The Den

I heard him come in the front door and go through to the kitchen. Someone filled the kettle and put it on the cooker to boil. Then the radio was switched on. I listened for their voices, but there was just the noise of the radio. I'd heard them rowing again last night, and him shouting and throwing things around. Something got smashed.

I turned over in bed and stared out at the sky, watching a jet make a chalk-line across it. It was the first day of the summer holidays and the sun felt hot already through the window. It was the perfect day for building the den. I started wondering about it - about how big it would be, and where we were going to build it. I was still thinking about it when the door opened and mum came in. She had her work apron on under her coat and her bag over her arm. She put a bowl of corn flakes down on the cupboard by my bed, then bent over and kissed me on the forehead.

"Stay out of dad's way today, she said, quietly.

Her eyes were red and puffy, even with her make-up on.

"He's not my dad, I said.

"Stop it now, she said.

"What did he do?

"Nothing, she said. "I don't have time now. I'm going to be late.

She turned away and went to the door again. Then she looked back at me quickly.

"Remember what I said, Terry.

She closed the door and I heard her go out to the landing and speak to the woman next door. Their voices were loud and bright, but I couldn't make out what they said. Then the lift came, and their voices were swallowed inside it.

I ate my corn flakes, listening to the clatter in the kitchen as he cooked his breakfast. I didn't want to see him, so when I'd finished eating I put on my clothes, grabbed my football and went straight out, sneaking along the passage so he wouldn't hear me. When I pulled the front door closed behind me it sounded like a gunshot. The lift was on an upper floor, so I ran for the stairs.

There was no one else around under the flats, so I stayed by the lifts, kicking my ball up against the wall. The evens lift was called and I watched the numbers change as it went up to the fourteenth floor. When it started coming back down, I put my ear to the door and heard Barry's screams echoing down the shaft. I couldn't make out if he was laughing or crying. When the door opened, Barry was lying on the floor with David on top of him. When he saw me, David jumped up and charged out at me. He knocked the ball out of my hands and started kicking it around. Barry came out of the lift and David booted the ball at the wall over his head.

"Crossbar, I shouted.

"Bollocks was it.

"It was, David, Barry said, laughing.

The ball bounced back to David, but he ignored it and stomped over to Barry.

"Are you calling me a liar?

Barry turned away from him and put his arms up to his face. He started to whine. David just stood over him, clenching his fists.

"Answer me, Barry.

Barry just kept whining. He bent his knees and raised his arms higher. He had this funny stutter when he was frightened.

"P-p-p-please don't h-hit me, D-David, he said.

David didn't move. "I'm not going to hit you, Barry. Just look at me.

Barry dropped his arms down a bit, and turned towards David. His eyes were almost closed, and I could see the lids flickering. He was going to say something, but then David slapped his face. Barry creased over then and started screaming again, stamping his feet up and down. Snot was running out of his nose. David let him cry for a bit. Then he put his arm around Barry's neck and hugged him.

"Stop crying, Barry¦ alright? His voice was quieter. He rubbed Barry's head with his other hand, and Barry started to calm down.

"Just say 'sorry, David'.

"S-s-sorry, Da-a-havid.

"'I love you, David'.

"I l-love you, David.

Then David let go of him and started to kick the ball around again. Barry just stood there by the lift door, wiping his nose on his shirt. David booted the ball over Barry's head again, but he still didn't move.

"Two-nil, David shouted, running with his arms up. He was always the same. No one could tell him anything. The only person he listened to was his uncle Royal. David and Barry lived with their uncle and their nan. They never said anything about their mum and dad, so I don't know what happened to them.

We carried on with our kick-around until Michael and Angela came down. Angela was still at primary school, but she wasn't like a little kid. She was as tall as her older sister, who was in the year above me. She had pink jeans on and a white T-shirt, and her hair was tied up on top like a Walnut Whip. I fancied her a bit, but I never let on. Her mum didn't like her playing with us, but she was always at work anyway, so there was nothing she could do.

Michael took the ball and started doing kick-ups with it, showing off. He had his school trousers and shirt on, which was all he ever wore - even in the holidays. Me, David and Barry were the only ones who went to the same school. Michael went to the grammar school at Churchill Park. Michael was the only one of us that David never hit.

"Where are we going to build the den? said Angela.

"Where do you think, twat-head? David said. "Over on the site.

