BLOOD RELATIONS
There’s always somebody who is prepared to ignore the rules, and nothing isstronger than a mother’s love for a son.
“Oh, he’s a fine boy, you know,” she confided to her over-the-fence neighbour.
“Brings his old Mum a pressie every time he comes back from a trip, never forgets!”
“Oh, and what kind of presents does he give you, then?” Aggie replied
disinterestedly, fag-end drooping from her damp lower lip. Meanwhile her hands were
busy hanging her large family’s wet-wash on the line. Wisps of straggly grey hair
escaping from the grimy turban and the dab of rouge on her gaunt cheeks did
nothing to improve her dowdy appearance. Rubbing her arms with her all-enveloping
pinny, she leant her elbows on the top of the fence. Then, rolling her fag from one
side to the other, she brought forth her pronouncement.
“Yer bloody lucky to have him, then,” she declared, the wisdom of the streets and
alleyways learnt during a difficult childhood informing her words.
“Oooh yes, a fine one he is, ‘n all” his mother lovingly declared again, intent on
impressing her neighbour with the generosity and concern her son was showing her,
the splendour of his presents, and the frequency with which he was bestowing them.
Gradually the cache of goods increased; a new electric toaster, a microwave, a set of
fine glassware, a matching set of hand-embroidered sheets, pillowcases and towels
… ‘lovely quality, only the best for his Mum, ya know’; a top-of-the-range hifi system;
Margie thought her ship had come home.
Months later, cupboards bulging with goods, when even the garraj was full, Margie
finally had to face reality. It was just about then that a loud knocking on the door
brought her quickly to her feet. “Hide,” she hissed, “Go out the back way, the door’s
on the latch, you can slip down the alley and hitch a lift on the motorway.”
Delaying until she judged that he had made good his escape, she pulled the door
open a crack and peeped through the gap. “Yeh, and what do YOU want?” she
queried aggressively.
“Police, ma’am, open this door IMMEDIATELY.”
“We have reason to suspect that your son has been receiving stolen goods, and we're
here to arrest him.”
“Well, you’ll have to find him first, you saucy buggers,” came her daring rejoinder.
“Ma’am, you’d better watch what you say; your attitude will certainly not do you any
favours. This is an official warning.”
The investigation went on for weeks, but nothing could be proved against Alec,
although several of his close acquaintances were no longer to be found in their usual
haunts. Somehow, mysteriously, they had “taken an early summer vacation,” or
“gone to visit an aunt in Canada,” and eventually it was decided to drop the matter
until the police had more solid evidence on which to act.
A long while later Alec returned, and was welcomed back to the warmth of the family
hearth and felt his mother’s loving arms around him once again.
“My boy, my boy ... You could never do anything wrong in MY eyes, you know that …"
Before he scarpered, Danny gave me this packet and said I was to give it to you pronto,
as soon as you came back … after all you are my blood relation, and blood is ALWAYS thicker
than water, no matter what!!”
Opening the packet, Alec saw the bundle of fifties, just about the time the thunderous
blows broke open the front door, and 'Ole Perce' and his pals from the rival gang burst into
the room and pinioned his arms behind his back, then frog-marched him to the waiting Black Maria.
Some time later ..."Five Years, without the option," said the Judge, passing sentence, while Margie
had tried hard to accept that the days of the loving son and his presents were now over for ever.