After a few minutes of cool down, I called them all over to sit with me. This was the first boxing and self-defence class I’d done in a primary school. I say boxing, but we’d marketed it as an anti-bullying workshop, incorporating physical training with the exercises my college course had taught me on dealing with all aspects of childhood trauma.
When I’d walked out on Pat Murphy and my dreams of making it as a boxer all those months ago, I thought my skills would be useless. I resigned myself to the fact that I’d forever be stuck on some building site somewhere, doing manual labour, and if I was really lucky, somewhere down the line, I’d get to learn a trade. But Harper woke me up to the potential that was out there for a man like me. She was the one who’d come up with the idea of starting the boxing lessons. I asked at my local gym, the one I used to work at, and they agreed to let me rent the space for an hour, twice a week. I didn’t think anyone would show up that first night, but they did. And soon the fees covered the cost of the room and then some.
The boxing lessons soon turned into self-defence classes as more and more people joined. I’d asked them what they wanted to learn, and I took their feedback on board. They wanted to know how to look after themselves. They wanted to feel powerful.
One day, I had a young lad come into my class. Fifteen years old, and I knew right away that he was suffering. I could see it in his eyes. I helped him as best I could through exercise, but that kid broke my fucking heart, and after every session with him I went home to Harper and told her how helpless I felt. She did her research, found a course at the same college Ryan went to, and the following week, I enrolled in a child counselling course. Never thought I’d see the day when I was excited about going back to school, but I was. I loved it. And after finishing with a distinction, I went on to take the advanced course.
It’d been Harper’s idea to expand the business. Reach out to schools and use what I knew and what I’d learnt to help younger kids. Harper had scored my first gig at her school, and seeing as she was due to return to work in a week’s time, they’d agreed. Other schools in the area signed up too after I spoke to her headteacher and told him what I did. I was fully booked up for the next month and I fucking loved it. Had to watch the language though. F bombs weren’t great for business when you were teaching five-year-olds.
I hadn’t spoken to Don Lockwood since that night when he’d begrudgingly admitted he was my father. Funnily enough, a week after the whole showdown, a brand new black Range Rover was delivered to my nan’s house, registered in my name.
I didn’t want it.
I didn’t want to accept anything from that bastard, but Nan and Harper had been with me when it came and they both disagreed with me. Nan said I should keep it and run him over with it. But Harper told me to sell it. Use the money for something I really wanted. As she pointed out, he owed me that much. So I did. I sold it back to the dealership and used the money for a deposit on the flat I now shared with Harper. It was the best move I ever made. Waking up with her in my arms was like every birthday and Christmas I’d never had growing up.
I sat with the kids on the floor of the school gym and I talked to them about ways they could improve their health. I explained what their mental health was and how their mind was just as important as their body. Then I touched on some deeper subjects, telling them that words could hurt just as much as punches. I called a kid over to stand next to me and handed him a tube of toothpaste. They all laughed when I told him to squeeze it all out into my hands. He did, and his giggle warmed my heart as he piled the white stuff into my outstretched palms. He thought this was the funniest thing to ever happen to him.
“That’s a lot of toothpaste to clean your teeth with,” one of the girls at the front said, widening her eyes as she took it all in.
“You did good, mate.” I smiled, looking down at the mess he’d made. “Now put it all back into the tube.”
His little face fell, and the rest of the class covered their mouths with their hands as some gasped and others chuckled.
“Don’t panic,” I reassured him. “I don’t expect you to get it back in. But what I wanted to show you was that words are kind of like toothpaste. Once they’re out there, once they leave your mouth you can’t put them back. It’s impossible. So, you always need to think about how you use your words. Your words could make someone’s day, or they could ruin it. Use your words carefully.”
The other adults in the room gave me a little clap and the children followed suit. One lad at the front asked me if he could eat the toothpaste. I told him no. Harper was right, teaching kids was like being a zookeeper at times. But I loved how unpredictable they were. This session had been the most fun I’d had in ages.
“You have a lot of tattoos,” another girl said, staring at my arms like she was mulling something over.
“I want to colour them in,” her friend piped up and they both laughed.
“Are you Miss Yates’s dad?” a little lad in glasses asked me, and I threw my head back, laughing.
“How old do you think I am, mate?”
“Seventy?” he answered, nodding to himself like he knew he was right.
“Miss Yates has gotten really fat,” a rough-looking kid at the back said.
“Tommy, that’s rude!” the teacher said to him sternly.
Ah. So, this was the infamous Tommy.
“I’m not fat, Tommy. I’m pregnant.”
The other teachers all smiled at her while she rubbed over her little belly. I was surprised she was showing as much as she was at three months. But then again, I suppose you did get bigger with twins.
Yeah, we weren’t doing things by halves. There were two little bundles of joy in there and we’d found out last week that it was two girls. The guy who’d spent half of his life being totally clueless about women was about to be surrounded by them. God help me.
Her parents hadn’t been happy about her being with me, but after hearing about the pregnancy they were slowly coming around. I knew they’d probably always harbour a resentment towards me, and I could deal with that. As long as they treated my girls right. That was all that mattered to me.
“Are you the daddy?” Tommy asked me outright. I liked him all ready. He had no filter, I could tell.
“Yeah, mate. I am.”
“My daddy says you’re the best boxer in Sandland. He said you could beat anyone.”
Yeah. I liked him.
“Does he like boxing? Your dad?”
Tommy’s face fell and he started to fidget in his seat.
“He doesn’t hit other men like you, but he can hit. Really hard too.”
I saw the change in expression on every adult’s face in the room. One of the teaching assistants stood up and started ushering the children out, making sure they said thank you to me as they left. But Harper, the teacher, and I kept our focus on Tommy. He didn’t move. Just stayed rooted to the floor.
“Does Daddy hit anything in particular?” Harper asked on a whisper as she struggled to kneel down on the floor. I went over to her and sat down with her.
“Mummy. He hits Mummy.”
I put my arm around Harper as I saw the tears well up in her eyes.
“Tommy, does he… does he…” She couldn’t speak, and the teacher, Mrs Turley, had started to cry behind him. So, I jumped in to ask the question she couldn’t get out.