Angela poked her fingers up at him. I felt a twinge in my stomach.

"My step-dad's told me I'm not allowed to go on there, I said.

Michael laughed, making a noise like a baby. "Aw, daddy's told me to be a good boy. You're just a big chicken.

"Shut your gob, Michael, I said.

He kicked the ball hard and it hit me in the stomach. "Make me.

I turned away, holding my stomach and trying not to look hurt. Michael started strutting around then, waggling his arms and making squawking noises, dropping the ball down between his legs like an egg.

"Chick-chick-chicken!

Everyone was laughing, especially Angela. Michael was always taking the piss out of me because my step-dad was the caretaker. It was like I was a teacher's pet. I wanted to punch him, but I knew I couldn't beat him in a fight. His mum was the only one I'd ever seen hit him. He took some money from her purse one day and she found out. She went for him right in front of us, by the lifts. She took off one of her shoes and started whacking him with it. He wouldn't cry, so she just kept on. She was Greek or something, and she kept shouting at him things we couldn't understand. Later on, Michael showed us the bruises on his arms. He looked proud of them. He looked like my brother John did when he had his army tattoos done.

"Are you coming or not, Terry? David said.

The odds lift was called and went up to the third floor. I knew it would be him. I grabbed the ball off Michael and started running.

*

The site was at the back of the estate, where the old streets had been pulled down. There was a corrugated iron fence running all round it, but we'd found a place by the garages where you could squeeze through. Whenever we went there, it made me think of a book we'd read at primary school where some kids walked through the back of a wardrobe into another country. That was what it was like. When you climbed through the fence, it was like you'd landed on the moon or something. The site went on for miles, over to the old swimming baths down Hawksley Road. They were supposed to be building more flats on it, but we never saw anyone working there. I'd already been clouted for going on there because it was dangerous. There were old cellars you could fall down and things. But it was better than the playground on the estate. No one else came there. The site was our place.

The place David had picked for the den was on the far side, where the fence ran along the road by the candle works. The builders had put up some scaffolding there to hold their sign. It looked just like the climbing frame in the playground, but much higher. David said we were going to use it as the framework. It was a good place because there was a big mound of earth in front of it, which hid it from the back of the flats, and the fence stopped anyone seeing us from the road.

We split up to look for stuff to use, and I went over to one of the derelict houses. It looked like pictures I'd seen of places that had been bombed in the war. The inside walls were still there, but the ceilings and roof had all gone. There was a broken staircase that went up one wall and finished in the open air, like the high board at the baths. What was left of the outside wall came just up to my waist, and I could see the gap where the side door had been. I went through it and saw the door lying on its side. I thought it would be great for the den, but it was too heavy for me to lift on my own.

I looked around and saw that this must have been the sitting room of the house. The back wall was covered in paper with drawings of cottages and fields on it. There were some places where the colours were brighter, where the people had hung their pictures. In the corner was an old settee, all ripped up with the springs sticking out. Next to that was a smashed up radio set - one of the big wooden ones, like my nan used to have. The rest of it was just bricks and rubbish, but I could still see the shape of the room. It was much bigger than our sitting room indoors.

I wondered what the people who'd lived there had been like. I thought they were probably old people, like my nan. I could see him coming in the door after work, and taking off his hat and coat and kissing her. Then they would sit and have their dinner by the window, looking out at the garden, talking about the weather and things like that. Things old people always talk about. Then they'd clear up and sit down by the fire, listening to the news on the radio. The woman would make them a cup of tea, and the man would drink his with a cigarette while he read the paper, and she'd look at their pictures and the photographs on the mantel-piece. They'd talk about their family, and the war, like my nan always did when me and mum went to see her on Sundays. Then, when it was dark, they'd go upstairs to bed.

I wondered what had happened to them, and what they'd thought when they'd looked out the window and seen the flats being built on the estate. I wondered how they'd felt when the council came round and told them their house was coming down, and if it had made them sad - like my nan had been when she had to move into the home. They might have lived in the house all their lives, and not wanted to leave it. Perhaps they were in a home, too. Or perhaps they were both already dead. I looked up at the top of the staircase, where the end of the carpet dangled over the edge. Perhaps they were dead, and the place was haunted by their ghosts. I felt the creeps suddenly, and nearly screamed out when I heard something move in the yard behind me. But it was just Barry and Angela.

