Victoria Park: An Urban Novel

By A-Jay Green

Victoria Park is an urban novel with a hip-hop flavor running right through the storyline. Taking center stage is an extended UK family – the Blakeways, the Johnsons and the Barnbrooks. Tug and C-Jay Blakeway are basketball fans who make regular trips to the USA to watch this sport. The Barnbrooks’ best friend Margo Turner is an opinionated and bigoted woman who gives no quarter, and as the dramatic events unfold, Margo’s adversary, Benson Harris, a teen boy of Caribbean heritage searching for his identity, gets embroiled in an ever more dangerous scenario. While crime and drama keep readers on the edge of their seats, this novel also depicts everyday family events which resonate so clearly with ordinary life. An industrial region in the UK is the primary setting, but there are scenes from overseas locations too. Spectator sport is a passion; both pro football (soccer) and college basketball are featured as the various family members travel far and wide to support their teams.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Dec 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546291237

A-Jay Green

I am a woman in my late 50s who is also a recycled 1990s teen gal due to my love of hip-hop and urban culture and all things American. Like many people who hail from the British Isles I love football (soccer). I also follow the American sports scene, particularly basketball. Fashion is my passion and I rep the baggy and bling 1990s era – wearing snazzy oversized retro football shirts, throwback basketball outfits and big glitzy jewelry. Having lived until recently in the UK Midlands I formed a deep bond with this industrial region, a part of England with a unique heritage. Married for over 30 years to Peter, I have no children and I worked full-time office jobs for many long years up until recently. Due to being a Christian and a churchgoer I have a strong social conscience; I care deeply about both human and animal rights and I speak out against injustice, cruelty, bigotry and prejudice.

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© 2019 A-Jay Green. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 12/10/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-9124-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-9123-7 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Disclaimer

Chapter 1 Vikki Park

Chapter 2 Family

Chapter 3 Bulldogs And Bullies

Chapter 4 Bleeding Green

Chapter 5 Déjà Vu

Chapter 6 Aftermath

Chapter 7 Bad Dawg

Chapter 8 Team Green Championship Quest

Chapter 9 Wrong Place / Wrong Time

Chapter 10 Bigotry And Fear

Chapter 11 Greenfield Irish

Chapter 12 Greenfield Anniversary

Chapter 13 Crime For Christmas

Chapter 14 Harsh Reality

Chapter 15 Many A Good Tune

Chapter 16 Gangsta Dude

Chapter 17 Flight Of The Fearful

Chapter 18 Class Act

Chapter 19 Over Land And Sea

Chapter 20 Final Engagement

Chapter 21 The Clouds Parted

About The Author

Dedicated

To

My dear friend Sue and family and pug dogs Coco and Archie

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The wickedly talented spray-can graffiti artists in the USA, Paris, the UK Midlands and in urban neighborhoods across the Globe; their masterpieces have inspired me since the mid-1990s

Hip-Hop Nation across the Globe and particularly in the UK Midlands and the USA; the coolest dudes in the ‘hood for whom I have looked to for inspiration since the mid-1990s

My Facebook friends and fellow authors Judy and Laura Wells for their help in showing me the ropes regarding the publishing of books

My dear husband Peter for his support while I labored over several years to complete this book

My close family members who have always helped me so much, and particularly since my mother passed away in September 2009

DISCLAIMER

Please note that names of individual characters (C-Jay Blakeway, Tug Blakeway, Anita Barnbrook, Graham Barnbrook, Margo Turner, Benson Harris, etc.) and companies/organizations (GasCompany UK, Mobile Connect Ltd, The Glebe School, etc.) are fictitious. Any person or company/organization with a similar name to any character/organization in this book please be assured that this is purely coincidental.

The names of places, churches, locations, buildings, hotels, sports teams, etc. in the UK and overseas are fictitious (Deaconsfield, Hembridge Wood, Victoria Park, Marke Island, Ryall Park, Bradley Oak, Cranston Briar, Deer Park, Friar’s Lane Church, Charlotte Street Catholic Church, Jakeman Center, Grange Hall Shopping Mall, Valu-MAX Department Store, Atco Mini-Mart, Goldfingers Jewelers Shop, Lakeside View Hotel, Martens Crest Hotel, JB’s Diner, Claridges Diner, Deaconsfield Deacons FC, Marshvale Mariners FC, Newtown Shamrock FC, Wenbridge Loyals FC, Greenfield Shamrocks College Basketball Team, Bishop College Mighty Miters Basketball Team, etc.) Any sports team, shop, hotel, etc. with a similar name to any team/shop/hotel/organization in this book please be assured that this is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1

VIKKI PARK

CHAPTER 1

VIKKI PARK

TIMELINE: JULY 2009

It was early July 2009 and the weather was swelteringly hot and sticky. The humid and sultry heat was very oppressive, and there was the constant threat of thunderstorms. When the storms came, the rain fell like stair-rods. That is an old Iron Belt saying describing very heavy downpours. Some of the inhabitants of Victoria Park enjoyed the hot weather, but a lot of folks took refuge in shady rooms and turned on their electric fans.

