David Guest ‘You little bastard’

Prologue
Sitting here it is now 2002. It was only two years ago that I was chatting with a man, while driving my taxi, about the hardship he had experienced as a child. I explained some of the things I had also been through as a child. He was shocked, ‘You poor sod you should write a bloody book about it. People should know how so many kids went through hell in the sixties and seventies. I sat waiting for my next job and got to thinking and wondering how I could write such a story for I had no schooling as such. I began to make notes, just jotting things down whenever I had a spare moment until I had a pile of pages an inch thick. I then turned to my computer not having a clue how to use it properly. I wrote a page, scanned it, printed it and stored it on a file. They were all different sizes and shapes and it didn’t look much like a book and even I had a problem and couldn’t make head or tail of it, so I went to the library to get a book on word processing. After many false starts that enabled me to improve the spelling, but I still couldn’t grasp the grammar bit. Nevertheless I continued and set out to tell the truth. I let a few people read it to get their reactions and to my surprise they said the story was good but it badly needed editing. I had to agree. Finally I was finished with my story set out up to 1981 when my life changed and I met my wife. I had written 90,000 words, a hundred and forty full A4 pages and I was proud of myself. I could do no more, it needed editing and I was fed up with it. One day I had a chance conversation with a gentleman who owned a factory or something like that. I talked to him as I had done on a few occasions before telling him about my son who had worked at his factory. I told him I had written a story and he said he would be interested in reading it. I was unsure at first considering how bad the grammar was, but I agreed and gave him my e-mail address. A few weeks later I received an e-mail from Howard. Who is Howard I thought, then thinking back I realised it must be the gentleman from the Team Valley. He told me he had enjoyed my book and could he show it to someone in the publishing trade. The weeks passed and I continued to show people my book, but always the response was the same. It’s good but needs editing. One night as I came in from work, there was an e-mail from Howard saying the agent he had spoken to would only look at the book if it had been edited. Would it be all right if he proceeded with editing the first three chapters? I was unsure at first for would his editing change the story and the way I wanted it to sound. I felt I had nothing to lose and agreed. A few weeks later I received an e-mail with an attachment and read the chapters he had edited. It was perfect for he brought the story to life and it sounded really good without having taken the meaning away. He agreed to complete the task. Today I look at myself and think of what I was and where I have come from. It is quite remarkable that a little thieving bastard good for nothing can become a normal person, who is law abiding, has brought up four good, decent kids with jobs and no problems with drugs and drink. People say I should be proud of myself, and the way I have turned out. I am, and in particular I thank my wife, not for changing me as such, but for giving me the one thing I never had - love.
David Guest

CHAPTER 1 The Beginning

It was a cold winter’s day in January 1958 - Ronnie and Ruth were about to become parents for the second time. Their first child, Jacqueline, was not a well child, she suffered from spina bifida and there was not much hope for a long life – indeed her death was sure as there was very little could be done in those days. I can’t talk much about this, about my sister, as she died just as I was being born - God rest her soul.

Anyway, on 30th January 1958 Ruth gives birth to her second child two months early, dreading the news that the baby would not be healthy after the first child. Their son, David, was born at home in Ruth’s mother’s house, a three bedroom council house in the suburbs of Newcastle upon Tyne - quite a nice place at the time. Soon as the baby was born he was rushed to the hospital and placed in an incubator. The doctors came to talk to Ruth and Ronnie,
‘We don’t hold out much hope for the survival of your child, he has yellow jaundice and a very weak chest. I am very sorry.’ explained the doctor. That first night passed without any problems. Next morning little David was still here. Hughie, one of Ruth’s brothers, came to visit mother and baby and looked into the crib, ‘Ahh, look at him he is so small, like a skinned rabbit. What weight is he?’ ‘Two pounds two ounces.’ Ruth replied.
All Ruth’s family came to see her in hospital, there was Eddie, he had asthma, then there was Brenda, Florence, Hughie and Ann the youngest, not forgetting Ruth’s mother, May, who was as hard as nails - she kept the six of the kids and their boyfriends in order. She took no shit from anyone. She had thick black eyebrows, dark eyes with an evil look and had been through a few husbands - her third at this time or so I am told.

Ronnie had a biggish family as well. He had no sisters, just four brothers Steve, Geordie, Bobby and Peter the youngest. They came to visit believing little David would not be on this earth for long. But the weeks passed and David was getting a bit stronger and finally pulled through and Ruth was allowed to take him home. It had to be warm all the time for catching a cold could cause complications. Hughie had the job of keeping the fire on day and night on the orders of May - God help him if the fire went out. Ronnie’s mother, Jean, was a lovely lady, big and came from Wales. As for his dad - God knows were he was. They were a hard bunch, especially Geordie and Bobby who were always fighting. Steve and Geordie were sailors, Ronnie had just come out of the army having been discharged on medical grounds - he was a chef. Bobby had a soft spot for Florence, Ruth’s sister, but she had a boy friend called Hilton. The two families were completely different.

Life continued, summer came and by now David had got over the worst and Ronnie and Ruth moved to Carlisle for a short time with Hughie. He loved David as he was close to him. They were not there for long before moving back to Newcastle in 1962 - to Maughan Street, South Benwell into a two bed roomed terraced flat. It had an outside toilet and a tin bath you would put in front of the fire to have a bath. It had a water heater on the wall so it took a lot of pans of water to fill the bath – so one fill and everyone had a bath. Florence moved into the flat downstairs with Hilton, he was a miserable sod - a carpet fitter by trade.

I was getting bigger by now and at four years old I was still very thin, but pretty tall. I had my nana May’s eyebrows and deep eyes - they said I looked a bit evil with my stare. I was due to start school after the summer holidays. My mam was pregnant again with the baby due around July or August time. They prayed this baby would be all right and healthy for my parents had been through a lot with the first two - Jacqueline who died and me, who should have been dead the first day.

We went on holiday to my nana May’s caravan; it was at Amble on the northeast coast of England. I think it belonged to her new husband. I never knew nothing of money matters in the family like who had what, but there was money always flying round. When we came off our holidays, my mam went into labour on the 1st August 1962 and gave birth to a healthy baby boy - they called him Anthony. So David had a baby brother. I was actually christened Peter David, but have always been called David - I think it had to do with the fact that my uncle Peter was not a great deal older than me. Tony, for short, was home and everyone came to see him. He was a chubby little thing. I was feeling sort of left out and ignored as if I was not there, everyone was holding Tony saying, ‘he was lovely’, ‘he is a healthy baby’. Even at four I was feeling different for I was not healthy - even now I had to go to hospital every so often for x-rays, I was on tablets and I was neither fit nor healthy. I sat alone while every one held the new arrival - I was feeling left out, even a bit jealous I suppose.

I started school, South Benwell Infant School. It was a big tall school, black in colour with polished wooden floors. I didn’t like it much, I never made many friends, and as a loner I sat in a corner at play times always deep in thought. I would be sent up to my nana Jean’s (I was getting older now, five years old) some Saturdays probably to get me out the way. She would send me to town with my uncle Peter, but I just cramped his style for he would go to the Oxford, a sort of dance hall, looking for girls - last thing he wanted was a five year old tagging along. Nevertheless he was always nice to me and I would just sit on a seat while he messed around with the girls. He would say, ‘There’s a drink, don’t move.’ I didn’t, he was a big lad and if he lost his temper he would have killed me.

My uncle Peter loved football and like Bobby they were footy mad. Many a time Peter had the ball out in the street having a kick around - he used to let me play. I didn’t like playing football it tired me out, but he gave me time and showed an interest in me unlike some of my family. Everybody seemed more interested in Tony, my new brother - was it because he was fit and healthy? Maybe it was me being paranoid, getting jealous, who knows, but as a five-year-old kid it felt nobody really liked me. My nana Jean did, also my aunty Flo, she had me stay at her house some nights. My mam loved me, I have to say that, but she had a lot on her mind. My dad was so demanding, different meals every night, the house had to be clean, he was a bad tempered sod - I was frightened of him. Is it normal to be frightened of your dad? - I don’t know. I sat many an hour looking at the people around me, other kids in the streets and their dads playing with them, kicking a ball around, getting piggy backs, having fun. I seemed to lack this in my family apart from when I visited my nana and Peter who would play with me in the street. Don’t get me wrong, I got toys, decent food, clothes, my dad worked hard plus he worked in a toy warehouse in Newcastle so we had toys in the house more than normal. Where he worked there was a row of terraced houses. He was friendly with an old lady by the name of Nelly, her house was facing the toy warehouse on Blanford Street. It seemed a dark house (dull) as were a lot of houses. I would go there with my dad and every once in a while he would pick up boxes. Nelly told me, ‘Never go behind the settee lad, there’s a big dog there that will bite you.’ I was terrified of it – now I know it was just a ploy to stop me looking. I now know my dad nicked toys from the warehouse and put them in her house where he would go after the warehouse was closed and get them - that’s how we had loads of toys - and I had thought he must of thought a lot of me buying toys. Nelly was a nice lady, always concerned about my chest. She told my dad to rub Vick on my chest before going to bed at night and to give me a mint with Vick on to suck.

I was growing up, but I was still very thin and having a lot of trouble with my chest. I carried on going to school and got friendly with a lad called Jimmy, he lived on Buddle Road - quite a big family, but a happy one. Sometimes when I was there his dad would come in from the bar (I don’t think he worked) and go over to the fish bowl, catch a goldfish, wiggle it around all over the place and then eat it. I was amazed by this for weeks. I asked Jimmy,
‘Where does he buy his goldfish?’
He laughed at me,
‘Don’t be daft it is only a bit of carrot he cuts off and comes in with it - as if it were a fish!’
I felt so stupid. It was good fun we were hanging around together best mates. He was pretty rough, though once when we were in the head teachers office getting told off for something she had said to Jimmy,
‘Stop hanging round with him, he is trouble.’
At an early age I was branded a troublemaker and even though he was always in trouble I got the blame for leading him astray. People sensed bad in me - I could stare into someone’s face and not even flinch. I would look right into their eyes, through them and I knew it made them uneasy. I could stand there, get told off and just shut down - they could scream at me and I would just stand there, it had no effect on me. Other times my eyes would water and it looked as if I was crying – wrong, it was a sign I was going to explode, take a wobbler. I attended the head’s office more and more mostly for fighting, well not fighting as such but pushing lads around. Some of the lads would pick on me because I was so skinny and didn’t mix well, but I could fight a bit - I had a temper on me and I was getting told off all the time.

It was Christmas time and my class was told they were doing a school play for our parents. We were singing Christmas carols as well as doing the play. I was looking forward to it for I enjoyed doing things like that. We went home with a letter to give to our parents telling them they were invited to listen to their children singing. On the Monday morning we were in class, had registration, and were told to go into the hall to practise our singing.
‘Ok children’ the teacher said, ‘make your way to the hall.’
I got up to follow the rest.
‘Sit down David Guest. You’re not taking part until you start behaving yourself.’ Everyone left the classroom including the teacher. I was there all alone and very near to crying. I was upset. I hadn’t been really bad, well not much. I got off my chair and made my way to the teacher’s desk, opened the first drawer to see what was in it - nothing in there apart from papers and books, second drawer there were papers and a tin. I took out the tin, it was heavy - I opened it. The tin was full of money, dinner money. I shoved it in my pockets, walked straight out of the school; everyone was in the hall except me. ‘That will learn them to stop me doing things’ - it was the first time I had stolen anything.

I felt as if I had got one up on them. I made my way up to Adelaide Terrace to the local shops to spend the money. It was the dinner money and I felt good even though I had nicked it - they would take notice of me now. I bought a breakfast in a little café on one of the side streets and after I had finished I went to the toyshop and got myself a catapult and a bag of marbles to play with. Walking along the street I picked up little stones firing them at dogs, cats and house windows, it felt good - I had an evil streak in me. I put out a few windows, made a few dogs yelp - it was fun. I bought sweets and pop and was soon full. It was starting to get dark and I knew it was time to go home. As I walked down my front street I dodged through an old house to hide what I had left of the money together with my catapult otherwise it would just be taking away from me. I hid them under the floorboards of an empty house I used to play in. I knew them all, being in and out them all the time, lighting fires, flooding them and breaking windows. After I had hidden my hoard, I made my way home as if everything was ok. I walked upstairs and could hear voices - it was probably one of my aunts come to visit. I opened the door and sitting there was the head teacher. ‘Come in David.’ she ordered.
She told me about the missing money. I denied it, saying it wasn’t me.
‘I have no proof it was you, but..’
I was just standing there totally ignoring them. The head told my mam that it was a waste of time trying to talk to me,
‘He has put up his brick wall. I can’t get through to him.’ She got up. ‘It’s time I left.’
I hated teachers they always picked on me. My mam told me to go to bed until my dad came in.
‘He’ll sort you out.’
She had given up on me what with me bringing teachers to the door. I knew my dad would kill me. I lay in bed and every minute seemed like an hour until finally I heard his footsteps coming up the stairs. He walked into the living room and I heard him shout, ‘I’ll kill the little bastard!’
He came storming in and slapped me across the head shouting, ‘What do you think you’re playing at stealing money from school?’
He gave me a few more slaps and left me screaming. I must have fell asleep and when I awoke I had a bad head where he had slapped me - I could feel a lump on my head. I hated my dad for hitting me like that it - it hurt so much.

Soon after this incident I was told that my mam was expecting another baby. I was seven years old by this time and my health had not improved much. One morning I woke up screaming - I could not move, it felt as if my whole body was made of lead and I could not get up. My mam rushed into the bedroom - I was burning and sweating. My mam phoned the doctor, he came out and I remember very little after that - life was just a blank. When I finally got my senses back I found myself in hospital. I had been very poorly by all accounts and my left lung had collapsed. It was a children’s hospital in Stannington, near Morpeth. Feeling very weak and not at all well I lay in bed looking around - there were about 14-16 beds in the ward in two lines and everything was spotless with shining floors and neatly made beds. A nurse came to me, ‘Hello young man. See you have decided to join us. You have been very poorly, but I think you are on the road to recovery.’ I lay there thinking, ‘do I want to recover?’ I hated life, I couldn’t do anything right, always in trouble, nobody liked me – or so I thought.

The weeks passed by and I was back on my feet. They made me go to the school in the hospital. One lad I got friendly with, Paul, had been knocked down resulting in a severely damaged leg - he was getting skin grafts. There was also a lad who was a diabetic, a couple on traction and others with all different illnesses. I liked it there, it was in the country with lovely trees and lawns, which made me feel calm and relaxed. Visiting was on Saturday and Sunday. I got visits only on one day a week, usually a Saturday and mostly from my mam. When she came to see me I could tell she was sad and never smiled much like she used to. My dad would visit once in a while, but Saturdays was his day off work and there was the racing was on telly - I felt he cared more for that than me. I could be wrong, but in my eyes he didn’t love or care for me or my mam. He probably did to an extent, but stupid things go through kids’ imaginations.

I always remember break times at school for then we went to a little alcove in one of the passages where a nurse poured hot steaming chocolate out for us and gave us a packet of Tudor crisps - I always asked for beef flavour, my favourite kind. Weeks and months past and slowly I was getting better. My visits seemed to get less frequent and I had been in hospital for about six months. After dinner we rested on our beds until we went back to school. The mail was giving out then, but I never bothered for nobody ever wrote to me until one day when the sister came over to me with quite a big parcel. ‘Is that for me?’ I asked.
‘Yes.’ was here reply.
I was surprised. Who would send me a parcel to be put on my bed? I was excited and shaking a bit. Who would send me a parcel? I opened it real easy pulling the sticky tape off. I opened the wrapping to find another box, which I quickly opened. By this time I had an audience who were dying to see what was inside. I lifted a box out and inside it there were models you make up and glue together with little tins of paint and brushes. Then there was another box and inside this one there was all sorts of sweets, toffees, chocolates, packets of this and that which would fill my sweet tin up (we had to keep our sweets in a tin locked in the office and we’re allowed one pack a day) and some colouring books, pencils and crayons. It was then I saw a letter addressed to ‘David’. I opened it and read it slowly - it had to be slow, as I couldn’t read too well. ‘Sorry to hear you are not well, would love to come to see you but circumstances will not allow this. Get well soon, lots of love, Granddad Guest.’ I had never known my granddad Guest and for that matter how did he know I was in hospital? I put all my things away in my locker and the sister put my sweets into my tin in the office. I went to school in the afternoon, but could not wait to make my model - there were three, two of the man from u.n.c.l.e and one of the incredible hulk. For the next three or four days I followed the instructions to the letter and made the models thinking all the time what a nice man my granddad must be. How come my dad wasn’t like him, or was he, perhaps he just didn’t like me?

Time passed in hospital and I had been there 11 months. My baby brother was born and they called him Malcolm. I was used to hospital life by now. One Wednesday it was raining outside, a miserable day, and we must have been off school for some reason or other. Anyway we were playing in the sluice as there was nothing else much to do. Matron was on the ward - she was a bad tempered cow and always on your case. I don’t think she understood we were only kids playing because we were bored. We decided to have a game of dare, first off we dared one of the lads to get on the trolley (the one they used for the bed pans) on the top of the sluice - it was a pretty steep ramp and once on we gave him a push. He flew down the slope quite fast and hit the swinging doors at the bottom with a resounding crash. Sister and another nurse came running and pulled the door open to find this lad lying there with bedpans and all sorts all over him on the floor. Sister went mad shouting at us,
‘Go to your beds now!’ she ordered.
We ran to the ward and sat on our beds in silence. Us being very quiet the sister disappeared to another ward or something and we went back to the sluice to play.
We had done a few more dares when it was my turn - what would they dream up for me? They thought and then they spoke together,
‘We dare you to jump out the window, run over to the office window, knock on it, hide and then run back.’
I looked out the window, the one they wanted me to jump out, it was a high drop - would I ever be able to get back in? I hesitated for a moment and they started to shout ‘chicken!’ I had to do it or I would be called chicken forever. I climbed onto the windowsill, turned round and lowered myself down - it was a long drop. When I hit the ground I ran towards the window of the office only to see someone standing inside so I ran the other way into the bushes. I was panicking now for if I got caught I would be in trouble off big mamma the sister. I suppose panic drove me to my next decision for I wanted to go home and it had been nearly a year since I had first come to that hospital. I was almost fully recovered so without thinking I ran away across the fields, through bushes, never having a clue as to where I was. I started to walk as I was out of breath - I walked and walked. I thought I must be well away from the hospital. It started to drizzle and I was wet and soggy and getting tired and my chest was heaving. I don’t think I was as well as I had thought. I came to a road climbed through a gap in the hedge and walked along it a little while feeling a bit sick. Eventually I came to a small embankment and lay down to rest. I must have dozed off for I woke to find someone shaking me on the arm. I opened my eyes - there was a nurse kneeling beside me. ‘Are you alright son?’
‘Yes.’ I replied. ‘I just dozed off.’
‘Where you from?
‘Newcastle.’
‘What are you doing up here, miles away?’
I was shivering with the cold damp weather and she got it out of me in the end - I told her what had happened.
‘I’ll take you back.’ she said.
‘I’m not going back there. I will be in trouble with the sister.’
‘I will have a word with her. I am sure everything will be fine.’ She replied as she put me in her car.
We drove back to the hospital, into the grounds and up to the car park near my ward. Outside was a police car and I wondered if it was for me. I was lead to the ward office and told to sit outside. The nurse went in after knocking on the door. As for me, I saw the door to the gardens open and I just made a beeline for it. I ran through the bushes, across lawns, over fields - I was on the run again and I knew the police would be after me so I kept checking behind and in front to make sure nobody saw me. I felt a sort of excitement, nobody was going to boss me around, I was free, go where I wanted, to do what I wanted. I was still a skinny thing, lanky and not very strong, but my mind wasn’t that of a normal nearly nine-year-old kid - but then again I hadn’t really lived as a normal kid. I was not happy at home and felt as though I had had my nose pushed out with the birth of my younger brother Tony. I imagined things that were probably not true, I felt everybody was against me and that nobody loved me - I was unwanted. Whether true are not it was the way things felt to me. I kept walking on and on until it started to get dark and I was getting frightened in the countryside by myself - you could hear things creeping around. I saw a car going along the road. It seemed to disappear, as I could no longer see the headlights. I was getting weary now and felt so exhausted, my little thin legs felt like lead and I was starting to wish someone would catch me and take me back to a nice warm bed and a hot drink - then all of a sudden I felt someone grab me. I turned around to see a policeman. I had been so deep in thought that I hadn’t even heard him come up behind me. He put me in a police car and took me back once more to the hospital. Waiting there was the sister and a couple of nurses. I struggled, but the policeman restrained me and I was taken to the ward where a nurse came and handed the sister a white thing that looked like a sheet but was a sort of coat - it was a straight jacket. They put it on me and then tied me to the bed. I lost my temper. I could not stand being restrained and tied up and so I pulled and wiggled. Where I got the strength from I don’t know, anyhow it snapped. The sister ordered the nurse to get an adult one. I heard her say to the policeman, who was still there, that she had never seen so much strength from such a small boy. The next one they put on didn’t snap and I lay there crying, distressed by being tied up. I fell asleep and next morning when I woke I asked if they would please take off this thing. ‘We can’t until the sister comes. She is not a very happy women as she had to stay here till you were caught.’ I lay there waiting for her to come. I hated this place. Come to that I didn’t like much of anything and when I would eventually leave the hospital I would have to go back home where my dad was just as bad. He would only hit me and shout at me. I wondered if all kids were treated like this or was it just me. Anyway the sister finally came and asked me if I would promise not to run away if she removed the jacket. I promised her and the nurse remove it - it felt good to be loose again and free.

