Theo Mallier: Growing Pains

1987

1987 was the year of the Terry Waite kidnap, the Klaus Barbie trial, the south England hurricane, the Enniskillen bombing, and, on 17th August, Theo’s eighth birthday, the death of Rudolf Hess.

Birthdays were not celebrated in the Mallier house with any great vigour; a card signed by the family, no presents, but a special tea of crisps, biscuits and cake for everybody, paid for by borrowed money six times a year.

The King Arthur public house was untouched by progress. It was always half empty with people bearing forgotten dreams and mythical stories that complemented the pub’s name. It was locally known as Arthur’s Stool after one of its former patrons died in there, lurched over the bar, unnoticed for an hour, and the nickname was later, lazily, shortened to just The Stool.

George had already borrowed the money for the birthday tea, and was busy borrowing some of it for himself and his oldest friend, Henry Macken. Henry Macken had been nicknamed Harry Mac, followed by Hammock in recognition of his favourite pastime, which was then shortened to Ham in acknowledgement of his barrel belly.

As they sat putting the world right yet again, Theo came in to the bar to get some of the loan so the children could have their tea. Nobody batted an eyelid at seeing an eight-year-old boy walking into the bar to find his father, and the other fathers’ only feeling when they did see him was that of relief at not being the one having to go home. Theo looked around the room and found his dad and friend, and made his way to them.

He was beaten there by another. It was Walter Todd, shortened to Wall which not only fit his name, but also perfectly fit his nature. He was Libby’s older brother and by relation, and relation only, George’s brother-in-law. Wall sat down across from George and Ham, and Theo sat down after him next to his dad.

Wall was one of those who thought he was a hard man on the estate, but the hype was only in his head and nowhere else. He always wore T-shirts even on the coldest of days, and today’s choice was black. He had just come in to the pub and sat down without buying a drink, and had folded his arms to show the size of his biceps, but also to stop his teeth chattering while he talked.

‘You two were in here last week with our Ruck.’

Ruck was the name of another Todd brother, the youngest in the family after Libby. His name was Richard, and he was called Ruck in his family because of the way he said ‘luck’ as a child.

Although George knew what the conversation was going to be about, he humoured Wall. ‘Yes, we were.’

‘And he told you he was thinking about killing himself.’

‘Yes.’

‘And you gave him fifty pence for the gas meter.’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘And so did I,’ said Ham, ‘to make sure he didn’t run out.’

‘Well he did die.’

‘Yes, I heard.’

George’s nonchalance irritated Wall. He had come in to the pub looking for trouble and it looked like he was going to get it. ‘Do you have anything to say about that?’

‘I’m sorry for your loss.’

‘Me too.’

Wall didn’t like the insincerity of their answers. He had wanted proper apologies from them, whether they were willing or not. George sensed this, and had no fear of the brooding, blaming, bereaved brother sitting across from him. ‘How did he die?’

‘He electrocuted himself.’

George and Ham stared at Wall for a second, then at each other, then back at Wall, and George asked him. ‘What’s that got to do with the gas meter?’