend, had seen him with a fag. He couldve lied, said someone had just handed it to him, but noAuntie Liz had seen him *smoking* it. What was he supposed to tell his mum? That someone had *shoved* it in his mouth? Like that would fly.
Tommy pretended not to notice Liz, and thank God she hadnt screamed or smacked himjust gave him a long, knowing look before walking off.
But Tommy wasnt stupid. He *knew* Auntie Liz had already ratted him out. His mum was probably waiting, belt in hand. Hed already circled the block three times when he spotted Nan.
Ah, the heavy artillery. This was low. Now shed startthe tears, the lecture about how shed raised *hundreds* of children as an honoured teacher, yet her own grandson was running wild. How *ashamed* Grandad would be, and all their ancestors, tossing in their graves.
As a kid, that bit had terrified him. He could practically *see* the earth shifting as the dead rolled over in protest.
But then hed figured it out. The last time Nan started on about restless ancestors, Tommy had quipped, *»Well, at least theyre not getting bedsores like Old Mrs. Jenkins next door.»*
Nan clutched her chest. Mum nearly *died* laughing, forgetting to tan his hideso Nan whacked *her* with a tea towel instead.
Now, Nan hurried toward him, eyes darting like *she* was the one caught smoking.
«What are you doing out here? Why arent you home?» she demanded. «Fallen out with your mum?»
«N-no I havent even been home yet.»
«Havent? Whereve you been all this time?»
«School, then football practice, then just walking.»
Nan narrowed her eyes. *Here we go,* Tommy thought. *Now shell make me breathe on her, then the interrogation starts.*
«Whats this, then?» She grabbed his hands. «Why are they so red? Where are your gloves? *Where?*»
«Left em at home, Nan.»
«Left them? And your mum didnt *notice*? Whats wrong with her? Let me see your ankles.»
She yanked up his trouser leg and gasped.
«What on earth?»
«What, Nan?» Tommy panicked.
«Look at this! Red ankles, no thermalsand wheres your *scarf*?»
Shame burned through him. Then he spotted Gaz lurking by the alley, his stupid red beanie peeking out. *Brilliant.* Now *he* had to witness this. Maybe Nan was losing itsenile or something. Shed always been sharp, but this?
«Nan whats five times five?»
«Twenty-five,» she snapped.
«Whats the square of the hypotenuse?»
«The sum of the squares of the other two sidesTommy, have you not done your *homework*? She didnt even *check*? Unbelievable. Come on, were going home. I wont stand for this neglect!»
Waitwas Nan *on his side*? Maybe hed dodged Mums lecture. Had he slipped into some parallel universe? Was this even his *real* nan?
«Nan, which sides my appendicitis scar on?»
«*Right.* But you never *had* your appendix out.»
Okay, it *was* her.
She marched him home, grip like a vice, wheezing the whole way.
Mum was there, cooking something that smelled amazing. She was dressed upcurls in her hair, new earrings, even *heels* indoors. What was *that* about?
«Tommy, love!» She hugged him tight. «Wash up, dinners nearly ready. Mum, you staying?»
«Whys this child roaming the streets? Doesnt *want* to come home, does he? *This* is what youve donethrown your own son aside for *that* man! Where are his *gloves*? Where are his *thermals*? Its *freezing* out! But no, you dont *care*»
«Mum, *stop.* Are you eating with us or not?»
«No! I wont set foot here again, you hear me? And you know what?» She turned to Tommy. «Pack your things, love. Youre coming with me.»
«What? *Why?*»
«To *live* with me, Tommy. Come on.»
«I dont *want* to!» The thought of Nan nagging him *forever*no thanks.
«Tommys staying *here,*» Mum said firmly. «In his home, with his family.»
«*What* family? Youve thrown it all away! Tommy, *get your things!*»
«Mum, if you dont stop, IllIll have to»
«*What?* Kick your own mother out?»
«Yes!»
«You *ungrateful*after all Ive done for you!»
Mum didnt let her finish. She *grabbed* Nan, dragged her out, and *slammed* the door.
Nan shrieked about calling the police, demanding custody, something about a *prisoner.*
Mum hauled Tommy into the living roomwhere a *bloke* sat, eyeing him warily.