I was a good boy after that and on the Saturday I got a visit from my mam and my aunty Flo. She asked me what was wrong but before I could answer the sister came and asked to have a word with her. When she came back my mam told me I was allowed to go home. I was so excited. I remember that cold day at the end of 1967 - I could go home to see my two brothers Tony, who was about five and Malcolm who was about two. I packed up my things including the models my granddad had sent me and then said goodbye to everyone. That was the end of that episode in my life and boy was I glad. What lay ahead for me God only knew - would everyone be pleased to see me? I heard the sister say to my mam, ‘You have a job on your hands there. He has a real temper on him.’

I walked to the bus stop with my mam and aunty and looking back thought ‘that is the end of that place forever’. I felt like sticking up my two fingers, but didn’t and continued to the bus stop and waited for the bus. On the journey home I promised myself I would be good and make people like me, it was time to put the past behind me and to start afresh and be a normal kid, part of the Guest family and live happy ever after.

CHAPTER 2 THE MOVE

After my release from hospital all the promises I made myself didn’t last long and I was soon up to no good again. One day while playing with Jimmy in one of the back lanes we eyed up a car, it was black and the door was open. I don’t know if it belonged to someone or was just abandoned, nevertheless we opened the door and played pretending to be racing drivers, pulling knobs, pushing handles, turning the steering wheel and having fun. It was my turn to be the driver. I pulled a lever on my side and heard a crack - all of a sudden we felt movement and the car started to roll forward. Jimmy jumped out and I soon followed. We watched the car rolling down the back lane getting faster and faster. We ran through one of the old empty houses into the next street (there were a lot of empty houses in Benwell as they were getting knocked down to build new ones). We heard the bang as the car hit something hard. We looked at each other, ‘Come on let’s look.’
We walked down the street back along the back lane to where there was a crowd gathered and pushed our way to the front. A policeman came. ‘Anyone see what happened?’
A woman said there were a couple of kids playing in the car up the back lane and they had run away when the car had rolled down the lane, picked up speed and gone straight through the brick wall into the yard. What a mess. Me and Jimmy left the scene laughing - we thought it really funny.

We played in the old houses lighting fires, breaking windows, flooding everywhere. It was the only thing to do. We spent hours in old houses - we had dens all over the place. I went home one night and much to my surprise I was told to get washed and changed as I was going out with my dad. I couldn’t believe it. I was so excited - out with my dad! Was I going to the pictures? I hadn’t a clue, but was looking forward to it. He came in from work, had his tea and then told me to get my shoes on. We walked up the street and I put my hand near his, for a moment touching hands. He took no notice so I gave up trying and just ran behind him trying to keep up. We waited at the bus stop for ages - we were on the side were the bus took you to town. I dare not ask him were we were going. We got off the bus near to were he worked and went to old Nelly’s house, she had a pile of boxes in the middle of the floor. She put them into a bigger box - I was just sitting on the settee listening. ‘I will be sorry to see you leave Ronnie,’ she said, ‘you have been a good friend over the years.’
Nelly came over to me and said,
‘I am glad you are out of hospital; hope you like your new house. You can meet lots of new friends there.’ She rubbed my head. ‘Take care of yourself little boy. I will be watching over you.’
I was annoyed. I was expecting to be going out somewhere with my dad, you know the father son thing, playing, having fun, but fun seemed nonexistent in my life. I had to carry one of the two boxes - it was big for me. Dad had the other one, which was heavier. We got the bus back home. My dad opened the boxes on the floor and took out all the toys and fancy things. I think he used to sell them to his mates - here was a man who was supposed to be law abiding along with his mates in the club all of whom called people for stealing, and here they were buying knocked off stuff. Where is the logic - they were hypocrites. Anyway my dad gave me a little chocolate machine you put money in and it vended you a bar of chocolate.

I found out we were moving to Sunderland and my dad had a new job at Plesseys. We were moving to a new house and my mam told us they had been over there to have a look a couple of weeks previous - I didn’t know as I was still in hospital at the time. I would lose the couple of mates I had, but were they mates really? My mam said, ‘You will make new ones.’
Easy for her to say. We moved after the Christmas. The house was a lovely three bed roomed semi-detached. As we walked in there was a front room, a room in the back, a kitchen, then you walked through to a toilet and in there I nearly crapped myself for there was a wooden leg, a false leg, standing there - it had belonged to the man who lived there before us. Walking up the stairs to the landing I found another one, it was creepy. I felt a strange feeling in me, a weird feeling as if someone was there. There were three bedrooms upstairs, one for mam and dad, one for me and one for Tony and Malcolm. We settled in. In the garden was a greenhouse and behind the fence was a school. I heard my mam saying that this was to be my new school. It had lawns in the front, a big tree in the side garden and over the road was a huge football field and huts that looked like changing rooms. We got things put away, beds were made up and we never stopped - things soon took shape. After we got the main things done my mam made our tea and it was time for bed. Everyone was exhausted for it had been a long day.

On the Monday my dad went to work and me and Tony were taken to our new school. Even though it was at the back of our house we had to walk right round the houses. I knew I would soon make a hole in the fence so it would be easy to get to school. I hated them first days when you go into new surroundings and everyone is looking at you. We were taken to the head’s office - what a load of shit came out her mouth. ‘Hello, I am Misses such and such. Aren’t you a lovely pair of boys.’ Thinking to myself, give it three weeks and then tell me - I hate people being nice when really they couldn’t care less about you. They are the ones who are always nice about you in front of your parents. Anyway we were taken to our classrooms. Tony went to his and I went to mine. ‘Attention class, this is David, who is joining us.’ I looked around. Straight away I noticed this lad giving me an evil eye, he gave me a cold stare. Already I was on edge, I could feel trouble and that’s before I had my bum on my seat. I decided then and there I didn’t like this school. Playtime came and I went into the yard and stayed by myself in a doorway keeping a low profile. It was only a matter of minutes before the lad who had given me the eye came over.
‘What were you looking at in class?’
‘Nothing.’ I replied.
‘Have you got any money?’
‘No.’ was my answer.
‘I want sixpence off you tomorrow or I’ll kick your head in.’
He was with four or five of his mates - he pushed me and I nearly fell over. I was panting and puffing all worked up and angry. Who did this lad think he was?
I went back into class, as for him he kept turning round and saying,
‘Sixpence tomorrow are else!’ and crunching his fist up.
He was not going to get any money off me, on that I was determined.

Next day dinnertime came and we had our food. It was time to play outside. I was in a right fettle by this time, little, lanky and so thin that I probably looked an easy target for the school bully. I walked into the yard taking my time for I didn’t want to bump into him, but I hated people picking on me. Without fail he came round the corner with his mates. I was crapping myself and what I done next was not planned it was out the blue. I ran towards him and stuck a fist full in his face. He went down holding his nose, blood seeping through his fingers, crying. All the other kids started to shout, ‘Fight, fight.’ It was not long before the teachers came to find me still punching him. As they dragged me off I lost it. I was in the head’s office, it was only just over three hours since she was saying ‘nice boy’, now I had just decked the school bully.

‘What happened?’ she asked rather abruptly.
It was a waste if time saying he threatened me and demanded money off me so I just said nothing and ignored her. I felt clever. Now he was getting no sixpence, he wouldn’t bother me no more, he wasn’t hard and he cried like a baby when I punched him. My mam was called into the office when she came to collect us. Holding my hand she squeezed it as the head explained about the fight and how I had hurt another boy for no reason at all. I was dragged home then sent to bed. As I got no tea I thought that maybe it might have been better to have nicked the money and given it to him, but it didn’t seem right to bully and demand money. No, nobody was going to push me around again, I would fight them first, I hated bullies they try to frighten you – sorry, this time it didn’t work. Now was the fun for my dad was due in - I would be in for it now. I fell asleep and woke when I heard the front door open. I was shouted down stairs by my mam. There was my dad standing in the middle of the room. He began to shout at me and gave me a few slaps across the head, then one across the face.
‘First day and you’re in trouble. You are a little bastard! Get up them stairs before I kill you, you little bastard.’
There were them words again, ‘you little bastard’, it sounded as if it were my name. I lay in bed sobbing, my face still burning from the slap. I fell asleep, I had nightmares as I did on many occasions always dreaming someone was running after me over a field and I couldn’t run - my feet sunk into the mud. They got me, it was always people I knew, and then pushed me to the ground and started to kick and kick me. I would wake up sweating - it was even people who would never dream of hitting me, but my dad was always there with a smile on his face.

The school bully who started on me that first day became my friend. We hung out together; he only lived up the road from me. The place I lived was near the sea, Sea View Road West. At the top of the street was a hill called Tunstall Hill and we went up there a lot climbing up the rock face - not big, but fun. I loved being in the trees away from people and it was there that I felt comfortable. Sometimes I would sit by myself daydreaming about nothing in particular. I think it was just being there with nobody pushing me around and telling me what to do, or getting hit by my dad although perhaps I deserved it most of the time for I was a handful especially when in one of my moods.

Tony and Malcolm were growing up now and the spring was approaching. I liked spring and summer for I could play outside. I started to go to town with Steve, my newfound friend, only he didn’t try to bully me anymore - that one fight in anger told people not to mess with me. I was sort of hard and a fighter in their eyes, which was not true - I just stood up to a bully. Trouble is people are frightened and think that if they hang around with a hard lad it makes them safe and nobody will hit them. I could have pushed my status as a hard boy by demanded money and having people running round for me even at that young age. It was 1969 and I was eleven years old, still a skinny, lanky kid, not hard, not clever and a fool who was always in fights or in trouble, doing something wrong. I would love to have been normal and to just get on with life, but as soon as something went wrong the finger was pointed at me. I wagged off school - me, Steve and a couple of the other lads and lasses and we became our own little gang. On Sea View Road, at the bottom, were big private houses. There was one particular one that had an electric gate with a pressure pad so as you drove your car over it it opened. We would jump on the pad then on to the gate as it swung open; it was fun - now I feel sorry for the man who owned the house for his electric bill must have been sky high. Over the road to my house were the football fields and every two Saturdays they played football. We would go and watch. It was on one of these Saturdays that I urgently needed the toilet so I went into the changing rooms to use their toilets. All the clothes were hanging up on pegs. I went to the toilet, had my pee, and then on the way out I thought it would be a good idea to go through a few pockets as you do. Well I couldn’t believe it, there were wallets with money in, coins, watches, gold rings! I must have gone through everyone; my pockets were bulging with goodies. I shouted to Steve and told him to follow me. We went up to Tunstall Hill to our little den and I emptied out my pockets. I gave him a watch, a ring and money - there was plenty. I told him to hide it and that the following week we would go to town to buy things and have some fun. We walked back down the street to my house. Over the road at the football ground the police were there - wonder why?

Back at the house my aunty Flo had come to see us, she was chatting to my mam. I overheard their conversation. My mam said that she hated living there, the house was great, but she was alone and away from her family. ‘I am worried about David, he is always in trouble, fighting. He is a little monster! I’m at my wits end.’ She told her my dad was in the front room watching the racing on telly as he did every Saturday. Aunty Flo went home and I had my tea. I felt sorry for my mam and the trouble I had caused her, but I couldn’t help it for even if I was good I was still blamed for things that happened at home and at school so I might as well do them. I would nick books, pencils and money out the teachers’ bags

My parent’s friends, Jackie and Margaret, used to come over to visit. I didn’t like him much; he thought he was clever and used to run a youth club in Sunderland. He told my dad he would come and pick me up on the Monday night and get me in the boxing ring, ‘that would sort me out.’ My dad agreed so on the Monday night he came for me. He was driving and saying ‘These boys will sort you out, put you in your place.’ I walked into the gym and he shouted to a lad to come over. He told him to help me get ready with shorts and a vest. I came out of the changing room with my boxing gloves on - I looked stupid I was so thin and feeble. He told me to practice punching the bag hanging up - it hardly moved. I lost my temper and sat down, I couldn’t get the gloves off my hands. Next thing he put me in the ring. I was shouting, ‘I don’t wanna go in.’
I didn’t like fighting, but this kid was already in the ring. Jackie said. ‘Make him fight!’
I just covered my head curled up in the corner. He came at me punching me in the head, jabbing at me. I had a bust lip and the blood ran down my chin. I asked him to stop, but they just laughed. I lost the plot and ran at him kicking him, punching him with them big daft red gloves. He put his arms around me punching me in the side of the head, I sank my teeth into his face and bit hard - I could taste blood. They jumped into the ring and pulled me off him. ‘You little bastard!’
My fucking first name again. My first night boxing became my last night of boxing. It was wrong to try to make a skinny boy fight a big lad. I know I shouldn’t have bit him, but the twat was punching me to hurt me so he deserved it.

The following Saturday me and Steve went to town as planned. We had money from the theft from the football changing rooms. I was all over the shops buying things and nicking more. We went to the big store, Joblings, and walked around. It was huge and in the sports department I saw a set of golf balls, they were great fun - you strip off the white casing then cut the elastic inside, it flies off all over the place and then you are left with a rubber ball. The rubber ball has the most horrible liquid you can imagine in it and when you put a hole in it, it squirts out all over the place. I put a six-pack of balls under my jumper and walked out thinking about all the people I could squirt. As we were leaving the store I was grabbed by the arm, it was a store detective - I never saw anyone watching me. He had tight hold of my arm squeezing it hard till it hurt. He more or less dragged me up to the office to the manager. I was asked about the balls - I just ignored him. I knew I would get killed if my dad heard about this. I was in trouble now for they phoned the police. I sat there knowing my fate; I was going to get kicked all over the place. I knew it, ‘God, wish I could get away.’ I looked around, but there was no way out. I started to cry putting the act on, but it was pointless. The door opened and in walked a policeman. Too late, this was it. I was asked where I lived and my name. The policeman said,
‘We will take it from here.’
He left after a quiet word with the manager and I was put into his police car and taken home. It was Saturday afternoon and my dad was in watching racing on the telly. The policeman told my mam and dad what happened and said that this time I would not be charged with theft. My dad said he would punish me and believe me I knew he would, but I could not believe anyone could do what he done next. As soon as the policeman had left he lit the gas rings on the gas cooker, grabbed my hands and burnt them on the flames. I screamed in pain - I could see the look of horror on my mam’s face. I had blisters and he was saying,
‘Want to pinch do you? I’ll learn you, you little bastard, you won’t do it again.’
I was thrown across the kitchen.
‘Get to fucking bed. Now!’
I ran up stairs screaming in pain, holding my hands under my arms to try to kill the pain. Soon after my mam came up and put some cream on my fingertips, she said they were a mess and she put bandages on. I couldn’t sleep all night - my mam came in and gave me a couple of painkillers mumbling,
‘He’s gone too far this time.’
I saw the tears in her eyes. I dozed off for a short while but woke up in pain lying there. I remembered the time we went to Nelly’s to collect the things my dad had nicked from the place he worked, bet nobody burnt his fingers, no everyone loved it, getting cheap stuff. I hated that man. I was going to kill him one day. I wanted to burn him on a bonfire, watch him scream. That man filled me with pure hate.

I was kept off school; anyway it was nearly the summer holidays. I never went out – I was grounded for life because I was a thief. I watched telly all day and my fingers slowly healed and were better now. I was interested in the news - the first men were preparing to go to the moon in Apollo 11 and I sat all day watching. Neil Armstrong was my hero. My dad told my mam he was going for a new job, but I didn’t know where nor could I care less. On July 20th 1969 I sat in the living room and watched the first men land on the moon, it was fantastic. What I found hard to understand was it took them ages to get there, and that seemed odd because I could see the moon but couldn’t see America and that wasn’t far away.


.

CHAPTER 3 BACK TO NEWCASTLE

Soon after we moved back to Newcastle to another Lord Haig home in Knott Place back in Scotswood. First day, as my mam and dad sorted things out, I was told to go outside and play. I met a lad who lived facing me, David was his name and they had this massive dog, a rottweiler - it looked evil and I wanted one. I was too frightened to go near it - I called it the devil dog. A day or two later I went down to the Tyne to play at catching things floating down the river. I stood on what I thought was a rock, but it wasn’t and in I went. I couldn’t swim but fortunately David pulled me out - I was choking but all right and he took me home. I was dripping wet and smelly so I got bathed and changed. Once more my dad looked at me,
‘You can’t do nothing right, can you?’
I just sat and looked at him with my eyes, I think he didn’t like that.

A lot happened at this time – one day I was hit for something by my dad so when he went to work I ran away from home. I had nowhere to stay, but walking up Delaval Road I noticed an old building. I walked round to Ferguson’s Lane looking for a way in – success. I sneaked in, climbed through a window that had been broking, in fact they were all nearly broken, looking round it must have been an old hospital for it had things lying round sort of hospitaly. I looked further, I couldn’t stay here it would be cold on a nighttime. Looking up I saw a hole in the ceiling. I pulled up a bed frame and climbed up to have a look - it was a great place to hide. Thinking I might fall through the ceiling I put some wood across the beams so it would be all right to lie there safe. I then pulled up an old mattress; it wasn’t too hard for they were thin with stripes on them. I had my little den and it was pretty warm, but then again it was summer. I stayed there until it got dark and went on the hunt. I nicked one of those paraffin lamps they had for the road works and having blown it out carried to my den before lighting it up. I could see now - I covered the hole up so nobody could see the light shinning.

I slept well that night and believe it or not next morning I was up bright and early. I needed to get a drink so I walked along the street and saw bottles of milk on the steps. I helped myself to a couple of bottles and went round the back lane and drank them - it tasted good. I was feeling hungry and needed food so I went back to my den thinking what to do and how to get money. I was cold and dirty and decided to go to town where I could nick something to eat from a shop - it was a long walk but I kept going. I reached the top of Westgate Road where all the motorbike shops are - it was steep. I came to the bottom end of the road and looking round I walked up Granger Street where on the right was an old hotel, Crown Hotel it read in big letters. I looked round trying to find a way in, there were railings along the path with gates leading to a basement and I sneaked down through one of these gates. There was a lot of junk lying round; pushing it aside I noticed that the door was just ajar enough for me to squeeze in - no problem my being so thin. It was dirty and dusty and I climbed up some stairs that brought me to the ground floor where there were old swing doors that didn’t work. I loved the big wooden counter of the reception desk, it must have been a fine hotel at one time, it still had the chandeliers up and it was plush. I walked up more stairs - there were rooms up there, in fact there seemed to be thousands of them. I hunted around and around for it was great fun exploring. I was feeling hunger in my belly. I looked about and decided I could sleep here, there were mattresses, beds, sheets, everything just lying around. I hunted for the way I came in, finally found it and got back outside. I tried my old begging tricks,

‘Mister can you lend me sixpence for my bus fare. I will get killed if I’m late.’ I had done this years before when I was little and it still worked so I managed to get enough for a drink and some chips. I took them back to the hotel being careful nobody saw me going in. I ate them, boy was I hungry, and when finished my little belly was full - it was time for sleep. I shook the dust off one of the old mattresses and found a pair of old curtains. Shaking them out I lay on the mattress, it was scary, the noises I heard were funny and sounded as if there were little things all round me. I could here the cars passing outside and the streetlights shone into the room. I thought I could hear voices and footsteps and was nearly shitting myself until I finally fell asleep.

It was bright when I opened my eyes. I got up thinking about how to get money for food. I sat and sat there - I was in a big empty hotel and there must be something I could do. Then it came to me, scrap metal! I remember my mate’s dad used to collect scrap and take it to a scrap yard down by the river. Looking round the place it was full of it. I decided to start at the top, nobody would hear me up there, and I pulled a pipe off the wall. I pulled and yanked until it bent and then finally split. Water flooded out and I had to turn the tap off on the pipe that came into the room. I had myself a pile of pipe - looking round I found an old haversack and filled it up with my booty and put it on my shoulders. I carried it down all the stairs, it was heavy and I had to rest before I went out. I had to take the haversack off to get through the door and checking that it was clear I stepped outside struggling with the haversack on my back. I found the scrap yard, it was under the old Redhugh Bridge - the man there asked,
‘Where did you get this, son?’
‘My dad, he works on the buildings.’ I replied.
‘Ok’
He bought it for a few quid. I was so happy for it had been hard work getting it and carrying it, but now I had the money – a couple of quid was pretty good money. I went to the chip shop had fish and chips and decided to get some more scrap for the next day. I went back into the hotel, climbed up the stairs, done the same thing again. As I was bending the pipe I cut my hand - I hunted round for a piece of rag and found an old towel, which I wrapped round my hand. The bleeding soon stopped and I decided to clean myself up. I had a wash, the water was freezing but I felt cleaner. I said to myself, ‘what can I do now?’ I had my scrap packed up for the next day, it was only afternoon time and I fancied a trip to the coast, somewhere like Whitley Bay. I had been there with my mam before; there were loads of machine bandits and the beach. I walked to the train station, it was very near anyway, and looked at the signs - there it was, Whitley Bay. The guard was standing there punching the tickets with a little thing in his hand and there were railings all around. At the far end I saw Post Office trucks going to and from trains so I walked up to were the postmen were working. A man shouted at me,
‘What you doing here?
‘Waiting for my uncle.’ I replied.
‘Ok. Don’t come any nearer, there’s vehicles moving back and forward.’ ‘Ok. I’ll be careful.’
He disappeared round the corner and I sneaked through the gate, ran up to the platform for the train to Whitley Bay - the one that was there before had gone so I stood by a lamp post waiting for the next one. It wasn’t too long before it pulled in to the platform and stopped. The doors swung open and people got off the train. I sat near the front of the train thinking I would get there first! Everyone was on the train, the whistle blew and the train pulled away off to the coast.

