Chapter 5 of "The Knock 'em Down Boys" a coming of age novel with a toxic twist - Ghandi and Scratch.

Rat and Sparky meet Ghandi and Scratch to see if their violent exploits have done enough to secure them a chance to prove themselves with the adult firm.

Chapter 5

Ghandi and Scratch

The crowd had thinned right out by the time we started to move across the car park, dodging our way through the last of the families heading home.

The County Hotel pub is at the end of the car park opposite our Ground and it’s where the serious lads meet.

As we moved towards it, we saw a bloke standing with his back to us.

The bloke was Scratch, Ghandi’s second. As soon as he turned around it was obvious who he was from the scars.

The way some lads cut you was meant to help you remember their firm. Some lads would modify their weapons. Two Stanley Knife blades, instead of one, with a match glued in between them and then – slash! A cut like that was a nightmare of a job to heal back together, and left a wider than normal scar. One way to definitely leave your firm’s mark.

The collar of Scratch’s short Henri Lloyd jacket was turned up. He was tall and slim built with well pressed jeans and a pair of white Lacoste trainers. He looked good.

For a few moments, we all looked at each other, before Sparky said, “So what do you want us to do? Stand out here and talk or go inside?”

Scratch made no reaction and simply gestured behind him by cocking his head back slightly and turning to the side to let us past.

The pub was busy. Around the bar some red shirts were conducting the usual post-match, post mortem over lager and bar snacks. Framed photos of players from the past, still images of important goals, signed shirts and a large club crest were hung on the walls.

It was hot in the pub. All the over-excited male bodies were creating a kind of tropical micro-climate. I could feel the sweat gathering on my brow and I could see the sweat on some of the blokes’ faces.

There were plenty of pretend hard men in there too. The type of Lads who gave it the big one in the Ground shouting, “You, I’ll have you!” to anyone they made eye contact with.

They never met the people they were giving the verbal to. Instead, they would congregate here. Getting hammered, singing anti-Poxford songs and pretending to have been involved.

They were singing about walking up to Poxford and pissing all over the spires and walls of the city, before shagging their women and slapping the blokes about.

They got on my nerves.

In the corner of the pub, sitting around two tables, Scratch guided us over to the blokes who made up the main Swindon firm. One seat was empty, and Scratch took it. Those whose faces we could see were clearly engrossed in a conversation. We could hear names we didn’t recognise and dates and times. Scratch joined in with a few nods to show he was involved. No one looked up yet and those with their backs to us didn’t turn around. We just had to stand there and wait like a couple of dickheads.

I wasn’t sure about the situation to be honest and I was about ready to get out of there when one voice started to talk and the other voices began to listen.

“I’ve been watching you boys.”

When the owner of the voice looked up, it was obvious that it was Ghandi.

“I’ve seen the clips boys. That last one was pretty good. You’re group are well organised and well disciplined.”

We just nodded and listened.

“If you’re up for it, we’re meeting at the Train Station in Southend on Saturday. Their lads have been putting it about that they’ll be waiting for us.”

Ghandi looked at me, “Do you speak for your lads?”

I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t my place anyway. Sparky was staring straight ahead at Ghandi. I don’t know what he was thinking. Maybe he was looking at Ghandi who we’d both sort of idolised a bit for the last year or so, and now that we were getting our invite to run with the mob, maybe he was looking to the future and seeing himself as Leader. And I wonder if when Ghandi was staring at Sparky he was thinking, just for a moment, that this might be the lad who would eventually take his place.

Sparky spoke, “Yeah, I speak for all of our lot. We’ll be there.”

Ghandi stared at Sparky again, and this time, the lads who hadn’t turned around did. Each of them was looking at both of us. And more than just looking at us. It seemed to me that they were looking inside of us and trying to answer the question: will they run?

Sparky seemed to be sensing the same thing. “We won’t run.”

Ghandi smiled, “We’ll see if you turn up, won’t we?”

“We’ll turn up. Where are we meeting?”

“There’s a pub, in the station. We’ll meet in the pub. By we, I mean your boys, me and a few of these lads. Scratch’ll bring the rest of the lads in a couple of vans. We’ll make it seem to Southend like we’ve got no plan, just walk out and front them wherever they turn up against us. They’ll want to hit us on their terms. So we’ll head down towards the ground. They’ll have a few scouts, and they’ll try to predict where we’re going to be. They’ll try to decide where to have a go at us. When they do, we’ll leg it. They’ll think we’ve shit ourselves and be after us, all buzzing to finish us off.”

“Right?” I could see Sparky starting to clench his fists, which meant that he wasn’t happy.

“Don’t worry, this is all to make us seem like we’re not up to much.  You’ll be in the decoy group, so your lads’ll need balls. There won’t be that many of us, and Southend’ll get their confidence up when they see a poor show.”

“Right.” Sparky’s fists had relaxed.

“Thing is,” Ghandi stood up, “Scratch has already been over to their place. We know exactly where we want to take them on. There’s an industrial estate, not far from their ground, and that’s where Scratch’ll be waiting with the rest of our lads and the hired vans – one van at one side of the car park and another at the other. We’ll lead them round and pretend to look a bit panicked. They’ll think they’ve got us trapped, then the vans’ll drop their loads and smash, we’ll proper do them over.”

Sparky was nodding now.

Then Ghandi pointed at Sparky, “As long as you and your boys can hold your nerve.”

“We’ll hold our nerve. And better than that, when we get the chance, we’ll show Southend...” Sparky stepped forward, “...and we’ll show you.”

All of Ghandi’s lads stood up at once. Beer spilled over legs, tables over-turned, glasses smashed on the floor and Scratch was in Sparky’s face within a second calling him a cheeky fucking bastard.

I remember I was amazed, because normally, that would have been it. Sparky would have had his forehead square into Scratch’s nose.

I was ready for a complete pasting when Ghandi stepped around the overturned tables and pulled Scratch back with an effort.

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Ghandi stepped towards Sparky with his hand out.

Sparky took it and they shook hands slowly – each looking into the others’ eyes without breaking away.

If you want to see what happens when the boys make the trip from Swindon to Southend, let me know below with: a like, a comment, a share or subscribe!