Now
It had been a quiet day for Tom. Neither Lash nor Bones stopped by for their usual chat. Maybe they had gone into one of the shelters for the night. He began the task of setting up his bed, pulling things from his rucksack, first unfolding a large sheet of cardboard, which he laid on the ground for Bette. Then laying his sleeping bag and cushion on the bench. While he found his park bench comfortable, it lost its charm on a wet night. Thankfully, predictions of a mild night looked likely to come true. But there was no getting away from the fact that winter was coming. He’d been in Pearse St. Library earlier today. One of the librarians there, Jackie, was a dog lover and turned a blind eye to Bette Davis, who in fairness was always an exemplary guest. Tom liked to read the newspapers and catch up on the news and weather online.
Earlier this evening a couple of volunteers from the Peter McVerry Trust stopped by to see him. They did most nights. Walking angels, they were. They gave him sandwiches, hot tea, dry socks and blankets. More than that, they chatted to him. And tonight the main topic of conversation was the impending bad weather that was making its way towards them. He promised he would go into the shelter for a few days once the weather changed. The noise there made it hard for him to reach his family. Here, on his own with nature, his family were only moments away. He was eager to get back to them.
He whispered to Bette Davis, ‘You stay here, girl. I’ll be back in a minute.’ She barked her consent and Tom walked towards the back of the park to the public toilets. He was gone only a few minutes in total. His pace was quick despite the painful knee, because Bette didn’t like to be left on her own.
Hoody boy? At first he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. Surely not the same kid that he’d seen in Swords? That was miles away. What was he doing here too? There was something about the way he moved … Tom watched him for a few moments. He was making his way towards his bench. The kid paused and looked at Bette. Tom’s first instinct was to run over but he stayed a few feet away, stepping behind a tree to watch him. He’d seemed harmless enough the last time they spoke, though angry at the world and wanting to express himself the only way he thought he could. But appearances were often deceptive, that he knew for sure. Tom had made mistakes with kids before, taking them under his wing, seeing something in them that he fancied could be Mikey from a different life.
The kid shivered. His shoulders were hunched up like an old man’s. He shoved his two hands into his sweatshirt pockets. What was he doing wearing jeans and a hoody in the middle of winter? Where was the boy’s coat? Tom pulled his long overcoat closer to his body, grateful for its protection. It might not look much but it was functional.
Surprised, he saw Bette nuzzle the kid’s hand. She didn’t usually do that with strangers. Tom stepped out of the shadows of the trees.
If the kid was startled to see Tom he didn’t show it. He smiled when he saw him walk his way. Was it because he recognised Tom or that he just didn’t think he was a threat?
‘Hello.’ The kid’s smile was wide and instant, the kind that lit up a room. It changed his face. Tom resisted the urge to smile back. He didn’t want to make friends with this kid. He wanted to eat his supper, close his eyes and go home to Cathy and Mikey.
‘Hope you’re not thinking of giving my bench a makeover,’ Tom said.
‘Maybe I am. Was thinking about writing, “Keep your coins, I want change.”’
The kid had just quoted Banksy. ‘You looked him up,’ Tom said, impressed.
‘You were right, he’s cool.’
‘I’d still rather you left my bench alone. And don’t be mauling Bette Davis, either. She doesn’t like it if you do that.’
Bette Davis panted with delight as the kid petted her, making a liar out of Tom.
‘That’s a weird name for a dog.’
‘She’s named after a Hollywood legend. Someone else for you to look up,’ Tom said.
‘I looked up Take That songs. Was it “Patience”, “Shine”, “Relight My Fire” … em, or “A Million Love Songs”?’
Tom shook his head at each suggestion.
‘“Back For Good”?’
‘Bingo! That’s the one,’ Tom said, delighted. ‘Thanks, kid.’
Two men walked by, takings swigs from a bottle of cider, held in a brown paper bag. ‘Howya, Doc,’ the taller of the two said. His words came out in a slurring rush.
‘Bones. Lash.’ Tom nodded at them each. Normally he’d be glad of their company, but they’d been drinking and he was worried about the boy.
Bones moved on but Lash stopped and walked towards the kid, growling at him, ‘What you looking at?’
The kid, to be fair, stood his ground and lifted his chin defiantly. ‘Nothing much.’
His bravado only made him look younger than his years.
‘You snotty-nosed little bastard,’ Lash said.
Tom stepped in between the two and growled, ‘Feck off, Lash! You’d start a row with a paper bag when you’ve had a few ciders. Don’t be picking on the kid. He’s doing nothing but minding his own business.’ Bette Davis stood to attention, ready to defend her master and new friend if necessary. She threw in a growl just in case Lash took a notion. Bones, always the peacemaker, dragged Lash away, calling, ‘Sorry’ over his shoulder.
Tom ignored him and he turned back to the kid. He didn’t seem so cocky any more.
‘You’re a puzzle to me,’ Tom said. ‘One minute I find you about to break the law and then I see you’re wandering around parks way past your bedtime.’ Tom took a closer look at the boy. He had said he was staying in a hotel with his mam. Had that changed? The kid was clean. He looked healthy. There was no sign of drink or drugs on him. Whatever was going on, it was time he had a stark wake-up call. This park was no place for him.
‘That tall guy, the thin lanky one. He called you Doc. Is that your name?’ the kid asked.
‘To some, yes.’
‘I’m DJ.’ He sat down on the bench and ruffled Bette behind her ear. ‘Do they live on the streets, too? Those men.’
‘They do. In the main they are harmless enough. Well, Bones is, anyhow. Lash gets contrary with drink on him.’
‘Why is he called Bones?’ DJ asked.
‘I gave him that nickname when he broke his arm a few years back. It’s as good a name as any.’
‘Why is the other fella called Lash?’
‘He’s always on the lash,’ Tom replied.
‘Which means he’s always contrary,’ DJ said.
They both laughed at this.
‘As funny as you are, kid, you need to go home,’ Tom said.
‘I told you. I don’t have a home.’
‘And I told you what I thought about that.’ Tom touched his head and heart. ‘You have a mother. You told me that too. She’ll be worried.’
‘No, she won’t. She was asleep all afternoon. She probably doesn’t even know that I’m gone,’ DJ said.
Tom thumbed in the direction of the street. ‘You can’t stay here. It’s not safe. Lash could be back to finish off the argument he’s been having in his head with you since I sent him running. Go back to your hotel. I assume it’s The Lodge up the road you’re in?’
DJ made himself as tall as he could and replied, ‘I’m not scared of Lash. Or anyone. I can take care of myself. And how’d you know that’s the hotel I’m in?’
‘I know a lot.’
The kid had a fair set of balls on him for one so scrawny. Tom almost smiled. It was time to put an end to this though, send him back to his mother. ‘Word of warning, don’t make me repeat myself. That turns me from being an old man into a grumpy old man.’
DJ didn’t move.
Tom continued, his voice firmer this time, ‘Go back to your hotel.’
Bette Davis barked once and moved closer to the boy, placing her head on his knee. And when he smiled, something inside Tom shifted.