the crate, though, in case it pecks him; he certainly won’t like that!’
‘Give it a couple of days and I’ll have it tame enough to eat out of our hands,’ Eddy assured her.
For the next few nights, the moment he got in from work, the first thing Eddy did was to go out into the poky backyard to make sure that the chicken was all right.
‘It’s not right keeping it shut up in that crate all the time,’ he told Vera worriedly. ‘It should have a proper run so that it can move around.’
‘If you let it out in the yard then a cat, or a dog, will have it,’ she pointed out. ‘The best thing you can do is tame it so that it likes living like that.’
Reluctantly Eddy agreed with her. From then on he spent every spare minute he had talking to it, stroking its glossy black and white feathers and calming it, until finally it boldly took crumbs from his hand.
Benny wanted to try and do the same so Eddy took him outside and gave him a piece of bread to hold out for the hen. The rest of the family, even their father, watched to see what would happen. After one or two delicate pecks, the hen finally took the lump of bread and they all told Benny how clever he was.
For one wild moment Eddy thought they’d achieved a breakthrough, and that, at long last, they were once again a proper family. Was it his imagination or had their dad changed back into the kindly, happy man he’d known and loved when he’d been Benny’s age? Perhaps he was over whatever it was that had been troubling him since he’d come home from the army, he thought hopefully.
His dad still seemed to be in the same benign mood when he came home from work the next night. He even accompanied him and Benny into the yard with some food for the chicken, and stood there watching them feed it.
Even though he changed into a newly laundered white shirt and his smart navy blue suit and went off out to the pub as usual immediately afterwards, Eddy still felt things were improving. He had settled into his new job and his dad had at last stopped telling him that he would never be as good as Charlie. It would soon be Christmas, so he hoped they could put all their troubles behind them and start the new year with a clean slate.
Two days before Christmas, Eddy felt he had never worked so hard in his life. He was so tired that he’d almost nodded off on the boat coming home from Birkenhead. As soon as he’d finished his evening meal he went upstairs for a nap, and the minute he lay down he drifted into a deep sleep.
He thought he was still dreaming when he felt someone hauling him out of bed by one leg. Still drowsy, he crashed heavily onto the floor. Blinking awake he saw that his father was standing over him, a look of rage contorting his face.
‘What the hell do you bloody well think you are playing at, whacker,’ his father snarled, viciously jabbing him in the ribs with the toe of his boot.
Bewildered, Eddy shook his head to try and clear his mind as the fumes of beer and tobacco, that were coming from his dad, almost choked him.
‘What d’yer mean? What have I done wrong?’ he stuttered.
‘You may well ask,’ his father snarled. ‘I bought you a chicken as a present and you’ve bloody well neglected it. You’ve cleared off to bed and left it without food or water. Is that the thanks I get?’
Eddy struggled to his feet and began pulling on his boots. ‘Sorry!’ he mumbled. ‘I was so tired I couldn’t stay awake. I’ll see to it now.’
‘Don’t worry, Eddy, I’ll do it,’ Vera told him, as she appeared in the doorway.
Michael Quinn swung round and pushed her away from Eddy’s bedroom door. ‘Keep out of this,’ he thundered. ‘It’s got nothing at all to do with you. Mind your own bloody business. Stay indoors with your mother and young Benny while I sort this out. Understand?’
Not waiting for Eddy to finish dressing he grabbed him by the arm and roughly dragged him down the stairs. Opening the door into the yard Michael
‘Give it a couple of days and I’ll have it tame enough to eat out of our hands,’ Eddy assured her.
For the next few nights, the moment he got in from work, the first thing Eddy did was to go out into the poky backyard to make sure that the chicken was all right.
‘It’s not right keeping it shut up in that crate all the time,’ he told Vera worriedly. ‘It should have a proper run so that it can move around.’
‘If you let it out in the yard then a cat, or a dog, will have it,’ she pointed out. ‘The best thing you can do is tame it so that it likes living like that.’
Reluctantly Eddy agreed with her. From then on he spent every spare minute he had talking to it, stroking its glossy black and white feathers and calming it, until finally it boldly took crumbs from his hand.
Benny wanted to try and do the same so Eddy took him outside and gave him a piece of bread to hold out for the hen. The rest of the family, even their father, watched to see what would happen. After one or two delicate pecks, the hen finally took the lump of bread and they all told Benny how clever he was.
For one wild moment Eddy thought they’d achieved a breakthrough, and that, at long last, they were once again a proper family. Was it his imagination or had their dad changed back into the kindly, happy man he’d known and loved when he’d been Benny’s age? Perhaps he was over whatever it was that had been troubling him since he’d come home from the army, he thought hopefully.
His dad still seemed to be in the same benign mood when he came home from work the next night. He even accompanied him and Benny into the yard with some food for the chicken, and stood there watching them feed it.
Even though he changed into a newly laundered white shirt and his smart navy blue suit and went off out to the pub as usual immediately afterwards, Eddy still felt things were improving. He had settled into his new job and his dad had at last stopped telling him that he would never be as good as Charlie. It would soon be Christmas, so he hoped they could put all their troubles behind them and start the new year with a clean slate.
Two days before Christmas, Eddy felt he had never worked so hard in his life. He was so tired that he’d almost nodded off on the boat coming home from Birkenhead. As soon as he’d finished his evening meal he went upstairs for a nap, and the minute he lay down he drifted into a deep sleep.
He thought he was still dreaming when he felt someone hauling him out of bed by one leg. Still drowsy, he crashed heavily onto the floor. Blinking awake he saw that his father was standing over him, a look of rage contorting his face.
‘What the hell do you bloody well think you are playing at, whacker,’ his father snarled, viciously jabbing him in the ribs with the toe of his boot.
Bewildered, Eddy shook his head to try and clear his mind as the fumes of beer and tobacco, that were coming from his dad, almost choked him.
‘What d’yer mean? What have I done wrong?’ he stuttered.
‘You may well ask,’ his father snarled. ‘I bought you a chicken as a present and you’ve bloody well neglected it. You’ve cleared off to bed and left it without food or water. Is that the thanks I get?’
Eddy struggled to his feet and began pulling on his boots. ‘Sorry!’ he mumbled. ‘I was so tired I couldn’t stay awake. I’ll see to it now.’
‘Don’t worry, Eddy, I’ll do it,’ Vera told him, as she appeared in the doorway.
Michael Quinn swung round and pushed her away from Eddy’s bedroom door. ‘Keep out of this,’ he thundered. ‘It’s got nothing at all to do with you. Mind your own bloody business. Stay indoors with your mother and young Benny while I sort this out. Understand?’
Not waiting for Eddy to finish dressing he grabbed him by the arm and roughly dragged him down the stairs. Opening the door into the yard Michael
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