Story 2-5 Troy The Lonely Boy

Story 2-5 Troy The Lonely Boy

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Troy slurped his cereal. His mother turned towards the table as he knew she would. “Stop that. You’re not a dog.”
“Fuck you,” her son mouthed letting the dregs of his spoon fall on to his already stained jumper.
Elizabeth’s heart quivered in fear. She didn’t know what went on his head anymore. She blamed Blossom next door for that. In the beginning she had turned a blind eye to the things Troy bought with money he shouldn’t have had; ignored the things she found under his bed which he stole from the shops in town. Preoccupied with trying to survive on benefits and pay back the money Patrick her banker husband had stolen she had let it pass. She tightened her fists. She had let it pass and Blossom had filled the gap and got her son into crime. She shuddered. She daren’t ask him where he’d been when he came in late at night with strange smells coming off him…
She knew she had lost him when at twelve the police came to her door and took him away. Two years in the Youth Rehabilitation Reform Centre had killed their relationship. At fifteen he was secretive and violent in his language towards her. His time ‘inside’ had changed him from a quiet well-mannered boy into a thug. She shivered. She hated to admit it but her son frightened her.
In the bedroom she could hear Sammy shifting in the bed. He wasn’t what her mother called “her type.” Not like her husband Patrick. Her mother thought the sun shone out of his ass, she thought. And looked where that got me! Part of the reason she let Sammy share her life was because he knew how to handle her son. He was ‘respected’ in the community. Maybe feared is a better word, she thought. As long as she was with him she felt safe from her son and his friends.
Troy hated him with a vengeance. When he’d come home from the reform school and discovered Sammy was sharing her bed he had turned against her.
Troy swore openly this time. Elizabeth’s lips tightened. “Stop that swearing before your father hears you.”
Troy swore again, louder this time. “Big Sammy is not my father. He’s your pimp Mother. He pays you for your… services. Keeping you in the style you used to be accustomed to,” he sneered. “You’re no better than Blossom’s ma who pays the rent man in the bedroom,” he laughed derisively baiting her.
Elizabeth paled. She could feel the anger and hate radiating off him. She backed away. “Didn’t your Probation Officer say not to be late, especially on the first day….”Both their eyes moved towards the bedroom as they heard the heavy tread of Sammy’s bare feet slapping on the wooden floor.
“Go, go before he comes out,” his mother urged.
Troy smirked. He knew he was no match for his ma’s partner .But he knew she wouldn’t let Sammy beat him up like he did with some of the other lads on his patch in the Tower Block.
“Back chatting’ your mother again? Get out of here you piece of shit,” Sammy growled physically yanking Troy off the chair and shoving him in the direction of the door.
“One of these times I won’t be able to save you, “Elizabeth said in a hoarse whisper as she followed Troy down the hall.
Troy’s lips curled in contempt of his mother. Some days like today he hated her. “Pity they didn’t keep me longer in the clink. You and lover boy could have had the place all to your selves,” he taunted her. He watched with satisfaction as his mother flinched.
“You still here,” Sammy roared.
“Please, Troy – go. Go with Blossom if you want.”
Troy slammed out the door letting it bang behind him. From next door he heard the wailing of Blossom’s newborn baby brother. “Your Ma running a baby factory?” he sneered as Blossom fell into step beside him. “She’s sold everything else in that flat of yours. Ain’t anybody else’s she can thieve from; she’ll soon be sellin’ that frigin bawlin’ brood in your house.”
“Cheer you up you miserable git,”Blossom said giving him an affectionate shove.
A string of expletives rolled of Troy’s tongue. “Don’t shove me. I’m sick of you. If you’re not listening to Ma and that bastard Sammy pickin’ on me you’re at my heels like a dog, “he snarled.
“Present for you,” Blossom said ignoring his outburst. “Did a good job for Big Sammy at school – givin’ out ‘freebies –wanted me to get them young before the other big boss got the new custom. – took this for you instead of the money. Find a home for it.”
Troy pocketed the small plastic bag of white powder. He didn’t have to check it. He knew what was in it. The smell permeated every inch of the flat every day. He stopped walking. “I’m not give the stuff Big Sammy cooks up to little school kids”
Blossom laughed. “Ah, you are such a good boy. It’s business – just business. Sell it to whoever you want but don’t let Sammy know you got it from me. He’ll have me guts for garters. I told him it was for me Ma…she’s in a shit mood. ” She cast a look at Troy’s stony face. “ Or, we could find a place and chill.”
Troy fingered the bag in his pocket. He was tempted. He knew he had upset his ma and Big Sammy would be waiting for him when he got back.
“Can’t – not today,”
Blossom moved away a little and smiled sardonically at him. “Oh Yeah, I forgot. This the first day of you paying for your sins by giving back to the community,” she sniggered mimicking the probation officers stern tones.
Troy grimaced. “Yeah, six months community service.”
“Stupid git – don’t get caught next time.”
“It aint that bad. I swung it for the pet shop in the arcade in the town centre.”
Blossom picked up her ears. Troy working in the busy town centre could be useful. There was a big argument about the new gang boss on the estate moving into Big Sammy patch. Troy could be the perfect courier in the town centre to bring in new customers. “You, in a pet shop? That’s a laugh.” “You’re too cool, for that” She looked over her shoulder. “Where’s your backpack?”