Victoria Park is a small and neat little neighborhood that nestles cozily in between the big sprawling estates of Marke Island (to the north-west) and Ryall Park (to the south-east). Victoria Park is north-east of Deaconsfield city center, just over two miles from there. It is well served by buses and there are also some good local shops and eateries for people who prefer to shop and eat locally. The main trunk road which links Deaconsfield and Stanton (about six to seven miles further northward) travels through Victoria Park, and this road is also a feeder road to the motorway (freeway).

Deaconsfield is in the UK Midlands, in an area known as the Iron Belt, so named because of the plethora of iron foundries and smelting works plus other heavy industries and factories what sprung up during the Industrial Revolution. Stanton is a much smaller satellite town that is now home to the Iron Belt diaspora. In fact, some Iron Belt purists dispute Deaconsfield’s inclusion, deeming this city to be over the boundary. They feel that the Iron Belt centers on areas such as Worleton, Hillcrest, Frimley Heath, Beechtree, Old Brook, Glaston plus Lower and Upper Dowle.

In 2009, Deaconsfield, along with the rest of the Iron Belt, and indeed, the whole of the UK Midlands, was hammered by a terrible recession in which all the world’s economies suffered a credit crunch which crippled investment and increased national debt. The resultant lack of investment caused high levels of unemployment; traditional metal-bashing industries were beset by thousands of job losses, which put the Midlands region very deeply in the doldrums.

At the heart of Victoria Park is a nice classy neighborhood of private houses, there just being a small patch of local authority council (project) houses and ex-council (ex-project) houses in the north-west portion of the neighborhood. However, this little oasis of leafy green suburbia is bordered by the much larger, very foreboding Marke Island and Ryall Park neighborhoods. Large swathes of these neighborhoods are tough places – they are the ‘hood. They have always been what you would call rough and ready places, but they have seen an escalation of their problems since the onset of very high unemployment in the early 1980s. Whole families have ended up laid off when factories have closed, and then living on welfare becomes a way of life. Families and individuals alike lose structure to their lives, lose the feeling of pride one gets when one works and they also lose confidence. They become the welfare-check generation.

Drugs and alcohol-dependence become a problem, so does violence and anti-social behavior. Clearly visible to people, the problems of Marke Island and Ryall Park are just the symptoms, the actual disease is a pernicious social cancer called unemployment. The recession of the early 1980s plus the outsourcing of work has done terrible damage, and subsequent recessions have heaped on the misery still further.

Deaconsfield was one of the earliest UK cities to become ethnically diverse, and it became home to large numbers of people from both Asian and Afro-Caribbean backgrounds. Ryall Park in particular has large numbers of both ethnic groups. Marke Island is also diverse, although not as much as Ryall Park. Partly due to there being a big hospital nearby – a lot of the hospital’s very diverse staff live in close proximity to their workplace – Victoria Park is diverse. All these three neighborhoods form a very interesting patchwork quilt of ethnicity.

Since World War 2 there has been a very large influx of immigrants into the UK, particularly from Britain’s former colonies. Large groups have settled in Deaconsfield and that has resulted in a certain amount of white flight, where people of the indigenous population move out of the city to either the suburbs or to satellite towns such as Stanton. Therefore, by the new millennium, there was a sizeable former city-dwelling diaspora in Stanton which is about eight to nine miles from Deaconsfield center.

Victoria Park residents mainly stay in their own neighborhood or go into Deaconsfield city center. They tend to avoid Marke Island and Ryall Park, except for the shops and eateries that are centered around the island itself on the main Stanton trunk road. This is a large traffic-island (rotary) with six exits. This island, plus the shops and eateries nearby are classed as Marke Island, but it is the outer border of the estate, bordering straight onto Victoria Park.

