Sean Happens.

‘Yer little friends are no so little noo,’ said Auntie Evie. She was skinny, dark haired and exhausted looking, but not as exhausted look as my mum.

‘No,’ murmured Sean.

He’d been scratching a face into Plasticine. He knew what would happen next.  His Auntie Evie would try and tickle and kiss him. He didn’t like being tickled or kissed by her, especially as she smelled funny and her face was scratchy.

But he couldn’t say any of this because his mum would take her sister’s side. They’d try and tickle his bad mood of him, which he hated even more, until he tried to kick them. Then Mum would slap his legs hard, tell him he couldn’t take a joke, and he should grow up like a normal boy.

They’d roll their eyes and go outside and have a fly smoke. They called it ‘hash’ or ‘weed,’ but he wasn’t supposed to know that. Just that it stunk and not like a real fag.

He rolled Platicine into cannon balls he could use later.

‘Fucksake,’ said Auntie Evie over his head. ‘Yeh really should meet them. They’re the most amazing pair aw benders yeh’ll ever meet…They live in that big hoose and they’ve renovated it aw tae fuck.’ She nudged Sean with her toe so that he’d confirm what she was saying.

‘God sake Sean!’ His mum yanked him backwards by the shoulder. ‘Don’t put Plasticine in yer mooth.’    

‘I wasn’t,’ said Sean looking up at her with big brown eyes. ‘I was just licking it. Cause cannonballs are shiny.’ He licked the tip of his index finger and rubbed it against the cannonballs to show what he meant.

Fanning her face with her hand to cool down. ‘Go on,’ said his mum. ‘Poison yerself! But don’t come running tae me later. And saying I didnae tell yeh.’

His aunt went over to the sink and ran the colder water tap. She looked out the window a she waited for it to fill. ‘Yeh should see the old hoose. They’ve spent an absolute fortune on it.’   

She filled her glass and leaned over, but all she could see were other council houses like hers with communal gardens.

The Potter House, Sean knew, was up and along two streets. It had grounds the size of two football pitches. Much of it was filled with skips and rubbish from the renovations, but when they cleared it, trees and shade would enlarge the gardens.  

Auntie Evie glanced at him to check if he was listening. She plonked the glass in the sink. ‘Yeh’ve got tae be careful,’ she told Mum. ‘They’re no right in the heid. The older wan wears a long tweed skirt and a blazer,’ she guffawed. ‘The younger wan! Yeh should see him. He coats himself an inch thick in paste and rouge. He’s like wan of they…circus freaks.’ She couldn’t find the right words and waved her hands. ‘And he dresses like a woman, aw the colour of the rainbow.   

‘Their hair!’ Auntie Evie ratcheted it up, sniggering. ‘Tell, her about their hair, Sean?’

Sean squished the cannonballs together, since they hadn’t come out right. He stared at Auntie Evie with his dark eyes. ‘They were in an accident,’ he explained. ‘That’s why their hair’s funny. They told me it wasn’t their fault.’

‘Listen tae him!’ Auntie Evie shook her head. ‘Little Lord Fauntleroy. Yeh’ve got tae keep him away fae them.’

His mum made one of her faces. ‘Aye, but Sean husnae got any kids his age around here tae play wae.’ She made a sign over his head, rubbing her index finger over her thumb. ‘They’ve got a bit of money. Yeh ne’er know.’

Sean did know. It had been a fortnight since the Potters moved in. He’d been in his room upstairs playing with his Star War figures and cards. He knew all their ranks and used strange voices so they could report back to him their findings.

Darth Vader’s deep, rumbling voice sounded much like his dad’s after he caught him wearing his mum’s eyeliner and high heel shoes.

His Da had picked him up and flung him against the wall. ‘I’d rather see him stone deid.’

Mum came upstairs, following the noise of the rammy. ‘There was no great harm done,’ she said and pulled him close to her chest, stroking his hair and rocking back and forward with him on her lap. ‘Yeh know whit yer da’s like? But he doesnae mean it.’

Sean didn’t mean it either. He bit the head off Darth Vader and spat him on the floorboards under the bunk beds. He’d met the two men that were women when he decided to run away.

They were walking their dog. A chocolate-coloured Spaniel that hauled them by the lead in his direction when he stood outside the front gate. The dog immediately wanted to be his best friend.

He didn’t have a best friend. Other kids his age gave him a wide berth. Older lads called him a poof and wee fucking Jessie. One of them pulled his trousers and pants down and said he deserved it because it was his fault.

The Spaniel was half-crazy in love with Sean. Sean was half-crazy in love with the dog. He rubbed its belly and ears and it whined for more, mouth open, pink tongue waggling in the corner of its snout as if laughing.  

‘What’s his name?’ Sean shrieked hunched up and delirious with excitement. ‘Can I walk him for you, Mister?’

‘Ta Ra Boomday!’ said the much younger man in a rich voice. ‘Down Shadow,’ he said as the dog climbed up his leg.

His companion wore a brocade gold and silver ball gown with Adidas Samba trainers peeking out.  He took the question more seriously, although they were both very drunk, or ‘Squiffed,’ as they were prone to say.

‘Give him the lead,’ he instructed his companion. ‘A boy should have a dog—so it is written!’