Free Backstreet Child by Harry Bowling Page A

hoping it wasn’t going to be too many. Her husband Bill would not be too happy if his afternoon naps were interrupted by screaming and shouting.
     
    ‘Four,’ Dolly replied, touching the back of her piled-up red hair. ‘Two boys, one gel, an’ Wallace.’
     
    Alice had a puzzled frown on her face as she poured the steaming water into the teapot. ‘That’s nice for yer,’ she said.
     
    ‘My eldest boy Dennis is ten,’ Dolly answered slowly, as if trying to remember who was who, ‘the next one Leslie, ’e’s eight, then there’s the baby o’ the family, Joyce, who’s five.’
     
    ‘What about Wallace?’ Alice asked.
     
    ‘My Wallace is a lovely boy, such a shame. ’E’s so good-natured,’ Dolly went on. ‘ ’E ain’t much trouble really.’
     
    Alice felt her head start to spin. ‘Wait a minute. Yer said yer’ad two boys, a gel an’ Wallace. Is Wallace a boy or gel?’
     
    Dolly waved her hand. ‘I’m sorry, I’m always sayin’ that. Wallace is me eldest son, but ’e’s different, yer see,’ she explained. ‘Wallace was got just after me ole man came back from the war. Josiah was shell-shocked, or at least some o’ the neighbours said that’s what it was. Anyway, Wallace was born retarded. Lovely-lookin’ kid ’e was too. The ’orspital said it was one o’ those fings. Part of ’is brain was affected. Mind you, ’e’s no trouble, provided yer watch ’e don’t get ’old o’ matches. ’E’s got this fascination wiv fires, yer see. Always playin’ wiv matches, ’e is. ’E almost burnt me last place down. Wallace ’as settled down a lot since then though. I couldn’t leave ’im at one time. I’ve left ’im next door wiv ’is colourin’ books. ’E loves colourin’, does Wallace.’
     
    Alice was horrified. Of all the people who could have moved next door, it had to be a hare-brained woman with a son who was not only a half-wit, but a budding arsonist in the bargain. Whatever’s Bill going to say, she wondered gloomily.
     
    Dolly took the proffered cup of tea and crossed her thick legs. ‘I ’ope I ain’t put yer ter no trouble,’ she said. ‘It seems a nice turnin’. Better than where I come from.’
     
    ‘Oh, an’ where was that?’ Alice asked.
     
    ‘Bellamy Street, just orf the Drummond Road,’ Dolly told her. ‘They’re pullin’ the places down, that’s why we ’ad ter move. Wallace is gonna miss the place though. ’E got used to it there, yer see.’
     
    ‘Is yer ole man workin’?’ Alice asked.
     
    Dolly stared down at her teacup before answering. ‘Josiah’s away,’ she replied.
     
    ‘Away?’
     
    ‘ ’E’s on the Moor.’
     
    ‘The Moor?’ Alice asked.
     
    ‘Dartmoor. ’E’s doin’ five years.’
     
    ‘I am sorry,’ Alice said quickly. ‘I shouldn’t ’ave asked.’
     
    ‘Oh, it’s no secret,’ Dolly told her. ‘My Josiah’s well known in Bermon’sey. It’s the drink, yer see. Wivout a drink ’e’s the nicest man yer could meet, but when ’e’s got a skinful inside of’im ’e gets violent. ’E’s got previous, yer see.’
     
    ‘Previous what?’ Alice asked.
     
    ‘Previous convictions. That’s why ’e’s on the Moor. Mind you, though, I don’t fink it was all Josiah’s fault the last time.’
     
    ‘Oh, an’ why was that?’
     
    ‘Well, yer see, ’e was ’avin’ a quiet drink in a pub one night when this big feller comes in, an’ as ’e goes ter the counter ’e knocks Josiah’s arm an’ spills the beer all down ’is nice clean shirt,’ Dolly told her. ‘Well, my feller tells ’im ter be careful, or words ter that effect, an’ this feller takes a swing at ’im. My Josiah does no more than chucks ’im out the pub. ’E didn’t ’it ’im.’
     
    ‘That seems a bit ’ard, puttin’ ’im in prison jus’ fer chuckin’ a troublemaker out the pub,’ Alice remarked.
     
    ‘Yeah, but it wasn’t frew the door, yer see,’ Dolly explained. ‘It was frew the