"Have you found anything, Terry? Barry shouted.

I turned to the door and lifted up one end of it.

"Give me a hand with this, I said.

*

It took us all morning to build it. We put the floor in first, fitting some long planks of wood on the first line of poles above the ground. Then we did the roof on the next line of poles up, using my door and some more planks. We made the walls out of some old bits of hardboard, fixing them up with some nails that Michael had found. We left the front open, but nailed a long piece of stair carpet over it, like a curtain. Then we put some more carpet inside, and that was it finished. We stood up on the mound for a minute, just looking at it. It was even better than I'd thought it would be. I'd seen a picture in a library book showing a house in India or somewhere, standing on stilts over a river. That was what it looked like. I thought that if the site was ever flooded, we'd be safe in there.

"Last one in's a wanker, shouted David, and we ran down off the mound and climbed in.

It was quite narrow inside, but there was enough room for us to sit around the walls and stretch our legs out. When we were all in, David pulled the carpet flap down and everything went dark. Barry started giggling because David was feeling him up. Then Angela started laughing, too.

"Quiet! Michael shouted. He sounded scared.

"What?

"Shut up, he said. He was whispering now. "Listen.

So we sat still in the dark and listened. At first, all we could hear was the traffic going by on the other side of the fence. Then we heard some kids voices, probably coming from the playground on the other side of the estate. There were some noises from the candle works - metal clanging, and a hissing sound. Then we could hear a plane going over.

It was a weird feeling, being in the dark and hearing all those things. It made me think of stories nan had told me about when they used to hide in the cellar when the bombers came over in the war. I thought of that plane as a bomber now, coming in closer and closer, getting ready to drop a bomb on us.

Then suddenly a torch went on in Michael's face and he made a howling noise, and Angela screamed and that finished it. We all scrambled to get out. I'd almost expected Michael to do something like it, but it still made me jump. Barry was really scared and he ran off a little way. Angela was sobbing a bit. David and Michael were just laughing.

"You should have seen your faces, Michael said.

"You're a bastard, Michael, Angela said.

Michael put his fingers up at her. Then he sat at the door of the den, flicking the torch on and off.

*

There was no-one in when I went home at lunchtime. I drank some milk out of the bottle in the fridge. Then I made myself a pickle sandwich and went out again.
It was too early for the others, so I took the lift up to the top floor and went out to the rubbish chute, where I could look out the window. The other blocks of flats on the estate looked like monsters standing over the houses and streets. Some of them were wide, like gravestones. Others were tall and thin, like mouth organs standing up on their ends. I used to like coming up here and playing this game called Desert Islands. I'd do S.O.S. notes on bits of paper, then slide them under the window frame and watch them blow away on the wind. Sometimes, if the wind was strong, they'd stay in the air for ages and drop down miles away.

But my favourite time to come up was when it was getting dark, and I could watch all the flats lighting up. Lots of people on the higher floors never bothered to draw their curtains, and you could see them moving about, like ants in a nest. It always gave me a funny feeling, that - seeing them all when they couldn't see me and didn't know I was there. It used to make my cock go hard sometimes. I wished I had some binoculars, like David had. He said he used to sit at his window with them and spy on the people in their flats. He said there was a woman in one of the flats who took all her clothes off because she knew he was watching. He said he was going over to see her one day and fuck her. I didn't know if I believed him or not. But I wished I had some binoculars, anyway. Just to see what the other people got up to.

I looked down at the street and saw someone walking along towards the corner. I could tell from his overalls and the way he walked that it was him. He got to the corner and disappeared, but I couldn't tell if he'd walked around it or gone into the pub there. I looked away and followed the fence along until I came to the place where we'd built the den. The scaffolding looked like a little tower of matchsticks. I put my finger up to the window and the den disappeared behind it. It was so tiny that I felt like I could press down on it with my finger and crush it into the ground.

*

When we got back to the den we sat around the walls inside, leaving the flap up to let the light in. Angela had a picture she'd torn out of one of her mum's magazines, and she pinned it up on the wall beside her. It was a cartoon of a house in a field, with some children playing in the garden and a cow standing by the fence smiling at them. The house was shaped like a bar of chocolate, and the words underneath said 'Welcome Home to a Full Cream Treat'.

David had some cigarettes he'd nicked off his uncle Royal, and he gave one to me and Michael. He gave one to Angela as well, but she didn't want it. Barry asked if he could have it.

