Every morning I’d make sure that Tommy’s school uniform had been ironed, and that he’d had some breakfast, and then I’d check that he’d got his school bag and make sure that he set off on time. Clearly he was old enough that he should have been able to look out for himself, but I’d noticed that after Mam told the football scouts where to go, something in him changed, and it was like he’d kind of given up. He was still wetting the bed, but he’d learned to take the sheet off by himself and rinse it through in the bathtub. Then he’d hang it on the wooden clotheshorse so that it would be dry by the time he got back from school, which was always later than me because he had football practise every night of the week: twice for school and three times for Scott Hall Juniors, as Derek Evans had got him to agree to play for them. Mam told Tommy that it was nearer and more convenient, but we both knew that our Tommy was the best player on their team, and they were lucky to get him, and if it wasn’t for Mam, he’d be playing for Pudsey Juniors. But Tommy didn’t really want to talk about this, any more than he wanted to talk about Derek Evans, who, when he wasn’t hanging around in the kitchen waiting for Mam, had taken to chauffeuring our Tommy around like he was some kind of footballing god. Apparently so-called Uncle Derek was a bird-watcher, and he kept a huge pair of binoculars in his car, and if he spotted a bird that he liked, he’d pull over and spend ages just looking up in the trees. I could tell that the dickhead was trying to impress our Tommy, for my brother nearly always came back home with a small bottle of Lucozade, which Derek Evans claimed would give Tommy energy, but the biggest upshot of all this attention was our Tommy got a brand-new pair of Adidas boots with screw-in studs and a black Adidas holdall for his kit.
As we waited for the coach, Mam lit a cigarette, then put on her helpless face. I know they’re no good for me, and I’m going to give them up, but I just need a bit of help right now. Neither me nor Tommy said anything. Anyhow, this will give you both a chance to see the sea for the first time, and it’ll give me a chance to get my strength back. As she spoke to us, her eyes jumped this way and that, as though she was afraid that somebody was looking at her. And then I realized what it was. She felt abashed standing up in the street with the pair of us. I could tell that she couldn’t wait for the coach to arrive, but I didn’t say anything. I just hoped that Tommy could keep it together until she’d gone. Don’t cry, our Tommy. I was the one who’d have to look after him for the next two weeks, and looking at these lads, I could tell that there might be some rowdy stuff. Some of them looked like they were fourth formers, fifteen-year-olds, so I’d be giving up over a year if it came to a fight. I tried not to think too much about this, as it was too worrying, and then I saw the coach coming around the corner, and Mam threw her fag down on the ground and started to mash the stub into the pavement. Come on, smarten yourselves up a bit. You two be good, she said as she hugged us both together. You’ll be fine as these are fully qualified people, but just make sure you write and let me know how it is, and don’t you be getting into any trouble. I’d arranged for somebody to take over the paper round, and Father Hanson had got his alternative altar boy lined up, so nobody would miss me. That’s what I was thinking as the coach pulled away and I looked out of the window and waved at Mam. Nobody will miss me.
It took forever to get to Silverdale; that’s about all I remember of the journey. I kept nodding off, but every time I opened my eyes we were still driving and my bladder was full to bursting as I was dying to go to the toilet. I was sitting on both of my hands, but eventually we stopped at a big garage that had a café attached to it, and we were told to form a single line and wait our turn to use their facilities. Our Tommy said he didn’t want to go, but it was obvious that they wanted everyone off the coach, and so he just got to his feet and didn’t say anything else. As we were climbing back on board, Derek Evans was at the front, handing everyone a crab apple and a cheese sandwich wrapped in greaseproof paper. Alright, Ben. Alright, Tommy. Your mam says I’m to keep an eye on you two, so don’t you be worrying yourselves; there’ll be no problems. You’ll have a nice time. As the coach pulled out and into the traffic, I asked our Tommy if he knew that Derek Evans would be coming along too in his own car. He shrugged his shoulders. What’s that supposed to mean? It means that Uncle Derek said he goes every year, and he says that you can bank on everybody having an ace time. An ace time? I think he might be having you on. Well, do you believe him? Our Tommy never answered me.
They bullied Tommy at the camp, and I didn’t do anything about it. Neither, as far as I could see, did Derek Evans, who always managed to make himself scarce every time he saw me coming. Good job too because I was already dreaming about chinning him and knocking that cocky little smile off his face, even though I knew Mam would go spare if I started anything. But if Mr. Bleeding Bird-watcher cared so much, why didn’t he do something for our kid when he got called names? It didn’t matter how good Tommy was at footbalclass="underline" they laid into him and gave him the treatment, which usually meant rubbing chewing gum into his hair, or spitting in his glass of water and making him drink it, or just smacking him around. On the other hand, I suddenly found myself being quite popular. I had a bit of money in my pocket, I knew about music, I wasn’t that bad at football, and I had a pair of Levi’s that I took off only at night, when I went to sleep on the top deck of a bunk bed from where I could look down and see everything that was going on. They put Tommy in a different dormitory, so it was hard for me to keep an eye on him, so I suppose I shouldn’t blame myself too much. However, even though I could sense that he was having a difficult time, Tommy chose to say nothing to me about the bullying, and it was only later that he let on to me what had been going on, but by then it was too late to do anything about it. Whenever I ran into him at the camp, he looked like some little lost boy you wanted to hug. There was nothing in his eyes. No light, no nothing, but what was I meant to do, give him a pat on the head and a cuddly toy? He should have said something. One day he did tell me that he’d like it if I could buy a postcard so we could send it to Mam, and I said I’d get one, but I never did. I just hoped that he wouldn’t mention it again, and sure enough, he didn’t.
In the mornings they left us alone to run around in the boggy fields that were surrounded by crumbling stone walls. In the afternoons we were taken down to the beach, where some of the younger kids started digging to Australia, which was a really popular game, but I used to wander off and stare at the worn-out donkeys giving rides on the beach, or gawp at the big dipper at the funfair or the tubby ladies sitting in deck chairs in their baggy bathing costumes. My favourite thing of all was to listen to the military band that would strike up in the bandstand at exactly three-thirty every afternoon, although I could never work out why they always finished off with a sing-along of “O Come All Ye Faithful” given that there was still five months to go until Christmas. After that I’d go back to the beach and take off my plimsolls and socks and stand right where the water stopped rushing, so that the sea licked my toes and I could pretend that it was a dog that I owned who would never leave my side. And then it would be time to go back to Silverdale.