Chapter 6

Next morning I was up at 6 am. By 7 am I was in the kitchen having breakfast with my parents. Just sitting there watching my parents spending Sunday together, something I had missed when I was away. They were always griping at each other, but they loved one another very much. After breakfast, I helping mum clean up while dad went into the living room to read his paper. When we finished, we joined dad as well. Told them both about my plans to make the church hall a gym to help the community. That Father Petrou was jubilant about the idea.

“That means you are going to stay,” Dad said as they both looked at me.

“We will see. Let’s take a step at a time, let’s see how this project works out. Also how this recital unfolds regards finding my son.”

Dad asked me if I could help him tidy up the garden shed. Mum was planting some flowers while dad and I were in the shed looking through some boxes. We found some boxing equipment of mine, which could be handy for the gym.

It was around 10 am when I said. “I’m going to go round the flat to see if the Utilities have been turned on. Also to clean up a bit.”

Mum said. “Your sister will be here soon. We’ll come in a while to help you.”

Entering the flat, there was a damp smell, straight away I opened all the windows to get some fresh air inside. Checked that all the utilities had been turned on, I didn’t want to be left in the dark once it got dark. With a pair of yellow rubber cleaning gloves on I started, a refuse bag in one hand, with the other, I started filling it. Cupboards were full of out of date food, magazines Sarah and I use to read, now old. Coming across Boxing Monthly, there was a cover picture of me throwing the final blow at Radovan Brankovic which knocked him out. In a different situation, this would be framed and put on the wall. That went straight into the refusal bag as well.

There was a knocking sound at the front door “Hello.” The voice was familiar it was Vicky, the lady from upstairs.

On opening the front door, Vicky was standing there. “Hi Vicky, just doing a bit of spring cleaning. I hope I’m not making to much noise moving all the furniture around.” I said

Looking at me curiously she said. “I like the yellow gloves.” we both looked at the gloves then started laughing.

“look it’s Sunday, I don’t have anything to do, would you like a hand,” Vicky said.

“That’s very kind of you,”

While we were cleaning, we chatted at the same time, asking questions about each other. Vicky wasn’t from this part of London. She was from Croydon, the company she worked for transferred her to their Enfield office last year. She is an associate solicitor under the supervision of a Barrister. I told her about myself that I was away for three years, that I came back to search for my son.

We were in the kitchen washing down the units. Vicky was washing them while I was going over them with a wet cloth then drying them with a dry one.

“Ahem hello.”

We both stopped then turned. Mum and my sister were just standing there looking at us. I said, “Hi Mum, Tina this is Vicky she lives upstairs, she was just helping me clean up.”

Mum came over to embrace Vicky in a hug, on releasing her she said. “Hello Vicky I am George’s mum, this is his sister Tina.” Pointing towards my sister who was standing there looking at me with squinting eyes.

Poor Vicky just stood there frozen, not knowing what to say I just looked at her with a grin on my face while raising my shoulders.

“Hello, Mrs Michaelides it’s a pleasure to meet you,”

Mum opens a bag she brought with her took out some cleaning products, some gloves she handed out to Vicky and Tina, turned to me. She said. “Come on out of the kitchen, let the ladies do their work.” You need to go to St. Mary’s Church Father Petrou wanted to speak to you.”

I said. “Can I have a word with you, sis?” Starting to walk to the front door, when we reached the entrance I said to her. “Don’t let mum interrogate Vicky. She’s just a neighbour.”

“Yes, little brother didn’t take you long to get to know the neighbours, especially the opposite sex once. Get out of here before I decide to help mum.” Pushing me out of the flat while she closed the door behind me.

When I entered Father Petrou’s office, he was speaking with a woman in her mid-40’s. I could only see the left side of her face as she was facing Father Petrou. As soon as he noticed my presence, he turned to me. “Hello George, let me introduce you to Androulla, Mario’s mother.”

As the woman turned to face me, the other side of her face had a bruise. “Is everything ok father,” I said.

“Last night when you dropped off Mario his father asked him why he was late then started beating him. Androulla tried to protect him by jumping between them. As you can see the result.” Pointing his hand at Mario’s mum.

“Where is Mario!”

At that moment, a big bald guy marched into the office. Walked up to Androulla, grabbing her by the arm. “Come on you’ve dropped off the little shit let’s go.”

With fear in her face Androulla said. “Just a minute Harry let me speak to this gentleman.”

He started to pull her towards the exit of the office, that is when I blocked his path, grabbed him by his shirt slamming him against the wall, which forced him to let her go. Putting my face close to his I could smell the repulsive scent of booze lingering on his breath. “I guess you are Mario’s father, I haven’t seen him yet, but for your sake, let’s hope he is ok!” I shouted.

“What are you going to do put me in a coma big shot.”

Making a fist, I pulled back my hand ready to punch him.

“No, he’s not worth it!” I turned standing there was Mario with both his eyes black and a bandaged-up nose.

I turned back to Mario’s father with my voice raised I said. “Mario will be staying with me for a while, till you straighten up your life. If I hear you’ve hit your wife again, I will come and find you.”

When I released him, he looked at Father Petrou then his wife, he said to her. “Let’s go.”

Looking at Mario, I took a deep sigh then said to him. “Can you wait for me in the car Mario, I’ve parked it in the church car park.” When he left, I turned to Father Petrou. “That wasn’t a good example of me was it.”