SUNDAY IN MEMORY LANE (Episode 19)

Eye of the tiger?

I was not looking forward to Dan going to school.
I loved his company.
He was enthusiastic about learning everything and he was already reading very well.
On the first day I dressed him up in his bright purple uniform, with a shirt and tie as prescribed in the information pack. I was tearful when I took him into the school on his first day, but he was full of confidence and joy. I spent the whole day feeling very strange without him and was waiting outside when he came running out at the end of his day. I was genuinely horrified to see that he was crying and very angry.
"What happened?" I asked, kneeling down in the street to hug him.
"All the kids got books!" He wailed, "I didn't get a book! The teacher says I can't read!"
I wiped his tears and assured him that mum would fix this right now. I grabbed his hand and we went back into the school building. He led me to his classroom where his teacher was packing her basket with bits and pieces.
"Excuse me!" I interjected and she looked me up and down with horror etched all over her expression. I was not wearing shoes, as was my custom at the time. Otherwise, I was wearing my usual style of a long Afghan dress with a denim waistcoat and lots of bracelets, necklaces and dangly earrings bobbing about under my long untied hair.
She clearly did not approve of my appearance.
"Dan tells me that you did not give him a reading book," I continued regardless.
"Well, no!" she replied as if stating the obvious, "He cannot read!"
I smiled at her assured manner, as if she knew so much better than me, the mother of the poor afflicted, snivelling child.
"May I?" I said, smiling and reaching for the newspaper that she had sticking out of her basket. She seemed somewhat baffled as I lay the newspaper on the desk and looked at Dan. He stepped forward and read the headline. Gaining interest, he continued to read the article until I said, "OK, darling! That will do, I think."

Mrs Snell was visibly taken aback. "But he refused to read the Janet & John book!"
"Ah." I said, fully understanding what must have happened.
"He doesn't really like those any more. He has the full set at home and he finished with them when he was two! Now he prefers to read my university literature because we are studying plate tectonics at the moment. He likes that... and physics.... Oh, and chemistry." I pulled a face to suggest that I did not like chemistry, which I did struggle with, but Dan was hooked on it like a sponge.
She was gaping at me in amazement, so I went on "He loves the microscope too! Biology is fascinating, isn't it?" I continued, "I am doing Science 101 with the Open University, with a view to studying Psychology next." I felt that some explanation had been necessary and poor Mrs Snell was looking as if a whole new world of realisation was drifting up her nose.
"I am so sorry Daniel!" said Mrs Snell directly to him. She was looking very contrite.
"But I really don't know what to do! We do not have any books in this class that are at your level!"
"It's alright, Mrs Snell!" replied Dan, sympathetically. "I have got lots of books at home, I will bring my own to school tomorrow!"

Satisfied that the misunderstanding was well resolved we left and walked home chatting about other aspects of school that Dan had observed. He was taller and bulkier built than most of his peers, he had noticed that. He didn't like the food he had received for lunch and was, as a consequence, insistent that I should provide him with a packed lunch instead. He said he was starving hungry so we went home and had dinner early. After that Dan took whichever of my paperback study manuals he was most interested in to school and seemed to be quite happy with Mrs Snell.

After dropping Dan at school each day, I got into the habit of popping into Elaine's for a morning coffee, on my way to work at the nearby laundrette. I used to work easy hours from 10am until 3pm. One day, as was usual, I opened the high gate at the back of the music shop and halted immediately. Arranged in piles around the yard were several cases of spirits, Whisky, Brandy, Vodka and Gin. There were crates of beer too, lots of it.
"Good grief!" I said out loud as I rang the doorbell. Elaine came down the stairs at a gallop, in her underwear and I simply gestured at the strange new yard ornaments she had acquired overnight.

"What the fuck!" she ejaculated and, assuming it was something to do with me, started to carry a case into the house.
"Is it yours?" I asked, somewhat confused.
"No!" She said "I thought it was yours! But we can't leave it there! Quick, let's get it out of sight!"
We carried it all into the hallway and from there ferried it up to the flat and hid it in a cupboard. Closing the door finally, Elaine said, "Any theories?" and I said, "Oh yes!" and told her my presumption that it was stolen goods that had been stashed in an emergency for later collection.
On my way to the laundrette I noticed that one of the windows of the back entrance to Tesco's town centre store was boarded up with dark brown bare wood sheets.
The penny was dropping.
Around lunchtime Elaine went to the bakers and bought us a cream and jam scone each for our lunch, which we shared sitting in the laundrette.
"So who nicked the booze?" She asked me.
"I dunno yet but I will find out." I assured her.
I had a strong suspicion that it had been something to do with the boys.
Everything criminal that I ever heard about in Clacton was.

Later that day we were in the queue at the Post Office and we were joking about the opportunity to have one almighty party with our discovery. Babs was also in the queue and she told us that Chas was under arrest at the police station.
We put two and two together and decided that the best thing to do was to shift the incriminating evidence from Elaine's address because she did not wish to get dragged into any repercussions. Unfortunately we did not have an opportunity to say anything to Babs about our intentions.

Under cover of darkness we moved the proceeds of the robbery from Elaine's to my house and, with great effort, stashed the whole lot in the loft.
Thinking that this was the best solution, we waited for Chas to reappear on the scene so that we could tell him what we had done and make arrangements for him, and whoever else was involved, to collect it. We were able to get on with our lives unconcerned.