The main part of Victoria Park is reasonably quiet most of the time, there are just some occasional problems, often caused by youths encroaching from the other two neighborhoods. One incident shattered the peace – a gun battle suddenly erupted between three gangstas in a quiet street next to a public house (bar) parking lot. They were from Ryall Park and the dispute had been over a drug deal. One gangsta had driven off at speed in a snazzy silver saloon car after firearms had been discharged. Police forensics officers found empty shell casings in the street. Sometimes there is an occasional incident along the main Stanton Road; this is mainly due to the fact that it leads to Marke Island.

The majority of the residents are fiercely proud of the area they refer to as Vikki Park. A few of the more snobbish folk wish that they could ring-fence the area, dig a moat and pull up the portcullis! They are mainly from the Stanthorpe Road area where there is a small green with one or two silver birch trees. Most people, though, are friendly and helpful, and it just seems to be the green what has attracted the snooty and aloof types.

Back in the day, the Iron Belt was the hub of manufacturing. The area specialized in heavy industry which was powered by an abundant supply of coal. Consequently, the area was beset with pollution – smoke and fumes belched out of the foundries, smelting works and factories. A rich seam of coal ran through the area and all the coal-mining activity scarred the landscape – especially opencast mines and slag heaps.

At first, small metal objects were made, such as nails, and these could be easily transported. However, once the canal routes were opened up – a massive tunnel was dug through Hillcrest – heavier objects were made such as anchors. One specialty was chain-making, which became a huge industry; factories sprung up ranging in different sizes down to little cottage industries in peoples’ yards.

Poor people flocked from outlying rural areas to this industrial hub, drawn by the prospect of employment. Following the Industrial Revolution, Iron Belt men and women labored in dreadful conditions to create the wealth which largely benefitted the Ruling Class. These folks faced dangers and hardships on a daily basis; both living and working in squalid conditions. Many women had to work, and these women toiled alongside their men-folk. The hard labor and the squalor took its toll on people’s health; consequently they were old in their 40s and often dead during their 50s.

The dirt, the grime, the fumes and the industrial landscape – it formed an image of those times. When outsiders first visited the Iron Belt after dark they thought that they were in Hell. The open furnaces lit up the night sky and the air was heavy with the smell of sulfur.

This adversity created a hardy bunch of people who developed a distinctive accent and dialect plus a unique sense of humor. There was great community spirit among these folks and they would rally round to help one another in times of need. They were fiercely proud of their working class roots and they shunned anything or anybody that they deemed to be flash. They were not afraid of offending people – they told it as it was. They always talked straight – they told people to their faces exactly what they thought. Iron Belt folk hated falseness – they disliked people who were polite to their faces but who would then criticize them behind their backs.

These basic characteristics hold good today. The local environment and the circumstances have changed, but members of the indigenous Iron Belt population often have similar ethics, values and personalities today. Not all of them though. Unemployment, crime, drugs and anti-social behavior have permeated into a section of Iron Belt families and individuals. Back in those bygone days, and also in the dark days of World War 2, the community spirit and the common good prevailed, but nowadays society has become more fractured.

During the last 50 years, the Iron Belt culture in Deaconsfield has continued but it has also diversified. The influx of immigrants has brought other cultures to Deaconsfield, enriching the place. As if by osmosis, some of the indigenous population has picked up some of the culture of the immigrants. Ways back, barely any indigenous people ate curry, but now it is on the menu in the majority of these peoples’ households. With all the different ingredients and the huge variety of spices, people can cook up such delicious concoctions!

The distinctive beat of rap music is heard nowadays in many Deaconsfield homes and it also blares out of car stereos on Deaconsfield streets. Teens (and a few older folks too) dress in wicked good urban fashions such as sneakers, baggy jogging pants, hoodies and baseball caps as they enjoy hip-hop culture. Back in the 1990s it was virtually all black teens who embraced hip-hop, but soon white people picked up on it and enjoyed this great music and culture.

Conversely, as the immigrants moved in, some traditional Iron Belt folks upped sticks and moved out, often settling in satellite towns and villages such as Stanton and Bradley Oak, in a kind of white flight. They took their unique culture with them to these places, put down roots and flourished; they enriched these suburban towns and villages.

Consequently, Iron Belt culture spreads over a wider area, but the butter is spread more thinly. In areas within the Iron Belt, the culture has become diluted as the newcomers bring their own cultures, and as some of the young indigenous population also embraces some of the new culture – a prime example of this is hip-hop. It is without doubt that Deaconsfield, in particular, possesses a cultural richness that is unmatched in most other areas of the UK. The ethnic and cultural diversity of the city has been the main driving force behind this cultural richness. Taken for granted by a lot of the inhabitants, it is only when they move away or visit other places that they realize how much Deaconsfield has to offer culturally wise.

