Moving To Aunty Betty's

The top step of two flights of stairs seemed to be the right place to stand to get a good look at the street. The rain had stopped about a half-hour ago but there was still lingering damp in the air and the cobweb in the nearby hedge glistened as droplets of water quivered in the fresh breeze which had sprung up. Thomas leaned his elbow on the railing which bore black scars amid a faded coat of emerald green paint. The scars extended down the entire two flights of stairs like modern hieroglyphic testimony to the life and times of the block of tenement flats to which the staircase led. On touching the metal he immediately withdrew his arm but not before a black patch of damp drained into the elbow of his maroon school blazer and some loose rust deposited itself on his sleeve.

“Are you just going to stand there?” boomed the voice in his ear.

Uncle Robert heaved a large cardboard box past him pushing him onto the railing once again, offering the railing a renewed opportunity to brand the blazer with another horizontal black band of damp extending from the left hip pocket to the middle of his back.

“Sorry!” was the only feeble reply he could muster as he felt the damp seep through at his elbow past the light blue school shirt and onto his skin.

He shivered and felt goose bumps rise on his upper arms.

Uncle Robert never heard the reply as he laboured with the cardboard box toward the security intercom at the main door of the tenement entrance. On arrival he leaned against the door and raised his left knee to support the box while he raised his left hand to stab the house number into the keypad. It took three keystrokes to make contact with Auntie Betty in house number five on the third floor of the four-storey building. Zero then Three then the Call button. But he couldn’t stay on one leg long enough to press the three buttons. Instead he managed to press “0” then“3” and stumbled back as the weight of the box proved too much for an unbalanced right leg and he leaned into the door which now bore his weight and the weight of the box. Little rivulets of sweat began to pour from just under his greying hairline and down past his blubbery jowls which were now flushed. Two short gasps for breath were followed by a swell of the chest which sucked in a full lungful of air

“BE –E – E TTY!” he bellowed letting loose his frustration while releasing a voice that echoed and reverberated off the concrete walls and cracked rendering of the tenement buildings in the street and rose to the rooftops to scatter thin pigeons sheltering under the eaves.

Thomas looked up and scanned the windows and open verandas of the council block. Each veranda had a brown metal grille cemented into the walls as a design feature thirty years previously, but now they only served to give the block the look of a prison with each doorway leading to eight family cells. On the top floor a boy of about thirteen years of age leaned over the grille on the left side to check where the noise was coming from; on seeing it was only some fat bloke trying to get in the main door he paid no heed to the commotion, but instead leaned out further to drop a long elongated spittle to the patch of grass below and followed its progress with interest as he prided himself on getting the direction and weight just right.

On the third floor on the left hand side, the door leading from the small kitchen onto the veranda juddered then swung in an angry arc and crashed the already bent and misshapen handle into the adjacent wall in the veranda smashing yet another few centimetres of brick from the wall and scattering it in a fine dust over the edge of veranda. Aunty Betty emerged from the doorway and laid two strong hands on the metal grille.. She stood defiant in the veranda and leaned over the edge of the bar at the top of the grille to look down for the source of the offending sound. As she turned her head toward the main door a slight breeze tugged at her hair causing it to fall loosely in front of her eyes so that she could no longer see the ground. Her impatient hand clawed the swirls of the cheap perm away from her face and wrestled them behind her head but a genetic disposition towards thick and wiry hair made it impossible to control and the strands tossed themselves into the breeze and back around her reddening face.

“What the hell are you shouting for?” she cried, her voice reverberating around the veranda and out into the street. “are you not even able to go out and come in by yourself now?”

Uncle Robert looked up at the harridan which had appeared on the third floor veranda.

“Just open the bloody door for God’s sake!” he grunted, as he struggled to keep the cardboard box from falling to the ground.

