Moving On

As the move had come around so abruptly it was left to Chris to pick up the slack and prepare everything to be moved to the as yet unknown Walton. His parents had left early that morning to check out the new pub and living quarters, so Chris set about packing everything into boxes and bags. It didn’t take long for him to pack all of his belongings as he was still living out of his rucksack and once that was completed he dutifully set about packing up the flat.

As the morning ended and lunch time grew closer, Chris’ stomach began to growl. He set about searching for sustenance but with almost everything packed away the cupboards were bare. The only thing edible left was a very large bar of chocolate, which belonged to Jane. Chris chose to ignore it and continued to pack, hoping his hunger would fade if he kept himself busy.

His parents occasionally popped in to check up on him and ensure he continued to carry out the task they set, and every time they appeared Chris’ pleas for food became more and more desperate. But his pleas had fallen on deaf ears.

As lunch time passed and with no food forthcoming, Chris’ hunger grew fiercely and his patience finally snapped.

After gazing briefly through the window to ensure his parents were not around, he darted to the kitchen. Greedily he reached inside the fridge and snatched the large bar from the shelf and just as he was about to tear the wrapper open his morality kicked in again and he paused.

Ok it isn’t mine, he thought to himself, but they haven’t brought me any food and surely they won’t notice if I only take a small chunk. So he tore open the wrapper and ravenously stuffed a few chunks into his mouth. He stuffed the bar back in the fridge and continued packing. But as day turned into the early evening and with his parents seemingly forgetting he was there, Chris continued to chip away at the chocolate bar until almost one quarter remained.

Once the packing was finished, Chris sat on a sturdy box resting his hand under his chin with his rucksack by his leg, waiting for the removal men to arrive. It wasn’t long before his parents returned with the removal men in tow and everyone set about packing up the van until it was full to the brim. Following his parents back into the flat to double check nothing was left behind, Chris stood in the empty front room taking one last look at the pokey little room that had been his cage for the last few months.

As he stared around he was distracted by fevered murmurs coming from his parents in the kitchen and a moment later his father emerged looking furious and slightly deranged with his wife acting as his disapproving shadow.

“Where has Jane’s chocolate gone?” demanded Derek, with a dark, sinister look over his face.

“I don’t know!” came Chris’ immediate but immature reply.

“You’ve eaten it haven’t you?” screamed his father.

“Ok, yeah I did, so what?” said Chris, whose own anger was holding the feeling of fear running through him at bay.

“You filthy little thief” shouted Derek, as he began to move closer and closer to Chris.

Losing all control of his emotions, Chris turned on his father full of pain and rage. Screaming at the top of his lungs Chris unleashed his verbal tirade.

“Well if you had brought me some food when I asked you then I wouldn’t have touched her bloody chocolate bar now would I?”.

Chris had clearly over stepped the mark and in a matter of seconds a deep look of hatred spread across Derek’s face and then BANG, Chris hit the floor.

“You " Dirty " Little " Thief” his father screamed, punctuating every word with a harder blow “How " Dare " You " Steal " From " Us”.

“Now get into the van before I throw you in it and don’t expect any more food today” Peter shouted, as he and Jane angrily stormed from the room.

Waiting until he heard the door slam shut, Chris uncurled from the ball shape he had used to protect himself and wearily pulled himself into a sitting position.

As he heard the sound of his parent’s car pulling away at speed, he gingerly pulled himself to a standing position and staggered to the bathroom.

Staring at himself in the mirror he saw his left eye had begun to swell and darken and blood streamed from his nose. As he reached over for some tissue to stem the tide he winched with pain, he straightened himself up and pulled up his blood splattered t-shirt and saw several large bruises beginning to form on his chest and ribs. After a thankless search for tissue, Chris used the sleeve of his t-shirt to wipe the blood from his face and headed for the door.

As the door slammed shut behind him he walked to the van and painfully climbed in. The look of horror on the drivers face made him turn away as the engine began to hum and the van began to slowly move off.

He stared vacantly out of the window as the van gathered speed, only moving to wipe away the fresh blood from his face. Watching the tarmac begin to flash past as they entered onto the motorway, Chris head began to swim.

Did I really deserve that? Because of a bar of chocolate? He thought to himself. The journey to his new home was made worse by the load banging and clanking directly behind his head.

Chris continued his vacant gaze as they travelled silently on.