I loved the feel of the train, it sounded like it was talking to you. I was looking round when I saw the guard coming my way checking tickets. Shit! What would I do? I got up and walked past him and went into the toilet - I waited a while, had another wash, dried on them hard paper towels then opened the door. He was going the other way now so I went back to the seat in the front. We stopped at Cullercoats then Tynemouth - it seemed to take a while. Next was Whitley Bay where on getting off the train I saw another guard collecting tickets. I looked up and down the station and saw that at the end of the platform were some houses so I decided to go over a fence of one of the houses. I climbed over, dropped to the other side into someone’s flowers and ran through the garden, opened the gate, up the front path and away I walked, but there was no coast and no machines. I was wondering if I was in the right place when I saw a sign to the beach. Yes! I walked until I saw it all - the bright lights, music, the smell of hot dogs, chips, it was magical. I loved that place. I walked around just soaking up the atmosphere, people were happy, it seemed everyone was having fun and I watched people putting money in machines, rolling penny’s down a tube into the machine where a log pushed it into other pennies - if it pushed them over the edge you got the money out through another slot. Then there was the roulette; you put a penny in the slot guessing what colour the ball would stop on. My favourite though was the horse race where about six horses in a line moved along the track – the first past the post won. I had a go on a few of the bandits but never won. I made sure I kept some of the money for food. The day was coming to an end, people were leaving and I had to look for somewhere to sleep. In the main fairground I saw the men putting the covers over the waltzer - I could sleep there. Couple of stalls away I saw the man locking up his bandits stall, he pulled down the wooden boards and fastened them with a little hook inside - they were not very tight and I reckoned I could get my hand in there and open them up. I hid behind one of the sheds until everyone had gone - it seemed ages. I must have dropped off and when I woke up all the lights were off and it was very dark although I could still see by the streetlights shining. I walked over to the stall where I had seen the man pull the boards down and managed to pull it open just enough to get my thin hand in. I pushed the little hook up, the board came loose and I climbed underneath it. It was hard getting over the one-armed bandits and I lowered myself to the floor. In the middle was a big round machine, one of those that pushed the money over the edge and I saw that it had a glass top. I could see the money but how was I to get it? There were screws in the glass but I had no screwdriver - I hunted around in the kiosk where you changed your money and under the counter found a toolbox inside which was a screwdriver. I laughed and said to myself, ‘thank you mister for the screwdriver.’ I proceeded to loosen the screws. They weren’t tight and came out pretty easy - they were all out now and I needed to get the glass off so I could get to the pennies. I stuck the screwdriver in between the glass and the machine top and prised it off, lifting it up. I slide it over looking in the kiosk again for a bag to put the pennies in - too many for my pockets! I found one of those cloth bags you get from the bank and I started to fill it up checking it was quiet outside. A couple of the pennies fell into the machine and made a noise - all was clear, my heart was pumping fast, the excitement and the fear felt good. I had every penny out now and the bag was full and really heavy. I put it on the side of the one armed bandit between two machines, climbed up over the top same way I got in, pulled the bag throw the gap and struggled across the fun fair with it. I went to some bushes and dug a small hole, put the bag in, covered it up with muck then made my way to the waltzer, pulled at the cover of the car, squeezed through and lay on the cold leather seats. I was tired and wonder what they were doing at home - bet my dad was getting it for hitting me, my nana May would kill him. She broke his arm once; don’t know what for, my aunty wouldn’t tell me. She hit him in the arm with a frying pan and if he hadn’t put up his arm it would have been his head (shame). I slipped into a sound sleep.

Next morning I was woke up by people talking. The owner of the stall I broke into had the police there. The policeman was telling him it could have been anybody and that he needed to make it more secure in future. Then I saw the men starting to take off the covers of the waltzer so I slid out, crept out the back entrance and hid. Good, I hadn’t been spotted. The policeman left, I crept away - I was safe. Later on I got my bag of money put it into a carrier bag I had found and went in loads of shops changing pennies into silver then to ten bob notes. I didn’t realise there was so much money in them machines. I was loaded - well I thought so. I sat on the bench with my pie and chips and watched the world go by, the sea made me feel good inside and I sat and watched the waves lap up on the beach where people walked by the waters edge. Things seemed so busy but peaceful. I gathered myself back to reality and decided to go home or at least go to see my aunty Flo - Hilton would be at work.

I still jumped the train even though I had money - it was more fun. I got off the train at Newcastle doing the same as before except in reverse, it was so easy. I missed my brothers and my mam - I had been on the run for three or four days. I got the No 1 bus to Armstrong Road, got off at the Suttons dwellings at the top of my aunty Flo’s street, walking down (nearly all the houses were empty) to the bottom where bull dozers were knocking them houses down - in fact there were only a few houses occupied. I stood outside her house. My old house was empty but I couldn’t resist once again climbing up the stairs were I used to live. I recognised the wallpaper in my old room - it felt strange. I went down stairs were my aunty used to live recognising things there. Walking out the house a woman shouted,
‘Hello son, your aunty Flo has moved out. Come up, I have her address, if you want it.’ Kathy was her name, I used to be mates with her sons Peter and Stephen - they were not in. She made me a cuppa and gave me some jam and bread. They never had much around there, but they were friendly.
‘Lemmington is where she’s gone. I am waiting for one of the new houses, shouldn’t be long. I heard you moved to Sunderland.’
‘Yes, but we moved back to Newcastle a couple of weeks ago.’ I replied.
‘How’s the family?
‘Don’t know. I am on the run.’
I could tell her, she was as rough as they come. I thanked her and she told me to walk down to Scotswood Road, get the No. 21 bus and that it would take me to my aunt’s house. ‘Ask the driver to drop you at the first bus stop on Union Hall Road - it’s just along from there.’
I went down the street, it was steep, they all were. I waited for the bus to come. Once on, the conductor came and I told him were I was going. He gave me my ticket and I paid. ‘Can you put me off the first bus stop on Union Hall Road?’
‘Right son. This is your stop.’
‘Where?’
I showed him the piece of paper I had just been given.
‘Along there.’ He replied pointing at the street.
I looked up at the street names as I walked then I suddenly found it – it was above a shop. I knocked on the door and my aunty Flo opened it.
‘Where’ve you been? The police and your mam have been looking for you. They’re worried sick.’
‘I don’t care!’ was my answer.
She started on about my dad burning my fingers on the cooker.
‘He’s a bastard.’ were her words. ‘I’ll make your tea when Hilton comes in from work- then take you home.’
‘Don’t want to go home.’ I said.
‘You have to.’
‘No. He’ll kill me, bash me up.’
‘He won’t.’ Auntie Flo tried to sound gentle.
‘He will!’
‘You have to go home. If we don’t take you Hilton will call the police - you know what he’s like.’
I sat there. In came Hilton.
‘Hello son. Where have you been? The police have been here for you. You shouldn’t run away, it’s naughty.’
He was such a prat at times, trouble is he never had any children of his own so he couldn’t relate to children or anybody else if it comes to that.

After tea they put me in the car and drove me to my house. My mam cuddled me. ‘Where have you been?’
Someone phoned the police and told them I was at home. They said they would be round soon. As for me I was fed and put in the bath. When I got out the police were there. They asked me were I had been and I told them a load of lies, but they were happy with my story and warned me not to run away again - next time I would be in trouble.

My tooth came out that night - I remembered someone telling me to put it under your pillow and the tooth fairy would leave a sixpence. I kept waking up through the night, but there was no sixpence. I was so upset - not even the tooth fairy would come to me so I sneaked down stairs and nicked sixpence out my dad’s pocket. I got up next morning showing my mam I got sixpence off the tooth fairy. She looked baffled - anyway she said nothing. My dad came in and was telling my mam he had lost sixpence. He’d had enough money for his fare but when he came to get the money out sixpence was missing. She told him that David got sixpence off the tooth fairies last night and he went mad. ‘The thieving little bastard, steal off us will he!’ I was in my room when he came in with Big Berther, his army belt. He whacked me across the arse and back leaving me still screaming after he went. I stopped crying but sobbed for ages, my back was bleeding a bit and I couldn’t lie on it. I hated him - not only was I going to burn him on a bonfire when I was older I was going to belt him with an army belt. I would not forget these things he done to me – ‘wait till I was big.’ Again I fell asleep.

Next day my brother Tony came in crying,
‘That David from along there has just hit me.’
I got up, went to his house, knocked on the door.
‘What did you hit my brother for?’ I demanded.
‘He was calling me.’
I looked at the lad, he was about the same age as me but bigger - I smacked him right in the mouth and the blood trickled down his face.
‘It must be about you, going hitting a smaller boy. You are nothing but a bloody bully.’ I went back home feeling better. I wasn’t having anyone hit my brothers. At home I lay back down and I fell asleep on the settee only to be woken by my dad,
‘Wake up. Someone at the door for you.’
I got up half asleep, feeling groggy. There was this big lad standing there with David, the lad I had hit. Must have been his brother - he looked the same. Next thing I knew I was on the floor against the cooker, my nose was bleeding. My dad said, ‘What was that about?
‘He hit Tony, so I hit him, so his brother hit me.’
He gave me a dig. ‘Go and hit him, soft shit.’
He pushed me out the door, but how could I hit him, he was about three years older than me, a big lad so I didn’t go.
Instead I went in later. My dad said, ‘Did you hit him?
Cowardly I said, ‘No.’
So he punched me in the head - it wasn’t hard though I think he would of liked it to have been. Anyway I was grounded again. Sitting on my bed I was thinking to myself - I had stuck up for my brother getting hit by a big lad compared to him and because I hit him his brother had come and hit me, then I got hit for not hitting the big lad - I was really sick and thought of playing outside. I knew I couldn’t get through the front door my aunty and uncle were there and my mam and dad would see me. I opened the window climbed onto the little outhouse roof, slid down the drainpipe and ran away. How they saw me I don’t know, but running after me was my uncle and my dad. I think fear made me go faster for if he caught me I would get a beating. I ran down Sedgemoor Avenue - still they chased me - I jumped into some bushes and lay where I fell trying not to breath hard in case they heard me. Footsteps came running past. ‘God!’ They stopped - holding my breath and then trying to breath slowly and quietly was hard and my chest was pumping fast. The privet stuck in my face, but still they didn’t hear me. I heard my dad saying to my uncle, ‘Where did the little bastard go? He has to be around somewhere. I will kill him when I get my hands on him!’ They gave up and walked back towards home. I gave out a loud breath relieved they didn’t catch me.

I walked to town back to the old hotel. I was exhausted, my little skinny legs were sore after the run - it wasn’t a long run, but for me it felt like a marathon. I got to the hotel, went to where I slept before - my bag was still there with the copper in so I would get some money in the morning for food. I was out like a light and slept like a baby. When I woke next morning it was early so I had a hunt round the hotel. I was in one of the basements and found crates of bottles still full with things like soda water, ginger beer and tonics. I took out a couple of ginger beers, I liked that - my mam made it at Christmas for us to drink. I searched for something to open the bottles. In amongst the rubbish I found one of those bottle openers like a tin opener with a pointy edge. I struggled at first, but managed after a few goes to get the caps off - I drank three or four bottles, they were only small. I also found books, paper and pens. It was getting on now and I could see people walking over the glass sections of path above my head. I went up to the top floor were my bag was full of copper, lifted it - it was heavier this time. I carried it down the stairs being careful not to slip on the mountains of rubbish lying around. I squeezed through the door as normal, then up the flight of stairs onto Granger Street. I started to walk along the path towards the scrap-yard when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around - it was the police. ‘What have you there son?’ He took the bag off my shoulder and opened the flap on top. ‘You have been busy!’ he said.
‘Is this from the old hotel you have just come out of?’
I was nabbed red handed.
‘Yes.’ I said.
‘What’s you name?
‘David Smith.’ After all he might just give me a warning and let me go. ‘I think you are David Guest. I don’t know him, but you fit the description we have – you’ve run away from home.’
I was put into a police car, taken to the West End Police Station and my parents were notified of my arrest. Two men came in and asked me questions bombarding me with things. I admitted I had been to the hotel before and nicked stuff and that’s were I had slept other times and that I had been on the run. They wrote a statement out, asked me to read it and sign it. I just signed it. My mam and dad came to pick me up and I was released on bail to appear in court at a future date. I could see the look in my dad’s eyes - he was going to kill me.
I asked the copper if I could stay, but he laughed, ‘People want to get out of here!’
‘He’s going to kill me.’
‘Don’t be silly. You have nice parents, who care for you.’
That was the trouble, people thought my dad was a nice man, a caring father. Nobody knew what went on behind closed doors. I was let out on bail and we walked to the bus stop just outside the police station. I could feel the tension all the way home, not a word was said, but I was frightened and as we walked down Axwell Park View it seemed to be the longest walk of my life. We reached the house, took our coats off and I sat down on one of the chairs in the kitchen.
My dad sat by me, my mam put on the kettle. ‘Why do you do these things? asked my dad.
This was strange from him. I had tears in my eyes and I could feel a wobble coming on. He was still being nice. I let it out.
‘I hate you! You hit me all the time.’
‘See Ruth, you can’t be nice to him. He’s a monster.’ And he gave me a slap.
‘Fuck off. I hate you.’ and I lashed out. It did not hurt him, but the beating he gave me did. I was on the floor curled up in a ball to protect myself, but he dragged me to my bed, threw me on it and then got my mams tights and tied me to the bed frame. ‘Let me see you escape now!’
I was crying and couldn’t turn over to go to sleep. My mam came up and loosened the tights. She sat and talked to me and made me promise to be good and not run away again and told me she loved me. It felt lovely, her talking to me like this. I felt so warm inside - I knew she really loved me and that it was hard for her to show it in front of him. I suppose it wasn’t an easy life for mam, she had a nice clean house, she worked in the hospital as a cleaner and my dad was so particular with his food.

I think is was about this time my dad went to hospital to have some of his stomach removed, it was something to do with ulcers he got while in the army, he had been medically discharged 13th August 1969. I was to appear in court for two charges of burglary and theft (non dwelling) with four offences to be taken into consideration. I was giving a 2-year probation order and a five-pound fine; in them days it was a lot of money.

I went to school, John Marley, and had to wear a school uniform. I didn’t like the place so the first thing I done was to have a fight. A lad kicked me, gave me a few digs then he chinned me. I was in the office again, this time the head didn’t blame me at all - the other lad was apparently in his second year there and had been in fights before. My parents were not even notified. I was there a few weeks always remembering that I had promised my mam to be good. My dad was in Shotley Bridge Hospital convalescing after his operation. He had a huge scare on his stomach - it looked horrible and was painful. He was getting out soon – it seemed funny to me to see him lying in that bed, he didn’t look that frightening now. I even felt a bit happy to see him suffer like he made me suffer. Perhaps sometimes I was a little monster after all!

Weeks passed. I would help my mam to cook and she taught me to make homemade soup, scrambled eggs and we even made bottles of ginger ale for Christmas. I was even starting to feel part of the family by the time my dad got out of hospital. Things were different and I started to hang around with some older lads from school, they knew I was a little cunt - that’s what they called me. I often wagged off school and we would go to town shoplifting. I had started to smoke so when we went to Fenwick’s, one of the big stores in Newcastle, I always nicked a pouch of herbal tobacco. It was easy - it wasn’t behind the counter. I was put on report for wagging and my mam was annoyed at me. I had been good for a while - it was now well into October.

One day I came in from school to find a lady sitting talking to my mam and dad. I was told to sit in the kitchen and make myself a cup of tea. After a while my mam shouted to me, ‘David come here. This is Miss Jackson from Newcastle social services. She has come to see you.’ She told me she would like to take me to one of their homes for a while to give my parents a rest and to get things back on track, sort things out. ‘I’m not going in an home.’ I shouted. I turned and slammed the door and ran away still with my uniform on. I went to my aunty’s house and got some money off her. I was trying my best, yes I had wagged off school a couple of times, but I didn’t deserve to be locked up. I made my way to the old hotel - it was all boarded up. I couldn’t get in, shit, what would I do now? I jumped the train again and went to Whitley bay. It was getting dark early now, the fair seemed empty and I was running out of places to sleep. I found an old shop, got in through the back way where the door had been smashed in. I found an old chair and plonked there for the night for if I walked around at that time of night I would be lifted. I never slept at all - it was so cold. I was glad when morning came and I could walk around, anyway I needed money for food. There weren’t a lot of people out and about as it was October - winter was here. I saw a woman playing on a bandit I had played before. She asked me what to do and I told her - she never won. She opened her bag that was on the floor and took out a ten-shilling note, ‘I’m just going for change, son. Watch my bag.’ I saw more notes in her purse. She went to the kiosk for change but the man wasn’t there. She looked around, I smiled to her, she turned back round. I put my hand in her bag lifted her purse and ran. There were only a couple of ten bob notes in it and I took them and threw the purse away.

I went into Whitley Bay centre and bought myself some breakfast. I walked around the shops; it was getting dark again even though it was only about 4 o’clock in the afternoon. I was looking all the time checking behind me for police, they would be watching for me now. I was in a shop and saw a knife, it was a big penknife. I looked up, the shopkeeper was busy with a customer so I slide it in my pocket. Just at that moment he looked up and I ran out the shop, down the road. I had got away!

I sat in the amusements to keep warm more than anything else, whilst watching people playing on bandits. Ever so often I saw policemen coming round the places I was at and I would sneak the other way so they never saw me. It was getting late and there seemed to be police going round everywhere in police cars or walking. I sneaked into the Spanish City to look for a way into that stall I had robbed last time - I pulled the shutter it was tight shut. I was panicking, how could I get money? I hid in the empty shop - everything was quiet now. I went back into the Spanish City this time by climbing over a wall - it was big and I had to climb a tree, then get on the top of the wall and lower myself down. I was between two stalls and stuck – I couldn’t get back up over the wall it was too big and I began to panic. I started to push the corrugated sheets that divided the two stalls, they were old and slowly bent at the corner until there was just enough room to squeeze through. I ripped my school blazer - I would get killed for that. I was now in the Spanish City and in the far corner was a big arcade, it had square windows and doors that folded along, they were tight shut. Thinking to myself as to how to get in I remembered my penknife. Taking it out I dug all the putty holding the glass in the window frame, then climbed through the hole were the glass had been - it wasn’t that big, but I got in. I tried for ages to get into the machines but these were harder than the last ones. I failed. Looking round the kiosk I found a tray with money in it. Instead of counting it out I put it all in my pockets and tried to squeeze out the window – I had to take my coat off, it was filthy. I wiggled out despite having thought I was stuck for one moment. I risked the main gate as no way could I climb back up that wall - the gate at one of the main entrances was easy to get under it was on a slope so there was a gap. I made my way back to the derelict shop and rested.

When next morning came I was freezing. I had had no real sleep for a few days. I was making my way to the café for something to eat when a police car came down the street. The policeman jumped out, ‘Come on son.’ I was too knackered to run. They put me in the police car and took me to the police station. They knew about the purse I had stolen, they had a report about the knife I had on me and they wanted to know about the money I had in my pockets. I just told them for I was too tired to argue. I was asked about a few crimes that had happened in the area in the past including the stall I done. I denied everything. I was taken to court that morning. My mam came down with the social worker to court and I was taken home after receiving three absolute discharges, one for burglary and theft and two for theft - we returned home.

Tony was at school and Malcolm was playing. The social worker was talking to my mam and dad in the kitchen, as for me, I was sent to the living room. I eavesdropped through the door. The social worker was saying,
‘I think it will be best if we send David to one of our units.’
My mam disagreed. My dad said that I needed locking up,
‘He’s a one-man crime wave. Nothing we do will have any affect, he is too far-gone.
He is causing upset in the family, we have other kids to think about.’
It was plain my dad wanted me out the way.
‘Ok.’ she replied, ‘We'll put him in one of our family units, it has just opened in Walker. It is a nice house run by a lovely lady and her husband, I think it will be the best for him.’
They were discussing my future behind my back. I was called in, ‘David, we have decided to place you in one of our care homes, not too far away from here.’
‘I’m not going, you can’t make me.’ ‘No we can’t, but I can apply for an order to make you a ward of court or something like that.’
‘I will run away.’ I retorted.
‘Then we will send you to a more secure unit were you can’t run away.’ she replied. Why they had that meeting I don’t know for when I was taken to the home, the woman in charge was expecting me so it had all been arranged anyway. The meeting with my parents was a farce making them feel they had an input into the matter. ‘I’m being put away anyway, aren’t I?’ I said to the social worker. She just looked at me. Slimy bastards all of them! - as it worked out she was a nice social worker and I had her until I was sixteen.

In the home everything was new, the oldish lady who ran it was there, her husband worked through the day. There was another woman called Joyce and a girl called Nora, she lived close by as I later found out. They were really nice and the food was really good! Next day my social worker came and took me to town, bought me some new clothes and a school uniform.
‘What’s this for?’ I asked.
‘For your new school.’ was the reply.
I had dodged school yet here she was buying me clothes that I had sort of picked. I visited Nora’s mam’s house with her on a couple of occasions. Her mam was not well, that’s why Nora was in the home - there was only the two of us there. My first day at school was a disaster. I was driven there by my social worker and as we pulled up in her car she told me to be good,
‘David, this is a new start for you.’
‘I will try.’ was my reply.
We both opened the car doors and got out and walked towards the office. We passed a few lads standing there.
‘Ah dumdums has been brought to school - mammy holding his hand.’
I turned and smacked the twat.
‘Its not my mam.’
I was pulled away by the social worker. She shouted at me,
‘Why did you do that?’
‘Don’t know.’
She was livid with me, but nothing ever came of it. The school was the run of the mill secondary school with the exception of the language lab - it had loads of cubicles and the students sat with headphones on with a mike in front of them. The teacher could listen to individual students instead of showing them up in class - I felt more comfortable like this.