On the other side of the coin though, there are negative factors about Deaconsfield as well as the positives. The city has many very low income households, high unemployment, and of course, crime and drug problems. Consequently, Deaconsfield people tend to have poorer health and lower life expectancy than the average UK citizen. There is also an elevated risk of being a victim of crime in some neighborhoods, and going alongside that, an elevated fear of crime.

On the plus side, Deaconsfield has very good public transportation links. There are buses to all Deaconsfield districts and beyond, a train that runs to Canton City at very frequent intervals, stopping at a plethora of stops en route to this famous city which is the regional capital of the whole of the Midlands. Deaconsfield also has a mainline train station, where people can take express trains to all parts of the UK mainland. In addition to this, there are coaches what run to other UK cities, and, in particular, UK airports. For people without their own vehicles, this excellent public transportation is a lifeline.

Victoria Park is served by a variety of buses, run by a variety of bus companies. Since the deregulation of bus services in the 1980s, buses of all shapes, sizes and colors parade the streets of both Vikki Park and Deaconsfield. Varying between sleek and snazzy with all mod cons and gliding almost silently along the streets to dirty, noisy old bangers what belch out exhaust fumes as they rattle along the roads.

The 622 serves the bottom south-west end of Ryall Park, the west of Victoria Park and the east of Marke Island, while the 81 follows the same route till Marke Island, where it only touches on the estate by the big traffic island before traveling along the trunk road to Stanton. The 724 does a meandering route through Ryall Park, Victoria Park and part of Marke Island while the 679 serves the west of Ryall Park and the east of Victoria Park. The Ryall Park heartlands are served mainly by the 660 and the 671 buses while the Marke Island estate is served by the 609 which meanders through the area, and the 636 which runs through the north of the estate.

Chapter 2

FAMILY

CHAPTER 2

FAMILY

TIMELINE: 1969 – EARLY 2008

The family at No: 702 Stanton Road, Victoria Park had lived in their semi-detached house since the late 1960s. The Stanton Road is the main trunk road between Deaconsfield and Stanton, plus it is a main feeder road to the motorway (freeway). Consequently, there is a constant flow of traffic, quite a proportion of it being heavy goods vehicles (HGVs). No: 702 is situated on the west side of this road, backing onto similar properties that are the last staging post before the big sprawling Marke Island estate.

No: 702 is a pre-war semi-detached house what was built sometime during the 1930s. The outside walls have been covered in a pale cream color masonry paint which offsets the old-fashioned dark gray slate roof perfectly. This distinctive roof slopes down over the smaller front bedroom on the right side of the house to meet the porch, in direct contrast to the bay windows of the larger bedroom and the lounge below on the left side of the house. One enters the house through a nice Mock Tudor style porch, into the hallway with the staircase leading upward on the right. A stair-lift was fitted for the two elderly people who were living there. On this floor there are two living rooms, a kitchen and a small pantry. On the upper floor there is a landing, three bedrooms and a bathroom. Central heating has been fitted and the house, particularly the rear bedroom, is very warm and cozy during the winter months.

It is a nice well-built property but it is rather chaotic inside due to a family of four living there and collecting rather too much stuff. In a way, all the ornaments, pictures, books, photographs, garments, memorabilia, porcelain dolls, etc. tell a story about the family members down through the years. There are a lot of very sentimental items. The main rooms were decorated a good few years back and all the walls were papered. The two elder residents chose the wallpaper; large colorful floral patterns abounded, looking like something from paradise in the sample books at the nearby Décor Trader store. Once on the walls however, these very large designs tended to be, putting it tactfully, rather overpowering to say the least!

The front garden is quite neat and well-tended while the back garden is rather a dolly mixture of different things. The forsythia hedge, the small lawn and the nearby borders are well-tended, but they are flanked by a rather wild hedgerow on the left and a massive conifer tree and a sprawling buddleia tree on the right. Just behind the buddleia is a dilapidated old greenhouse. The whole area between the greenhouse and the rear fence is a wild mish-mash of overgrown rhododendron shrubs, gnarled old fruit trees and out-of-control Spanish bluebells and creeping ivy plants.

