The Tapestry (9 page)

  
                                            
Tick Tock, Tick Tock,

                                               Time To Go, Time To Go.

    He felt like taking his superman pencil case and smashing it through the glass face of the clock on the wall above him.

    ‘Hey come on slowcoach’ yelled Stewart as he ran past Gavin, ‘race ya to the gates’. Yet Gavin carried on at his own little pace and let Stewart run on ahead. When he finally reached the gates his Mum was waiting for him.

   
‘What kept you so long?’ she asked with a cold look on her face. She was wearing her roll neck jumper and that only meant one thing to Gavin... he knew there would be bruises and red marks hiding under there which weren’t there this morning. And it was
his
fault.

   ‘You’ve kept me waiting long enough and you know what sort of mood your Fathers in’
Moira said as she grabbed his hand in hers, as she did so she nearly tore his arm from his socket with the speed she pulled him at... ‘Mummy you’re hurting me’ he bleated as she dragged him past the chain link fence where he had been about to wet himself earlier. He tried to pull away from her but she had a vice like grip on his hand.

   
‘Mummy...’ was as far as he got before the blow that came out of nowhere landed on his left cheek as she spun around, still holding his right hand in hers. It was an awkward slap that didn't connect properly, but the force of it did send him into his mothers legs and he would have fallen to the ground had she not been holding his other hand still in that vice like grip.

    He raised his hand to his face and could feel the skin burning against his hand. There would be a red mark there for a few hours at
least. Gavin was shocked and more scared than ever now, for his Mum had never raised a hand to him. She had always been his protector. It was always
The Man
that hit him, not
his mum?

    ‘You brought that upon yourself’ she spat at him as she bent down to his level. Finally letting go of his hand and pulling him straight by the shoulders
.

   
‘How many times do I have to tell you kids to do as you’re told hey?’ Her face was nearly touching his as she asked this; she was shrugging him by the shoulders. Gavin wasn’t there though, not really. He could hear his Mum talking to him and he could feel her shrugging him backwards and forwards. But he wasn’t
there
. He was noticing the colour fleeing from the day like a rabbit fleeing from a fox. His Mum now had the same effect on the daylight as his tormentor did. This was the beginning of the end of his childhood, he didn't understand what had happened to him at the time, but something inside him had changed. It was a tangible thing that he could feel, touch and see and yet some how he couldn’t fully understand what it was.

    As they were walking the five minute journey from school to home
(the bad place, which would be even worse now, forever more)
his Mum had apologised for hitting Gavin.
She was just stressed and didn't need the hassle.
It made him feel a little better that she had apologised and maybe he really
was
wrong for wearing the new pumps,
he had been told not to after all.

    ‘Is Dad in?’ he found the courage to ask seeing as she seemed to be in a slightly better mood
since she had apologised,
as if that had made everything alright and everything was back to normal
. He was in but was asleep ‘so you just be a good boy and be quiet when you get in and don’t do anything to wake him up’.

                                                 
CHAPTER THIRTEEN

    Gavin had been sat in front of the television now with his older sister Lala which was Gavin's nickname for her for maybe an hour or so before they heard the faint noises from upstairs which meant he had awoken and would be down soon to dole out his punishment to Gavin. He had sat still for so long with his hands on his knees and his knees bent so that his feet touched his bottom. His back was as straight as he could manage and his chin was up, not allowing his head to rest on his knees. His sister had been told to do the same as dad
was not in a good mood today so try not to give him a reason to get mad,
Moira had warned them both.

    He was wearing the blue tatty dressing gown with the white belt made from terry cloth
. When he walked into the room, he could still smell the stale alcohol mixed with the pungent odour of old spice which seemed to follow him like a malodorous cloud.

    Moira rose straight away
, somehow looking older than her thirty years. She had tried to make herself look nice for him when he woke up so she had put her make up on and brushed her dark wavy shoulder length hair so that it looked just how he liked it. She had put on her going out clothes and had already made the stew for the kids’ tea so that she could just call a babysitter and take him out for the night. He wasn’t interested though. He pushed her back down onto the chair; he was just interested in where his
numbaaaa
one was.

    ‘Ah there you are’
he drawled as he viciously grabbed Gavin by the hair on the back of his head and pulled him upright.’

    He
pulled him into the kitchen by his hair, Gavin felt like his scalp was going to be pulled from his head, his little hands went up to his head to try to pull
the man
off him only to find that he was not a match at all. Lala was not screaming yet as she was three years older than Gavin and she knew it would be unwise and wouldn’t help to scream. But she had to try so hard to hold it in as she sat tight with her hands on her knees.

   
The man
sat him at the table in the middle of the kitchen, and then shouted Moira to bring the others through. His older brother David had been upstairs in his room trying to keep quiet. He was the eldest of the three being eleven. She shouted him downstairs and all three of them sat at the little kitchen table, nervously... waiting to see what was coming next.

    ‘Right... who wants egg and chips and who wants stew?’ the man asked. All three sat there not answering as he seemed to be in a surprisingly generous mood considering his previous assault on Gavin.

