The Guv'nor by Lenny McLean Page A

the commotion, run up the stairs and pushed her way in. Irwin came to when she touched his face. I think for a second she thought I’d killed him. But he shoved her out the way, got up and staggered out holding his mouth. Mum put her arm round my shoulder. She didn’t say anything, just gave me a squeeze to calm me down. I was still shaking with rage. I wanted to finish him off.
    I said, ‘Mum, that is the last time he ever lays hands on me or you or any of the others, because I’m ready and I’ll fucking kill him.’
    She said, ‘Len, I don’t blame you for hitting him, he’s had it coming, but please, son, for my sake, don’t hurt him any more.’
    What could I do? That slag had battered me since I was five. I had given him a bit of a slap and the woman I respect more than life itself was asking me to leave him out. No contest.
    But after I got dressed I went downstairs and into the kitchen where he was dabbing his nose with a flannel. He looked up and said, ‘You made a big mistake just now, boy.’
    â€˜No, you c**t, you made the mistake,’ I replied, ‘and if I didn’t love that woman through there so much I’d be biting your face off right now.’
    He just said, ‘Fuck you,’ and pushed past me. I wish I could say that I battered him until he screamed for mercy and swore he was sorry for what he’d done, but that’s just for films. Real life is never so black and white.
    I liked to imagine that after our little disagreement Jim Irwin was nervous of being around me. When I was indoors he was out. When I was out, back in he’d go. It might have been coincidence. I felt sorry for Mum stuck in the middle. All of us kids hated the very sight of him, but what did we know of adult relationships? There had to be some sort of spark between them because with three of us bringing in some money she didn’t need to depend on his charity. At about that time, he started working up north, in the rag trade, having got himself into the business of making bed-quilts in a little factory. He was away for most of the week, so I started to suspect that he was test-driving the quilts with the bird he was in partnership with but I wouldn’t upset Mum by saying so.
    Time crept on and the lads and I were getting older and wiser. We started going our separate ways, mixing with different people and giving up what we had begun to see were juvenile pranks. Most of our stunts were good capers, but we were at an age when we could be looking at serious bird for what was really schoolboy mucking about.
    About then we all chose the various paths we were going to go down. Some decided that the straight road was the way to go. They’d had a good run so now was the time to settle down. Others took up some serious villainy on their own, or teamed up with some of the well established local firms. Me, I didn’t make any decision one way or the other. I would take it as it came.
    My reputation as a fighter was gradually spreading further and further. If a bit of aggression was needed for frighteners on a job, or a bit of business, my name would be put forward. People knew I wasn’t just another thick-headed thug, but somebody who could be trusted to use his nut for thinking as well as breaking jaws. I never did favours, though. If they wanted me on the firm, I had to be well paid.
    Life wasn’t all about fighting and getting pissed up, though. I did have plans in other directions. Don’t get the idea that because I’m always out with the lads and talking about me and the boys that I haven’t got any time for girls. I’d had my share of birds, but what with the strained atmosphere at home and violence wherever we went, girlfriends didn’t last too long. Then, one night, I was in the Standard in Kingsland Road having a drink and a talk with the governor’s son, Sid. The door opened and in walked this little angel, and Lenny took