"You can have a drag of mine, David said, putting the cigarette back in the packet. He struck a match and we lit up. We sat there smoking for a bit, spitting out at the ground. Then David took some playing cards out of his pocket and shuffled them. He dealt one to each of us.

"Strip poker, he said. "Lowest card takes something off. Aces low.

"I don't want to play, Barry said.

"Shut up, Barry. You're fucking playing, alright?

Barry started to whine, so David put his fist up and Barry stopped.

We turned over our cards and looked at them. I had a nine. Michael had a six. David had a king. Angela had a queen. Barry had a two. He took off his shirt and David dealt again. This time Michael lost and took off his shoes. Then Barry lost again twice. All he had left on now was his pants. David always did it every time we played games. He always fixed it so that Barry lost. Barry was fidgeting now, trying to get behind Michael so that Angela couldn't see him. I lost the next deal and took off my jumper. Then it was Barry again. He started to cry.

"Take them off, Barry, David said.

"N-n-no, D-David.

David threw down the cards and grabbed his arm, pulling him away from Michael.

"Do what I tell you, Barry.

Barry started to scream then. He struggled and shook David off. Then David took out his flick-knife and opened it.

"Do you want me to cut them off, Barry?

Barry stopped screaming then and just looked at the knife. His eyes were as big as alley marbles and he was making this funny noise in his throat, like he was choking. Then he quickly slid off his pants without getting up and pulled his legs up to cover himself. But David grabbed his knees and pulled them apart. Barry started crying again as we all looked at him. He had a big cock, with tiny black hairs growing around it. The end of it was almost touching the carpet.

"Is that the first one you've seen? David said to Angela.

She shook her head. "I saw my brother's once, she said. Then she looked up. "Do you want to see mine?

"Go on, then, I said.

"You'll have to give me some money.

"How much?

"Two shillings, she said.

"Fuck off, said Michael. "I haven't got any money.

"Nor have I, I said.

David grabbed Barry's shorts and started going through the pockets. Barry cried out again and tried to pull them back, but David held up the knife to him.

"Don't make me do it, Barry.

Barry backed down again and hunched himself up in the corner, sobbing. David found a ten pence piece in one of the pockets. He gave it to Angela.

"Now you all owe it to Barry, he said.

Angela knelt forwards and put the coin in her pocket. Then she pulled her jeans down to her knees and opened the top of her knickers, and we all leaned forward to look. I'd never seen a girl's one before. It didn't look like I'd thought it would - but I didn't really know what it would look like. The books my step-dad kept in his drawer only showed the tits. David was always telling us about a girl at school, and he'd fucked her one day in a shed up by the railway line. He told us it looked like a tube - like the end of a balloon, except bigger. But this didn't look anything like that. Michael had told us it was called a regina, like the queen's name. David said it was a cunt. I wanted to look closer at it, but then Angela pulled her jeans up again. We'd only seen it for a couple of seconds.

"C-can I p-put my c-c-clothes on now, D-David? Barry said then.

David looked at him. He was about to say something, and then stopped and put up his hand.

"Listen, he said.

Michael made a farting noise. "We've already had that.

But then we all heard it. There was all the other sounds that we'd heard before, but now, much closer, there was a scraping sound. It was coming from somewhere back behind the den, where we couldn't see. It sounded like someone was trying to get through the fence from one of the alleyways that ran off the road. It stopped for a bit, then started again, and we could hear the corrugated iron being bent. David put his hand out and pulled the flap down and it was dark again. Angela started to sob.

"It's alright, I said. I took hold of her hand. "We're safe in here. Her hand felt damp. She pulled it away.

The noise had stopped now, but we could hear someone scrabbling about on the site a short way off, stumbling over the rubble like they were drunk. Then they stopped and we heard some bricks and stuff being thrown aside. There was another sound, too - like the whining of an animal. It sounded like a cat, but it was muffled, like it had got its face stuck in something and was trying to get out.