After only a few days there and I was in trouble again - I was accused of nicking something stupid. My social worker was called and I was brought into the office. I protested my innocence, but it made no difference - I was guilty without doubt. I was warned that any more trouble and I would be out on my ear. I skipped going to classes and would sneak away and have a smoke and then get caught by the caretaker. One time he said he was going to report me. I didn’t like this school I knew no one there and I was like an outsider. It wasn’t long before the local bullies were at it just looking at me and laughing.
Next morning I wouldn’t go to school and when asked why I replied, ‘I was told some lads are going to hit me.’
Again my social worker came. ‘You will have to go. I’m at a meeting this afternoon, but I will go with you tomorrow.’ Joyce, the helper, was told to keep a watch on me. I was as good as gold and she dropped her guard. I asked to go to the toilet.
‘Yes, go.’
I walked up the stairs; on the ledge near the front door was a handbag. On the way down I had a peep – yes, a purse sat near the top. I played good boy. She told me she was preparing dinner and asked if I would help. ‘Can I draw, please?’
‘Yes, I see no reason why not.’ she replied.
Joyce went into the kitchen and a couple of minutes later poked her head round the door. ‘Are you alright?’
‘Yes.’ I replied in a nice voice. ‘I’m just colouring in a picture for my social worker.’ ‘How sweet.’ she said.
She went back into the kitchen; I jumped up heading for the front door, grabbed the purse on the way out and ran down by the shipyards - I was away again.

I hid, and then checked to see if all was clear. I followed the river more or less to the town centre and when I was well away I went up a back lane and opened the purse. There wasn’t a great deal in it, but I took what was there - a little is better than nothing. I felt a pang of guilt for taking the purse from her - she was an all right person. It was getting to the stage now where I did not care what happened to me or who I hurt. I felt the whole world was against me, probably all my own doing but then how did it get to this stage, why should an eleven year old boy be doing these kind of things? In people’s eyes I was a little monster, uncontrollable, always running away, stealing. I walked around the town for a short while. I was fed up being on the run all the time and thought that it must be nice living a normal family life, but how do you do that? I don’t think I had experienced it, maybe when I was small, but I was not a well child then. I wanted to go home, I was getting home sick, I needed a cuddle of my mam just like she did when my dad was in hospital, it was great then. I had felt wanted then, helping my mam doing the shopping, cooking food, going with her to see my dad, playing with my brothers. That’s what I wanted, the feeling of being wanted, part of my family, but my mind wouldn’t let me. I could not take being tied down, punished, and told what to do. I had tears in my eyes, a lump in my throat and it was freezing cold. I could see all the Christmas decorations, lights flashing and sounds of Christmas songs. Walking up Northumberland Street past the Fenwick’s windows I saw them putting up their Christmas displays and here I was walking round like an orphan, who had nobody to love. I snapped out of it, walked to the bus stop, got the No.1 - I was going home to see my family. I didn’t care if they caught me, what was the point being out there freezing cold with nowhere to sleep, no food - Christ it was Christmas and time to be merry, not that I ever could. I got off the bus and walked up the street. I could feel the butterflies in my stomach. I knocked on the door. My mam opened it and I put my arms around her and she gave me a big hug - anything they done to me now would be worth it just for that hug! I walked in the house to find everybody was there even my dad. I was expecting a clip, but no he was all right towards me. My mam made me a nice hot drink and a sandwich and told me she would have to phone the police.
‘Yes, I know.’
‘We will wait a short while, let you get warmed up first.’
There were presents under the Christmas tree. Tony said,
‘You have got presents too, Dave.’
Malcolm didn’t really know me, but I felt good, come to think of it had been awhile since my dad had hit me and he had been ok since he came out of hospital.

There was a knock on the door.
There stood a policeman and a social worker (not mine),
‘Have you seen David yet?’
‘Yes, he’s here.’
They were invited in.
‘We have came to take you to the police station then to another home.’
I gave my mam a hug - she was the only person apart from my nana Jean that made me feel safe and loved. I waved as I was led down the garden path into a waiting police car, which took me to the West End Police Station. Having been charged with theft and bailed out to the local authority I was taking to a children’s home in Jesmond, Fernwood House, an old house that looked sort of spooky. The social worker knocked on the door, it swung open and a man appeared,
‘Ah, you must be David. Come in.’
We followed him to an office where on opening the door I could see a women sitting there and by her side was a bloody big poodle. It came up to me and started sniffing me. I pushed it a way with my foot.
‘Don’t do that to the dog.’
‘I never done anything.’
‘Yes you did. You kicked it.’
I knew I wasn’t going to like this place straight away.

The social worker left me in their ‘capable hands’ as he said walking out the door leaving me with this woman. ‘Ok David, we have a few rules here, not loads.’
He started to tell me do not go past the garden wall, you must under no circumstances go in the girls’ half of the building, you will wash and clean your teeth when you get up in the morning and before going to bed, you will call all adults aunty or uncle. I said under my breath, ‘their not my aunties or uncles.’
‘What did you say?’
‘Nothing.’ I replied.
What an old bag! I was shown to my dorm and as it was time for bed I got changed, washed and brushed my teeth. It wasn’t too bad there, the kids were ok, the staff thought they were something special and would ‘sort me out and stop me running away’. I got friendly with this girl there. She was the only one who spoke to me. She wasn’t too popular with the other kids, but we got along fine.

Christmas passed and I had done nothing wrong. My social worker brought my presents from home as I was not allowed home myself - some of the other kids were. It was January 1970 and freezing outside. Not long into the New Year I did something wrong, a minor thing, but the male member of staff shouted at me - I shouted back. He gave me a slap across the face and dragged me round the room. I kick out, pulled away from him but he held me tight.
‘You will suffer for that outburst, you little fucker.’
He was supposed to be a care worker! Instead, slapping me I was taken upstairs and told to put on some shorts that were far too big for me and a pair of plimsolls that were also far too large.
‘You’re on punishment for a week.’
That meant extra chores and no activities. I just ignored him as he shouted at me. He came up to my face,
‘Don’t try them tricks sunshine. I will knock it out of you, do as you are told or we will make you.’
Here was another bastard who thought he was a hard man with little kids. Bet if I was a man he wouldn’t be so fast picking on me. I got on with my chores as ordered over the next few days. It was then, when I was outside one day that the girl, who I was friendly with, came and talked with me. I told her I was sick and wanted to get away. She said that she would try and get some clothes for me. A while later she came running up to me, ‘Quick, follow me.’ she whispered.
A few doors away in one of the posh houses there was a lad playing with a ball in his drive. She went up to him and demanded his coat, pants and shoes. ‘No, I’ve just had them for Christmas from my parents.’ Right stuck up arse hole! She just punched him in the face. ‘Get them off.’ she ordered. He was trembling as he undid his buttons. She was a hard faced sod - I liked her. She gave me the clothes and I put them on.
‘Go that way. It takes you to the town.’
‘Come with me.’ I said.
‘No, I can’t. Go.’
‘Ok’
I ran the way she told me and was in town in no time at all. It was very close to Jesmond and I was walking round with no particular place to go when I was nabbed by a policeman. He asked me who I was and where I was going? I made up some story, but that didn’t do the trick this time and I was taken to Pilgrim Street Police Station. It wasn’t long before they knew who I was and once again social workers came for me - this time I was taken back to Fernwood House. There I was watched like a hawk. The care worker said to me, ‘Thought you could get away did you? You’ll not do it again.’

On 21 January 1970 I was up in court for nicking that purse from the other home and I was giving a care order and was returned to Fernwood House. I caused havoc! I would not do as I was told and caused fights. I was horrible to people and it wasn’t long before my social worker came to tell me that I was being moved to a more secure place – she also told me I was going to have a new baby brother or sister soon.

I didn’t really know how to react, I had a feeling of emptiness inside me and nothing seemed to matter any more. I was taken to Axwell Park Approved School. We drove up this huge drive lined with trees and at the top was the biggest house I had ever seen in my life. My social worker said, ‘David, it’s sad you have ended up here in an approved school, it is usually for older lads waiting to go to court, but nobody will have you and we need you in a secure unit and this is one of the best secure units we have.’ I was now twelve years old, had been to court three times with six offences against me with a further three that had been taking in to consideration - and that’s just what I had been caught for! ‘You are a one off. I wish it hadn’t come to this.’ she told me. ‘But what else can we do? You have exhausted all alternatives open to us, you must now face the music, it is your own doing.’ I walked into Axwell Park Approved School and immediately found it to be an intimidating place. The staff had keys on their hips and didn’t seem nice and all the lads looked like men. As for me, I was so small compared to them. I knew a few of the lads and they knew me. ‘What you doing here Guesty?’ I knew they were talking about me, as a lot of Scotswood people knew of my antics. I was put in the dorm on the ground floor with the younger kids - the older you were the higher you went.

I knew a lad called Billy and he whispered to me, ‘Tonight be careful, they do things to the new boys like an induction ritual.’ I was giving my clothes I had to wear - we were also allowed to smoke twice a day at dinnertime and suppertime. Billy told me that they got up at 5.30 in the morning and then he said you have to scrub floors before going to school all day. It was time for bed and I was shiting myself, what would they do to me? Just before bed I was called to the office where a man told me that it was up to me as to how easy it would be for me. ‘You fall out of line and we will come down hard on you.’ This was not a very nice place and I knew I would have to be careful from now on.

CHAPTER 4 WITH THE BIG BOYS NOW

After my warning I left the office and returned to my dorm - I could feel the tension as I walked in. Billy looked at me, ‘They are going to get you and put your head down the toilet.’ I got ready for bed and the member of staff came round. ‘Lights out lads.’ I lay there thinking to myself that at least they were the smaller lads and that I would have to get it over with and once they had done it that would be an end to it. They would just wait for the next new boy; everybody went through it unless they were rock hard with a bit of a reputation. I was not that and anyway I was younger - the baby of the place, just 12 years old. It was like the modern day remand centres with lads waiting for court or getting sent to other places. I lay there, nothing happened and I thought they must have fallen asleep when I heard things moving and they pounced on me. I wriggled, putting on a show just dying to get it over with, then someone stuck a pillow over my face. I panicked - I couldn’t breath. I let loose, punching, kicking and I even bit something, a hand or arm, who knows. I could feel my fists hitting something and then suddenly it went quiet. I lay for ages, but nothing more happened and finally I dosed off.

Next morning at five thirty we were woken up. ‘Come on, hands off cocks on to you socks!’ It was still dark outside. I was taken to a cupboard full of buckets, scrubbing brushes, cloths and the biggest bars of soap you could imagine. A member of staff showed me what to do - I had a flight of stairs to scrub every morning. ‘This is how we do it.’ he said as he dipped the scrubbing brush in the water, rubbed the bar of soap on it then put some water on the step. I was told to scrub hard and when it was clean to wring out the cloth and dry the step. ‘I want it dry and clean and don’t leave the soap in the water or you will pay for it out your pocket money.’ My skinny little hands hardly fitted round the scrubbing brush. As I was scrubbing he came passed. ‘Good, good.’ he said.
I finished the chore and was told to take my bucket back - that was now my bucket with my number on it and I was to use the same one every morning.

We went to the dining room for breakfast and I sat next to Billy. They were long tables and I could see that a few of the lads looked like they had been in a tiff. They looked at me, but as soon as I lifted my head they looked away. ‘What did you do to them?’ Billy asked. I didn’t say it was due to my panicking when my face had been covered up; instead I just winked at him. I would let things take their course and if they wanted to think I was hard I’d let them – I knew I would not get anymore trouble from them on a Friday night.

We would go to the shop in Blaydon to buy our gigs, sweets, whatever, walking there in twos. Two were allowed in the shop at one time - it was like the bloody army - then we would walk back. Twenty tabs lasted over a week, two a day. The days there consisted of being up at five thirty, scrubbing, then having breakfast, prepare for school, lunch, school to finish, tea, play and bed. At weekends, instead of school, we went to the local woods to swing on a big Tarzan swing that was there or mess about by the river or play football on the bottom field. On a night I could see my house in the distance and if I looked to the right I could see the glare from the coke works. I only really spoke to Billy as I didn’t trust anybody else. The funny thing to me was that on a Sunday morning we were made to go to church - the only time I had been to church before was to nick the lead off the roof or empty the collection box. We sang songs and then again we were marched there and back with everybody knowing where we were from.

The weeks passed and I was already sick of the place and was getting itchy feet - I needed to be away. I asked Billy if he fancied running away with me, but he was a bit frightened. I told him I would figure a way out, but he said that the doors and windows were locked and were checked every week and anyway they had someone count people day and night. Being clever I said it was possible - he said nothing. I watched what time the member of staff came round at night - he came a couple of times after lights-out and then again in the morning. I concluded that he was probably asleep the rest of the time. I knew the main doors were locked and the windows had screws in the sides of the sashes so they couldn’t be opened. I needed a screwdriver, but all the screwdrivers in the workshops were numbered and counted every night. A few days passed during which I planned my escape just as they did in the movies by trying to take everything into consideration. I figured out that I would wait until after the second count and then escape and head for the coke works, go along the river and then across the black bridge the trains go over - it would be too risky to use the Scotswood Bridge.

I was coming in from finishing school one day when by chance I came across a man fixing one of the doors. He wasn’t there, but his tools were and I raked around his toolbox and took an old screwdriver, which I put in my pocket.
He came back just at that moment, ‘What you doing?’ he shouted.
‘Nothing.’
‘Have you took anything?’
‘No.’ I replied.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes I am.’
I walked away with his screwdriver in my pocket. It was coming together now.

On Monday morning they came round checking the screws in the window locks as usual - it was a ritual for them. Back in my dorm I loosened a few screws and found to my satisfaction that the window opened easy - I was ready. I told Billy that I was running away that night - he was a bit frightened. I went to bed and after lights-out I lay waiting for the check - sure enough he came around just like clockwork. I whispered to Billy and put my clothes on - we were ready. Before we left we stuffed things in the bed so it looked as if we were still in them - I had seen that in a film. I opened the window, we climbed out and I carefully closed the window behind us before we ran. In the rush I was tripping over branches and weeds then fell into the small stream at the bottom of Axwell. We only had a short run now, then over the wall, over the road then over another wall. Just as we were about to climb over we saw some of the lights go on in Axwell Park, then two police cars flew past and headed up the drive. Billy was shitting bricks,
‘Come on.’
I pulled at him and we climbed over the wall, dived over the road then over the next wall just in time before another car flew passed. We sneaked passed the coke works as planned, we made our way along the river full of an excitement that made me feel great and gave me a buzz, then keeping low we finally came to Scotswood Bridge. I went straight past.
‘It’s this way.’ Billy said.
‘No, follow me. They might be watching that way.’
We continued along the bank of the Tyne and came to the Lyons cake factory.
‘We’ll get some cakes out the back of the vans. I’ve done it before!’ I said feeling good.
We got what we could carry. I knew exactly what I was doing - had it all planned.
We were soon crossing the black bridge. I said to Billy,
Look, there’s a police car.’
‘Where?’ Billy responded
‘Over there. See?’
‘Yes, I can see it.’
We crept over the black bridge knowing they were looking for us. We walked over the old train lines; we walked parallel with St Margaret’s Road keeping out of sight knowing it would be hard to catch us. I knew all the short cuts through gardens and back yards, but if I got chased I knew I wouldn’t last long. I made my way to the old hospital; I could hide there for a while. We got into the old hospital, it was just the same except kids had been in there and you could smell the fires and the piss. I pulled up the frame of the old bed and climbed up to my little den in the roof - Billy followed. The paraffin street lamp was still there and I shook it, but there was not much fluid left - I lit it with matches I had left there, they were damp but one lit. It wasn’t long before it went out. Billy was low and said,
‘We done it now.’
‘I done it. You were going to bottle.’’ Even though I was only twelve and Billy was 13 or 14 he had no idea. We got stuck into the cakes we had nicked - they were very nice. I looked at Billy, ‘Let’s get some sleep.’
It was the middle of the night when we woke up freezing cold. I was groggy from lack of sleep and I think Billy asked what we were going to do. ‘Nothing.’ I said, ‘The police will be all over looking for us.’ We sat and talked.
‘I’m thirsty.’ Billy complained. I told him not to move and climbed down through the hole in the ceiling, ran through the building, walked over to the houses that were just over the road and grabbed two pints of milk off the step of a house. I ran back to my hideaway and gave Billy one. ‘Guesty, you know everything. How?’ I told him that I had been on the run loads of times. He confided that the lads who jumped on me were frightened of me. I told Billy I wasn’t really hard, but that they had covered my face up and caused me to lash out. ‘Still,’ he said, ‘You were bloody wild.’

We must have dozed off again for it was bright when we woke up. I asked Billy if he knew anywhere we could stop for a few days. He sat thinking - I knew we couldn’t go to our houses as they would be watching them, anyway they knew all my family. Billy said that his aunty has just moved to the Noble Street flats. ‘My mam lives there too, but they won’t know she lives there.’ I sat and thought how to get there without being seen. I said, ‘Lets go.’
We jumped over walls, through gardens always keeping low, through the Mitre pub, through Pendower Housing Estate and down through Hodgkin Park, then across the road through the bottom part to Noble Street flats - there were no police about. We knocked on Billy’s aunt’s door. A little girl opened it and we rushed in to be greeted by his aunty. ‘Where’ve you been? The police have been to you mams looking for you - said you ran away with a lad called David Guest. They said he is a bad influence. Is this him? Doesn’t look like a bad one to me.’ She started to make us some food and the little girl was sent to fetch Billy’s mam. One thing I knew was that these people would not grass you up to the police, they never had loads, but they were the salt of the earth. I felt out of place there and after a good nights sleep on the sofa I told Billy I was going ‘Where you going?’ he asked.
‘Whitley Bay.’
His mam gave me a few bob and I said my goodbyes and left.


I didn’t go to Whitley Bay, but instead went near my house to the shops. I knew where a shop was empty – it would be somewhere I could hide. I was careful nobody saw me go in for I was known around there and they thought I was a little sod and a trouble maker so much so that they warned there kids to keep away from me or they would end up in trouble. I think it is because nobody really knew me and that I was really a lovely child, caring, polite, good mannered - well I would like to be, but it hadn’t worked out that way. Nobody cared for me so what the hell! In the disused shop I went up the stairs and could see out of the windows people walking in and out the shops going about their everyday business - nobody could see me. It was warmish as there was a bakery down below and I could smell pies or something cooking, whatever it was it smelt nice. I was sitting staring out the window watching people go past in and out the shops when I caught sight of my mam pushing Malcolm in his pram. I felt a twang of guilt in me, how much pain had I put her through always running away, stealing, fighting? She was talking to friends (she was well known around there) probably talking about me saying he’s on the run again. She disappeared into a shop and I was tempted to run down and give her a hug, but I would end up in the approved school as she would have to tell the police.

Needing some money I left the old shop and thinking what to do I decided to go to my nana Jeans. I walked up towards Delaval Road keeping to the back lanes then up through Pendower on to the West Road, along Twoball Lonnen (it was a name of a road down through Cowgate), down Ponteland Road to my nana’s house. She opened the door. ‘Come in son.’
On went the kettle, out came the bread - she was never horrible like her son, my dad, but saying that he had changed a bit and was milder after the operation he had - or was he? I was in childcare and if I reported him he would be in trouble? She told me the police had been there for me. I asked her if she was going to tell them? ‘No, I wouldn’t do that.’
My nana and my mam seemed to be the only two people who cared about me and showed love towards me – that’s how I felt anyway. Dripping bread was on the menu as always - it sounds horrible but was tasty. She gave me a hug. ‘I am worried about you son.
Why do you get in trouble all the time?’ ‘Don’t know.’ I replied.
Did she know about the beatings I got off her son? I kept quite about that. She told me Bobby would soon be in from work, so I said I would go home. ‘Be sure you go straight home now.
Your mam is worried sick about you.’ ‘I will.’ I promised.
She gave me money for my bus fare and I left not before I got a hug and a kiss. At the bus stop there were a few people standing there. I saw a police car coming down the road and my heart was in my mouth, but it just went straight past - what a relief. The bus came and I sat upstairs to have a fag. I was puffing away on a Sovereign when the lady next to me told me to put it out. I just blurted out ‘fuck off’. She looked at me in dismay and said to her friend, ‘What is the world coming to.’ - I kept puffing. I got off the bus near St James Park. I needed some money and looking round and thinking what to do I decided to break into a house. I saw a house that looked as if nobody was in and knocked on the door and waited. There was no answer and I was beginning to think everyone was out, but suddenly it opened and a man with a towel around his waist stood in the doorway.