As time wore on the view from the window slowly began to change. Gone were the endless lines of cars and in their place came rows of large, well-kept houses littered with beautiful tall, sun lit trees running down either side of the street. It must be really expensive to live here he thought.

His hungry eyes starred in wonder through the window as he took in the beauty of his new surroundings and a few moments later excitement grew within him.

Tucked away behind tall, wizened trees and overflowing bushes appeared to be a football stadium. Being football mad and harbouring a distant dream of being a profession football player, he thought to himself, maybe this could be the place where my dream begins to become reality. As the van continued up the long road, Chris hoped that his new home would not be much further away.

A short while later the van made its way slowly through a congested town centre. It was not particularly large but it had all the mainstream outlets of most towns and the human traffic seemed to flow as heavily as the vehicles did. The van made its way around a series of small busy roads and eventually came to a halt outside a small office block situated just off the high street.

Climbing out of the van he stood in the middle of the road observing his new surroundings, in front of him stood a small block of white flats.

It was not like his previous home, a cheaply built council estate; it was more continental in appearance with ornate iron fences and long metal framed, oblong windows.

Whilst there remained an air of hostility between them, Chris dutifully followed his parents through the entrance doors and up a small set of stairs to what would be his new home.

As his father opened the front door Chris prepared himself for the worst, thinking of nothing but another small, cramped little flat where he would be squeezed into whatever space remained available.

Upon entering Chris was pleasantly surprised by what he found, his new home was much larger than the previous one. It was decorated in neutral colours, cream and white, but the amount of rooms seemed endless. The kitchen was on the other side of the flat and the front room was large with an ornate fireplace as its main focal point. It had a separate dining room and a large bathroom but the thing that excited Chris the most was that it had two bedrooms.

His parent’s room was at the far end of the flat while his was situated at the front and although it was directly opposite the front door, he didn’t care. Finally he had his own space, his own private sanctuary where he would not be disturbed by anyone.

While his parents surveyed the rest of the flat, Chris headed for his room to find out what luck had brought him.

Upon opening the door he was thrilled with what lay in front of him. It wasn’t exactly large but it was room enough, it had a large single bed and a wardrobe and chest of drawers to keep his belongings in and a TV sat on top of a stand. He finally felt at home, he didn’t have to live out of his rucksack anymore and he could shut the world out whenever he wanted to. He had everything he could wish for and the earlier trouble seemed to fade away.

After everyone had finished the tour, they headed back down the stairs and set about unloading the van and taking the contents into their new home. It didn’t take long to unload and unpack and after he had help bring a sense of order to the kitchen he set off to his room and happily set about unpacking his belongings and tucking them neatly away in drawers and on coat hangers. Once he had finished he made his bed before being summoned by his father to the front room.

As no food had been brought in his parents had decided to eat out for the evening, reminding him that he would get no dessert due to his theft earlier in the day. So he lagged behind them as they set off down the road to find somewhere to eat. It didn’t take long for them to find somewhere, as mere meters from the flat stood a small yet charming Italian restaurant. As they opened the door a feeling of warmth and the smell of delicious food wafted over them.

Chris sat and ate in silence, although he was tucking into the most delicious lasagne he had ever tasted, he still felt resentful about how he was being treated as his parents tucked into their desserts of rich chocolate cake. After everyone had finished their meals, Derek gave Chris a set of door keys and he and Jane wondered off into the distance. Chris wandered happily back to the new flat and headed straight for his bedroom, once there he collapsed on his bed with his hands behind his head, peace at last he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

It only took a few days for everyone to revert to type, Chris left to his own devices while his parents continually worked. It wasn’t hard for Chris to keep his chores in check in the new place as his parents seemed to live at the new pub as it served food unlike the previous one. So the flat remained tidy due to lack of use and as long as he kept his own mess under control there was little for him to do.

So with time on his side, Chris was left to explore his new surroundings, with the garden not fit for football he needed to find somewhere to practice. His search was a short one as just behind his home was a large green space with a block of council flats in its centre; it was not as large as it had been at his previous home but it was space enough. He spent the vast majority of his time running through his usual drills, honing his skills and working hard to improve his stamina but eventually he grew tired of his everyday routine and decided to venture further into his surroundings.

On his many trips shopping, as was one of his many chores, Chris had noticed a secluded, private road flanked with large picturesque houses. With time to himself and curiosity burning inside him, he dropped off his bags of groceries and headed back outside and in the direction of the private road.

