The curtains were closed but a bit of sun crept through where the ook was broke and lit up the crumbs of pizza crust caught in the airs around er belly button. Our Ma was asleep when I come ome from school. Often is. This time she was flat on er back on the settee; one leg on, one leg dangling over the side with er foot on an empty glass. The bottle wouldn't be far off. Er tracksuit was riding up er body and stretched over the rolls of fat. She never ad no bra on so you could see everything. No knickers an' all, shouldn't wonder. I ates that. She ad, like, smears down er including fag ash and pizza - she adn't changed since last night then. Or the night before. Or the night before. I ates that an' all and I'm always clean, in me body like. I tells er to wash and that but she's like, 'Wossa point Shawn? You only gets dirtay gehn.' I've started washing me own clothes but then I gotta do our Jason's and our Ma's and Steve's an' all.

The empty bottle was down the side of the settee with er fag packet which was over alf full. Well it was until I took four out and slipped them into me school bag. It ain't like she gonna notice is it and I reckons I earns em. I picked up the bottle and the ashtray and got rid of them both in the kitchen.

'Right Mahl, I'm ome,' I shouted as I come back in. I bent down so's we were face to face and shook er by the shoulder. 'Ello, knock knock, es thurl anyboday thurr?' Our Ma just wobbled about a bit and er eyes stayed closed.

I eard music and voices upstairs so I reckoned our Jason was ome with is mates. Must ave been bunking off school again. Jason's me brother and e's fifteen and e's lush. Some of is mates ain't so lush mind, but our Jason's brilliant. E looks out for me and e even elps me with schoolwork, though e never goes a school, cos e's really clever look and I ain't. I goes a Florrie Nightingale which everyone round Knowle West knows is the divvies' school. They says I got 'moderate learning difficulties' and 'emotional and behavioural difficulties' which means I'm thick and naughty. At least that's what the teachers says. The kids round ere says all sorts, well, they calls me all sorts and our Jason beats em up and that when e catches em. They says I'm a fat slag and I smells and that and some really dirty stuff that ain't true. And I ain't a slag. Our Jase just smacks em one and everyone's scared of im but I ain't cos e's always nice a me. E just gives I a cuddle and e's like, 'D'worray Shawn, I'll look after yowe,' and e do. No one else ever talks to me really. Some people shouts, like teachers and our Ma ...

We often aves a cuddle cos our Ma don't do that so much no more and our Dad's been in nick for ever and it's the best place for im cos e's orrible. E used a beat our Ma up all the time. Every day. E'd do it in front of us an' everything and she'd be crying and dribbling and begging im a stop and e'd just laugh. Then e'd say, 'Get up they sturrs kehds; me an' yer Ma's gotta sort summat out,' and sometimes we'd listen up the top of the stairs and e wouldn't be itting er and kicking er no more but she've still kept on crying. Our Jason would put is arm around me and say, 'S'alright Shawn,' but it weren't cos we both knew what e was doing. Then e'd come out grinning and say, 'Sortehd, way unnerstands aitch uvvurr now,' but we never come straight down cos our Ma would still be crying and weeping and that and you could see summat bad ad appened and we didn't want a see er that way or ave to pretend everything was alright. We just stayed in Jason's bedroom most of the time and played games and played music and our Jase would give I a cuddle.

Before our Dad got put inside e used a beat our Jason up an' all. Like to see im try now. Our Jason's getting big and e's a good fighter - vicious like. Our Dad never beat me up but e used a smack my ass. Pull me pants down and smack my ass even when I adn't ardly done nothing. Our Ma would try an' stop im and that's when she got the worst beatings. Our Dad used a say it was my fault. Suppose it was. If our Ma would ave let im smack my ass mind, it would of been alright but she used a go nuts and call im - well, really bad stuff and then she'd get a kicking. And the rest.

Sometimes e phones us up from nick. Can you believe that? Can you believe they lets im do that? Our Ma won't talk to im. She just says, 'I ain't lestnehn a ehs fehlf,' and goes up the club or up the Venture, look. I'm like, 'Alright Dad? Ow you doehn?' and that and I tries a talk to im, I wants a talk to im but e just asks me really private stuff like about boyfriends and whether I've started me monthlies and that. Well I ave but I don't see what it's got a do with e. Then e says, 'Tell yer Mahl I'm gonna . . .' and it's just a load of dirty stuff then but I can't say nothing cos I'm crying so much and our Jason just snatches the phone and swears right back at im and slams the phone down. I was glad when we got cut off. Then Steve come into some money and got us connected again, worst luck.

Our Ma's ad loads of fellas since, mind, and they all smacks er about. She says it's just what men dooz. She've got Steve now. E almost lives up ours. E's a Cockney and our Ma says e's a bit of a Jack the lad with it but e's alright. I ain't gonna tell you what our Jason says. Steve come down a Bristol for work and never went back. Our Jase won't talk to im. E just takes the piss every time Jase opens is mouth: 'Oooh arrr, zoider boy' - stuff like that. I reckons e talks funny.

Steve smacks our Ma about a bit but not like our Dad or some of the others. It's only when e've ad a few. Our Ma says she asks for it really.

'Right Shawn.' That was Jason, e smelt of cider like our Ma. Is mates, Scott and Scott, anged about behind im. Scott One nodded and Scott Two dogged me up like a lot of fellas dooz these days.

'Shawn, our Mahl ain't waken up en a urray. Tidy the place up a bet and do us some tay for bout sehx, yeahl? I'm off out.'

'Whurr to?'

'To get my faverert ses a birfday prezzay,' and e flashed me that smile. You wanna see it - e'd charm the pants offa you an' all. I thought e'd forgotten like everyone else. Except Our Nan, mind: she sent us a fiver and a card and our Ma never saw it. I've got it idden now cos if she knew, that'd be eight cans of White Lightning fore you could blink.

Five pound - that'll be a jumbo Monster Munch, some Somerfield banana milkshakes, some chocolate, some nail varnish, a pork pie and some pick 'n' mix up Broad Walk. Thirteen today. Appy birthday Shawnie.

· Shawnie by Ed Trewavas is published by Tindal Street Press