Stuck what to say I said, ‘Is John in?’
He looked at me.
‘No John lives here. Now get away.’
I walked on further down the street and knocked on a door that again looked as if nobody was at home, but someone answered. This was hopeless and I decided to try one more time thinking to myself that it was the wrong time of day with most people coming in from work. I knocked on the door - there was no answer. I knocked again – still no answer. I looked around found a brick and put it straight through the window near the door clasp. The windowpane broke and I scurried away and hid. Nobody came so I went back over to the window, put my hand through the hole where the glass used to be, slid the clasp around and pushed it open. I climbed in and closed the window behind me. I had a good hunt around in the kitchen and found a biscuit tin. Opening it I couldn’t believe my eyes for it was full of money, half crowns and notes, all wrapped up in a bundle. In a cupboard under the stairs there was what I had been looking for, an electric meter and gas meter. I looked for something to break the locks off in the kitchen and under the sink found a hammer with a point that made it look like an ice pick. I took it, put it in the top of the lock and yanked at it - the lock was off and I repeated the procedure with the other meter. Having emptied the meters contents into my pockets I heard someone talking at the front door. I ran, lifting the window, but it wouldn’t move! I tried again and this time it moved allowing me to slide it up and jump out falling on my ankle causing me to hobble away in pain. I hid in some bushes in Leazes Park and took out the money, there was quite a bit in the roll and I started to walk towards the town my pockets full. That had been easy and I had a pocket full of cash and I was going to live the life of a lord. I went to the train station and even paid for my ticket. I sat all the way there and when the guard came round to punch the tickets I handed mine over feeling good and pleased not to have to hide from him.

Down in the amusements arcade I had a lot of fun playing on all the machines and buying fish and chips in the café, but it wasn’t long before it got dark and I needed a place to sleep. I got into the old shop where I had slept before waking a few times through the night with the cold. The next day I carried on playing the machines for hours until I was bored as the novelty wore off. It was then I decided to go home and I retraced my steps to the train station, paid for my ticket and boarded the train to Newcastle.

Getting off the train I made my way to my nana May’s house on the 21 bus and then cutting up by Tin Lizzy’s on St Margaret’s Road. Number 95 was my nana’s house and I knocked on the back door and walked in - my aunty Ann was there. ‘Where’ve you been? Everybody is looking for you.’ Getting cocky I said, ‘So’ and my nana frowned with her eyes. ‘I will ‘so’ you! Your mother is worried sick. Ann take him home. Run away indeed! I’ll tan your arse.’
I went with my aunty Ann to my house - the police were there anyway so nobody had to call them. As I walked in the policeman said, ‘Well, well look who has graced us with his presence, young David Guest. Half the police force has been looking for you. Your friend is back in Axwell Park.’ He took hold of my arm
‘Come with me.’
I asked if I could go to the toilet.
‘Yes, hurry up. Straight back mind.’
He was standing outside the door anyway - I said bye to my mam and aunty Ann as he led me away.

In the West End police station I was questioned about different things that had happened, but I said nothing. Then the CID started questioning me and said they didn’t believe me. In fact while I was in the toilet at home I had hid the roll of money I had left behind the pipes - nobody could see it. They gave up in the end and as for me I just put on my blank look taking nothing in of what they were saying or tried to accuse me of. I was put in the cells and they told me someone was coming from Axwell Park to collect me. Two members of staff arrived, signed a piece of paper for my release, put me in a car or should I say threw me in a car and as we pulled away one of the men said, ‘You think you’re clever don’t you, you little fucker.’ It sounded funny the way he said ‘you little fucker’ and I laughed. He never saw the funny side of it and gave me a good slap.
‘Don’t laugh at me.’
I repeated in a low voice ‘you little fucker’. He slapped me again. ‘I’m going to wipe that smile of your face little fucker!’ I burst out laughing, it was the way he said ‘little fucker’. We arrived back at the approved school to the cheers of a couple of the lads, who were told to git or they would be on scrubs. I was feeling good and thinking what the hell can they do to me anyway, hit me? So what I had been hit all my life, it didn’t frighten me. I decided to work myself up and having been taken to the office I was told I was to be on punishment for a month. ‘What have you to say for yourself young man?’
‘I just don’t care anymore.’
This infuriated him and they started pushing and shoving me all over the place - I just laughed in their faces.

I scrubbed, polished and swept more or less none stop until I had blisters on my hands and gave up, throwing the scrubbing brush down on the floor. The member of staff shouted at me, ‘Pick it up.’
I refused and responded,
‘You pick it up. You scrub.’
I was grabbed by the ear and dragged to the office in front of the main man to be told off. I just ignored him and he told the member of staff that there was nothing they could do short of killing me. ‘He’s the worst kid for his age in here. He’s a little animal, but he’s away soon, thank God. Take him to his dorm and lock him in.’ I was there all evening and when it was time for bed a new lad came to the dorm as Billy was elsewhere - they kept us apart. I was twelve years old, they had given up on me and anyway what had he meant ‘ I wouldn’t be there for long’ It had me wondering and thinking until I was suddenly brought back to the present by one of the lads asked me what should be done to the new lad? I told him to leave him alone - I knew how terrifying it was just to be in there. I wasn’t frightened of any of them in my dorm. I was dozing off when I heard a shuffle. I ran and turned on the lights to see them holding the new lad. I grabbed the kid and told the others to hold him down. I got a tube of toothpaste and slapped it on his dick leaving him screaming as it burnt. The officers came in, he was taken to hospital in real pain and I was dragged half way round Axwell Park accompanied by digs and kicks. I was made to stand outside the office all night. I was knackered falling asleep on my feet and when I sat on the floor and fell asleep they came and booted me (not hard) and ordered me to get up. I just ignored them until finally I was sent to bed.

Next morning I was once more made to stand outside the office and ordered not to move an inch. I saw the kids go to school and then to my surprise my social worker walked in. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes.’ I replied. She went into the office followed by a member of staff. When he came out I was taking to the store room were they kept all the clothes and stuff I was given a pair of black shoes, grey pants, grey jumper and a shirt and told to get them on. When I was dressed I was taking back to the office and told to go in. My social worker explained to me that they had found a place for me were I couldn’t run away and I would get more personal care. I knew I was too young for jail.

I was taking away from Axwell Park and as I looked back at it as we drove down the long drive my social worker said, ‘That didn’t tame you either, did it? You’re different that’s for sure - the hardest case I’ve ever had. You’re off to a place in North Wales, it’s a nice place where you do all sorts of things. ‘Like what?’ I asked. ‘Horse riding, swimming, camping, lots.’ she said. ‘I’m taking you home to see your family before the people from the home collect you. They will take you to Wales. You have to try David. The way you are going you will end up in prison all your life and we don’t want that - deep down you’re a nice boy.’ I thought to myself ‘cut the crap’.

I arrived at my house or should I say my family’s house and was greeted by my mam. She made me make a cup of tea for my social worker whilst they talked. When I walked in my social worker looked at me. ‘I am telling your mam about Bryn Alyn, the place you are going to and how lucky you are to be going there.’ I thought ‘bull shit’, but then again it could not be as bad as Axwell Park. I played with my brother for a while until there was a knock on the door and standing there were two men - they introduced themselves as John Allen and Arthur Jones. My mam made a cup of tea for them in the best teacups with biscuits. They told me that I had been recommended to live at Bryn Alyn by the authorities, who felt they had tried everything for me in Newcastle. Lads had been sent there from the North East and had done well. They explained that Bryn Alyn had been open for almost a year now and it had had very good reports and dealt with problem children - it had a different outlook on the welfare of children and how they should be treated. Sounded crap to me, but never mind they seemed nice people with no harshness in their manner. I was told to say my goodbyes as it was time to leave and would take a good three and a half hour drive (there were no motorways in those days). At least my mam gave me a hug, ‘Bye son.’

I gave Malcolm a kiss on the cheek, walked down the path and waved - it seemed that this was the end of David ‘you little bastard’ and ahead a new adventure. I got into the big posh car and we drove off.

CHAPTER 5 MY NEW START

‘Relax David, it’s a long ride. We’ll stop for tea somewhere.’ he added as an afterthought. Arthur was driving - John was the passenger. ‘What kind of things do you like doing?’ John asked. ‘Don’t know.’ I said, ‘Never done nothing.’
He told me that at weekends they went horse riding, canoeing, swimming, all sorts of things, but that I would not be allowed out by myself until I had earned their trust. ‘How long depends on you. There are boys from all over the country at Bryn Alyn, nice lads of all different ages. We have a little school there, but in time you will be sent to a school in the community.’ Both men seemed nice, not with the same attitude as care workers in the North East, you felt you could trust them. We travelled on through a place called Hexham - I had been to a few places like Crimdon Dean and Amble on holidays and to Stannington when I was in hospital, but apart from that I only had been in Newcastle.
I think it was at a place called Corbridge that John asked if I was hungry. ‘Yes.’ I replied.
‘Ok. Arthur stop somewhere wh ere we can eat.’
We pulled in at a pub and John said,
‘Ok, Daveeed.’
I said, ‘My name is David.’
He smiled.
‘Ok Daveeed.’
We walked in and a woman came over with some cards and handed them to us. I had never been in a pub before - it was a new experience. ‘First of all you need a drink. One Perrier Water, one coke and a lemonade please.’ I thought to myself what’s ‘Perrier Water’- can’t even spell it never mind say it. She went away, and then came back with the three drinks. John asked me what I wanted to eat handing over the menu - I knew it was a menu it had menu written on it. I picked fish and chips as I didn’t know what the other dishes were; anyway I was enjoying myself - the first time for a long time. The fish and chips finally came - man you should have seen the size of that fish! We finished our meal having been shown how to use my knife and fork properly.

You eat like a animal.’ John said, but not in a horrible way. He certainly had patience and didn’t shout at me - I thought I was going to like these two men. The one called John pulled out his wallet, paid the bill and whilst we were walking back to the car asked if I smoked. Gingerly I said I did and he opened a pack of cigarettes, they were called Three Castles, and gave me one. I felt so important, a real person for these strangers made me feel wanted and seemed as if they cared - it was a nice feeling. John explained that it was still a long way and I could go to sleep in the back if I wanted. I said I was ok but I must have dozed off in the car, which was nice and warm, comfortable with music playing softly. I was shaken gently by the arm. ‘Daveeed, we are almost there son.’ I lifted my head rubbing my eyes. We were turning off the main road on to a dirt track - there was nothing there just fields as we bumped and rocked, then I could see a house in front of us. John said,
‘Welcome to Bryn Alyn Hall.’
It was like a farmhouse and quite big. We pulled up on a gravel drive and got out the car. ‘Follow me Daveeed.’
There he goes again calling me Daveeed. Walking through the door I could see the polished red tiles on the floor and there were lads walking round leisurely and smoking. I was taking to the office to be introduced to a lady called Norma. She shook hands with me and John explained that Norma was his wife. I heard a bell ring, it sounded like a hand bell, and John explained that it was time for bed. ‘Norma will take you up and show you your bed. We will sort everything out in the morning.’ After climbing a set of carpeted stairs she took me to a room, opened the door with a key and stretching up to a high shelf she handed me a pair of pyjamas, a new tooth brush, a comb, bar of soap and towel. Get washed and changed in there.’ I did as I was told and when I came out she led me to a room with six beds. Lads were sitting on their beds. ‘Come on in.’ she waved me in.
I got into bed and lay there. One of the lads asked were I was from. ‘Newcastle.’ I replied. ‘I’m from London.’ he said.
Then another voice said ‘I’m from Liverpool’, then another one said ‘Shut up I’m tired’. I soon fell asleep very satisfied with my new home.

Next morning we were woken about 7.30. ‘Ok lads, time to rise. Wakey, wakey.’ The curtains were pulled back. This man spoke funny, he was Welsh and sounded like the man who had brought me down from Newcastle. I put the clothes on I had been given at the approved school, everybody else had nice smart clothes - some were putting on school uniforms. I followed everyone else downstairs where I could smell bacon being cooked. We went into a big room, a dining room, where we had cereal, bread and butter, toast, bacon, eggs and beans - this was living! I wondered to myself ‘what is the catch?’ - it couldn’t all be this good. After we had eaten different people came in and shouted names of schools. The lads got up and followed the people waiting for them outside until all the lads with uniforms had left. There must have been about twelve of us left in the room.
‘You’d better wait here for Mrs Evans.’
There was a square room adjoining the dining room with a square hole in its wall. I asked the lad next to me what it was for. ‘It’s where we watch the films. They put a big screen up over there and in there is a projector.’
That sounded interesting. I was told to stay put and the other boys went off with a lady, who had a little girl about two three years old. Another woman came in and introduced herself.
‘Hello. I’m Bronwyn.’
What a strange name.
‘I had thought Norma would be here.’ she went on.
We waited for about half an hour when sure enough Norma came waltzing in.
‘Good morning David. I’m taking you to Wrexham for new clothes.’
‘I’ve got some.’ I replied.
‘There’re drab, old fashioned; you need new ones, new clothes for a new start. We are waiting for Arthur to finish his school run. Won’t be long.’
She left the room. I was looking out the big double doors leading to a lawn, it seemed so bright and sunny and I remembered Newcastle where everything seemed grey and murky. Here, it was as if everything had changed to colour from black and white. I felt good, in fact the best I’d felt in a long time. The people were really nice, no shouting, and everything seemed calm and laid back. Arthur came in - he was the man who had brought me to Wales the day before with John.
‘Good morning Geordie man. Wye aye man.’ he said mimicking the Geordie accent.

We were on our way to the town in a car and I was sitting in the back. Norma told me she had a few messages to do so first she would take me to the shop and then come back for me. ‘I won’t know what to do.’
‘Its ok, Mike the shop owner will sort you out.’ came the reply.
Arthur parked the car, we got out and I was taken to this big market hall with lots of shops, they sold everything.
There in the corner was a clothes shop with overalls, boiler suits, boots and shoes hanging on its front. A man greeted us, ‘Hello Norma.’
‘This is David Guest. He needs a full rig out. I’m…..’ he interrupted,
‘Going on a message.’ he laughed. ‘Spends John’s money! Right young man follow me.’
He took me into the back of the shop and pulled a tape measure from round his neck and measured my leg, waist, chest and neck.
Nobody had ever done this before, and then he measured my feet.
‘Ok. What clothes do you want?’
‘Don’t know.’ I said.
‘Well.’ he looked at me. ‘Jeans - Wranglers alright for you?’
What were Wranglers? He put two pairs on the counter, and then a Wrangler coat went on the pile as well as underwear, socks and pyjamas.
‘What kind of shirts do you like?’
I shrugged my shoulders. He gave me some shirts; they were smart Ben Sherman’s, and a couple of T-shirts. He put the clothes on to sheets of brown paper and wrapped them up into parcels and tied string around them. Just at that moment Norma and Arthur walked in telling Mike to put it all on the Bryn Alyn account in the name of David Guest. Arthur carried one of the parcels to the car for me. All clothes had to have a tag on the back with your name written on it in an ink that would not come off. Back at the Alyn, as we called it, I waited for my new clothes to have my name inscribed on them. Finally they arrived in my room and I put them on - it felt good with all these new clothes and I felt like a cowboy in the Wranglers.

I was told to have a walk round the place to get my bearings. At the front of the house was this huge tree on its side, it was dead and didn’t have any branches on it. I asked a man doing the gardens why the tree was like that and he explained that years ago it had been struck by lightning and as it fell the branches had broken a lot of the windows of the house – the branches had been sawn off and the trunk left as it was. It had to be about eight to ten foot high and the gardener explained that the lads climbed on it or just sat on it and read.
‘Can I climb up?’ I asked.
‘Shouldn’t you be in school?’ he asked.
‘Me? No, I only came yesterday.’
‘You’re from Newcastle.’ he observed. ‘We have quite a few Geordies here.’
He told me that I wasn’t allowed past the fence, that he pointed out, unless with a member of staff or with prior permission and that round that part of the house was out of bounds. He went on,‘Down there in the corner, see?’ He pointed across the field. ‘That is where the camp is and halfway down there is a track which leads to the river, but don’t go down there it’s pretty dangerous - you have to be supervised by an adult.’ ‘Ok.’ I said.
He continued working and I sat and stared out across the fields. This place made me feel so relaxed; I could hear the birds singing - it was magic. For once in my life I felt comfortable, the place was nice, it was in the country and the people were pleasant even though they spoke as if they had marbles in their mouths. I climbed off the trunk and made my way to the TV room, school had finished and I spoke to a few of the lads. I had always got on well with the other kids. When I had gone into new places in Newcastle, all they wanted to do was fight to see who was the hardest, whilst here nobody was horrible towards me, but I knew it would come sooner or later. I think the ages at Alyn ranged from 8 years to 16 years old and I discovered that some boys were not in for being in trouble, but because they had family problems. The lads who came in from the schools went straight upstairs, got changed, then came down. There were some lads with shorts on mopping floors. I asked one of the lads why he was mopping the floors. ‘For punishment. If you do something wrong you get scrubs and you have to work before and after school and you lose your pocket money as well.’ We had our tea. The food was lovely and cooked by an oldish lady called Elsie. She was Welsh and reminded me so much of my nana Jean, quite large in structure and with the same kind of hair. The lad I had been talking to, and who I sort of hung around with, was called George. George was from the Midlands, Sutton Coalfield or there about. He spoke differently to me, as a lot of them did, and was a well build lad. He took me around Bryn Alyn and showed me the sights, the old barn or shed, a sort of garage underneath it with a sports car in it, above were rooms were one of the staff lived and across from there around the back was what they called the bin shed, which was full of bins - it stank.

‘I come here and catch rats and chop them up.’ George explained. Up above was a derelict building and behind the part were the garage was located was a huge caravan. ‘What’s that for?’ I asked.
‘John, the handy man, lives there.’
It was a big place and George showed me the toilets, baths and showers.
He then asked me if I wanted to play table tennis.
‘Yes.’ I said. ‘But I can’t play.’
‘I’ll learn you.’ came the reply.
We went to a room, which had a large table tennis table and there were also draughts, chess, books, comics and papers.
We had a few games of table tennis, which was great fun and then he announced that he was going to watch TV - I followed. It was a colour TV the likes of which I had never watched before, only black and white. The time passed and it was nearly time for bed.
George turned to me, ‘I’m in dorm eight. Which one are you in?’
I pointed.
‘Ah, dorm one next to the staff bedroom.’
We parted. John came in. I hadn’t seen him all day.
‘Hello Daveeed.’ There he goes again. ‘Daveeed how is it going? Finding your way round alright?’
‘Yes’.
‘Any problems?’
‘No, it’s a great place.’
He sat next to me on a chair.
‘We try to make things as relaxed as possible. There are rules, simple ones, you’ll pick them up through time. Easter is approaching, but I’m not giving you home leave this time; it’s not a punishment, we have to get you settled in, get you in the right frame of mind for home leave. There’ll be lots to do so you’ll not be bored. In fact I will send you to the barge for a week.’ he added.
‘What’s the barge?’ I asked.
‘I bought a narrow boat and had it converted so it sleeps ten people. There is a skipper. He will take it up through the locks on the canal; it’s a nice holiday, relaxing, peaceful, but hard work sometimes. You see a lot of different towns as you go up the canal. Does that sound good?’
‘Yes.’ I said.
‘Good, good. Tomorrow you will start school with Mrs Evans, then there is Mr Clark and Cyril, be gentle with him he is very old.’ I laughed.
‘Is there anything you need?
‘No.’ I replied.
‘Good, good.’
He got up and left - there were other boys waiting to see him.
I was told it was time for bed and off I went and put my new pyjamas on, washed, brushed my teeth and crawled in to bed, laying there watching the other lads getting ready for bed. I was happy, this place seemed great, the best home I had ever been in. A member of staff came around,
‘Lights out lads.’
Off went the lights. Remembering Axwell Park I lay there wondering if they would do something to me, but there were no sounds and I fell asleep. Next thing I remember was, ‘Time to get up lads.’
I had a wash, brushed my teeth and went downstairs for breakfast. Afterwards I was sent in to a room with some of the other kids for lessons expecting maths and English. The lady with the little girl came in,
‘Good morning boys, my favourite boys.’ She was weird. ‘What do you want to do today?’ One lad said he wanted to sing, another that he wanted to draw. ‘Ok, go for it.’
I sat and took it all in. She opened the lid of a piano that was in the room, tapped the keys and started to sing. Everyone just sang or drew. I sat there and the little girl came over and sat beside me.
‘Hello, what’s your name?’ I asked.
‘Gwowl’ she replied.

I couldn’t understand her never mind spell it, but she was a lovely little girl. I felt for my brothers, it made me miss them and I missed my mam and my nana especially - whenever I saw the cook she reminded me of her and I felt home sick. I seemed to have no anger left in me unlike the past. It was break-time before we knew it and we went out by the big tree trunk, the little girl was still following me - she took a shine to me. I picked some flowers with her and she ran and gave them to her mam. Back in the room we used as the classroom I asked if I could colour in a book that was there. I coloured in some flowers with crayons and gave it to the little girl, she gave me a cuddle and I felt strange for nobody had ever made me feel so happy before, it was like the time my dad was in hospital and my mam hugged me, it was nice, this little girl who had only known me a few hours had made me feel so warm. Her mam came over after we had been told to clear up our things.
‘She’s took a real shine to you. Normally she’s shy. She can sense good in you.’ I thought to myself ‘good in me? I’m the horriblest person alive’.

We had dinner - every meal I had there was nice, always different and tasty. After the dinner break we had a teacher called Mr Clark, he must have been about ten foot tall or so it seemed. I was five foot six, but only about seven stone and still thin. He had been in the army, you could tell for he stood erect, straight backed and taught us maths and English history, but we were not pushed, everything was easy there. One thing I noticed with Mr Clark was that he had a fag in his mouth all the time.

