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and I’d steam in until I got out of breath, then we’d change over again. What a tag team! I think it would have gone on all day if it weren’t for Alfie’s big brother Freddie, coming round the corner and seeing Roger off.
    It wasn’t all fighting, though. We thought we were the business when we started a skiffle group and called ourselves The Four Lads – Barry, Brian Hyams, Alfie and me. We were terrible. I remember going to Shoreditch Carnival once and entering a talent competition. We were belting out ‘Diana’ with the veins in our necks nearly bursting, seeing who could sing the highest and loudest. We came fourth – there were only three other acts. Those lovely times outside helped me cope with the horrible times indoors.
    Some of the best times for me were visiting Alfie’s home – the flat above ours. He had a great big, friendly family, about 13 in all. Most of them were a lot older than us, but they weren’t cocky at all. I used to love being in there. Some of the sons worked in the fruit market so the place was always loaded with apples, oranges, bananas – everything you could think of.
    They knew what life was like for me, so in subtle ways they all tried to make things a bit easier. They were like a second family. Being working teenagers, they often slipped me a few pennies. Rosie Hayes used to work in a petrol garage, and she’d take me with her sometimes. I think I must have been in love with her in my childish little way. Of the older ones, Billy was my favourite. He had a lot of time for me. I don’t doubt he liked me for myself – I think I was a likeable enough kid – but I have a sneaky feeling that he had a fancy for my mum. They were both about the same age and I’ve oftenwondered how life would have turned out if she had married him and not Jim Irwin.
    Billy would sometimes take me down the market on a Sunday, or down Dog Lane – like the name suggests, it was a part of Petticoat Lane where dogs were sold. I’d walk up and down patting them all and choosing which one I’d buy, even though I knew I couldn’t keep it. He’d take me in the café and I’d sit with his mates feeling really grown up, one of the boys. Sometimes I’d go out with him and his girlfriend Pat and it would always be great in his company. He must be sixty now and I haven’t seen him for years, but I haven’t forgotten him, or the others. Today, the sons who worked in the fruit market then are chairmen of the market now, even my old mate Alfie. A lovely straight family, all of them good workers, good people who brought a lot of happiness into a little kid’s life when he didn’t have a lot going for him.
    While we were all enjoying our holiday away from our hated stepfather, Mum didn’t seem all that happy. Then a bloke named Joey kept turning up. I thought, ‘Fuck me, no, not again!’ But it turned out he was bringing messages from Jim Irwin asking if he could come back. It’s a pity Mum didn’t put it to the vote, it would have saved a lot of misery. But she went to see Uncle Jimmy and pleaded with him to lift his threat from Irwin.
    â€˜For you, Rose,’ he said, ‘I’ll leave him alone, but I still want to cut his insides out for what he done to that baby.’
    She showed him some letters that Irwin had written and promised that he’d changed and was sorry for what he’d done. So it was agreed that he could move back in.
    So back he came and within a fortnight the beltings had started all over again.
    He didn’t seem worried at all about the threat of Uncle Jim coming after him again. I suppose he reckoned that Mum was so pleased to see him back that she wouldn’t say a word outside the door. As for me, he marked my card with what he would class as a subtle warning. ‘Grasses are scum and they end up with their throats cut.’ So I made a habit of