Thomas winced at the exchange between his aunt and uncle and was somewhat frightened by the harshness of their voices and the ill feeling with which they challenged each other. His mum and dad had arguments all the time before they decided to split up but they were much quieter about the whole thing. These two looked as though they were ready to attack each other and take pleasure in inflicting blows

Betty prepared herself to launch the next attack on Uncle Robert, but as she did so a small boy about three years old reached up to press the button on the security lock on the inside of the main door to allow him to exit the building. Curses and oaths spewed from Uncle Robert as he tumbled with the moving door into the main entrance. The weight of the cardboard box pushed him to the ground, rolled from his grasp and struck the small boy knocking him over too. Robert, the small boy and the box fell to the ground amid a clatter of pots and cutlery which spewed from the box as it burst open on the concrete. The small boy made no sound for five seconds then drew in a long breath to feed the long wail that achieved unsafe decibel levels as it bounced around the concrete innards of the council block.

Betty stopped mid sentence to crane her neck forward to find out what had happened and then rushed into the small kitchen to make her way to the main entrance. By the time she arrived the mother of the small boy had gathered her child into her arms and the elderly occupants of the two ground floor houses were out in their slippers, arms folded, watching events develop . Betty, breathless after almost falling down three flights of stairs, scrutinised her husband closely amid the culinary chaos and established he was none the worse for wear.

“For God’s sake,’ she rasped breathlessly, “are you completely useless.”

Robert glowered and began to lift himself from among the pots. His pride more damaged than any part of his anatomy. He shuffled away from the debris as if to distance himself from the scene of his foolishness and leaned against the wall adjacent to one of the elderly occupants.

“Your’e a bloody danger!” The child’s mother vented her anger while feeling compelled to attack her child’s assailant. “Look at the state of this poor baby. Why don’t you watch what you are bloody doing? Any decent man would have never let a baby come to any harm no matter what happened, but you …..”

“Hey ! Just you hold on a minute. The man was only trying to get through the door” Betty fumed as the she stepped in to protect her own. It didn’t matter if Robert was the clear offender or not, he was her man and while she might condemn him, nobody else was allowed to, especially a woman.

“Anyway you shouldn’t let him out on his own if he’s only a baby” said Betty pointing to the tear stained face of the little boy.

The child’s mother pulled the boy towards her and pushed him in front of her up the staircase to the first floor. The child continued to cry but the mother knew this was not the place to make a stand, particularly against Betty who was well known for her public outbursts. The child’s mother reached the front door of her house but just before she entered it, and safety, she looked down into the stair well. At the small gathering below.

“Come on, son. That’s what happens when you start drinking at ten o’clock in the morning” she barked before retreating behind her front door with the child.

Betty’s head jerked upward to catch the retreating figure.

“HA! You’d better run or I’ll soon give you something to complain about.” she cried, as a victorious smile played across her lips.

She knew she had won that little skirmish and it cheered her up no end.

Thomas walked through the open door of the main entrance feeling fear as he approached his aunt.

“Oh, come here, you poor thing. Are you cold?” asked Betty, as she reached toward him with open arms.

Uncle Robert’s face darkened further as he shuffled to pick up the scattered contents of the box

Thomas smiled weakly as he took the first tentative steps towards her. With a powerful grip Betty took hold of his right arm and pulled him effortlessly towards her. As she threw her arms around him he felt strange. There was a sense of comfort being wrapped up in such a large frame and his head was rocked back wards and forwards by her large bosom which shook when she laughed. He felt welcomed by the closeness of the hug, but the smell of smoke from her coarse woollen jumper made him queasy and the slight whiff of strong cider and mints on her breath made him nervous.

The elderly occupants of the two houses on the ground floor retreated back to their sofas and afternoon television, and Uncle Robert continued to ferry boxes of different shapes and sizes between the house on the third floor and the van parked at the bottom of the stairs. Aunty Betty shepherded Thomas upstairs and sat him in a large comfy chair placed by the window in the living room and made a fuss over him while offering weak tea , chocolate biscuits and compliments on how neat and well behaved he was

The living room was small compared to the rooms at his house in Newton Park. The wallpaper matched on three walls but on the fourth wall the paper was different reflecting a trend which had been popular some ten years earlier. The paper was darker where it met the ceiling through years of yellowing smoke rising to discolour it and the ceiling’s single coat of flat white emulsion paint was tinged with yellow except at the point above the electric fire where it was tinged with brown. Little patches of wallpaper from one to two inches long had, over time, been scraped off the walls by accident, cat scratching and mischievous little fingers, to leave whitish grey pock marks around the lower half of the room. The skirting board had been painted white because Betty thought white always made the house look clean. As Thomas began to drink in the new surrounding along with his weak tea, his eye was caught by the “glowing” coal of the electric fire which nestled in a small wooden fire surround. The painted plastic, designed to create a flame effect, had a strange greyness and was studded with pinpricks of white light on the black coals. On closer examination he discovered that a clear bulb and a red bulb had been used behind the plastic fascia instead of two “fireglow” bulbs recommended by the manufacturer thus ruining any flame effect, while the black coals were dotted with little holes. The electric fire had three bars and all were burning brightly.