The weekend came. On the Saturday we were all sitting in the TV room being asked what activities we wanted to go on. I didn’t have a clue. Some lads were going to the pictures, some swimming and some horse riding. I was picked for horse riding and we got into the minibus more are less straight away and travelled what seemed miles away to a place called Bala Lake. All the way there we were in countryside dotted with small villages. The only horses I had ever seen were the ones pulling carts around Newcastle with coal or the likes. We arrived at the stables and had to put the things on a horse. I didn’t know then what they were called and I was shown how to saddle a horse and was helped up. I felt massive sitting on its back even though my horse was small compared to the rest. One of the girls had a hold of a piece of rope tied to my horse - the others rode by themselves. She told me that once I had mastered horse riding I would be able to ride by myself. Up and down I went and she encouraged me to go with the rhythm of the horse’s movements. I soon picked it up, but my arse was sore. We were giving a packed lunch of sandwiches, an apple, a packet of crisps and a chocolate biscuit. We rested the horses and they had grass for there dinner. I never knew the way of country folk and I asked the girl who was leading my horse if they eat grass all the time for dinner. She laughed at me and explained that they were grazing. She thought I was funny, but she liked me and I thought she was lovely – I think I had the hots for her. I hadn’t felt this way about a girl before and I watched her all the time. She was in front of me, leading my horse and I could see her bum going up and down and it made me feel funny (nicely), a feeling I had never experienced before. It was late into the afternoon when we were on our way back that she pulled up beside me. You’re doing good. I’ll let the rope off – you’ll be by yourself. Do as I say and you’ll be fine.’ As for me I was still going up and down and my arse was really sore, but I was enjoying myself. A horse came flying past me, it was one of the other lads who could ride a horse, and my horse ran with it. I nearly shit myself. It ran fast; no more up and downs it was a smooth movement. I was hanging on for dear life as it went faster and faster. The girl that had been with me all day was coming up fast behind me and pulled on the reins. I heard her shout, but it was no good, the horse didn’t stop. She was along side me and grabbed at the horse grasping the thing round its head and shouted ‘whoa boy’. The horse slowed down and came to a stop. ‘Look at your face! It’s white!’ she said with a giggle. Back at the yard she explained to me that if a horse bolts to pull hard on the reins both at once and it will stop. I was a little embarrassed showing myself up like that. ‘I was terrified.’ I confessed, ‘But the feeling of the wind blowing through my hair like that was great.’
‘What hair?’ she asked.
I could feel myself going red again. I don’t think she felt anything for me other than as a teacher teaching me to ride. We went back to Bryn Alyn, I could hardly walk and I watched TV all that evening.

Next morning a woman member of staff asked me if I had enjoyed myself. She just sat and spoke to me, I didn’t know who she was. Arthur came in. He said ‘Gwenfa’, but I could not understand anymore and felt uneasy as I suspected they were speaking about me. Arthur walked away.
‘I’m very sorry about that. Arthur is my husband. Didn’t you know?’ she asked. ‘No.’ I said shaking my head.
‘We had a disagreement about a family matter.’
We continued talking. I liked this woman and again asked her what her name was.
‘Gwenfa. Just call me Gwen, everybody else does.’
She asked me about myself and where I was from, why I was there and about my parents. I didn’t give too much away, just enough to keep her interested. She told me she had four children, three boys and a girl. We finished our little chat.

Easter came as promised and I went on the barge - it was called Linda. John had two barges the other was called June. They were long thin boats with tyres along their sides and ropes holding them to the land and as I walked on board Linda it rocked a little - it was a funny sensation. We sat in a little kitchen and this man came in, he had a huge white beard and looked like Captain Birds Eye. ‘Hi, I’m George your captain.’ he said. ‘The waterways are a dangerous place and I will not tolerate stupidity or fooling round. We are here to enjoy ourselves and I’ll learn you how to steer the barge, open locks and moor the boats – it’s hard work but very enjoyable. Let’s go.’ John Alyn was there and was steering the Linda. George steered the June in front, it was an older boat, bigger than the Linda and was an original long boat with a canvas roof that had been used at one time to carry coal or the like up and down the canals. We did things that week that I had never dreamt of – fishing, playing in woods, messing around in general and having fun. John spoke to me on the barge holiday and said he was very pleased with the way I had settled in to Bryn Alyn. ‘Everyone says you are a lovely lad. Keep it up.’ he said rubbing my head – he still called me Daveeed.

We came to the locks as we needed to go up. How this was to be done baffled me. There were two huge wooden gates and behind them tons of water. George told us, ‘We’re going up that hill’.
I looked up and saw more of these wooden gates. ‘These are locks. To go up you must first empty the lock.’
He handed out four big bits of metal - they were heavy. He put one on a mechanism and turned the handle round and round. In the lock I could hear water rushing out and looking over the side of the bank I saw the water running out in a great gush. We all turned the lock keys and even more water ran out until the level of the water was the same as the level the boat was at. George then told us to push big wooden handle things - we pushed and the huge gates finally started to move. When they were fully open he drove the barge straight in. ‘Right now, close them.’
As they clanged together we were told to open the next mechanism. Turning the handle again water rushed into the lock and this time the boat started to rise up to the next level. It was amazing for the boat had gone up about fifteen or twenty foot - I liked this. We stopped at pubs along the canal and had pub food. We also passed through towns, went under some long tunnels - what fun it was. As we were passing one particular point there were swans with there little babies swimming next to them, they looked lovely and out of the blue one swan started to fly at us. ‘Get down!’ John shouted as it came swooping past. ‘If those wings hit you they will break your back.’
Why did it attacked us, we done nothing to it?’ I asked. ‘It’s protecting its young. The wake from the barges causes little waves to disrupt their nests and they think the young are under attack.’ ‘So they attack you. Ah.’ I responded thoughtfully.

The week was over and we were getting picked up to go back to the Alyn. I had really enjoyed myself. For the second week of the holiday John told me he was sending me to Aberdaren were he rented a farmhouse and whilst there we could go to the Butlins holiday camp for a day and also go to the beach. It sounded fun. We got changed, showered and were given our pocket money. Off we went in the minibus, it was a long drive, and when we finally got there it was in the middle of nowhere. There were cows, sheep and horses in the fields and the sun was shining. Having put our bags upstairs we went outside to explore the area. Really there wasn’t a lot there, but we ran in the fields, climbed up a few trees, chased the cows and sheep and just played like kids do. The afternoon passed and we were called in for tea after which we were told to stay close to the house, as it was easy to get lost in that part of the countryside. We were all in the house by 8 o’clock and just sat and talked. I was friendly with Pat, he was a Geordie, a great lad who lived in Scotswood where I was from. There was also a lad called Macca, he was a Geordie as well, and as I got up to go to the toilet he tripped me and I fell to the floor. He and a couple of his mates laughed thinking it was funny. I gave him a bit of verbal, got up and went to the toilet. He was giving me funny looks all night, but I just ignored him - I had been in Bryn Alyn a good few months now and had not caused any trouble. We went to bed early as we were going to Butlins the following day; it was at Pwilheli in North Wales.

We got to Butlins after a drive in the minibus and a member of staff paid the entrance money. It was fantastic, every ride was free, the best being the cable car, which I went on several times. It took you up over the camp and I loved the views - you could see all the coast line from up there and the feeling was magic and as I stood in that car high in the sky I thought to myself how much my life had changed in the last seven months from being on the run and living in derelict buildings. This was what I could only dream of all. The things I had done, horse riding, on the canals, swimming, pictures, staying at a cottage in the countryside, having fun, nobody hitting me or pushing me around. I felt I wanted to stay there forever - Bryn Alyn was my home, now I belonged to Bryn Alyn, the staff and the lads were my new family. The cable car came to a stop and we got off and went on more rides.

We drove back to the cottage; all the lads had enjoyed the day at Butlins - it had been a fun day. We had our tea and most of us went to bed, we were shattered after that day out. Next morning I was up sharp and I filled up the kettle to make tea for everyone, put out the bowls for the cereals and washed the cups that were left from the night before. One of the two staff with us got up. ‘What you doing up?’
I told him that I had woken up and couldn’t get back to sleep. He looked at the things I had done. ‘Well done. I like someone who helps with the work. Thanks.’
I told him I didn’t mind helping in fact it made me feel good. There was a difference between being made to work as a punishment and helping for fun. I knew these care workers got paid for doing these things, but a little help didn’t go amiss. I had a good chat with the care worker, Harry was his name, and he was at college or university studying social work. He was nice - you know when someone is nice, because they are genuinely nice and not just doing it because it is a job. Everyone was stirring now and coming downstairs probably smelling the toast and coffee. ‘What are we doing today?’ I asked Harry. ‘I thought it would be a good idea to go to the village and get some supplies. You can spend some money and when we get back we can have a lazy day and maybe a walk. Tomorrow we will go to the beach and have some fun in the water.’ We all agreed and went to the shop in the mini bus. It wasn’t too far and when we got out we found the shop, it was very small with a nice lady behind the counter. As I was waiting to get served I saw Macca put some sweets in his pocket without paying for them. It looked like this lady never had loads of money, but I said nothing after all I had stolen things out of shops - what amazed me was I actually felt guilty that someone was stealing things from this lady. What was happening to me, me the biggest thieving sod walking, however I would not grass on anyone. Back at the cottage everyone was playing and I decided to go exploring by myself amongst the trees when I heard a shout. ‘What you doing there boyo?’
It was a farmer.
‘Nothing.’ I said, ‘Just looking at the trees and the birds.’
‘Where you from?’ he asked.
‘Newcastle.’
‘Where’s that?’ he asked.
‘North East England.’
‘What you doing here?’ he persisted.
‘On holiday.’ I replied.
‘I thought I’d seen some boys around. You have a big family?’
‘No.’ I said. ‘We’re from a children’s home in Wales.’
I got talking to him and he told me to pop over anytime if I wished, but to make sure I told my carer.
I said, ‘Good bye. See you soon.’
I ran back to the cottage to tell the member of staff I was going to help the farmer tomorrow. He wanted to be sure that I hadn’t been pestering anyone.
‘Can I go?’
‘We’ll see.’
We sat all night playing board games, that is were I learned to play chess, draughts and monopoly.

Next morning I was up with the larks. Once more I just felt so fresh and happy in Wales. No matter what time of day there was always something to do and life seemed colourful, new and unlike the North East’s greyness and bleakness - it felt as if I had been born again. I used to think this was my reward for being naughty! True it was a children’s home, but being treated as a person was good and I even felt I wanted to do my best so the people here liked me and wouldn’t send me back home to Newcastle. Harry, who had no problem with me helping at the farm as long as the farmer agreed, took me to the farm over the field and I wouldn’t be in the way. I knocked on the door of the farm and the farmer’s wife answered telling us her husband was in the barn getting his tractor ready. She pointed in the direction of a big shed. Harry spoke with him and I heard him say,
‘We will be away until about 5 o’clock, is that all right?
The farmer nodded saying, ‘He’s a lovely boy, very pleasant.’
‘Ok. I’ll send a packed lunch for him.’
‘No need.’ said the farmer, ‘He can have lunch with me and my wife, we'll take care of him.’
Harry left.
‘Ok young man, we need a cuppa and I need to tell the wife there is another mouth for lunch.’

Their farm was lovely, they had a big sideboard with lovely coloured plates on it and china ornaments. I dared not touch them as I was a clumsy boy and might have broken something. After our cuppa the farmer drove the tractor out the barn, lifted me on the back of it and we headed off into one of the fields where there were big bundles of straw that I could hardly lift. I got a few up on the trailer and the farmer laughed at me in fun and showed me how to drive the tractor.
‘Push that lever up and it goes faster, back down to slow down. That’s the break to stop, turn the wheel that way to go that way, that way to go that way.’ I’d done it! I was driving. Before I knew it we were on our way back to the farm for lunch - I call it lunch because that is what he called it. There were cheese sandwiches. I told him I didn’t like cheese so his wife made me a ham one instead. ‘Why don’t you like cheese?’ he asked.
‘Don’t know. Even the smell makes me feel sick.’
‘Strange.’ he said.

After we had finished our bellies were full. ‘Ok, back to the fields. Are you ready?’ He drove the tractor to the field and as we past through the gate he closed it. ‘You drive now.’
I jumped into the seat. I felt big and proud of myself driving. Bet the other lads would be jealous of me. I had my T-shirt off as it was hot and I did my best at helping. We were finished by about four o’clock and took the tractor back. He showed me some of his cows and sheep and I stroked them. They seemed big, as before I had only ever seen them from a distance in the fields. At 5 o’clock he took me back to the cottage telling Harry I was a good worker.
‘Was he any bother?’
‘No. I enjoyed having him. We have no children of our own and it was a treat for us. I’ll see you again son.’ he said leaving.
I was boasting about driving the tractor and Macca, the lad who had tripped me up a couple of nights earlier, was saying,
‘Yeh, has he been in your pants you little queer.’
‘No.’ I said.
Macca continued to tease me and calling me names. We had tea and I sat outside thinking about the day and how nice it had been when behind me I heard ‘bum boy, bum boy.’ I went into a rage, how can someone be horrible like that? I jumped up and let loose a punch on his nose. I was a bit frightened of him, but got him on the ground where we wrestled for a short while until the staff came and parted us. We were taking inside. ‘What happened?’ Harry demanded.
‘He called me a bum boy.’ I replied.
‘Is that right, Malcolm?’
‘No sir, he just dived on me for nothing.’ Macca replied. ‘Ask Barry.’ (that was his mate) We were giving a lecture and told it would be sorted out when we got back. From then on every time he came near me I was ready to defend myself, but I didn’t want the fighting to start again. I wanted to be good and fortunately he kept out my way - he was only a bully anyway. Now he knew I could fight and wouldn’t be bullied he would leave me alone.

The week ended and it was time to go. I asked if I could go and say good-bye to the farmer and his wife.
‘Yes, we’ll pick you up on the way.’
I ran to the farm and knocked on the door. The farmer’s wife answered.
‘Come in son.’
‘I’ve come to say good-bye and to thank you for being nice to me.’
His wife gave me a hug and the farmer shook hands.
‘Feel free to come back when you are older, there’ll be a job on my farm for you.’ I heard the beeping of the minibus horn and as I opened the door to leave and turned around, they were both standing there saying good-bye. I could feel the tears in my eyes, a lump in my throat and I ran to the mini bus and jumped in - I had just left two of the nicest people in the world.

On the way back I sat in silence looking out the window of the mini bus when I heard the chant of ‘bum boy, bum boy.
I turned and grabbed Macca by the shirt. ‘Keep going and I’ll kill you.’
I turned back round and noticed Harry looking through the mirror, but he said nothing and just kept driving. Back at the Alyn me and Macca were taken to the office, it had been the first time I had been in trouble whilst there. John was waiting for us. ‘What happened?’
I never had a chance to say anything. I was blamed and Macca said that I had given him a bloody nose and had hit him for nothing.
‘Ok Malcolm, wait outside.’ John said in a firm voice. ‘Tell me the truth Daveeed.’
I told him I had been helping the farmer and that he had let me drive his tractor and that I was telling the lads and Macca had called me a bum boy. ‘Yes, I believe you.’ said John.
‘I’ve had trouble with Malcolm before. He’s a bit of a bully. Go along now.’
I walked out. It amazed me how they realised certain boys were bullies - they looked laid back as if they never had a clue, but they were very much in the know and that was something I had never seen in Newcastle children’s homes for there they just blamed you even if you were not to blame.

The next couple of weeks soon passed and it was time for school again. I quite liked school and there was a new school block opening. Mrs Evans was finishing, old Cyril and Mr Clark were nice teachers and there was to be a new headmaster along with a new teacher. The autumn term started and I took an interest in art, albeit I was no good at it, and enjoyed history. Les the new headmaster, was ok. He had big glasses and a big beard. I would say he was not that old, maybe thirty and seemed all right. School was more formal now and John put a notice up asking if anyone was interested in doing a play. There was a lot of interest and he decided to do a classic, Oliver Twist. Already he had a club were lads would sing to pop records or should I say mime, he had a room with mikes, drums, guitars, keyboards - a lot of equipment. I was asked if I would like to help and as it sounded good I said I would. John had a couple of cameras (video) and all night we practised songs. I was no good whatsoever so he told me to do props instead - I was still very excited and enjoyed it. We were doing things like ‘In the air tonight’ by Thunder Clap and ‘Newman Albatross’ by Fleetwood Mac. It was all very amateurish, but it was fun and over the next few weeks after group discussions and watching the movie of Oliver, the parts were picked. Oliver was going to be played by Chris from Newcastle, Artful Dodger by Peter from London, John played Fagan and I played a street boy. It was fascinating; everyone was hard at work on this play after school and at weekends.

It was around the October 1970 that John told me my social worker was coming down for a visit and I thought it would be nice to see someone from Newcastle and hear what was happening at home. The day came and my social worker arrived. I was allowed off school that day and told to show my social worker around. She was with another man, another social worker, and I showed them all over; where we did the videos, the school, the camp, everything. She was impressed by it all, but most of all by my behaviour saying she thought I had done really well and that she was proud of me. I introduced her to Gwen and after about half an hour doing the tour we went back into the office where John was waiting. I was told to go into the kitchen to get coffees for everyone - I knew they were going to talk about me. I put the coffee on a tray with chocolate biscuits and took it in. John said,
‘I have just been explaining all the things you have done in the nine months you have been here.’
My social worker added, ‘I’m amazed by David’s change in attitude and behaviour while at Bryn Alyn. You have done a wonderful job in such a short time.’ They discussed my home leave and my social worker said, ‘By the way I forgot to tell you that you have a new baby brother, they called him Raymond.’ I felt hurt by this. Nobody had told me - was it because I was not part of the Guest family anymore? It was agreed I should go home at Christmas and then John told me I could go with him and the social workers for a bite to eat. We went to a restaurant in town where I had steak and the social workers had fish - it was a nice meal. She talked to me,
‘Are you happy here?
‘Why yes’ I replied.
‘What makes you like this place?’ she asked.
‘Because they don’t hit you like in the homes in Newcastle.’ I replied.
Her face went red with embarrassment.
‘You didn’t get hit in Newcastle, did you?’
‘Yes I did, all the time. I used to get picked on in the homes by staff and the other kids.’
‘You never told me.’ she persisted.
‘Yes I did.’
Things were getting uncomfortable now for her.
‘I’m sure you are telling porkies now.’ she said
‘See what I mean, you don’t like the truth. I told you about my dad hitting me and you didn’t believe me. You said they were a nice family and it was me that was the trouble and you just stuck me in a home. My dad used to lash me with his army belt, kick me, and punch me. Did you believe it? No. When you were present they were the nice family I was the evil one. In Bryn Alyn people care for you, treat you nice like a person not like in Newcastle. They don’t care, they just lock you up, push you here, push you there. Here they listen to you and don’t just blame anyone - they find out the truth. If you do wrong you will be punished no doubt about that.’
She had a look of horror on her face. I continued,
‘Newcastle Social Services never had a clue, they sent their kids like me to places like Bryn Alyn because there homes were run on fear, without care and the staff thought they were prison officers not care workers. You were treated as numbers, nobody had time for you, we were just the shit off the streets to them.’
We finished our meal. I can still see that look on her face today. The disbelief in what I said, trying to make out Newcastle social services were a caring council – it was a load of bull, they dumped problem kids like me, as did other councils, in places like this. Thank God they did, for I now had a happy life. I could see the smirk on John’s face.

We arrived back at Bryn Alyn, my social worker left after we had said our goodbyes. Yes I had changed, I was not the little mixed up child any more, I had learned I was a person not a problem. We continued with the play rehearsing every night. It was coming on and Christmas was upon us. We were preparing to go home – it would be the first time I had seen my mam and dad in nearly 10 months. I was looking forward to seeing my new brother although I didn’t feel part of that family any more; it was as if I was visiting friends. Indeed it felt strange and I was a little nervous going back to Newcastle for I loved life in Wales, people were friendly, they hardly ever shouted at you, they sat down and spoke to you all the time. My bags were packed and we were travelling to Newcastle by coach, as there were that many Geordies. It was a four hours plus journey home and we were taking to Cruddas Park Social Services where our social workers were waiting for us. Mine told me to get in the car and she drove me home telling me she was happy to see the big improvement in me and that Bryn Alyn was a wonderful place. We pulled up and walked along the long path to my house, as we got there the door opened - my mam stood there and gave me a hug. All the kids were at school apart from little Raymond. Mrs Jackson had a chat with my mam saying how pleased she was with my improvement in behaviour and how I had not run away or been in any trouble whatsoever in the last ten months and that I had had glowing reports from Bryn Alyn. She said my mam should be proud of me.
She finished her coffee. ‘Well David, lets see how you do in the next two weeks. I will come and collect you on the day you return.’
My brothers came in from school - it felt as if I was a friend visiting and I didn’t feel I belonged there, a sort of black sheep. I played with them for a while before it was time for my dad to come in from work.
I heard the door open and in he walked. ‘Hello son. How are you?’
He was being nice! I couldn’t get my head around this, he used to kick me, punch me, hit me with the army belt and he even burnt my hands on the gas cooker, but now he was different. Anyway I had a nice Christmas.