«Tommy no point lying. This is your dad.»
Nan banged on the door. Mum stood frozen. The mantall, thin, with Tommys *eyes*stood slowly.
«Hello son.»
Tommy *flinched.* He backed into the door.
«Youyou said he was *dead!*»
«Tina» The man looked at Mum, pained.
«That was *her,*» Mum whispered. «She told you that. She thought it was better.»
The doorbell rang. Loud. Persistent.
«Police! Open up!»
«Tina, maybe I should go»
«No. No more hiding. Tommy, well explainjust *wait*»
Mum opened the door. Nan stormed in, wild-eyed, followed by a constable and nosy neighbours.
«Reports of a disturbance»
«Nothings wrong. Just family dinner. My husbands home from the oil rigs. Our son.»
«But your mother»
«Hes a *criminal!* Arrest him! Tommy, come *here*!»
«Mum, *enough!*»
«Your documents, sir?» the constable asked.
«Of course.»
«Any convictions?»
«No. Been working up north since I left school.»
«Apologies for the trouble.»
«Arrest him! He *ruined* my daughters lifegood men wanted her, and she!»
«Mum, *shut up!*»
Mum shut the door.
A *dad?* Hed lived *eleven years* without one. He had Mum. Nan. And nowa *living* father? But Nan said hed died in a drunken brawl. Said it was a *shameful* secret.
But it was all a *lie.*
Mum. Nan. His *dad*alive.
«Tommy» Mum reached for him, but he *bolted.* Grabbed his jacket, his shoes, and *ran.*
He sprinted, tears blurring his vision. Who could he *trust?*
«Tommy!» Mum called after him, but he didnt stop.
«Oi, kid!» Gaz grabbed his arm. «Whats the rush?»
Tommy yanked free. «Piss off!»
«Mate, its *freezing.* Youll catch your death. Come on.»
Gaz dragged him homea cramped flat, but clean. Posters covered his walls: The Clash, Queen, Oasis. A *guitar* leaned in the corner.
«Fancy a cuppa?»
Tommy nodded. His stomach growledhe *shouldve* eaten before running.
«Hungry? Fancy some pasta n sardines?»
Tommy shrugged. Gaz cooked like a proboiled pasta, fried onions, tossed in tinned sardines.
Tommy had *never* tasted anything so good.
Over tea, Gaz strummed his guitar, singing Oasis. Tommy joined in*Wonderwall,* badly.
«You *gotta* go home,» Gaz said. «Theyll have the coppers out.»
Tommy scowled.
«Listenhaving a dads *brilliant.* Mines a *cosmonaut.*»
«Really?»
«Nah. Mum made it up. Shes a train attendant. Raised me aloneno family, nothing. But she *tried.* Dont be daft, Tommy. Sort it out.»
Tommy hugged him. «Thanks, Gaz.»
«*Gaz?* Its *Dave.* Dave Miller.»
«But everyone calls you»
«Yeah, well. Dunno why.»
Dave walked him home. The whole *street* was searchingMum, Nan, neighbours, even the constable. And *him.* His dad.
They explained everything. How Mum got pregnant. How Nan hated Dad. How theyd splitDad working away, Nan *lying* that Mum had remarried. Dads angry letter. His brief marriage. The truth coming out years later.
«Why?» Tommy asked Nan.
«I wanted happiness. For her. For you.»
«What about *his?*»
Nan cried. «Forgive me.»
On Tommys birthday, Dave gave him a Queen poster. *Mum* let him hang it up.
He forgave them all.
«Grown-up rubbish,» Dave had said.
Nan *adopted* Davefed him, tutored him. He aced maths.
Years later, at the summer cottage, they still sang *Wonderwall,* still ate pasta n sardines like it was gourmet.
Tommy loved his dad. His half-siblings, too. But with Dadit was different.
A *special bond. He didnt need a perfect past to have a real fatherjust time, and the space to believe it. Some nights, when the wind rattled the windows, Tommy would wake and check: Dad still there, snoring softly down the hall. And hed smile, pull the blanket tight, and whisper, Night, Dad, into the dark.