Sometimes on warm sunny days the old guy who lived at No: 702 would take a dining chair and sit in the porch to just soak up the sun and watch the world go by. He would observe as traffic went past on the Stanton Road – virtually a continual two-way flow of vehicles of all shapes and sizes. He would also see the many pedestrians who strolled along the broad sidewalk; people going about their everyday business. The houses on the opposite side of the road are nice privately-owned semis with imposing front gardens. There are two beautiful trees with maroon leaves in the garden of the house opposite, and the old guy used to watch these trees sway in the wind. He had had a hard life, he’d worked so hard – he’d graduated straight outta the school of hard knocks – and he spent the last four years of his life so contended at his beloved home, No: 702.

About 300 yards northward along Stanton Road there is a JB’s Diner restaurant. This is the start of the area that is centered round the big traffic island, and this area contains shops, eateries, two petrol (gas) stations, a doctor’s surgery and other businesses. The area is part of Marke Island, in fact the JB’s Diner is the place what is the border, a kind of Checkpoint Charlie!

No: 702 is situated in a nice upper working-class area, and to all intents and purposes, it looks like leafy suburbia. However, just 300 yards up the road is the start of Marke Island, and the social problems of the estate are clearly visible to anyone who visits the local shops and eateries. The Stanton Road is the main thoroughfare to the eastern and northern parts of Marke Island, and rough gangs of teens have to pass straight past No: 702, which does cause some problems to the occupants of the house. However, there are pros and cons to most things, No: 702 is very conveniently situated for the local buses, with the outbound 622, 81 and 724 stopping three doors away. The inbound bus-stop is only a short walk away too, situated on the opposite side of the road about 300 yards southward.

At the end of the old millennium, Arthur Blakeway, his wife Maisie, their son Brian John Blakeway and his wife Claire Juliet lived at No: 702. Brian was hardly ever referred to by that moniker; he was nicknamed Tug, because he had the short and squat stature of a little tugboat. Likewise, Claire was seldom referred to by her name; she was nicknamed C-Jay, a fancy arrangement of her initials. The only exception to this was that Tug sometimes called her Claire-Bear, an affectionate nickname he had for her.

Arthur had suffered years of ill-health, largely caused by overwork and smoking. He had worked as a delivery driver, doing high mileages on crowded traffic filled roads and on the motorway (freeway) network. All this driving was very tiring and very stressful, and he would unwind with cigarettes. This tobacco habit gave him permanent chest problems and it also raised his blood pressure still further. After surviving three strokes during his later years, the fourth stroke proved to be fatal; Arthur passed away quickly in the autumn (fall) of 2000 at the age of 70. He had worked so hard from his mid-teens at the end of World War 2, but thankfully he had enjoyed his last four years just doing the simple things in life such as watching movies on TV.

Arthur had endured a very tough childhood; he had been born into a big family what was poverty-stricken. Basically there had just been too many mouths to feed. He had worked hard all of his life to provide for his family, plus a daughter who had been born to him out of wedlock. In 1950 Arthur had had a fling which had resulted in baby Jennifer, and being the decent guy that he was, Arthur had seen that the child wanted for nothing. When Jennifer grew up she had gotten rather possessive with her father and that had led to some bitter rows with Arthur’s wife Maisie. There was some strife; it put a strain on Arthur’s and Maisie’s marriage, and it also affected the sensitive-natured Tug who was their only child.

Arthur was a typical Iron Belt guy, very straight talking and a bit abrasive at times. He clashed at times with his daughter-in-law, the rather feisty C-Jay. Jennifer had put some poison down and her behavior had caused some of the friction. During Arthur’s later years he had mellowed, and so had C-Jay; and they had gotten along okay then for most of the time. In fact, C-Jay had helped Tug care for his father after Arthur had been left incapacitated by strokes. By this time Maisie was also disabled – severe arthritis affected her badly.

Arthur had been a fairly tall (nearly 6’0"), average built man and he had cut an imposing figure. He had had dark hair during his younger days which had subsequently turned gray. He always had it cut short and he proudly maintained a nice neat hairstyle. Always smartly dressed and well groomed, he looked dapper whatever the occasion. Arthur often sported a neat jacket, a fitted zip-up cardigan, a smart casual shirt, a well-tailored pair of flannels and a pair of smart brogues. Some of this pride stemmed from his poverty-stricken childhood where he had had to wear second-hand clothes. As soon as he had gotten his own money, he had treated himself to some nice clothes. He had always been very particular with his shoes, buffing them up