I visited all my aunts and uncles. All of them asked the same questions – ‘are you enjoying yourself in Wales?’ It felt as though I was a kind of celebrity. ‘What was it like’ they would ask and I would tell them it was great and about some of the things I did. A couple of my cousins were a bit jealous as I told of the things we did like horse riding. I had presents under the tree and felt part of that family again. After the Christmas holiday I saw my nana Jean. She was so pleased to see me and I told her that lots of people in Wales spoke like her and were nice like her. ‘I am pleased son, you are a nice boy.’ I loved my nana Jean, always prepared to listen to you.

The day for my to return to Wales soon came and Mrs Jackson picked me up first thing. She asked my mam if I had been good. ‘Yes, perfect, no trouble.’ She was pleased and I was ta
ken back to Cruddas Park Social Services, the pick up point. Everyone was there and we got on the coach and headed back to Wales. I was sort of sad to leave Newcastle, it had been a good holiday. I had never been made more welcome and my dad’s attitude towards me had been different - was it because I behaved differently or did he feel guilty? My Christmas present from Bryn Alyn had been a microscope in a wooden box with slides, tweezers and a cutting knife – it was great. I also got books and games from my parents. Back at Bryn Alyn, by the time we got our clothes sorted and had had a bath it was time for bed. Next morning I was up with the larks. I’d had a good sleep and was refreshed. Time soon passed, we were in full swing for the play and it was decided we would put it on near Easter. John booked the village hall in Bradley near to Bryn Alyn, all the clothes were ready, the props and the backgrounds for each scene were completed and there was a lot of interest in the play. It was now to be on over two nights. I loved it when Chris sang ‘Where is love’ it almost brought tears to my eyes thinking of my mam - I missed my mam’s love, the hugs and pecks on the cheek, still I had made my own bed so I must sleep in it.

The big night came and everyone was nervous, but it went fantastically well, we sang all the songs like ‘Consider yourself at home’, ‘Where is love’, we danced and jumped around, it was great fun, the best was when Oliver asked for more and it became very quiet. ‘Please sir can I have more?’ and John shouted ‘more’ very loudly so much so that everyone nearly shit themselves. After the show we had pop, cakes and people were coming up to us saying ‘you were great’, ‘it was a hit’. The next night was just as good and the local papers were there - it was a great feeling. When the excitement died down and we had got back to normal it was time for home leave again, it was the fastest period in my life. On my return I was given the task of doing the lights and props for the filming we were about to do.

The Easter holidays went well and once again it was coming up to summer. I was put in charge of showing the films at Bryn Alyn and I learned how to load the spools onto the projector and feed the film through the projector. The film on one occasion was Paint your Wagon with the lead played by Lee Marvin. When he sang Wandering Star it reminded me of the life I used to lead, always on the run, wandering around and the line ‘Snow can burn your eyes, but only people make you cry’ how true was that. I sat and thought about how long I had been in Bryn Alyn. It had been well over a year, but it didn’t seem it - mind you it was my home where I had friends and I had not once been in trouble and had never run away. I was put into a room by myself. John said I had earned it and how pleased he was with how much I had grown up in the last year or so. He asked me if I wanted to work in the kitchen and I said I would. You got good money in Bryn Alyn. Work like washing dishes, sweeping up, serving food, washing bathrooms floors was shared by all, but you could get extra work to bump up your pocket money. If I was in the kitchen I didn’t have to do any other chores so it was a good number. I was to work with Elsie, but she finished as I went to work there so we had a new chef. He was called Danny-big-man, but he thought the world of me. I came to realise that after work some of the staff went on the drink with John. Quite a few times he would come to Bryn Alyn in the middle of the night and set the alarms off - we had to be up double quick because if we were slow we knew we were in for it.

That summer I was to help in school time to build a new camp with a new member of staff, a man called Derek - he had just come out of the army. In the camp we were to build an army assault course and we got big nets, miles of rope, then we went to a local timber yard and bought all the off cuts of the timber and bark. We built four log cabins, a cookhouse and toilet with a portaloo in it. It was hard work and afterwards I would tidy up the kitchen after tea before going over to do the filming. We covered lots of songs, we got people dressed up like pop stars with mikes (working ones) and they would sing to the music we played. As they sang it was recorded on videotapes - everyone loved doing it. John said one night, ‘Daveeed (still called me that name) I think you are one of the most changed boys that has ever been through the doors of Bryn Alyn. All the bad reports we have had about you seem like fairy tales. Keep it up.’ As I walked away a couple of lads said ‘you must be one of his bum boys’, meaning one of his favourites - it was rumoured that he had his favourite boys for whom he would buy better things than the rest. I told them to ‘fuck off sick bastards’ and that I would stab anyone who came near me. I was not hard in anyone’s eyes, but neither was I soft so I was more or less left alone. A few boys got picked on, but nothing compared to the bullying that went on in Newcastle homes where you had to fight to survive. Even though all the bad lads from all over the country were there, there wasn’t much trouble. If John got going he terrified you, I believe he was a marine at one stage. He was always dressed smart in tweed coats, expensive watches, flash cars, but always nice. Another thing we did was go up the hills at night with toy guns and supplies and play war games. There were two teams and we had to capture a point before the other side or sometimes while we were on the barge we did a survival course. We would go out with a bottle of water, tinned food, tent, torch and map and walk up a mountain, pitch our tent, make a fire and signal to the boat every hour, which was far below on the canal. You opened your tent and there would be no tent pegs or tent poles - it was part of the test. We had a member of staff with us to oversee the exercise and we would use branches as tent poles, bricks as pegs and we had to hunt for water - we had food either in a tin or dried. It was fun trying to open tins with a little knife and for two days we would be up there moving in daylight and using the torches as signals to the boat. I passed every time.

The camp was completed, summer holiday were here and I was going on home leave for two weeks. John told me it had been arranged for Tony, my brother, to come down for two weeks; he would be travelling back with me on the coach. I was excited, as I knew Tony would love this place. I went home as usual. I had settled down now and my early years were only a memory. Tony was about nine and he had his little holdall packed ready. I was told by John that he was sending us on the barge for a week. That would be great and I hoped it would be the Linda, it was a better boat not a converted barge like the June and warmer at night, narrower and easier to steer. We were to go up the Leeds/Liverpool canal. As we walked along the side of the boat Tony slipped into the canal, I panicked, grabbed the big boat hook and pulled him in. He was a good swimmer, but he was shocked and I took him into the boat where he took his wet clothes off and got dried - the rest of the week went without any hitches. I bragged a bit about how I came on the boats all the time and thought I was so clever.

The second week we stayed at Bryn Alyn in the camp I had helped to build – I was so proud of it. As we sat round the camp fire the first night Tony said, ‘I like it here.’
John was a few places away and I went and sat next to him.
‘Yes Daveeed, what can I do for you?’
‘Can Tony stay in Bryn Alyn all the time with me?’
‘I’m afraid he can’t. He’s not a ward of court or in court.’
I went back and told Tony he couldn’t stay.
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘Because you’ve not been a naughty boy like me. Only naughty boys come here.’

The first day we were at camp John sent a group of lads to Llay, another village just up the road about a mile away, to a little café there for breakfast - it was a reward for being good. The others had breakfast in Bryn Alyn. After eating we were driven back to the Alyn where we sat and waited for John to tell us what we were going to do that day. Even though Bryn Alyn was getting bigger with a couple of homes just opened to form the Bryn Alyn community homes and John was having to attend lots of meetings he still had his hand on running the place. We went horse riding, which I loved as did Tony. Halfway through the day Tony’s horse decided to take a gallop, he was not as lucky as me and fell off catching his shoe in the stirrups resulting in his being dragged a short way. The horse stopped, luckily for him, and he ended up with a few bruises for his troubles. By this time I was riding big horses and would gallop up hill and I had good control of the horses - it had taken a long time and I remember my first time there wishing I could ride a horse like some of the others. All that week we did all sorts, we were even one of the first to do the assault course, which was hard until you got the hang of it. I had done the survival course, camping, the war games, I had been here nearly a year and a half, I had no illnesses, my chest was all right, I wasn’t as fit as some of the lads, but had enjoyed a big improvement to my health since when I had first arrived early in 1970. That week we went swimming, canoeing, pictures and another day horse riding. I know Tony enjoyed himself and he asked me again if he could stay there. I had to say ‘No’ and that he was to be taken back to Newcastle. John would take him as he was going to collect some more boys who were being sent to Bryn Alyn, it was the in place for the authority to send boys they couldn’t handle or who had family problems.

I continued in the kitchens working with Danny and would occasionally wave to him as he started his little moped up to go home. New members of staff that summer were Russell, Jeff, Harry and a couple more I can’t remember. Things had changed since I first arrived and many of the people had gone; now it was turning into a business as more and more lads were piled in to the Bryn Alyn community. Pentre Sission was opened then Talbot Road and other places were being eyed up - it was becoming a massive concern. John was hiring more staff, cleaners, managers and office staff, but he still found time to be there with the boys. He had a few favourites, who got extra things; maybe it was true he might be bumming them (that was a saying we used meaning molesting them). Some of them were a bit effeminate, queer boys as we called them. It was at that time I was given my ‘trust’ as I had been out of trouble for ages and I was allowed out by myself after my duties in the kitchen. One night I said bye to Danny and got ready to go out to town. We were taken there by minibus and as we drove along we came on a roadblock, the police had it closed off, and one of the lads said that there must have been an accident – probably a drunk. We had to detour along the country lanes. Once in town we hung out in King Street looking for girls, for some reason the Welsh girls loved the Geordies it was the way we spoke. The boys didn’t care for us, but kept quiet, as they knew we were from Bryn Alyn home.

I enjoyed my freedom and one day while we were at school in Bryn Alyn I asked the teacher if I could go to the toilet. ‘Yes, and hurry back.’
I sneaked up to my room to get a fag for break time - we were not allowed to smoke. The lesson finished and my mates Jeff from Darlington and I sneaked behind the garage and lit up.
‘Give me a drag.’ Jeff said.
He was taking the last puff when Russell came walking round the corner -God what a fright he looked with his Van Dyck beard.
‘Come on, put it out. Follow me.’
We were marched into the office. Jeff, a member of staff, was there. He had a squashed up nose and was supposed to have been a boxer before joining Bryn Alyn community. He shouted a bit,
‘Your punishment is loss off privileges for a week.’
That meant my ‘trust’, pocket money, outings. I was gutted. I was supposed to meet this girl in Wrexham that night. I was a bit pissed off for it was the first time I had been in trouble since I had been there. I said jokingly to Jeff,
‘Its your fault, you are a bad influence on me!’
He laughed. He was very friendly with a member of staff and would go to his room - everybody thought there was something going on. I don’t think so, he had different problems, he was mad as a hatter.

Our punishment was finished and Jeff was called into the office. I waited in the telly room until he came out. ‘I’m going to Darland School, starting next week. I’ll miss you.’ We were good mates. Half an hour later I was called into the office. ‘David, you are going to Darland School. You start Monday with Jeff and Chris.’ That meant three Geordies, it might be some fun and it was almost half term and I was going home for a week.

We went for our uniforms and they bought us Billy Bunter caps (it was bloody green!), green blazers, grey pants and black shiny shoes. No way was I going to wear a cap never mind a green one. First day, we were taking to the office as I had been many times in the past, where I was made to put my cap on. I asked the headmaster if we had to wear them and got a short reply of ‘yes’. I hated the green cap and wore it backwards; it was a stupid school where they tried to teach me to speak Welsh (I had enough difficulty trying to speak bloody English). Chris was great, he took to it fast, but for me and Jeff things were different. After the first lesson we were told that it was a waste of time trying to teach us, and next time we came into class we would have to read. ‘I don’t want you disrupting the rest of the class’. That was fine by me. That was the first morning over with, but what was to be next? I was starting to feel boisterous and looking for trouble. I was becoming a big lad, very tall and not as thin as I used to be. At dinnertime I was looking for a place for a smoke and hid behind a shed with Jeff. We were puffing away on a fag when this bloke walked round the corner and looked at us. I thought ‘oh fuck we are in for it now!’ The bloke was as slow as fuck, ‘You don’t want to smoke here. The teachers come round here.’ ‘Where can we go?’ I asked him mimicking him by saying it slow. ‘Come to my van, the green one.’ I said, ‘Is everything green round here?’ He showed us were his van was. He was the gardener and as thick as fuck. ‘Will you bring us some fags tomorrow?’ I asked. ‘What kind?’ he said in his slow voice. ‘Sovereign mate,’ taking the piss. I whispered to Jeff that we could use this fucker, ‘he’s as thick as fuck’ ‘I’ll be back tomorrow.’ he said looking happy. I don’t think he had many friends and stank of cow shit.

The first lesson was rural science where you learnt everything about the countryside. I was interested until Jeff started egging me on to do something funny. I said, ‘You must be joking, have you seen the size of that fucker, he is like a mountain, they call him Big Will.’ They had a display unit that showed the bees in the hive making honey. The bees came in and out through a tube in the wall. It was fascinating really seeing nature at work, but I had a clown of a friend who liked fun, so we did nothing to upset the apple cart as it was so close to home leave.

We both went home, it was only a week, but I missed Jeff. The week was soon over and we were back together again. My home leaves were always ok now and I got no grief, no more hidings from my dad.
First day back in school we went to see the gardener. ‘Where are our tabs?’
‘I forgot them.’
‘Tomorrow,’ I told him.
‘Sorry, I will make sure I bring them.’ he replied.
‘Don’t forget.’ I pointed at him.
He was terrified and gave us a Woodbine with no tip –they were very strong. We had our smoke and went to class. The art teacher was all right and kind of smart. As she was bending down next to me I said’
‘You are nice, smell nice, good looking.’
She blushed, ‘That’s enough.’
I was only showing off in front of Jeff who was rolled over with laughter. We were doing pottery and had to make a life like model. I worked hard all afternoon and near the end of the lesson she said,
‘What is that?’
I replied in a loud voice, ‘A cock, Miss.’
Everyone burst out laughing - she went bright red.
‘Get out of the class.’
I was looking through the glass pane in the door and could just hear what was going on. It came to Jeff’s turn,
‘What is that?
‘Him, Miss. Him outside.’
What do you mean?’
‘It’s a tit Miss.’
He joined me. We were summonsed to the head’s office. He was not as bad as I thought. ‘Ok lads, the fun is over. I understand you might be used to fun like this, but that teacher is very young. It’s her first year as a teacher.’
‘Sorry. We didn’t realise.’ we said apologetically.
‘Ok, be polite next time. Go to your next lesson.’

We were better behaved after that. In the yard one day we were standing talking to two lasses - smart they were - when a couple of lads came up. ‘You! That’s my lass.’
‘Fuck off!’ Jeff said. ‘Fuck off or I will do you.’ We were waiting for the bus for school when the same two lads came with a few more mates. I nudged Jeff,
‘Look, here are your mates.’
‘I’ll stab the bastard.’ and he pulled his little knife out.
I thought he was kidding. The lad walked up to Jeff, but before he could open his mouth Jeff stuck the knife in him. He fell to the floor writhing. The others just bent over him, the bus came and we got on - Jeff didn’t care.

Back at Alyn the police came to interview us. Jeff said it was an accident and that the lad had walked into it. In the end the charge was dropped, Jeff was expelled from school and I was by myself. Chris was there, but he was a bit of a swot. Christmas came and as I hadn’t been in any more trouble I went home. It was a canny holiday. I went to the spiritualist meeting. My mam and dad were right in to spiritualism and Jack, my mam and dad’s friend, was a spiritualist minister. I didn’t like him much after the boxing he took me to that time in Sunderland. He told my dad he would come and hypnotise me to help me pack in smoking. I could feel things there in that place, but I said nothing at all. Next night he came as promised. ‘Ok David, look into my eyes, listen to my voice.’
He swung a watch; the watch was shinny as it swung back and forth. He put it down. ‘Can’t do it. There is a wall up. I can’t get through.’
His face was white as if he had seen a ghost. I got up and sat and watched telly. I heard them talking.
‘He has a gift. He should be using it. I can feel power there.’ He asked me if I saw things. I said no, but I feel Nelly on my bed some times at night. ‘ Nelly, who is Nelly?’
‘She looks after me,’ I said.
He asked my dad, ‘Who’s Nelly?’
‘This old woman who used to help me look after things years ago,’ replied my dad. ‘This lady, how do you know its Nelly, David?’ Jack enquired.
‘She told me.’
‘What else do you remember from the past?’ persisted Jack.
‘Everything,’ I said.
There were some worried looks and it was left at that. In truth I did feel things as if there was someone there with me and I would get goose pimples and it would go cold - it did not bother me and I was not in the least frightened.

The holiday was over and I returned to the Alyn once more. I was getting older, it was 1972, and I was about to turn 14 years. I had been in Bryn Alyn for 2 years now and in truth I didn’t have the same feelings for the place as it had changed so much, but it was still my home and I was becoming one of the big lads there. John was there much less. I went back to school, Jeff was at the Bryn Alyn school and we still hung around together. I was still doing the filming and could do everything now, the video, sound, lights and set everything up. I even went and picked the records. Lads would come to me asking ‘can I do this’ or ‘what clothes should I wear?’ I had been taught well by John. I was told John was the manager of the Hollies before they were famous. He had taken me from the life of hell in Newcastle and given me my life back. In this world I would always be grateful and one day I would pay that gratitude back, didn’t know how or when, but I knew one day I would help him.

Time passed and my life was full with being in the kitchen, with music and looking for girls. Not that I had loads of luck, but we tried every weekend. It was fun to pick one up, take them to the pictures and to have a snog. We used to go to a café at the back of a toyshop for a bit and a feel before being pushed away. She was a nice lady - we only had a cuppa and a freshly baked teacake. Jeff used to nick stuff. I told him off - she was nice. We were always buying clothes and I remember my two-tone suit, my Cromby coat, flower power denim with flowers on the chest. My hair was dead long. I was into clothes and every time I went home people laughed at me for some of the clothes I was wearing, but next time I was home they would be wearing them - Newcastle was months behind in fashions.

It was nearly Easter and time to go home for a holiday. My mam and dad were all right, but something was not quite right. It was a new house, a bigger house, but I could sense unease. I was asked as usual whether I would baby sit on the Saturday as they were going to a do. ‘Yes.’ I had replied, ‘As long as you bring my cockles and mussels in’ I loved my seafood. They were meeting Jack and Margaret and I still had a funny feeling about him.

CHAPTER 6 MY DARKEST DAYS

My mam and dad went out. I had an easy night with Raymond, who was about 18months old and in bed by 7 o’clock with Malcolm, who was six, going up half an hour later, and Tony following at about 9 o’clock as he was 10 years old. I watched telly until eleven thirty. My mam and dad had come back by then and were arguing over I didn’t know what. I felt so uncomfortable that I just watched TV and kept out of their way. Off to bed they went and I could hear them continuing their arguing upstairs. I thought to myself that when it went quiet I would go to bed. Eventually it went quiet and I was just about to go to bed when I heard footsteps coming down the stairs, so I hung on. I heard a rustling in the cupboards followed by footsteps coming down the stairs; these seemed heavier and must have been my dad’s. I heard more shouting then it sounded as if my mam was getting pushed up the stairs. After that it went quiet and I decided to go to bed, it was about twelve thirty and I was tired and fell straight asleep. It must have been about 4 o’clock in the morning when I was woken up by my dad. ‘Wake up your mam.’ he said.
I went into their room and shook her, but there was no response at all.
‘I can’t wake her.’
‘Ok.’ was his reply.
I went back to sleep and next morning I was woken by men talking. I opened my bedroom door and saw two ambulance men carrying my mam down the stairs on one of their funny chairs. My dad instructed me,
‘Watch your brothers. Wont be long.’
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked, but it was too late for he was away with the ambulance men. I got my brothers up, fed them and they asked where their mam was. ‘In hospital.’ I told them. ‘She’ll be back soon.’
I cleaned up for my mam coming back and washed all the dishes and laid the fire. I had the breeze up me when I heard the front door open. I turned around to see my dad standing there. Before I could say anything he said,
‘Go and tell your aunty Ann that your mam is dead.’
How horrible was that, not even telling me softly, just ‘tell your aunty Ann that your mam’s dead’ as if it didn’t matter to me. I did as I was told, but on the bus I was getting angrier by the minute having thought that he was mellowing - how wrong I had been. It was two buses to my aunts and when I got there I knocked on the door. ‘What’s wrong son?’
‘My mam is dead.’ I blurted out.
‘Don’t joke.’ she responded sternly.
‘I’m not.’
She rushed and got her coat, then took me to the bus stop. ‘What did your dad say to you?’ she asked.
‘Nothing, just ‘go tell your aunty Ann that your mam is dead’.’ ‘He’s a horrible bastard!’

We reached our house. My aunty had cried all the way over - I could not shed a tear, as I was so full of hatred. What had he done? Why had she died? I just wanted to kill him for hurting my mam.

Things were hectic with people coming and going all day. The police came and took my dad away for questioning over the unexpected death of a healthy 36-year-old women. In the end the verdict from the coroner was suicide. I just sat and did nothing for it would not sink in. My mam was not coming back. I had spent so much time away I didn’t really know her like I now wished I had.

The day before the funeral the coffin was brought to the house where it lay in the back room. Now I could feel things and it was cold. My dad had to take the kids to get some clothes for the funeral the next day and I was left in the house by myself. I was frightened at first, but knew my mam would never hurt me. I walked into the backroom; she looked different and so peaceful. I touched her head; it was like a block of ice. ‘Sorry mam, its my fault for being naughty. I loved you loads. I will miss you. I will look after my brothers for you.’
I felt a lovely warm feeling in me. There was a knock on the door and I nearly shit myself - it was my nana May. ‘Where is he, the murderer?’
She walked in.
‘In town.’
She cuddled me,
‘You poor sods. Losing your mam. You are so young.’
At that moment my dad walked in and she gave him hell. Then she went to have a last look at her daughter. As she came out she said,
‘That’s not my daughter.’
She left the house and my dad said,
‘Don’t let her back in.’
My nana’s words echoed in my head, ‘that’s not my daughter’, and I knew what she meant for her daughter would not have done this. He had made her do it.

