Free Evil Relations by David Smith with Carol Ann Lee Page B

handle that. But that came later. He was beside himself when I won the fight at Kings Hall.’
    Despite being selected to represent Manchester against Oldham in the 11–12 years bracket, David decided to abandon boxing after Annie told him he’d ruin his looks if he continued. ‘She told me I’d end up with a broken nose and cauliflower ears. I was her baby – a substitute for the handsome boy who’d died in Crewe station – but still her baby. I was discovering girls at this point, too, and the combination of not wanting to put them off and my habit of always following Mum’s advice put an end to my boxing career. Funnily enough, Dad wasn’t all that concerned – he wouldn’t push me into something I didn’t want to do. But Sidney Silver was very displeased indeed.’
    The headmaster asked to see David and Jack. It was a broiling hot afternoon as he indicated that Jack should sit opposite him, while David was made to stand. Listening to the headmaster’s barely disguised irritation and watching the beads of sweat gather on the man’s thin moustache, David felt his temper beginning to fray.
    ‘Sidney Silver was well known for his handiness with the strap and slipper,’ he recalls. ‘If you were sent to his office, you knew something wicked was about to happen. But he was in pompous mode that day, harping on about how I was more capable than Dad realised and that he had great expectations of me in the ring. Dad didn’t say a word in his own defence, but I was fuming. Being forced to stand in the hot sunlight in the study while the headmaster prattled on didn’t help. All at once my temper snapped: I lunged across the desk and punched Sidney Silver square on the nose. And that was it. I was expelled on the spot.’
    He gives a lopsided grin: ‘I suppose there’s a certain irony in my boxing career coming to an end after I floored the headmaster who didn’t want me to give it up.’
    Departing Stanley Grove in disgrace, David was taken on as a pupil at All Saints’ School, opposite Gorton Monastery. He hated it there: ‘I couldn’t settle. I still only had one interest at school and that was writing. At home I’d even write short stories and poetry, just for myself. But the rest of the school day meant nothing to me.’ Within a year of enrolling at All Saints, David was again in serious trouble: ‘There was a fight in the playground. A boy called Percy Waddington – whose name always reminds me of a deck of cards – called me a bastard. Now, I never used illegitimacy as an excuse for my behaviour, but this
was
a period when the word “bastard” would fire me up. I was immature and still smarting at being taken from Mum. In my own eyes, I was never a bastard, but if someone else called me that . . . I couldn’t just turn the other cheek.’ In retaliation, David picked up a cricket bat and broke Percy’s fingers. His strict probation officer, Mr Wright, was appalled when informed about the incident. With one assault and wounding charge already to his name, David was hauled before the courts again.
    ‘Was I scared?’ He nods. ‘Yes. Not scared of the court itself, but really frightened about what the outcome might be.’
    A short, sharp shock was proposed by the magistrates in an effort to bring David into line. Outside the courtroom a police car waited to ferry him to a substantial building set in vast grounds, from which there was to be no unsupervised leave for several weeks: Rose Hill Remand Home.
    * * *
From David Smith’s memoir:
    I’m Tom Sawyer and the biggest confederate there ever was, Jesse James, rolled into one. Saturday is my day and I have so much to do that it gives me a headache just thinking about it. I’m a ranch-hand on his wild white steed, weaving through the traffic on Stockport Road; I’m a gunslinger holding up stagecoaches on the corner of Aked Street, and run into the hallway singing, ‘Mothers, don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys.’ At night, after