Essex Boy: My Story by Kirk Norcross

like, what the fuck?! How the hell did he have all this
money overnight?
    He explained, ‘I’ve been saving over the last few years, boys, and not spending. Where most people spend what they earn, no matter what it is, I have been sensible, and it has paid
off. I’ve not spent out on stupid things and spoilt myself, and this is the result, I am able to do this. Remember that for your future, boys!’
    And it did make an impression. We knew he had worked his arse off all his life, and to see it coming to something was amazing. Daniel and I both listened and took it in. And of course we
couldn’t help but compare it with where we were living with our mum. It was such a world away. We only walked ten minutes up a hill to reach Dad’s house, but it was like coming to a
different planet. We’d leave this hostel where our whole life was in one room, walk past a fourteen year old in the corridor trying to deal with a crying baby, dodge a slap from one of the
older druggies, and pass drunken Johnny on the bench. Walk up the hill, and bam, suddenly we were at Dad’s house, the biggest and best house in Grays! A house for three people that was bigger
than our hostel for eighty. Where is the sense in that?
    How could my parents, once married and living together, now be living such completely different lives? That’s when reality hit home, and stopped us being totally happy about Dad’s
new place. I thought, ‘Fuck, man, this doesn’t seem right.’
    So I said to him, ‘We’re not happy at home, Dad. Mum needs money, can you please help her out?’
    But he shook his head and said, ‘Well, come and live with us. You know you can, any time you want.’
    But I told him, ‘No way, I can’t. Well, it’s not that I couldn’t, but I don’t want to. There’s no way I’m going to leave my mum.’
    And it was true, there was no way I was going to do that. I didn’t care if we ended up in the street living in a cardboard box – even then if my dad told me to go and live with him,
I’d still stay in the box with my mum. At the end of the day it was him who left her, and I watched her suffer for it, trying to be a good parent and doing everything for me. I would never
have left her as our bond was more important than money. No matter what has happened in my life, whether I’ve had money or not, I never let myself forget that.
    And actually, while I loved visiting that house of Dad’s – who wouldn’t? – I never felt like it was my home. I always felt like a guest. ‘Please
can I go to the toilet, Dad?’ It was as ridiculous as that, and it was clear it was Stacie’s house and not ours. My relationship with her, which was never good, had been on a steady
downward slope over the years, and our awkward conversations were no longer that. They had been replaced by us ignoring each other, or arguing.
    One of my biggest problems with her is that she would have digs at my mum when she was talking to Dad. I know that’s probably normal in this situation, but I just wasn’t willing to
take it. She would say things like, ‘Look at the state of the boys’ clothes. Their mum clearly doesn’t look after them.’
    And I’d be standing there fuming with the rage building, until I’d explode, ‘Oi, shut up you, this is my mum you are talking about!’
    But then because he was so protective of Stacie and never let me talk badly to her, Dad would tell me, ‘That’s enough, don’t talk to Stacie like that. Shut it!’
    And I would be even more angry in my head, going, ‘Fucking hell, don’t talk about my mum like that in front of me! And as for you, Dad, you won’t even let me stick up for
her!’
    I was convinced in my young mind that Stacie had gone for Dad in some kind of a weird vendetta against my family, like she had fallen for him on purpose. Why else would you get together with a
married man? It’s only now I’m older I know you can’t help who you fall in love with. It can’t have been an ideal