On the day of the funeral we went to the cremation and I watched as the body went through the hole behind the curtains. Everyone was crying except me, I still could not cry. I had a hatred in me that wanted to kill him, it was his fault. When he had woken me up why hadn’t he phoned for an ambulance – if he had done that then she might still be alive. It was in all the papers, ‘Local women commits suicide leaves four kids’.

Next day, after the funeral, I was visited by my social worker, who said she was sorry to hear of my loss. I just sat there. I was told that I was to stay in Newcastle as long as it was necessary; it had been cleared by John Allen. ‘Keep your chin up, David.’ she said.

A few days past and things were quieting down, not so many people were coming to the house and my dad returned to work. I took over the roll of my mam and cooked, cleaned and took the kids to school. Raymond was put in the nursery even though he wasn’t even two. I got friendly with the girl over the road, who helped me to clean and shop. She was also someone to talk to and my dad bought me ten fags a day for helping. Soon it felt as though this girl had taken things over and my dad started to buy her twenty fags a day and me ten - this bothered me.

After a while the old lady from a couple of houses from our old house came on the scene - she helped look after my brothers. She was a nice lady called Alice, who helped us by going shopping for food, but never really cleaned up - I still did that. My dad started going out looking for a girl friend. I protested saying that ‘my mam was not even cold yet’. He said he needed a mother for the kids. I said that it was disgusting so soon after my mam had died, but it didn’t stop him bringing women home. I asked my social worker if I could go back to Bryn Alyn, it had been about two months by this time, and I was giving my train fare to Wales and was met at the station by John. He chatted to me, ‘In the summer holidays we are taking a group of lads to Spain for a holiday. You’ve been picked.’ ‘Is that cos my mam died?’ I asked. ‘No. It’s because of the improvement you’ve made since you came to the Alyn.’ I had never been to a different country before - it was billed as a holiday of a lifetime. I was very excited and went back to Darland School.

It wasn’t the same without Jeff, but the art teacher who I had the eye for was still there. Waiting for my lift I saw here getting in to a car with the woodwork teacher; she gave him a peck on the cheek as she climbed in. ‘Dirty old bastard’ I thought for he had to be all of fifty and she could only have been about twenty three. Next day I told a few lads about them kissing and word got round fast as it does. The rumours became riff; he was having sex with her was the latest one that someone told me. In assembly next day, the head addressed us. ‘There are rumours going round about two teachers. I am appalled by this. Mr? (forgotten his name) is the father of this teacher. I will not tolerate this behaviour - it is disgusting. I need to know who started it.’ He looked across the hall at all the faces - a few people were staring at me. After assembly people were called to the office one by one. When it came to break time I was having a smoke when one of the prefects came over and caught me. I told her to fuck off and to grass me.
‘I would do.’ she responded, ‘but I’ve been sent to take you to the heads office, he wants to see you.’
‘Little gopher, that’s what you are.’ I said, ‘You won’t take me anywhere; I’ll go by myself. Fuck off! I’m finishing my fag first.’
She ran away.
‘Stuck up little arse wipes.’ I shouted after her.
I wondered what the head wanted, ‘Bet he’s blaming me for the stories of the teachers going round.’ I knocked on his door.
‘Come in.’
He told me he had on more than one occasion been told it was me who started the rumours. ‘Me!’ I said pleading my innocence. ‘I can’t be sure of it, but I think you should apologise to the teachers concerned.’
‘It wasn’t me, so why should I?’
I walked out even though he hadn’t finished talking to me and went back to class. At dinnertime some of the lads came up and asked me what happened. ‘Someone grassed me and said it was me. If I find out who they are I’ll kill them.’ It was starting to get a bit rough at that school, the lad Jeff had stabbed was back with his little gang and though they were all arse holes as a group who knows - I could feel them staring at me all the time. Our first lesson after dinner was woodwork and I hoped the teacher was not going to give me grief for I was in no mood for a confrontation that day. I was working away making a towel rail or something when he walked slowly up to me.

‘I didn’t like nor found it funny - the rumours you started.’
‘It wasn’t me. Go away.’ I replied, ‘Get out of my face.’
‘Why, you cheeky little beggar. Outside!’ he ordered.
I went out on the bit of grass right outside the classroom where started to push me around and grabbing at me. I grabbed at him and swung him to the side - he went flying into the mud. All the class was at the window banging on it. It had been raining so it was a little muddy and when he went down in the mud everyone clapped. The next thing I felt were these huge hands on the scruff of my neck, I looked up, it was Big Will. He just lifted me off the ground and took me to the head’s office. The head was furious. ‘What the hell is going on?’ he demanded, ‘Assaulting a teacher is very serious.’ ‘He started it. He pushed me around.’
The head told me to sit outside until he found out what had happened. As I sat there the teacher, who I had had the run in with, came and gave me a dirty look. I just sniggered at him; they were not used to this kind of behaviour at this school. The teacher came out of the office and then a couple of the kids in my class went in. After they left I was called back in.
‘I have had very different versions of what happened. It appears it was both of you to blame.’
I said, ‘So it’s all right for a teacher to push me around. This is just a cover up to protect one of your own.’
‘I assure you this is not the case.’ came the reply.
At that moment a knock on the door interrupted the proceedings - it was one of the staff from Bryn Alyn. The head described what had happened and said I was to go home and the school would be in touch when they found out the truth. I was taken away and waited nervously to see what was to happen. At about four o’clock I was called into the office in the Alyn, Jeff a member of staff was on duty, he told me that no action was being taken this time as it was a case of tempers flaring up and that it would be forgotten about. I was upset and said,
‘It would be (forgotten) when it involves a teacher. Same old story! If it was me I would have been kicked out.’
I went back to school next day.

A few mornings later John was on duty. As I was walking out to go to school, John said, ‘Come here, Daveeed. Your tie is all over the place.’ Shit, I thought, I’ve two fags inside my tie and I was bothered that if he felt them I would be in trouble. He straightened my tie. Next thing I knew I was flying over chairs - he had given me such a crack.
‘I’ll deal with you tonight.’
I went to school, the side of my face throbbing where he had hit me. At school I was put in Big Will’s class to keep me occupied I suppose. He gave me a bow saw. ‘I need a dead tree cut down.’ he said pointing over towards the little orchard. ‘Cut that old apple tree down, please.’
As I walked over all I could see were loads of apple trees, a couple of which looked different to the rest. There was also an apple tree that looked old as it was big and had big branches with ivy growing on them making it look kind of droopy. That must be the one. I started to saw away and was soon through the trunk. I stood back and shouted ‘timber’. I could hear the tree begin to creak and gave it a little push - it went thumping to the ground. I looked up quite pleased with myself and looked around for acknowledgment from Big Will on a job well done. He was running towards me, sort of a red colour, looked like a bull charging me. He shouted, ‘Yeah bastard!’
He gave me a clip across the head.
‘That’s my prize pear tree.’
‘They looked all the same to me, anyway you pointed at the tree. I wasn’t to know.’
‘Can’t you tell the difference between an apple and pear tree? He raged.
‘No. I’m not a country bumpkin.’
He dragged me to the head’s office and threw me on to a seat and stormed in to the office. After about five minutes he came out, looked at me and stormed off. The headmaster came to the door,
‘Come in. I have heard what Big Will said. He is sorry he lost the plot. It was his prize fruit-giving tree. I explained to him you were from the city and didn’t know the difference between trees, he should have shown you the tree. Go back to class, Big Will won’t take it out on you, he is one of the most patient men I know.’ I went back to class.
Big Will told me to sit for one moment and that he would be with me shortly. He came back,
‘Come.’ he said. ‘Follow me.’
He lead me to a shed away from the school and opened the door - inside was a big grass cutter. He pulled the string and the motor started. ‘Go up and down the grass in straight lines. Do you think you can do that?’ I grabbed the handles and pulled and pushed a few levers as I was shown. It jerked forward, it was pretty powerful and quite hard to control, indeed it pulled me along and I never had proper control of it at all. It got easier with practice and I started to take control using the various levers correctly. The teacher came over to me and pressed a knob - the engine stopped. ‘Dinner time. Next lesson after dinner break come back and finish it off.’

After we had eaten our dinner I was behind the school (couldn’t go back to the gardener as I think a prefect had grassed him) and was puffing away when Jeff’s old adversaries came over.
‘Where is he? You’re not so clever without him, are you.’
One of them, the one that got stabbed, came over to me and grabbed my neck. I didn’t need this after the trouble of the last few days. He punched me in the guts and his mates grabbed my arms. His face was next to mine,
‘Soft shit, aren’t you? I’m going to bash you.’
As he was saying it I nutted him right in the face. His nose popped blood all over the place and he went down in a heap. His mates let go of me and I kicked one of them in the goolies. I ran from the scene knowing I was now in real trouble - I thought ‘fuck it’. I walked passed Big Will’s classroom and thought to myself ‘I’ll have a laugh and do something that could get me expelled’. The bees popped into mind - if I pulled the tube off the indoor display hive the bees would fly round the classroom. I went over to the hive entrance and could see the bees going in and out the little tube. I couldn’t pull off the pipe as it was glued in place so I looked in some draws and found one full of sharp knife like scalpels, like the ones I got in my microscope set a few years back. I made the cut almost slicing right through the rubber, and then I pulled the display hive round so it was open to the classroom. The bees weren’t moving much so I gave the hive a few bangs on the glass - that moved them and they came flying out and I had to run out closing the door behind me. I looked through the window to see the bees in droves flying round the classroom. I went over to the grass cutter, started it up after loads of goes, pulled the throttle on the handle and it clicked in place. Off it went and I guided it towards the fishpond and then let go. I then ran out of the school for I knew I was in serious trouble, but I was in a mindset that would blame them for picking on me.

I was well away from the school and walking over the fields when I saw a tractor coming towards me, so I climbed up a tree to hide. The driver must have seen me and although miles away he headed towards me. From the tractor I heard a loud bang and what sounded like hail stones hitting the tree. I think it was the farmer’s shotgun. I climbed down and ran like the wind - that was a crazy man and if he caught me I would be shot - theses country people must be mad.

I walked on for a while. Where could I go? I didn’t really want to run away, but had to pretend to. I walked in the direction of Chester - I knew this because I saw the signs. I came to the river Dee, it was nice there with boats on it and over the other side of the bridge was Chester racecourse. It was empty so I climbed over a fence, went down some stairs and on to the track. It was flat like a carpet and must have just been cut as I could smell the grass. As I walked towards the middle of the track I saw a tractor with big blades on the back. I jumped on and sat in the seat and looked for the key. It was the same as the one I drove on the farm in Wales, a Massy Ferguson. The tractor started at the turn of the key and smoke rose from the exhaust pipe sticking up from the bonnet. I drove it round and round in a big circle a few times, when I heard a man shouting, ‘Stop it! Get off!’
I jumped down and legged it never stopping until I was in Chester town. I walked round going into different shops, but I felt that everywhere I went eyes were following me. In the end I decided to jump the train and go to Newcastle. I remembered that you got one to Chester from Wrexham, then Chester to Manchester, and finally Manchester to Newcastle. I was looking for a way to get passed the guard, who was punching the tickets when someone grabbed me - it was one of the members of staff from Bryn Alyn. ‘Got you!’
He was a little rough with me so I kicked and punched him. He let go and someone else came and took a hold of me. They put me in their car with one of them sitting next to me and I was driven back to Bryn Alyn.

I thought to myself, ‘what have I done? I’ve let John down, Bryn Alyn down and now I was in for it’. Strangely I felt more fear than I had ever known. John was a nice enough man, but I had seen him lose his temper and on one occasion I had witnessed him flatten the brother of one of the Scottish lads at Bryn Alyn for some reason or other and he had been a marine in uniform. As we approached the Alyn I could not see John’s car and with some relief I was taking into the TV room where all the lads were sitting round - it was about 6.30 and they had been made to wait for their tea until I was caught. Jeff had told them this so that all the lads would be against me – I suppose it was part of my punishment and was suppose to make me think a bit before I was tempted to run away a second time. ‘While you were on punishment nobody is to help you,’ Jeff announced. ‘Run away! - he doesn’t know where he’s best off. Ok boys go for your tea.’ They left the room and headed for the dinning room. Another lad came in and handed a pair of shorts and top to Jeff. ‘Here we go again – scrubs.’ I thought. Jeff threw them at me. I put on the shorts.
‘Give me your clothes.’ He demanded
I responded by throwing them at him just as he had thrown the shorts at me. The belt on my jeans with its hook kind of buckle hit him in the face and it started to bleed. In a rage he grabbed me and threw me around. I ended up in the passage where he threw a fire extinguisher at me hitting me in the belly. I was on the ground crying with the pain. I was told to go and sit in the TV room where a short while later John walked in. ‘What the hell has gone wrong! You have been a perfect child since you came here, but over the last few days… God knows.’
He took me into the staff room and sat me down.
‘I know you’ve lost your mam. It is sad, but life must go on. Jeff has a cut eye, you released the bees into the class room, put the lawn mower into the pond, had a fight with the teacher and one of the pupils. What must I do Daveed?’ I could tell he was serious and angry.
‘What has happened?’ he continued, ‘I need to know.’
A member of staff walked in.
‘Out!’ ordered John, ‘I’m busy.
‘Tell me?’ he emplored.
‘Don’t know.’ I said.
‘Don’t know!’ He raised his voice, ‘Are you bloody stupid boy. I don’t know why you’ve done these things. I want a proper answer.’
I tried to answer, ‘It just feels like everything is going wrong for me. You caught me with cigarettes this morning and hit me. A teacher hit me at school and then a member of staff pushed me around when he caught me. Jeff threw a fire extinguisher at me and now you are probably going to hit me. It’s just like it used to be.’ ‘Dry your eyes. Nobody is going to hit you. I have to put you on scrubs and you’ve lost your trust. I have to do this as an example to the other lads – we cannot tolerate boys running off. Go and see Russell, he will be in charge of you.’

I was taken for my tea and had to sit by myself. I was in Coventry and no one talked to me. I was cleaning the toilet upstairs when Jeff, my mate, came up. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked. ‘Yeah.’ I said.
‘Here’s a couple of fags and some matches.’ he said, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Thanks.’ I replied.
He left - he would have been killed if he were caught. I scrubbed, moped, washed and polished knowing I had to get back into John’s good books. I was wondering if I would still be allowed to go to France and Spain in the summer or had I lost that as well. I was exhausted - I had worked like hell. I was sent to bed feeling like some sort of leper, I was so alone lying in my bed just thinking. Thinking how I would never see my mam again and it bought tears to my eyes. I had a strange feeling and thought I heard the light move. I turned it on to find it was moving and I felt pins and needles all over my body. I went cold, there were no drafts, and suddenly I realised that my mam was there with me. It made me feel warm and nice inside. I turned the light off and fell asleep. Next morning I felt better. I got on with my chores and found myself actually whistling as one of the staff walked in. ‘Someone’s happy!’

It was almost a week since I had run away and Jeff called me into the office. ‘Sit down. We’ve had a meeting and have decided to take you off punishment.’ As he was talking I looked at his face. I had never noticed before but his nose was all bent to one side. I asked him what had happened and he told me he used to be a boxer and that it had been broken.
‘This scar here is what I got fighting for the Welsh title. This one here is off you!’ he laughed. ‘Go now, get your clothes and be good. We know you’ve had a rough time of late. Chin up! By the way you will be attending Bryn Alyn school; the outside school doesn’t want you back.’
I’m not surprised, I thought, but at least I would be with Jeff. I kept my nose clean and didn’t do anything wrong - well never got caught. We did nick the battery out of the mini bus and sold it to the landscape gardeners, and I did smoke in school time and nicked biscuits and fruit from the kitchen, but we didn’t do anything really bad.

It was time for summer holidays and I was still going to Spain with the other eleven lads. The plan was to travel from Wales through England past London to Newhaven to get the ferry to Dieppe in France and then to travel on to Spain, camping overnight. It was to take us nearly three days. We were travelling by a safari Land Rover and a VW mini bus with a trailer. I grabbed a seat behind the driver, who was my old mate Arthur. There were three members of staff, Arthur, Doug and John and we were all excited as we set off. There was a coloured kid with us called Paul, he was all right and from Liverpool. I said to him, ‘You will be all right in the sun, won’t you?’ He just gave me a funny look. I jibbed at him all the way as I hadn’t seen a brown man before, or if I had I hadn’t noticed them. I said to him that I would be as brown as him by the time we came back. Travelling through England was great, I didn’t realise it was so big, and on and on we drove. Around tea time we stopped at a road side café where John went in and ordered,
‘Fifteen fish and chips please.’
‘Are you taking the micky mate?’ replied a rather surprised woman behind the counter. Then us lads started walking in and sat down. The other customers were going like the clappers and spoke funny, ‘here mate fish and jockeys whips’ – Cockneys. We all ate the food, it was ok, and then used the toilet before continuing our journey. We were near the port and as we didn’t sail until early morning we found a car park, parked up and slept in the vehicles - it was very uncomfortable. I asked John why we hadn’t used the tents and was told that it wasn’t worth the bother, as we had to be up early for the ferry. I hadn’t been on a big boat before or abroad for that matter. That night I could feel the temperature, it was much warmer than Wales and much much warmer than Newcastle. We never really slept, but just dozed off in fits and starts. Next morning we drove to the ferry where our passports were checked - John had all the lad’s passports on one document. We rolled up the ramps and parked, got out and walked up to the deck looking over the side. It gave me a dizzy feeling as it was so high up. The big horn sounded, men loosened the ropes and we were on our way. As we travelled over the sea we couldn’t see much except water until a thin line appeared on the horizon. It was much hotter now and the sun was shinning on our faces – we were in France. The boat swung into port, manoeuvred to dock, we returned to our vehicles and the big front of the boat came down. We waited in turn to drive off and as we left the ship it was strange to see the police with guns. We drove through customs where they checked our papers before we were away on the road. They all drove on the wrong side of the road and I thought we were going to crash at one point, but I soon got used to it. We left the town behind us and headed into the open country where the trees, houses, everything was different to England. The sun was beating down when we pulled over to the side of the road and stood in a line peeing. I looked up and couldn’t believe my eyes for we were peeing up grape bushes. There were grapes as far as the eye could see and I picked a few bunches before getting back into the Landrover. I loved grapes, there was a white stuff on them, but I just rubbed them on my jeans - they were lovely. John looked round and laughed at me.

We drove on and on and it had to be around four o’clock with the sun still very hot that John told Arthur that we were nearly at the campsite. It was outside Paris, to the south, and we found it pretty easily. John paid the money and we were told where to park. We got out and stretched our legs.
‘Ok lads, let’s get the tents up then we can have some tea.’
We did as we were told. We all knew how to erect tents having done a good deal of camping at the Alyn. When they were up out came the camp stoves with bacon, eggs and beans on the menu. John told me and another lad to go with him to buy bread, milk and things. He went to the shop to change some money - he handing over English pounds and they gave him francs back (it was funny money). We went to a huge supermarket where John bought some big sticks of bread. I couldn’t understand the writing in the shop. It was a strange thing for a Geordie lad like me with my kind of background. I wanted to understand everything and was so excited and happy - we took the food back to camp. I was on washing up duty, but was eager to explore this new world. By the time I had finished it was getting dark, but we set off walking around and taking in the sights and atmosphere of the place. It was still red hot and I could hear a strange noise like a croaking. I hunted for it in a gap in the wall and found a frog, it was huge, the biggest frog I had ever seen. I picked it up and took it back to camp to show John. He told me it was a bullfrog and that the French people ate them. I thought that was disgusting, but he said they also ate horses! I couldn’t understand how they could put a horse on a plate, but John rubbed my hair and told me I was crazy and to clear off.

A little later we were rounded up for bed. We had an early start the following morning in order to reach our Spanish camp by the afternoon. That at least was the plan, but when next day we drove to the gates of the camp the police were there. Speaking in broken English they said that some of the lads had pulled the plugs off the sinks in the toilet block in the camp and we would not be allowed to leave until the bill for the damage was paid. John was furious and had to pay over the money and it wasn’t cheap either - I think it was about a 100 francs. We left and headed towards the boarder. The motorways were huge and on some of them we had to pay. At the boarder there was two different kinds of police, French and Spanish, to whom we showed our papers before they would let us through. It seemed to be getting even hotter and when we finally arrived we paid the ground rent and were told where to park. It was a lovely place divided up into little sections in neat rows. We were near the top by a shower block. We set up camp in our allotted three sections with six lads in one big tent and six in the other. The three staff had their own tent; it was a little smaller than ours. It was all hands to the pumps getting everything set up. On the way in I had noticed a big pool and asked if we were allowed in? Apparently that was ok and I needed a swim to cool down. I was glad that we had done the chores yesterday whilst in France and we ran down to the pool and jumped in - it was lovely.

The ten days we were there passed quickly. It was a holiday of a lifetime and I was gutted when it was time to leave. I wanted to stay in Spain forever, as I had never felt that happy before - it was heaven and I got a canny tan as well

PART TWO. PART TWO. OF DAVID's STORY

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