King's Cross Kid Read Free

from my dad, neither can I remember there being any violence between him and Mum, so all in all it seems that when I was a little boy life must have been peaceful, happy and content.
    One day when the three of us were sitting by the fire, my dad being out, Mum had John on her lap and she told us that Jesus was going to fetch us a little baby and if we were good boys it was possible that Jesus might let us keep the babe for always. This was a shield used by mothers to ward off the possibility of the baby dying at birth, something which often happened.
    Our mum talked to us all evening, telling us how good we had to be and saying that as we were big boys now we would have to help her as much as we could. ‘Can we take the baby out in the pram, Mum?’ (the pram was a fold-up affair hanging on a nail banged into the wall on the landing, the same one in which she sometimes wheeled brother John). ‘Let’s wait till Jesus brings the baby first and then we can talk about things. Anyway, Granny will be here to help us so off to bed the two of you.’ She gave us both a kiss like always and we climbed into our beds. I didn’t give brother John a kick this time because I felt good about Jesus and the new babe.
    A few days later our grandma from Kenton Street turned up and told me and John that we are going to be sleeping round at her house for the next few days. ‘Why’s that, Gran?’ ‘Well, Jesus might be coming with the new baby.’ ‘Can we see Jesus, Gran?’ Gran quickly put us in our place: ‘Course not, you’re too young to understand these things.’ There was never any argy-bargy with our gran, she was terse and to the point. She towered almost menacingly above us two small boys and if there ever was one who had to be obeyed it was our gran. But her stern exterior was only a façade; underneath it all she had a heart of gold and proved it time and time again over the following years.

4
    â€™As Jesus Been Yet?
    A few days later, Gran picked us up from school. At home we found that Mum had been in bed all day. Now I was sitting by the fire grate watching Gran hustling and bustling about. She had made brother John go to bed and to keep him quiet she had bought him a Tiger Tim comic, which had plenty of pictures, which was good because John was too young to read. All afternoon the room had been full of different people coming and going. One of them was a big black man who I found out later was our local doctor. His name was Doctor Dia and his practice covered the area around Compton, Wakefield, Cromer and the adjoining streets. His surgery was on the corner of Compton Street and Judd Street and if you had need to visit him you paid sixpence (if you had it) and sat in the little parlour-like waiting room until his wife, who was also the nurse, called out your name. Where he originally came from I haven’t a clue. He was a large man and as black as the ace of spades and everyone thought the world of him and his wife, who, by the way, was as white as a stick of chalk.
    I could see Gran was getting worried; she wanted plenty of pennies for the gas meter and spare gas mantles.
    â€˜Where’s our dad then, Gran?’ ‘Never mind about ’im. I’ve sent ’im back to ’is mother’s, carn’t ’ave ’im ’ere when Jesus brings the wee babe.’
    The next day it was Gran who picked me up again after school and took me to her house in Kenton Street, only about ten minutes’ walk away but it could have been in another country. It was situated west of Judd Street, on the posh side. Brother John was already there. After giving us a quick snack of bread and jam and a cup of tea, Gran was off to attend to the needs of her only daughter.
    Before she went she gave us our orders: ‘Behave yerselves and get up to no mischief, I’ll be back in an hour to get yer granddad’s dinner. If yer make the place untidy I’ll give yer both a thump’, and then she was gone.