Joey was 4 ft. 3 ins. He knew this because Miss Martin measured everyone in class and Joey was an inch-and-a-half taller than his best friend, George. They all loved Miss Martin, she was so gentle. Not like Mr Bennett, who smacked their bums with a slipper.
Joey was a shrimp; they all were. Skin and bones really, on account of never having a proper dinner. They all had coughs and colds and boils on the neck; that was the damp houses and shortage of coal.
He was only seven but there was this girl, Mary, that he wanted to impress. He showed her his collection of slugs but Mary just screamed and ran away.
His perfect day was playing with his mates on the Rec. One time he found a purse. It had a two-shilling piece, a thruppenny bit and two ha’pennies. Joey had never had so much money before. He knew it was wrong and he never told anyone about it but he spent the money on sweets.
Joey loved his mum, especially when she smothered him in her big bosom. Joey didn’t have a dad. Something to do with the War, his mum said. His Uncle Ted helped him in the way dads did; taking him to the football on Saturday. Uncle Ted wasn’t a real uncle, but joey loved him nonetheless, especially in the evening when mum was at her cleaning job and Uncle Ted cuddled up beside him in Joey’s bed to tell him stories.
Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 