It was very late on the following Sunday evening, I guess around midnight, when John, a friend from the music scene, came to my house looking very anxious and breathless from running.
"The Jocks are in the Castle and they are going to kill you!" he blurted as soon as he got his breath. "Don't be daft!" I said laughing, "Is Chas out of nick then?"
He confirmed that they were all in the Castle and had been told that Elaine and I had intentions of throwing a big party with their stolen goods! It was obvious that Babs had taken our joke seriously and conveyed it to Chas as soon as he had been released from the local police station.
I threw on a favourite dress that I had just brought home from the dry cleaner machine at the laundrette. I quickly brushed my hair and, leaving John to babysit for an hour or so, I ran down to the Castle restaurant.
They used to have "lock-ins" after hours and I was very lucky to catch someone leaving and I slipped in through the door. On the stairs to the main restaurant I came face to face with Babs and she was drunk. She grabbed my arm and said "You are in so much trouble, Fran!"
She looked as if this pleased her in some way so I scowled at her, wrenched my arm out of her grip and pounded up the rest of the staircase past her.
When I entered the room with Babs hot on my heels, it was very full of people but I could see Chas, towering over everyone else close to the bar. I wended my way through the crowd with considerable difficulty and ducking under the last person's arm, popped up right in front of Chas.
I grinned at him and he grinned back. "I have something that I think belongs to you, Chas! Would you like to collect it?" I twinkled at him and his grin did not shift.
Lorraine was standing right beside him and she immediately started raving, "Don't believe a word she says, Chas, you know what she is like!" I turned to her and said "Oh yeah? What am I like, Lorraine?" to which she sneered and stated "You are a compulsive liar!"
I snarled at her and leaned towards her saying "Grow up Lorraine!"
She swung her right arm swiftly upwards and attempted to smash her whisky glass into my face.
Chas, with the speediest of reflexes, knocked the glass out of her hand. I got soaked with the contents, but the glass tumbled to the floor.
"I will come to see you Fran." Chas assured me, "But right now, get out of here, will you please?" I did as he asked. My mission was complete after all. By the time I got home I was furious.
How dare that twisted screw-up of a bitch try to glass me in the face?
I thought about the effect a scarred mother would have on my son Dan.
I was steaming with rage.
I could not sleep.

The following day instead of going to Elaine's on my way to work I had to go to the bank to pay some bills. At 9.30am I was waiting on the bank doorstep for opening time. I saw Lorraine enter a local Burger Bar with her friend Sue, the one who had accompanied us to Ipswich, on the night out that had resulted in Lorraine's confession about her affair with Tony.

After concluding my business at the bank I went immediately to the Burger Bar and Lorraine was sitting in the first window booth by the doorway opposite to Sue. She had a coffee cup in her hand and was chatting as I came to stand in front of her.
"I want a word with you, outside!" I demanded.
She gave me the most superior look she could muster and declared "The bottle will follow the glass!" I did not hesitate for a second. I smacked the bottom of the full coffee cup upwards causing the contents to fly into her face. Then I grabbed the back of her hair and slammed her face down onto the table. Without letting go I dragged her out of her seat and smashed her face on the next table, where two elderly and stunned ladies were drinking tea. I smiled at them apologetically and threw Lorraine to the floor. I jumped on top of her and started punching her in the face, pulling handfuls of hair out of her head as she tried to curl up and avoid being hit.
I was seeing red, nothing but red.
I wanted to bash her smarmy face through to the back of her head.
I had not one thought going through my mind and no intention of stopping.
I just kept re-grabbing hair with my left hand and punching her as hard and as fast as I could with my right until a pair of huge black arms encircled my upper arms and chest.
I was suddenly flying upwards.
One of the most popular local bouncers, known as Buster, had seen the commotion and was carrying me out of the Wimpey Bar high on his chest. I screamed at the heap that was Lorraine, lying on the floor, "Keep out of my life, you slag!" as I was carried out of the door to be deposited on the pavement.
"Run!" said Buster and I did.
I pelted straight through Tesco and out of it's rear doors, noting that the windows had been repaired as I flew down the steps and raced to the alley leading to Elaine's back gate. I hammered on the door and bashed the bell at least 6 times. She came hurtling down the stairs in her underwear (as always) and I burst out in a shocked voice,
"I have battered the fuck out of Lorraine!"
Elaine immediately grabbed me and waltzed me around and around in the yard.
She was absolutely delighted.
Over the moon about it!

That day at work in the laundrette I was folding sheets in excruciating agony.
My right hand was a massively swollen immoveable balloon and it was rapidly going black. I was developing a level of shame that I had never experienced before.
'That cow has forced me to become a vicious bitch!' I was thinking and I was sure that my "peace and love" hippy reputation was forever destroyed. I was very familiar with Clacton's rumour machine.

When Elaine arrived to share lunch with me at the laundrette that day, I showed her the state of my hand and wailed, "It will be all around town by now! Oh shit, what have I done?" Elaine had made some enquiries during the morning and had heard that Lorraine had been taken to hospital. Her face was a mess, she had been told.
I was mortified at the severity of my rage and confessed to Elaine that I had actually seen red and would not have stopped if it had not been for Buster’s intervention.

"He is in Reg Brown's right now." said Elaine grinning, "He has told everyone that he has never seen a woman fight like that in all his life! He says that he would not want to piss you off......" she went on -
"Oh, and Fran?"
"Yeah?" I said pitifully.
"You have a new nickname!" giggled Elaine, cracking up in tears of laughter.
"You are now known as Rocky!"
'Oh, shit....' I thought.