**A Special Bond**
I knew I was in for itnot from that bully, Danny, but from Mum herself.
I walked home whistling, but my chest tightened. I was done for.
Auntie Rose, Mums best mate, had seen me with a cigarette. I couldve lied, said someone handed it to me, but no. Shed spotted it right between my lips. What was I supposed to tell Mum?
*»They stuffed it in my mouth, told me to have a puff?»*
I pretended not to see Auntie Rose. Thank God she didnt yell or clip me round the earjust gave me this long, quiet look and walked off.
But I wasnt daft. I *knew* shed already rung Mum, whod be waiting with the belt. Id circled the block twice when I spotted Gran.
Oh, brilliant. The heavy artillery. This was a low blow. Now shed start intears, the whole *»I raised hundreds of kids, an OBE in education, and my own grandsons gone feral!»* bit.
How *ashamed* she was. How Grandad was *rolling in his grave*and his dad, and his dads dad, all the ancestors, just *spinning* down there.
When I was little, that bit terrified me. Id picture the earth *moving*, like they were all squirming under the soil.
Then one day, when Gran started wailing about *»ancestors turning in their graves,»* I blurted, *»Good. Stops em getting bedsores, like old Mrs. Thompson next door.»*
Gran clutched her chest. Mum cackled so hard she forgot to wallop methen *she* got a tea towel whipped at her by Gran.
Now, Gran was hurrying toward me.
*»What are you doing out here? Why arent you home?»* Her eyes darted like *she* was the one caught smoking. *»Had a row with your mum?»*
*»N-no I havent even been home yet.»*
*»What dyou mean? Whereve you been?»*
*»School, then footie training, thenjust walking»*
*»Oh-ho!»* Here it comes, I thought. *»Breathe on me. Go on.»* But she grabbed my hands. *»Why are they so red? Where are your gloves? *Where*?»*
*»Left em at home, Gran.»*
*»And your *mother* didnt notice? Whats *wrong* with her? Pull your trouser uplets see your ankles.»*
She yanked my cuff. *»Oh, for *heavens* sake!»*
*»What? Whats wrong?»* I panicked.
*»Why arent you wearing thermals? And wheres your scarf?»*
My face burned. Then I spotted Danny watching from the alley, his stupid red beanie peeking out. *Thanks, Gran. Really. Who asked you?*
Maybe shed lost it. Early dementia? She was always sharp before.
*»Gran whats five times five?»*
*»Twenty-five,»* she said, baffled.
*»Whats the Pythagorean theorem?»*
*»A² plus B² equals C². *Victor*, have you *not* done your maths?»* She gasped. *»She didnt even check? Oh, *thats* itcome on!»*
WaitGran was on *my* side? Maybe Id dodge Mums lecture. Was this a parallel universe? Robots? *Was Gran even Gran?*
*»Gran, which sides my appendix scar on?»*
*»You *havent* had it out!»*
Okay, still Gran.
She dragged me home, huffing. Mum was in the kitchensmelled like shepherds pie. She wore her good dress, curls done, new earrings and *heels* indoors. Weird.
*»Vic, love»* She hugged me. *»Wash up, dinners ready. Mum, staying?»*
*»Your *child*s roaming the streets, *scared to come home*! Well done, *well done*! Where are his gloves? His *thermals*? Its *freezing*! But *no*, youre too busy with your»*
*»Mum, *stop*. Are you eating with us or not?»*
*»No! Im *done*! And *you*»* She turned to me. *»Pack a bag, love. Youre coming with me.»*
*»Why?»*
*»To *live* with me!»*
*»No thanks.»* The thought of Grans nagging*no way*.
*»Hes staying *here*,»* Mum said. *»With his family.»*
*»What family? *Youve* thrown yours away! *Victor*, get your things!»*
*»Mum, if you dont stop, IllIll *have* to»*
*»What? *Kick out your own mother*?»*
*»YES!»*
Gran screeched. *»After *all* Ive doneungrateful!»*
Mum *grabbed* her, shoved her onto the landing, and *slammed* the door. Gran wailed about calling the police, how Mum had to *hand me over*.
Mum yanked me into the lounge. A bloke sat theretall, thin, *my* eyes.
*»Vic no lies. This is your dad.»*
Gran pounded the door. The man stood, hesitant. *»Hello son.»*
I *flinched*. *»Youyou said he *died*!»*
*»Anthea»* He looked at Mum, miserable.
*»Not *me**her*! She said itd be easier than you knowing he»*
The doorbell rang. *»Police!»*
*»Should I go?»* Dad whispered.
*»No. *Enough* hiding. Vic, well explain*wait*»*
But I *bolted*grabbed my coat, shoes, and *ran*.
Who to believe? If *family* liedwhat else was fake?
*»VIC!»* Mum shouted. I didnt stop.
*»Oi, kid»* Danny blocked my path. *»Whos after you?»*
*»No one. *Piss off*.»*
*»Youll catch your death. Cmon, my place.»*
His flat was odd. Clean, but *lived-in*. PostersQueen, The Clash, Bowie.
*»Fancy tea?»*
I nodded. Stomach growledshouldve eaten first.
*»Hungry? Fancy pasta n sardines?»*
*»Whats *that*?»*
*»Trust me.»*
He fried onions, dumped in tinned fish, mixed it with pasta. *Best thing Id ever tasted.*
Over tea (in *train-printed* mugs), I asked, *»Whys everyone call you Danny?»*
*»Dunno. Stuck. Names *Daniel*.»*
*»You play?»* I nodded at his guitar.
He played *Wonderwall*. *Bloody brilliant.*
*»You should go home,»* he said. *»Policell be looking.»*
I told him *everything*.
*»Dont be daft. A *dad*? Thats *mint*. Ive got *no one*.»*
*»Wheres yours?»*
*»Mum says hes an astronaut.»* He snorted. *»Shes a *hostess*. Found me in a bin, *kept* me. Dont *waste* family, Vic.»*
I hugged him. *»Cheers, Dan.»*
He walked me back.
Mum, Gran, *Dad*they explained. How Gran *faked* letters to split them up. How Dad *thought* Mum remarried.
*»Why?»* I asked Gran.
*»I wanted *better* for you.»*
*»And *him*?»*
She cried. *»Forgive me.»*
On my birthday, Dan gave me a *Bowie* poster. Mum *let* me hang it.
I forgave them all. *»Grown-up rubbish,»* Dan said.
Gran *adopted* Danfed him roast dinners, *taught* him maths.
Years on, we still meet at Danssing *Wonderwall*, eat *pasta n sardines* like its gourmet.
Dad and I? Weve got *our* bond.
