With the treehouse built the gang could get down to what we enjoyed doing most – hanging out and having a laugh. The first thing to go up next to the treehouse was the rope swing. It was made from a blue nylon rope, stole by Josh from the back of a lorry. Josh had fixed the rope so it hung dead centre across the brook. With the rope swing in place, I thought it would be good if we built a dam too. Brian and Jason thought it was a good idea too, so along with Rob they helped me to build one. It was a real beauty. It stretched high into the bank on either side of the brook. We were proud. We were blown away with our civil engineering achievements.

With the dam built the water collected quickly and made it to the top of the holding wall within minutes. A trick I had learnt from last year was to put an overflow channel running the outer edge of the dam, so that we could keep the reservoir topped up, without the water flowing over the top of the dam and eroding the compacted mud. I knew that this feat of civil engineering would last us until after we were back at school and beyond summer.

With the rope swing and dam ready to go, we spent our time swinging back and forth becoming ever more confident and developing new tricks. We learnt to skim the water with our heels, and we learnt too how many we could get on swing before people would start falling off into the brook. The afternoon would pass quickly, and before we knew it the gang had built up an appetite. It was left to Josh and me to sort out tea. We worked well as a unit, intuitively knowing what each other was thinking. So with a budget of ten pounds we set off to the local store for some basics. Tonight’s tea was going to be baked potatoes (fresh from the field, behind camp) and beans topped with cheese, washed down with pineapple pop. On the way to the store Josh had asked me about my cousin and aunt and whether I often felt alone. “Not alone in the sense of not having any friends, but alone in the way you can’t always express what you want to express.

Perhaps ‘cos sometimes you might struggle to find the right words but other times ‘cos things shouldn’t be that way”, he said.  I said, “who said, that things shouldn’t be that way?” And he would say, “other people”. He wasn’t a particularly a sad person – considering his home life – although I always sensed a feeling of still waters within him. I knew too how he loved his music and in particular Morrissey. “Morrissey”, he said would always work things out for him after his dad didn’t make sense. When I asked him if his dad spoke with him, he said” not directly but how can he make sense with his anger?” How can breaking your kid’s face ever make sense”, he said quietly. Looking at Josh, with his torn long-sleeved t-shirt and runny nose, I couldn’t help but hug and kiss him. We got back to camp and wrapped the potatoes in foil. The fire was already roaring – thanks to the free hay and Rob. Another one of Rob’s speciality was fires. With the gang hungry, I tossed the potatoes into the fire and Josh got the beans prepared for heating and the cheese grated.  In what appeared to minutes, we were ready for the beans to go on the fire. They were going to be cooked in their own tin. The fire burnt furiously, and within a few minutes the beans were ready. I passed around the paper plates and plastic cutlery, and one by one the gang came up for their tea. The tea was ace.

7.

It was 10 O’ clock, the following day, when we all met up at camp.  I managed to bring from home enough bacon, sausage, eggs and toms – for a full English for everybody. And with tea and coffee in the stores we only needed to get some milk. On occasions like this it was always customary that two of the gang would help themselves to milk from the new estate. And the way of deciding who would be the obliging duo was by drawing lots. James had got together six straws, and shortened two, ready for the grand draw. It was Rob who went first. Pulling his straw tentatively until he was off the hook. As the straw came loose he jumped around camp like an excited child. The next to draw was Jason, then Brian and Josh. They’d all drew full length straws. So it was going to be me and James left with the task in hand. I was pleased it was James. For it could have been worse. I mean if it was Rob then things could have been a lot worse. For, in truth, his waist line is a little on the too many pies side, for cat like actions on a clear summer morning.

James and me set off in search for the morning’s milk. It was only a ten minute walk to the new estate, where we always carried out our steeling of milk. We had a choice of roads as the one side of the whole estate sat next to the brook.  We entered the new estate via a close towards the bottom of the estate and we were in luck. The milkman had not long dropped off his round and the road appeared to be very quite. So with us casually scanning for opportunities we walked downthe one side and then walked back on the other side. By doing this we had spotted our house that was going to oblige us with milk supplies for the morning drinks. James kept lookout while I went for the take. I casually strolled to the door, collecting two bottles of pasteurised and one bottle of orange juice. On the way back down the drive James had spotted the next door neighbour. He was in his early fifties; pot bellied and supported a brylcreem quiff with a tattoo stating, ‘Elvis lives’. He had clocked us and shouted, “Oi; what the fuck are you doing, you thieving bastards”. James made a dash for the brook, and I soon followed dropping the orange juice as I ran. It fell and smashed on the pavement. We ran like hell to get to the camp, as the old guy gave chase with his beer belly dancing side to side. When we arrived back at camp we all hid, just in case he had managed to follow us through the brook. I was out of breath trying to keep up with James. We got Josh to climb one of the great oaks that screened the camp as a precautionary mark. We gave it twenty minutes to be sure and then we continued with the morning breakfast, laughing and repeating the story embellishing it a little here and there.

After breakfast all of the gang, apart from me and Josh, had decided to go brook jumping. We thought it would be better for us to stay back and look after the camp – just in case other kids came about causing trouble. The day was going to be a hot one, and jumping brooks can be real fun. Both James and Rob are competitive on most things and brook jumping is no different. With each trying to get the most daring jump of the day, I knew the gang would be in for some fun. The gang set off, and we knew that they were going to be away for most of the day.