“Take your shoes off , son, and make yourself at home.” Betty said, as she brought another chocolate biscuit. “We don’t wear shoes a lot in this house”

Thomas looked at Betty’s feet and saw that she wore a pair of battered blue fluffy slippers which she pushed along the floor wherever she walked. The back of each slipper was flattened and blackened where she slipped her feet over the material and had trapped it beneath her heel. It had often proved too much trouble to lift the back of the slipper up and behind her heel, especially in the mornings so now she wore the slippers like flip flops and appeared to skate over the floor to avoid the slippers falling off. Thomas obediently removed his polished shoes and placed then at the side of his chair. He rested his feet on the floor and felt so relaxed at the removal of his shoes that he began to wiggle his toes in the carpet. Thirty seconds later he lifted his foot to investigate the strange sensation of damp around the ball of his left foot and wondered how a dark grey patch had appeared on his light grey sock. A furtive look round to check Aunty Betty wasn’t looking was followed by a few pats of the carpet immediately around the chair to establish that not only were the fibres of the carpet matted and sticky, but near where his left foot had been there was a patch about four inches in diameter which was wet. He raised his fingers to his nose and recognised the smell of strong cider. He returned to an upright position in the chair and continued to observe the household.

Uncle Robert had by now settled in a large armchair quite close to the electric fire but he was still breathless from the exertions on the stairs and his face was damp while long strands of hairs which normally covered balding patches were now plastered untidily across to his forehead.

“Well, Thomas! What do you think of the Hopeman Estate?” asked Robert as he reached for a pair of slippers which had been pushed under the easy chair.

“It’s quite nice” replied Thomas, saying what he knew to be untrue but knowing that it was always best, and expected , that one should be polite.

“Nothing like Newton Park, eh!” snapped Robert, already seeing through the youngster’s childish attempts to lie. “You won’t get too many kids round here wearing nice new school blazers”

The boy immediately became aware of the jacket and the whole school ensemble he was wearing. His immediate concern was that he was conspicuous and drawing attention to himself, which was completely the opposite of what he wanted to do. At school, the uniform made him the same as everyone else; a sensation he enjoyed as we was not naturally an outgoing type, but here it was like wearing jungle camouflage in the middle of the city centre. He fumbled with the neat tie to give his appearance some element of disarray to blend with the surroundings, but the fumbling only resulted in the tie’s knot becoming smaller and tighter making it impossible to move from its position around his neck. He stood up to remove the blazer and deftly unhooked it from his shoulders and placed it over the back of his chair suppressing his innate desire to smooth out a few wrinkles. As he returned to his seat he felt the sensation of damp creep around the heel of his right foot where he had rested it while removing his jacket, and a cursory look confirmed his sensation as the darkening patch crept along the heel of his remaining clean sock.

“Leave the poor soul alone!” Aunty Betty snarled as she vented her disgust with Robert “ Don’t you think the poor boy is going through a bad enough time without you making life difficult for him”

“All I said was that you don’t see many school blazers round here” Robert bleated, “I didn’t mean any harm. It was only a comment.”

“You know damn fine that this boy is having a hard time. There are enough people around here who will make his life a misery without you getting the boot in early.”

Betty glanced at Thomas, realising she may have said something which would set the boy worrying.

“But, you don’t have to worry about anything, son. You’re Aunty Betty will make sure you are alright.”

