Carole’s my sister, by the way. She’s four years older than me and she always spoiled me, and when good old Vince moved in and Mum starting changing it was Carole who made life bearable for me. It was bad, but I could stand it with her there to support me. Then one night when Mum was working late, something happened between Carole and Vince. I didn’t understand it then and she never told me anything, but I’ve a fair idea now what it must’ve been. Anyway, she said something to Mum and they had this flaming row and it ended with Carole walking out of the house. She moved in with her boyfriend and I was on my own. I stuck it out till I finished school, but that was it. I’d got five GCSEs, which was a miracle when you remember what was going on at home, but I couldn’t get a job and there’s no government money for school-leavers. You’re supposed to be on a training scheme, but there aren’t enough places and I didn’t get one. I’m sure Mum would’ve supported me till I found something, but it wasn’t long before Vince started on at me about living on his money. I wasn’t living on his money – I’d have topped myself first. It was Mum’s money, but he went on and on, getting nastier and nastier, and one night when I’d been with my mates he locked me out of the house. It wasn’t even his house but he locked the door and wouldn’t let Mum open it. I went round to Carole’s and she let me spend the night, and when I got home next morning Vince started slapping me around the head for going off and worrying Mum. If you happen to know anybody who’s looking for a one hundred per cent out-and-out bastard, I can let him have Vince’s address.

Anyway, that’s how he was with me and I guess Mum’s scared of him because she didn’t stick up for me, so I left. You’d have left too, in my place. Anybody would. It’s called making yourself homeless. And so here I am sitting in this doorway which is now my bedroom, hoping some kind punter will give me a bit of small change so I can eat.

Good, eh?

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