Troy rolled his eyes. “What do I need a bag for? I’m not going to fuckin’ school.”
Blossom shoved him with her shoulder. “Five years and you still have nothin’ between your ears,” she snorted. “It’s no wonder you keep getting caught by the peelers.”
“I don’t need my backpack because I’m not selling dope to kiddies and I’m not thieving from the pet shop,” he said flatly. “It’s the only place that would give me space.” Anyway, I have bigger plans for the pets shop, he thought
Blossom flapped her arms about and made a squawking chicken sound. “You’re shit ape scared that judge bitch will send you to jail next time, “she scoffed.
Troy turned on her. “Clear off and don’t be flashing your tits at that the PE teacher.”
Blossom preened, stuck out her breasts and danced around him. “You jealous, then? You jealous?
“You’re my woman. I don’t want a sweaty old man feelin’ you up. You hear?”
“Blossom’s face softened. “I kept it all for you til they let you out of that reform place, didn’t I,” she lied.
Troy slowed his pace. “Yeah, you did.” It was a strange thing. But even after hanging about with Blossom since he was a kid, some day like today, he loved and hated her. Part of him blamed her for talking him into helping her to use her granny’s empty house for selling stolen goods and hiding drugs and then dropped him like a hot coal leaving him to take the rap.
Seething anger at the memory made him picked up pace. Skimming down a drainpipe and ducking and diving through a warren of back allies behind the flats he’d dodged the peelers and made it home. Scared and filthy dirty, foolishly, he had blurted it out to his mother. She had touted on him. Turned him in to the cops; said d it was for his own good before he got into guns and shot somebody. He gritted his teeth. He would get her back. She thought she was safe with Big Sammy. She was wrong. As soon as he got rid of her boyfriend then he’d deal with her and then his real useless shit of a father. He’d heard he had scurried back to Ireland. But he’d find him. He’d make them all pay; he’d make them all pay for what the hell he had to suffer in juvenile detention.
He shook his head as if to rid him of the image and sounds: the crack of the door after lights out and the muffled sobs of whatever boys were chosen that night. He’d learned very quickly not to wash. He had learned that the smell of sweat and shit was repulsive to the house carers who only took the clean boys to their beds. He had learned to bash in another kid’s face before his own got bashed in. And he had made friends. Friends that was useful on the outside.
He sniggered as he clamoured off the bus and turned in the direction of the Arcade and the pet shop. It gave him great pleasure hanging about with boys his mother was terrified of. Now those friends had friends who were going to help him get rid of Big Sammy, he thought.
As soon as he turned the corner into the Arcade he saw the gang of youths hanging about – some he recognised from the estate. His skin began to crawl. They were gathered near the pet shop staring at a large bird who freely stalked the shop front like a security guard.
There were a few sniggers and calls of ‘mama tout and jailbird “as he approached. With a deliberate swerve he crossed the street and pushed into their midst. They parted to let him pass. Another thing I learned in juvvie, he thought, face down your enemies.
But facing down the crazy looking bird its talons extended and it feathers standing on end guarding the pet shop door was another matter.
The shop owner Mr Abdullah watched as his new assistant outsmarted the big bird and step smartly into the shop. “He will not forget that you tricked him,” he laughed as the big bird fluffed his feathers and made an angry sound deep in its throat that sounded remarkably like a dog growling.
“These are your friends? The elderly shop keeper asked glancing across the street to where the gang of youths had reformed. “They hurl things at bird. Make him very mad.”
Troy shook his head vigorously. “They are not my friends. They made me mad too. So I challenged them.” The last thing he needed was for the man to complain to his probation officer. He had been warned. If he lost or broke his community placement that had allowed him early release he would find himself right back in detention. No way did he want to go back there.
“What you say – bunch of layabouts – doing bad things – making trouble? That is why I have the bird outside. They would cut a man with a knife but they are afraid of him. So when they come I let him have a bit of fresh air and sunshine,” he smiled.
For some reason he couldn’t explain Troy took an instant liking to the old Indian man. He looked him straight in the eye. “You know I have been in….”
The old man waved his explanation aside. “I made it my business to know all about you and the circumstances of your life. I am taking a chance with you. If you steal from me or bring undesirables into my shop I will report you straight away. Are we clear?”
Troy, stumped at the straight talking of the shop owner nodded his head. Mr Abdullah stretched out his hand. “This is my little kingdom. My dream. I sacrificed much to get to your country – in a leaking boat…” he paused and looked into the distance. “I have been here many years and have had much trouble with them,” he said nodding at the group across from his shop. “But I do not think I will have much trouble with you,” he said a satisfied look crossing his face.
Troy stood self-consciously as the old man looked him up and down. He was suddenly aware of the small bag of coke burning a hole in his pocket. He cursed Blossom. As soon as he got a break he was dumping it, he resolved. “You will have no bother with me,” he promised.
A slight shiver ran down his back. He meant it but he couldn’t speak for Blossom. He had to find a way to keep her away from the pet shop.

Gemma Hill 2020 copyright