8.

With the gang out of the way me and Josh had plans to kick back and take in the summer heat and enjoy the day. We started off with the rope swing, practicing our tricks. Prior to jumping on the swing, I twisted the rope as much as I could. When I was ready, I jumped on the swing and glided across the brook spinning furiously. Josh was laughing. On my second return, still spinning, he jumped on my lap and before I knew what had hit us the stick supporting us had snapped and we both fell into the brook. Laughing and gasping for breath we ended up with gobfuls of dirty brook water. Finally making it to the side, choking and spluttering, we pulled ourselves up and made our way to what was left of the fire from breakfast. With no one around we stripped off and hung our clothes on a make shift dryer next to the fire. It wasn’t the fist time we had exposed our skinny bodies to each other, but each and every time was always initially awkward. I was very self-conscious and so was he, especially with his bruising.

With towels to the side, we made our way to the cornfield at the back of the camp. Finding our pitch we started drying ourselves off. I was drying my hair when Josh started drying my torso. My heart started to race. And then I started to dry him off. With being so close there was a kind of electricity flowing between us. With us both excited, we kissed each other gently on the lips. Although we knew that what we doing was wrong, it felt so right – for both of us. Breathlessly, I drew his head in to my chest and we lied down, in the full sun, holding each other. It was at this point that Josh started to cry. Sobbing incessantly, he said “that he found his dad’s discipline and beatings difficult”. He went on to say “that once he had to lie to his class mates about a massive bruise on the outside of his right leg. He told them that he fell off his skateboard”. “The truth was different” he said. “It was my dad”, he confided in me. He was mad at me for loosing my reading book and looking at page 3 girls during art class. “And my mom just turns a blind eye”, he said. I was always aware of the discipline in his household, but not the extent of his dad’s abuse. My folks would often talk about it, and said that domestic affairs were complicated – whatever that means. They said it was connected with his work. He worked as a Supervisor for a chocolate factory. His shift was permanent nights. I listened intently and told him “Things will change. They always do. And before too long you’ll be bigger than him”. And I told him “that I loved him and that together we would be okay and that is what only matters”. Several hours had passed, and feeling much better and with our clothes dried off we both got dressed. The rest of the gang return within the hour and we knew we had an evening waiting for us of barbecued food and shared stories of brook jumping.

9.

The weeks passed by and we had the best weather for many years. The treehouse was holding up well and we never had any trouble from other gangs of kids. The brook jumping continued, along with the fires, the stealing of milk and my comforting of Josh. James led the gang with confidence, mediating any potential fall outs and Brian’s and Jason’s independence grew ever more prominent. And my mom’s concern for hanging out with them never waned.

By the end of the summer holidays we were ready to go back to school. We had enough tales to see us through the whole academic year. In truth the gang knew this would probably be the last summer, and perhaps subconsciously we all made every effort to enjoy it. For we knew, that next year we would be too old – for dens and all.

10.

It was the last Saturday of the summer break, and the gang had decided it would be a fitting end to the summer if we were to have one more blow out. Everybody was under the strictest orders to bring food and pop from home so we could have a real send off.

We had agreed to meet at 10 O’clock for breakfast, then, we were going to spend the day hanging out and having a laugh. We whittled our time with the usual activities: brook jumping, fire jumping and tree climbing.  And we finished the day with tea around the rope swing.

It was nine in the evening by the time we left the camp. I walked home with Josh. We wanted to stop off the sweet shop on the way home so we cut across the park.  This route would give us a bit of time together, without anyone else being around. After the shop, we headed for the park. The park was always empty and had plenty of secluded areas we could talk and hold one another. Josh had been upbeat since our time in the cornfield. And it was nice to see him happy. I asked him how things were with his dad. “Terrible. I’m a kid, I feel so hopeless. This shouldn’t be happening to me”, he said. He lifted his shirt and showed me his back. I started to cry. He asked me not to. I said, “you must report him”. “Easy for you to say. It’s complicated, you don’t understand”, he said. I said, “what’s complicated about having the shit kicked out of you?” We were going around in circles. I clearly couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to live in that house. And clearly he knew this. It was getting on for 10 O’clock, and we both had to get back. I kissed him and hugged him. He started to cry and said, “I can’t go on, not with everything the way it is.” He kissed me goodbye and said that “he loved me.” We got to my house first, and I waved him goodbye. He smiled and waved back and said, “I’ve left a message for you at the Corner Tree.” This would be the last time I would see him. By the morning he would be dead. That night in bed I was trying to imagine how we could perhaps run away together, to get Josh away from his dad. I knew things wouldn’t change for Josh, until his dad was out of the picture. I kept on thinking too about his dad. And asking myself what the hell happens in life for a father to become so angry and hopeless that he beats and fails his kids.

Apparently it was Josh’s mom that found him the next morning. He was in the bath. He had slit his wrists.

The funeral was a strange experience for me. It was the first time I had been inside a Catholic church. A full Catholic mass was held before his burial. The church was packed. This reflected Josh’s popularity. I couldn’t get over musicality of the mass and the sadness of the hymns. They summed up Josh well. Apparently his mom had asked the priest to include some of his favourite hymns. I remember seeing his mom and dad. They had a distraught fragility about them that reminded me of Josh.