As he wandered slowly, he casually glanced around. The houses were indeed large and beautiful, some with thatched roofs and others with long driveways and expensive cars sat elegantly on them. Dreaming of living in these houses as he floated along, he came to the roads end and stumbled across a sloping set of worn stairs, shadowed beautifully by a large, ancient weeping willow. With the sun shining he lazily followed the steps down until they opened up at the end and he was amazed by what lay in front of him.

The stairs had lead him to the most stunning scene. Spread in front of him was a winding river where boat houses moored and swans and ducks swam effortlessly across the calm water. Fisherman sat on the bank among the bulrushes that adorned the banks while people wandered slowly past on the smooth gravel track that snaked its way beside the river.

Taking in the miraculous view he wandered further down the river, over a small iron bridge passing a pub and restaurant along the way. Coming to a halt on one of the few jetties that littered the river banks, Chris struggled with the realisation that something so wonderful existed mere moments from what he considered to be urban chaos.

The river bank quickly became his second home; he would stop by every day after his training exercises sometimes just to feed the ducks and swans. On occasions he would sit on an empty jetty and attempt to sketch the scenery or a moored boat. Admittedly he was no artist but the idea of sketching a boat and leaving it for the owner to find seemed to take hold of him.

Day after day he would sit by the river but as time went on the perfection began to wear and he wandered off in the opposite direction to discovery more of the town. He had never really toured the entire town before, having only headed there and back for groceries, but he came to realise it was not as bad as he had first feared. He noticed the usual trappings of the high street, a McDonalds along the main street and a Sainsbury’s on the corner.

He stumbled across the local leisure centre, a small cinema and the local community park which contained a proper set of goalposts. But he soon found what would become his favourite shop; on the second floor of a small card shop was what could only be described as a football haven. It sold everything from Football shirts to team memorabilia and he would often return to gaze in longing at the vast amount of items he could ill afford, sadly his father had remained as tight as a drum when it came to giving Chris money.

It was on one of his frequent trips to the shop that a forgotten memory struck him, the football stadium. Filled with desire and excitement he dashed out of the shop and along the main high street, trying to retrace the journey the van had taken in reverse.  The main road was longer than he remembered but his hopeful mood kept him going until a little while later, he stumbled across what he had been seeking.

Just as he had remembered from his one look out of the van window, the football ground stood partially hidden by those old trees and overgrown bushes. Frantically he searched for an entrance and after searching several side roads he found his way in. It was hardly a state of the art stadium that is often seen on TV but compared to where he had been previously playing, it was heaven. A proper place to play, it had three small standing only spectator stands and one large all seater stand. Luckily someone had left the main gates open and he strolled around imagining what it would be like to play here on a Saturday afternoon with a full crowd chanting his name. He continued to visit the ground daily and luck constantly smiled on him as the gates were always open, and so he continued his training here, making friends with the grounds man who seemed to be the only person ever seen at the stadium.

Chris was finally happy; he rarely saw his parents and had his own personal space. He lived in a town that had its own quaint charm and had pretty much everything he wanted or needed.

Even his parents seemed happy with the way things were working out and greeted Chris warmly when he popped into the pub to collect the shopping money, which came as a bit of a surprise and a relief to him. He even lent a hand at the pub when they were short staffed, not old enough to serve drinks but helping to collect glasses and ashtrays for a few hours a day.

Although he never got paid for his work, he was happy to do it as it kept his mind occupied and he was out in the world, keeping busy and occasionally stopping to chat about football with some of the elder gentlemen who frequented the pub. Life seemed to be swimming along nicely but as with everything in life, the tide turns at a moment’s notice.

Whether his father suddenly developed a paternal responsibility or whether it had just laid dormant for the past fourteen years, Chris never knew but out of the blue Derek announced that he was sending Chris back to school. Chris was taken aback by this latest turn of events and was none too pleased about it.

He had become quite happy with the way his life was going, he was responsible for himself and came and went as he pleased. But he did not challenge his father this time, not through fear but it just did not occur him, but even if he had his father’s mind was made up and there was no changing it.

Chris had no choice but to prepare himself for the oncoming change and accept the realisation that he was about to join his peers at school.

©R.D.Scott2017

Author's Note

All writing protected by copywrite.