Tommy sat in the interview room next to his mum, feeling confident. ‘I’ve already told yer, I was round at Lenny Simpson’s all night. I was with Michael Tibbs, Ben Thompson and Dave Taylor. We had a few beers and were listening to David Bowie records. If yer don’t believe me, go and ask ’em,’ he said cockily.
Sitting next to her son, Maureen squeezed his clammy hand. Her Tommy might be a fucker, but he certainly wasn’t capable of what he was being accused of. The pigs had a bloody liberty, trying to put the blame on her son.
Maureen stood up; she’d had enough of this shit for one night. If it wasn’t bad enough that the bastards had ruined her birthday party, they now seemed content on keeping them there till the cows came home. ‘Look, you ain’t got nothing on him, so why the fuck won’t you let us go home?’
DC Perryman smiled at his colleague. He’d given Hutton twenty minutes to stew, wonder and make up stories. Now it was time to show him the real evidence and watch the little bastard crumble.
As the bag of evidence was shown, Maureen’s heart sank, and she let go of Tommy’s hand. Her son’s clothes she recognised immediately. He didn’t have that many and the ones he did have, she’d had to scrimp and save for. For months he’d driven her mad for a pair of flares and here they were, ripped and covered in blood. She stared at the knife – she didn’t recognise that, but he could have got it from anywhere.
‘The clothes aren’t mine. Tell ’em Mum. Tell ’em they ain’t mine,’ Tommy said frantically.
Maureen couldn’t speak. Her voice had disappeared and her mouth wouldn’t open.
As DC Perryman put the school letter on the table, Tommy broke down in tears. ‘I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me, I swear I didn’t do it,’ he sobbed.
DS Arnold tried a different tactic from his colleague. He was always a big believer in the nice and soft approach. ‘Look, son, we know the blood is Terry’s and we know the clothes are yours. All we need to know now is what really happened. Was it a fight that went wrong? An argument that got out of hand? You aren’t doing yourself any favours, Tommy, by not telling us. We’ve got you bang to rights and if you help yourself, the judge will be much more lenient with you.’
Maureen thumped him on the arm. She’d always brought her kids up to tell the truth. ‘Cat got your tongue, has it? Answer the fucking man,’ she screamed.
Ignoring the duty solicitor’s advice, a petrified Tommy spilled his guts. He told them about both of the gangs and his long-term feud with Terry. He said that he’d stolen the fishing knife from his dad, but had acted in self-defence. The police were keen to know if any of the other lads were present. Tommy was no grass and had no intention of dobbing in his mates. ‘I was on me own when I chased Smiffy. The other lads had all gone off in different directions to chase the others,’ he stated.
DS Arnold smiled. At least they were getting somewhere now. Perryman was a prick and a bully, that’s why he’d never been promoted.
‘Just one more question, Tommy. Did the other lads know that you’d committed murder? Did you tell them what had happened?’
Tommy wiped his tears on the cuff of his shirt. ‘I didn’t know he was dead meself. I thought he was just injured and would get up and go home. I told the other lads what had happened and they just thought he was hurt, the same as me. I never meant to kill him, it was an accident. I swear on me life, I didn’t mean it.’
DS Arnold stood up. He could tell the kid was telling the truth. The likes of the Huttons were not his kind of people, but that didn’t stop him feeling sorry for them. He’d only been working in the East End for the past year and the poverty-stricken area had been a real eye-opener for him. He’d spent most of his working years in much nicer places and the way the people acted in this neck of the woods had been a pleasant shock to him. They were rough and ready, all right, and would lie through their teeth to avoid prosecution. But once they had them bang to rights, they never grassed their mates but took the rap themselves.
‘We’ll leave you to it for a few minutes. I’ll get you both a cup of tea.’
Leaving the room, Arnold dragged Perryman with him. He could sense the mother was deeply stunned and guessed she’d appreciate a few quiet minutes alone with her child.
As the door closed on them, Maureen burst into tears. ‘Why, son, why? How could you do such a thing? Mary’s my friend. How can I ever face her again?’
‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ Tommy sobbed. ‘I swear it was an accident. Smiffy tried to shoot me with an air gun a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t mean to hurt him, I just wanted to frighten him.’
Maureen stood up. Wiping away her tears, her mood quickly changed to anger. ‘You stupid little fucker. Years you’ll get for this, fucking years. And as for stealing the knife off your father, I bet yer didn’t. I bet the silly bastard gave it to you. Don’t lie to me, Tommy, I want the fucking truth.’
‘I swear, Mum, he never gave it to me. I nicked it when I went round to see him a couple of weeks ago.’
Lifting her hand, Maureen clumped him around the head. ‘You’re a fucking idiot, Tommy. All my life I’ve tried my best for you and this is how you repay me. It’s not only your life you’ve fucked up, but mine too. And what about Susan and James? They’ll suffer for this as well. You’re just like your father, a fucking arsehole. I’ve done my utmost to keep you on the straight and narrow and all you do is kick me in the teeth. Maybe it’s my fault, perhaps I’ve been too lenient with yer, but I’ll tell you summink, you’ve broken my heart and I’ll never forgive yer for this. This time, you’ve gone one step too far, son.’
As the two Old Bill returned, Maureen walked towards the door. ‘I take it you’re keeping him here tonight?’
The DS put the teas on the table and nodded.
‘Well, I’m off home. You can lock him up and throw away the key for all I care. I have another son indoors, a decent one that needs me. My priorities lie with him now, not this fucking waster.’
Head held high, Maureen marched out of the interview room.
‘Please don’t leave me, I’m scared, Mum. Come back, please come back.’
As Maureen heard Tommy screaming for her, part of her wanted to hug him and assure him everything was gonna be all right. Wiping away her tears, she carried on walking. Sometimes in life you had to be cruel to be kind. Tommy had made his own choices and now he had to face the consequences. She couldn’t be there for him while he was banged up, so best she cut the apron strings now.
Pete, Sandra’s old man, was charged with assaulting a police officer. The other three, including Ethel, had been let go with a caution. The police had originally planned to charge Ethel with assault as well, but due to her big mouth spouting non-stop and lack of cell space, they chose to let her go. After all, they had bigger fish to fry.
Ethel gave the Old Bill a barrage of abuse as she walked out of the station. She’d wanted to stay and wait for Tommy and Maureen, but wasn’t allowed. The police told her she’d have too long a wait. They also said that if she wasn’t off their premises in five minutes flat, they’d have no alternative other than to rearrest her. ‘Fucking arseholes,’ Ethel muttered, as she trudged down the road.
Sandra, Brenda and the other girls had made the house look as clean as a whistle. They had taken down the cards and banners, put the food away and cleared up any traces of the party. ‘It’s best she’s not reminded of it,’ Brenda insisted.
When Ethel arrived she had no update on Tommy’s arrest, and