Billy Rags Read Online Free PDF

she, Tommy?”
    â€œShe’ll be nine next birthday.”
    â€œThat’s nice,” I said. “Nine. Nice age is that.”
    â€œPretty little thing, she is,” Tommy said. “Golden curly hair. She really loves her terrible old daddy.”
    â€œI bet she does.”
    â€œDon’t know what I’d do if anything was to happen to her.”
    â€œI know what you mean.”
    I turned to Dave Simmons.
    â€œWhat about you, Dave?” I said. “You’ve got a couple, haven’t you?”
    â€œThat’s right, Billy. Twins. Little crackers they are.” He fished a small leather envelope out of his breast pocket. “Did I ever show you the snaps?”
    â€œDon’t think you did, Dave,” I said, walking over to him. I stood behind his chair and bent over him.
    â€œThat’s outside the house with the missus,” Dave said, handing me a photograph. “And this one’s at Margate with their Auntie Annie. They had a week there last year.”
    â€œNice,” I said. “You seen these, Terry?”
    Terry joined me behind Dave’s chair.
    â€œCharmers,” Terry said. “Aren’t they, Billy?”
    I looked across at Hopper.
    â€œJust his type, I would have thought,” I said.
    â€œBit old for him,” said Ray Crompton. “Too much for him to handle.”
    â€œProbably prefers them with nappies on,” said George Hodge.
    â€œDo you like them in nappies?” said Des Walker.
    â€œLovely feller, really,” said Terry.
    â€œA charmer.”
    â€œJust loves kiddies.”
    â€œDo anything for them.”
    â€œTo them.”
    â€œWhich bit do you like best? Before or after?”
    â€œOr in between?”
    â€œThe bit with the bayonet, I should think.”
    â€œWhen they’re crying for their mummies.”
    â€œThey should have given him to the father.”
    â€œThey should have cut his fucking balls off.”
    â€œMaybe somebody will.”
    Hopper’s face had gone the colour of ice cream and his head was flicking from speaker to speaker like the swivel head on a ventriloquist’s dummy. Everybody was worked up ready to explode. It was written all over their faces. I was waiting for somebody to trip it so that I could screw the first two knuckles of my fist into Hopper’s neck.
    While everybody had been calling out, the screw had stood up and put himself between Hopper and the rest of us, but now there was fear on his face because he knew that once we moved there would be absolutely nothing at all that he could do to stop us.
    One or two of the boys made movements as if they were about to stand up. The screw said: “Out, Hopper. Back to your cell.”
    Hopper stood up as though he was on strings and ran out of the room.
    â€œHe’s crying,” somebody said. “The rotten little bastard’s crying.”
    The screw gave us as long a look as he dared and then followed after Hopper.
    â€œFuck it,” I said, belting the back of Tommy Dugdale’s chair.
    â€œBilly, that was a victory,” said Benny Beauty. “No one got nicked. Gordon will be sick about the whole thing.”
    â€œWe should have had him,” I said. “We will next time.”
    â€œOnce, when I was in Leicester,” said Ray Crompton, “there was a feller called Cliff Reid who was down for it, and so what everybody did was to fill up their mugs from the tea-room boiler and they let him have it that way.”
    â€œHere, that’s not half bad,” said Terry. “That’s a little beauty.”
    â€œIf we were to do that,” I said, “everybody would have to be in on it. Nobody not carrying a mug.”
    â€œWhat about the lads down on the Twos?” said Ray. “Are they in?”
    The Twos were well pleased it wasn’t on their plate. You could tell. There was an atmosphere of wary elation about them, like frightened kids in a