Robert’s face had adopted the now familiar frown as he dug his arm into the gap at the side of the cushion in the armchair and teased the television remote control from under the frame of the seat where a hole in the lining had allowed it to fall through. He stared menacingly at the television screen as his thumb hovered over the control. With monotonous regularity the thumb pounced on the channel changer like a wading bird searching for titbits in shallow waters, in an effort to find what would hold his attention for more than five seconds. The remote control was put to one side when the Jerry Springer show appeared. Thomas looked at the screen with interest. The Jerry Springer show was one which his Dad had always insisted should be switched off because it was cheap television which he said people watched to get away from there own dull lives. Thomas quite enjoyed watching the scandals which emerged on screen and he felt a strange excitement when arguments raged between the stage guests.

He was so engrossed by scandal and violence unfolding on screen that he did not notice the boy who had come into the room and now leaned lazily again the fireplace to watch the television show, and it was only the sound of one of Aunty Betty’s ornaments falling onto the base of the wooden fire surround which broke his fascination with two females fightin over a rather skinny man. The boy slowly bent to pick up the ornament which had broken into to halves. He inspected it carefully and placed the base of the ornament back in its original position and delicately balanced the upper half on top. He gingerly stepped away from the fireplace and moved over to the sofa opposite the fireplace where he slumped down on the middle section and threw his feet up onto the arm of the couch. He stretched his arms above and then behind him until his body covered all three section of the sofa. Thomas watched the boy carefully out of the corner of his eye curious as to whom he was and as to why he had not introduced himself. At home he was always required to make himself known to anyone in he household whom he did not know, he didn’t like to do this but his father had insisted it was rude to do otherwise. The boy made no attempt to acknowledge Thomas, and Robert made no attempt to acknowledge that the boy had come into the room. All three continued to watch the females fight over the skinny man on the television, but every now and again Thomas would glance over to where the boy lay.

As the arguments subsided on the television so that Jerry could ask the kind of questions that brought applause from the audience, Aunty Betty called from the kitchen.

“Thomas, you’re Mum is here”

Thomas quickly put his shoes on, mainly to avoid further damp patches as he moved over to the window which looked down on to the street. He moved the lank curtain which hung heavily over the window to one side and saw the figure of his mother approaching the bottom of the two flights of stairs which led to the main entrance. The figure of his Mother brought a sense of comfort in this distinctly uncomfortable house, and his face brightened as he watched her begin to climb the steps, just as he had done after he had arrived with Uncle Robert. Her face was tilted up towards the third floor veranda and as she noticed him standing behind the curtain a weak smile flickered across her face and she raised her hand up to just in front of her chest to wiggle the tops of her fingers in a private wave meant for him alone. When she smiled Thomas noticed that she and Aunty Betty had the same warm soft almond eyes and high cheekbones, but he also noticed that the smile was tired and he could feel the unhappiness she was feeling as she slowly climbed the steps. As she disappeared from sight directly beneath the window he heard a loud buzzer sound in the hallway and Aunty Betty laughing as she pressed the button to allow Mum to enter. A minute or two later she came into the living room where Thomas was standing. He moved towards her wishing to give and receive a reassuring hug, but the presence of Uncle Robert and the boy restrained him to going over to stand alongside her while she laid her hand on his head and tousled his hair. At twelve years old he had begun to feel the frustrations felt by teenagers throughout the world but at this moment his need for security drove him towards the arms of his mother despite his instincts to remain aloof . His mother’s elegant hand brought the reassurance he craved and he felt that all he really wanted right now was to be with her, in a private place, where words were unnecessary and silence would carry their thoughts and emotions to each other and leave wrapped in a warm smothering of intimacy.

“ I see you arrived then,” she said as she looked into his eyes to search for clues on his emotional wellbeing.

“ He has been as good as gold, Maggie,” cried Betty, as she placed herself between her sister and Thomas and stretched her arms round both of them. “ he is such nice quiet and tidy boy.”

Betty gave a broad smile and Thomas noticed again the warm, soft almond eyes of his mother and his aunt, but Betty’s eyes were not as white near the iris and were more bloodshot than her sister’s in the corners, while her skin was yellowed particularly around the corners of her mouth and along her face ran little broken red lines which diffused into patches of red around her nose and cheeks. Betty was only two years older than her sister but the differing lifestyles over the last fifteen years had aged her so that it looked as though a generation existed between them.