It was quiet for a minute. Then there was another scraping noise, like earth and stones being raked together. Then we heard the footsteps again, slow and stumbling, coming towards the den. Barry sobbed, and I heard David clap his hand to Barry's mouth. The footsteps stopped just behind the den. We heard someone breathing heavily, and could tell by the sound that it was a man. He stood there for a few seconds doing nothing. Then he was sick. We heard him puke up three times, coughing and spitting each time. When he'd finished, it went quiet again, and we sat there in the silence, waiting. I was almost shitting myself by now. It felt like when I woke up in the night, and the only light was from the street lamps outside, and I thought I could hear someone in the room and see shadows moving across the walls. It was like that, only worse. The flap lifted up a bit, and we all jumped - but it was just the wind catching it. The light flashed in like a camera bulb and I saw it shine on the blade of David's knife. He was still holding it. It was the first time I'd ever seen him look scared.

Then the footsteps started again. They went off away from the den, back towards where they'd come from. We heard the man climb back through the fence, then scrape the metal flap back into place. We waited a few seconds and no one dared to say anything. But all we could hear now was the usual noises. David poked his head around the flap and looked towards where the sounds had come from.

"He's gone, he said.

We all breathed out at the same time. David climbed out, and the rest of us followed him. I wanted to get out as quick as I could now and get ready to leg it in case the man came back and saw us. As I crawled over the bit of carpet where Barry had been sitting, my knee went into something warm. Outside, I looked at my jeans and saw a small damp patch.

"Barry, you dirty bastard, David said.

We looked at Barry. He'd managed to get his shorts back on, but he'd pissed in them.

"Nan'll kill you, Barry.

Barry started to sob again. "I-I c-c-couldn't help it, D-David.

"Like you can't help pissing in bed, David said.

Barry started to rub the wet patch on his shorts with his hand. There were tears dripping down his face. Michael had gone over to where we'd heard the man raking about with the earth. He looked over to us and waved his hand.

"You lot¦ look at this.

We ran over as he was scraping around a hole under a bit of old wall. He pushed some bricks and rubbish to one side and we saw a small cardboard box in the hole. It was like a shoe box, but a bit bigger, with the lid tied on tight with string. Michael pulled the box out of the hole and set it down, trying to undo the knots.

"What do you think it is? said Angela.

"How the fuck do I know?

"It might be some money. Perhaps he's robbed a bank or something.

We were all excited by that. Michael was pulling at the string, but the knots wouldn't give.

"Give it to me, said David. He got down beside Michael and took out his knife again.

"I think we should leave it, said Angela. "He might come back for it and catch us.

"Bollocks, said David. "Finders keepers.

He started to cut through the string. Then he jumped back, dropping the knife.

"Fuck! It moved.

As he said it, the box started to shake. We couldn't believe our eyes. Then we heard the whining noise we'd heard before.

"It's a cat, said Michael. "He's buried someone's cat.

He picked up David's knife and cut through the string. Then he flipped the lid off and we all stood away, in case the cat bit us when it jumped out. When it didn't, we went up to the box again and looked in. All I could see at first was a load of screwed up newspaper. Then, among it all, I saw something black bobbing up and down, like a furry head. But it wasn't a cat. It was looking up at us. It was a baby.

I'd never seen such a tiny baby before. Its head was about the size of a tennis ball, and its hands and feet looked like a doll's. It didn't have any clothes on and it was wriggling its arms and legs up and down, like a funny pink insect that had been knocked on its back and was trying to right itself. It had bits of dried blood stuck all over its skin and it smelled horrible. I could see it was a girl.

"Fuck, David said.

"What are we going to do with it? I said.

But no one said anything. The baby sounded like it was trying to breathe properly. Then it squealed, squeezing its eyes shut so tight that it looked like its head would explode. I touched one of its hands with my finger. Its finger nails looked like little bits of plastic.

"We'll have to call the police, Michael said.

But still none of us moved. Then Angela got down on her knees and lifted the baby up out of the box. I was still holding my jumper, and I laid it on the ground so she could put the baby on it. When she'd done that she wrapped the jumper around it and picked it up again, holding it against her and rocking it in her arms. Then she walked back towards the den, humming something. She stepped up the ramp and sat down in the entrance, not taking her eyes off the baby, humming all the time, while the rest of us just stood around and watched.

It was then that I heard a voice calling out from somewhere. For a moment I thought the man had come back again. Then I looked up and saw my step-dad, in his overalls, coming towards us from the flats. He shouted again, but I couldn't make out what he said. I could tell he was angry, though. I knew I was going to get a back-hander now.

But I started running towards him anyway. I didn't feel frightened of him any more.

"We've found something, dad, I shouted. "Come and see what we've found.