A Special Bond
Tommy knew he was in for a right telling-offnot from the local troublemaker Danny «Scraps,» but from his own mum.
He whistled as he walked home, but his chest tightened. Oh, he was going to get it now.
Auntie Carol, his mums best mate, had spotted him with a fag in his mouth. He couldve lied, said someone just handed it to him, but noAuntie Carol had seen him smoking. What was he supposed to tell his mum? That someone forced it between his lips? Made him take a drag?
Tommy pretended he hadnt seen Auntie Carol, and thankfully, she hadnt made a sceneno shouting, no clip round the ear, just a long, knowing look before walking off.
But Tommy wasnt daft. He knew Auntie Carol had already ratted him out, and Mum would be waiting with the wooden spoon. Hed already circled the block twice when he spotted Gran.
Oh, here we go. Heavy artillery. The forbidden move. Now shed startwaterworks, guilt trips, the whole lot. How she, a respected schoolteacher, had raised hundreds of kids but failed her own grandson. How ashamed she was. How Grandpa was turning in his gravealong with every ancestor before him.
When he was little, that bit terrified him. Hed imagine the earth shifting as they rolled over in their graves. Then one day, it clicked. The next time Gran went off about restless ancestors, Tommy shrugged and said, «Good. Stops ’em getting bedsores, like Daves grandad.»
Gran clutched her chest. Mum burst out laughing, forgetting to wallop himwhich earned her a tea towel to the back of the head from Gran.
Now, Tommy watched Gran hurry toward him.
«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.»
«Havent been home? Whereve you been all this time?»
«School, then football practice, then just walking.»
«Right.» Here it comes, Tommy thought. Shell tell him to breathe out, then the interrogation. «Whats this, then? Why are your hands so red? Where are your gloves?»
«Left em at home, Gran.»
«Left em? And your mum didnt notice? Whats she playing at? Show me your ankles.»
She yanked up his trouser leg and gasped.
«Whats this?»
«What, Gran?» Tommy panicked.
«Your ankles! Why are they red? And where are your thermals? Wheres your scarf?»
Tommy burned with shame. Then he spotted Scraps peering from the alley, his stupid red beanie bobbing. Oh, Gran, why now? Was she losing it? Shed always been sharp as a tack.
«Gran whats five times five?»
«Twenty-five,» she said, baffled.
«Whats the square of the hypotenuse?»
«The sum of the squares of the other two sides Thomas, have you not done your homework? She didnt even check? I wont stand for this. Look at the state of you!»
WaitGran was on *his* side? Maybe hed dodge Mums lecture. Had he slipped into some parallel universe?
«Gran, which sides my appendix scar on?»
«Right. What scar? Youve never had it out.»
Okay, definitely Gran.
She dragged him home, huffing and puffing.
Mum was in the kitchen, cooking something delicious. She wore her nice dress, curls pinned up, new earringsand *heels* indoors. What was going on?
«Tommy-love!» She hugged him. «Wash up, dinners nearly ready. Mum, are you staying?»
«Whys this child wandering the streets? Doesnt want to come home, does he? This is what happensneglecting your own flesh and blood! Where are his gloves? His thermals? Its freezing! But no, youre too busy with *him*»
«Mum, stop. Please. Are you eating with us or not?»
«No! I wont set foot here again. And you know what?» She turned to Tommy. «Pack your things, love. Youre coming with me.»
«Why, Gran?»
«To live with me, sweetheart.»
«But I dont want»
«Thomas stays here,» Mum said firmly. «With his family.»
«What family? You threw it all away! *He* threw it all away!»
«Mum, if you dont stop, Ill»
«What? *What?* Throw your own mother out?»
«Yes!»
«You ungrateful»
Mum didnt let her finish. She grabbed Gran, marched her out, and shut the door. Gran screeched about calling the police, demanding custody, something about a convict.
Mum pulled Tommy into the living roomwhere a bloke sat stiffly, eyeing him.
«Tom this is your dad.»
Gran pounded on the door. Mum stood frozen. The mantall, thin, with Tommys eyesstood and held out a shaky hand.
«Hello son.»
Tommy stumbled back.
«But you said he was dead.»
«Sarah,» the man murmured.
«Not me, Mum! She told you itd be easier if he thought»
The doorbell rang. Police.
«Should I go?» the man asked.
«No. No more hiding. Tommy, well explain everything. Just wait»
But Tommy bolted. Grabbed his coat, shoes, and ran.
Who could he trust? His own family had lied to him.
«Tommy!» Mum shouted after him.
«Oi, lad!» ScrapsDannycalled. «Whats the rush?»
«Piss off.»
«Waityoull catch your death. Whos after you?»
«No one!»
Danny grabbed his arm. «Come on. My place.»
Tommy hesitated, but the cold bit deep.
Dannys flat was shabby but clean. Posters covered his wallsThe Clash, Led Zeppelin, bands Tommy didnt know.
«Tea?»
Tommy nodded. His stomach growled.
«Fancy some grub? Pasta with sardines?»
Tommy shrugged.
Danny whipped it uppasta, fried onions, tinned fish. Tommy devoured it.
Later, over tea in chipped mugs, Danny played guitar. Sang well, too.
«You should go home, mate. Theyll be worried.»
Tommy scowled.
«Whats up?»
So he told him.
«Dont be daft. Having a dads brilliant. Mines goneMum says hes an astronaut.»
«Really?»
«Nah. Shes a train attendant. Found me on a job. No family but her. But she kept me. Listen, Tommysort it out. This is their mess, not yours.»
Tommy hugged him.
At home, the truth came outhow Gran had lied, intercepted letters, driven his dad away. How theyd reconnected later.
«Why?» Tommy asked Gran.
«I wanted what was best for you.»
«And him?»
«Forgive me.»
Later, on his birthday, Tommy invited Danny. His gift? A poster of The Clash. Mum even let him hang it.
Tommy forgave them all.
As Danny saidgrown-up problems.
Gran took Danny under her wingfed him, helped with school.
Years on, theyre still mates. Still sing, still eat sardine pasta like its gourmet.
And Tommys dad? Theyre close. Hes got half-siblings now, but with Tommytheres a special bond.
**Lesson:** Families are messy. But loveand a little honestycan mend even the deepest cracks.