Betty’s broad smile faded when she noticed Robert and the boy continued to watch television.

“My God! You two are as ignorant as pigs! “she snarled, “ Get up and say hello to Maggie”

Thomas was both confused and afraid. He was still wondering why Aunty Betty called his mum, Maggie, because home she was always called Margaret by Dad and all of their friends and the name Maggie just didn’t sit right with her,

Robert turned his head and gave an embarrassed smile.

“ Hello, Maggie, see you made it then.” he said, as he nodded energetically as a way of providing a better greeting and welcome.

“ Yes , thanks,” Maggie replied, making light of Betty’s comments and minimising Robert’s embarrassment, “ I panicked a bit in town because I couldn’t remember which bus to get here, but a nice old man kept me right. In fact he got off at the same stop as me and went into the sheltered housing complex at the edge of the Estate”

Robert nodded energetically again He would have liked to continue the conversation but found himself unable to think of the next thing to say; so he nodded instead.

Maggie recognising the difficulty her brother in law was having pressed him no further but instead placed her hand on the boy’s head who had continued to lie on the couch had not moved to acknowledge her entry to the room.

“Joey, are you not going to say hello?” she enquired of the head as she playfully bent to pull gently on a lock of hair.

The boy’s left hand leapt from its resting place on his hip to swipe away the gentle tease.

“Hello!” came the gruff reply from within the sofa, but it was accompanied by no movement.

“ Well let’s have a look at you,” said Maggie, trying to ease the teenager into taking notice of her.

Betty’s hand swung over the back of the couch and swooped to strike a sharp blow off the temple of the boy’s head.

“ Get up, you lazy swine and say hello to your Aunty Maggie. Did you say anything to Thomas since you came in? I bet you didn’t. God, but your good for nothing”

Betty’s eyes were on fire as the boy jumped to his feet rubbing his temple and glowering at his mother.

“Oi, watch it ! That was bloody sore,” cried the boy, showing a great deal more animation in the last five seconds as he rubbed vigorously at his temple than he had in the last twenty minutes.

“Say hello, you ignorant little pig!” said Betty, her eyes burning , compelling her son to act.

“Hello” said Joey, still rubbing his head and looking at the floor, providing an angry yet restrained greeting that was directed at no one in particular, but served only to meet the demands of a mother waiting to pounce.

Thomas watched intently from behind his mother as he witnessed the defiance of the teenager who continued to rub his head before turning his attention towards the television screen again.

“Joey, I don’t think you have ever met Thomas, have you?” asked Maggie in her usual soft ad gentle tone, which immediately cooled the heat of the moment.

“ No.” replied Joey, half turning his head partly acknowledging of the soothing voice but maintaining his resolve not to be brought into conversation.

“ Not much chance of him meeting up with anybody from Newton Park.” interjected Robert

“Well I hope you will be good friends while we are here.” said Maggie, ignoring Robert and trying to build a bridge between the two boys.

“ Joey, help Thomas move his stuff into your room” said Betty, in a less commanding tone , taking a cue from her sister, but still managing to sound aggressive.

Thomas looked up at his mother; his silent gaze told her how he felt. She again tousled his hair and smiled that reassuring smile that said all would be fine.

Maggie watched as the two boys moved into the hallway and as the door closed behind them she sighed and she looked at Betty. The two women moved towards each other and embraced.

“Don’t worry, Maggie, said Betty, “ I know this isn’t what your used to but you’ll get through this the same as we all get through difficult times. Thomas will be fine here and, as for his father, well all men are bloody useless and he is no different. At least you got a break away from your man – I’m still stuck with mine.”

The two women laughed at Betty’s remark and Robert continued to watch television oblivious to the sister’s shared moment. Betty went into the kitchen and returned with a half drunk bottle of vodka and two tall glasses.

“I have no ice and we have some diluting orange juice but I’m sure this will still cheer us up a little bit” said Betty as she thrust the half filled tall glass into Maggie’s hand. “Just remember what we used to get up to when we used to sneak out to the Electric Moves club. Have a couple of these and soon you‘ll feel like we never left home”

Maggie made a weak attempt at refusal but memories of laughter and a little escape would be welcome for a little while.