    ‘Well... I’m waiting for an answer otherwise you’ll all get your mothers stew’ he said. Gavin hated his mothers stew. It tasted vile and made him want to throw up every time he smelled it. She threw swede and potatoes and carrots and all sorts of vile smelling things into a pot and literally let them stew for hours. The man usually served it up as punishment. Which is why Gavin now couldn’t understand why he was being given a choice, stew...or egg and chips? The man knew that egg and chips were Gavin's favourite,
so why give him the choice?
The three children looked at each other in puzzlement, each one not wanting to be the first to speak but David, being the eldest felt it was his duty to break the silence first.

   
‘Can I have egg and chips please Dad?’ he sheepishly asked, and then as soon as he had spoken the other two followed with their preferences for the much coveted egg and chips instead of the putrid smelling and tasting stew.

   ‘Three egg and chips coming up’
the man
said and got to work with the frying pan.

    ‘Gavin threw lala a look of bewilderment as he cracked the eggs into the pan. She put her finger in front of her lips
as if to say
shhhh don’t say a word.
All three sat in nervous silence as
the man
worked at the stove. Gavin thought he was going to be physically sick when the man dished the plates up in front of him and his siblings. They were piled high with rancid stew that was as unappetising as eating boiled garbage. The smell hit his nostrils and he realised the stew looked as if it had already been passed through his bodily system once and then served up to him again.

    David, always being the bravest of the three pointed out to their tormentor that he had asked for egg and chips and not stew. But as soon as the words had left his mouth he wished he had not uttered a sound as
the man
came flying round the side of the table and told him to take a closer look as he plunged his face into the plate of stew that was piled at least six inches high.

   
‘There’s your egg and chips, you just didn't look properly’ he sneered as he let David go. He had given all three children exactly what they had asked for but he had then piled the stew on top. Gavin realised he should have known better.

    ‘You can have your egg and chips as soon as you
’ve eaten all your stew’, there was a sick look of satisfaction on
the mans
face as he said this. David had bits of onion and stew juice all over his face dripping back onto his plate but he knew better than to move out of his seat to find a towel to wipe it with. So he picked up his fork and began to chew on the rancid food in front of him, as the fetid juice burned his face and bits of carrot and swede plopped from his face back onto his plate. All the while he was looking at Gavin silently blaming him with his eyes. He knew his brother would blame him for this and probably issue him with a few harsh digs maybe leaving him with a dead arm later that night when
the man
was too drunk to care.

    ‘Not one of you is to leave that table till I see
a clean plate... is that clear’ he now bellowed at the three siblings. They all nodded in agreement and went about the task of eating their way through the foul tasting food to reach the prized egg and chips beneath. Only the egg and chips beneath would no longer taste as Gavin would like and it would only add to his nausea to have to eat it. But the three children did as they were told and silently went about the job. Stopping now and again to gag, desperately trying not to throw up over their dinner.
God forbid if they did
Gavin thought.
Would he make them eat that too?
He tried to put the thought at the back of his head or he would definitely be emptying his stomach onto the table. Each mouthful was a chore and they were sat at the table for what seemed like hours until the stew was cold which made it even less appetising. Finally he got to the now spoiled egg and chips underneath. They were tainted with stew juice and the chips were soggy and looking slightly bulimic.

    As Gavin stabbed his fork into the yoke of the rancid egg he felt a change in the atmosphere around the table. It was like the feeling you get when you run up the stairs thinking that someone is following you, but then you turn around
and you already knew that nobody was there but still turned around to look. And you
still
ran up those stairs even though you knew you were being foolish. It was like that, he felt a presence in the room. And for once, it wasn’t
the man
although he was still there. He had come in to the room to check on the progress of the three children and make sure they hadn’t thrown any of their food in to the bin. Gavin turned to look at him and as he did so he spotted his brother David and his sister Lala. David had a disgusted look on his face as he was mid mouthful of stew and Lala was actually throwing up. He could see the vomit from her mouth about to splash on to her plate. But it had stopped mid gush like a frozen torrent of vomit and she was no longer moving. He looked back and forth between the two of them and they
were not moving
? David still had that disgusted look on his face and he hadn’t taken another mouthful or even chewed what was in his mouth. They seemed to be
frozen
. As he turned to look at
the man
who seemed not to have been affected by whatever was going on with his brother and sister he heard a voice in his head. It just said...
now is the time to be the man.
And as soon as those words were uttered in his head, it felt to Gavin like a spell had been broken. He was back to being himself. The little boy inside of him was forgotten, although he was still inside a six year olds body. He now had the mind of an adult.
An adult that wasn’t going to take any more shit off this pathetic excuse of a man that preyed on little children.
He now remembered going into little Gavin and
“becoming the boy”
but he had never realised that it would have enveloped him so totally that he would have forgotten all about the man he had grown up to be since then...for the past few minutes he really had been the boy and nothing else, with all the boy’s hopes, dreams and memories... and fears. But now he could hear the voice which seemed to be echoing from the deepest corners of his mind. Over and over,
time to be the man,
it repeated...
time to be the man.