Gun Dog by Peter Lancett Page A

heavy and burdensome. But it’s not a contest so I move first, crossing the road. As I approach, I see Aunty Margaret’s face as I have never seen it before, so sad and disillusioned and defeated. A lump comes to my throat and I fight it down. I open the gate and step onto the concrete path leading to the front door. The lawn to the left of the path is billiard table-neat, the surrounding borders of dark soil all broken and even and weed-free, even though it’s autumn and the best of the summer flowers have long since died.
    As I approach the front door step, I look up at Aunty Margaret and her face just crumbles as the tears begin to flow.
    ‘Oh Stevie…’
    I put my arms around her and hold her to me. She is so dejected that she cannot even bring herself to hug me back and her arms hang limply down by her sides. We stand like this for a few moments withher sobbing against my shoulder, before I gently usher her back inside the house and I close the door on a prying world that just wouldn’t care.
    Minutes later, we’re sitting in the living room with the curtains still closed, even though it’s getting light outside. We’re drinking tea and I’m eating slices of homemade sponge cake despite it being very early in the day. I know that I have to indulge Aunty Margaret right now.
    ‘He only went outside to tell them to clear off. They were climbing all over the car and throwing bricks at the house.’
    Bit by bit, through tears, I get the story. Uncle Jack went out to tell Rogers and his goblin followers to clear off after the rocks started to thump against the walls of their living room. And that’s when it did get personal. Once Uncle Jack had dared remonstrate with them, rocks that had until that point accidentally hit the car and the house, now began to rain down on those twin targets with a purpose. Uncle Jackwent out to remonstrate again and told these young children to clear off and make their mischief closer to their own homes.
    ‘Who’s going to make us?’
    And you can just see the inbred Derek Rogers with his evil slitty eyes standing his ground against Uncle Jack, the Korean War veteran Grenadier Guardsman.
    ‘I’ll show you who.’
    And Jack had gone out and grabbed the kid and smacked him on the back of his head, and had kicked his backside as the kid had turned to run away. Within half an hour, Derek Rogers was back and this time his brother Wayne was with him. They began shouting and swearing outside the house. And further damaging the car. Uncle Jack went out again to stop them. I can only imagine how distressing and terrifying it must have been for Aunty Margaret. Actually, I don’t have to imagine; I can see it in her eyes right now.
    Well the swearing and the vandalism and the intimidation continued until eventually, Uncle Jack called the police. And this is the part that bewildered Uncle Jack and Aunty Margaret but doesn’t surprise me at all. It took half an hour to actually get to speak to someone, only to be told that no one could be despatched to come to the house. Friday night you see, and all units are busy in the town. You can hardly believe that can you? But let me tell you, you can never get a cop to come and deal with any kind of crime on our estate. They just don’t want to know.
    Five times Uncle Jack called those cops last night, only to be fobbed off each time like he was some kind of senile timewaster. Finally, much later, with Aunty Margaret crying fit to break your heart and a brave old soldier made a prisoner in his own home by yobbish filthy criminal scum, blue lights could be seen flashing outside the house. The police had turned up after all. Uncle Jack had gone out to greet them, to invite them in, ready to give a statement. But it hadn’t been a statement that they’d beenafter. They’d come to arrest Uncle Jack. They hadn’t come as a response to his telephoned pleas for help. They’d actually shown up as a response to a complaint by the Rogers family. These