It was time for a change in subject. The kid looked like he was about to cry. And while there was no doubt that he had more than most to be upset about, there were always worse off out there.
Tom took out his chicken sandwich from his rucksack, passing half to the kid.
‘You sure?’ DJ asked, the guilt of taking the man’s food fighting his growling stomach.
‘I’m sure.’
‘Thanks. Where do you get your food from?’ DJ asked as he shoved half of the sandwich in his mouth in one bite.
‘I’ve a few delis and cafés that hook me up with food and coffees. Plus the food runs done by the Peter McVerry Trust every night. Helps to be as charming a fecker as I am.’ He grinned. ‘Tell me something, DJ. You ever been hungry?’
‘Course I have. Today. Now.’
‘OK, how does hungry make you feel?’ Tom asked.
‘Shite.’
‘Don’t be so lazy with your words. Think, then articulate. Perhaps once you have finished chewing,’ Tom said.
DJ giggled, then frowned as he tried to find the right words for Tom. ‘I felt light-headed. Weak. No energy. My stomach kept growling.’
‘There you go. Amazing how articulate you can be when you try. Well, imagine if you hadn’t eaten breakfast this morning. Imagine if that feeling carried on into tomorrow and then the next day, too.’
‘I’d go mad.’
‘You would. A craziness sets in when you’re hungry. It’s mental torture. You might be shocked to hear that there are six hundred thousand people experiencing food poverty in Ireland right now.’
‘No way!’
‘Way. A new generation of food poor,’ Tom said, shaking his head in regret.
‘Mam used to say that when things were tight, food was the flexible item,’ DJ replied, remembering times when he saw his mam eat nothing else but a banana sandwich for the day.
‘That’s the thing, kid. You don’t need to be homeless to be hungry. Many of those six hundred thousand have a roof over their heads, but don’t have a scrap in their fridges. It makes me so angry to think about the kids who go to school hungry every day! That’s not right. Not with the amount of food wastage in the word. Tons and tons of food thrown in the bins every day, while children are starving.’
‘I never thought about that before,’ DJ said. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his hoody.
Tom nodded, satisfied that he was beginning to get into the kid’s head.
‘Mam used to make porridge for us both every morning. Mine with currants, hers plain. She said if we eat nothing else, we’ll have that to set us up for the day. Now we eat in the hotel restaurant every morning. There’s so much food on their buffet, Mam said she reckoned they must throw out loads.’
‘Your mam is probably right about that. Isn’t it a wonder, though, how mothers always know the intricate details of their children’s likes and dislikes? A mother’s love knows no bounds,’ Tom said. His mind drifted to Cathy and Mikey, a dull ache making its way to the pit of his stomach.
DJ nodded and his earlier irritation at his mother began to feel trivial and unjust. Maybe he didn’t have it so bad after all.
Tom changed the subject abruptly. ‘What’s your favourite subject, kid?’
‘English,’ DJ answered.
‘Ah, you’re a dreamer so.’
‘Maybe. I think I’d like to be a journalist when I grow up. Or write a book like Dean Koontz.’
‘Noble ambition,’ Tom approved. Cathy used to have one of his books.
‘I’ve got this idea bouncing around my head about an island where you get sent to when you mess up,’ DJ said.
‘What happens there?’
‘You have a chance at redemption there, kind of like a do-over.’
‘Wow. What happens if you don’t take that?’ Tom asked.
‘Then you die on the island. You never leave. It’s like a prison, but it’s not. Because you live outside in hammocks. There’s no way to escape. You have to forage for your own food. I’m not explaining it right. But it’s all in my head,’ DJ said.
‘I’d read that,’ Tom said. ‘Seriously. I would.’
‘Mam always says the same to me when I tell her about it.’ DJ sighed. He started to shift and fidget on the bench, then lowered his eyes to the ground. ‘I’ve been a bit shit to Mam lately.’
‘That goes with the territory. Boys are little shits ninety per cent of the time. But here’s the thing: for your mam, you’re her little shit, so no matter what, she will still love you. It’s part of her DNA as a parent. They can’t turn that off.’
‘Sometimes I think she’d be better off without me,’ DJ said.
‘Don’t ever say that, you ungrateful little …’ Tom stopped, shocked by the strength of the anger he felt at DJ’s words.
‘Chill, old man,’ DJ said, alarmed by the change in his new friend.
Tom took a deep breath, trying to chill, as the kid said. ‘Listen to me, kid, there will always be times that you upset your mother. But you need to remember something. She loves you unconditionally, which means she will forgive you all your transgressions as long as you learn from them and are sorry.’
‘Why are you getting so worked up?’ DJ asked, unsure as to why Tom was so agitated. He didn’t like to see him upset. He liked talking to him. Tom listened to what he had to say, like he was an adult, not just a silly kid. And the last thing he wanted was to do anything that might make Tom tell him to go away again.
‘I hate seeing you waste your life, throwing it away when there’s people out there who would give anything to swap places with you, people who would give anything to have a family like you …’
‘Who said I was wasting my life?’ DJ said. ‘You’re going all crae-crae there, Doc.’ He watched Tom’s eyes glaze over as he became lost in his own thoughts. ‘Doc? You all right?’
Tom pulled himself back from Cathy and Mikey, to the kid in front of him.
‘Sorry. I was thinking about someone, that’s all.’
‘You have a wife or something?’ DJ asked.
Tom nodded. ‘As it happens I do. Cathy. As beautiful as a summer’s day. I don’t mind telling you that I was punching above my weight with her.’
DJ said, with a grin, ‘But you being such a charming fecker … not a bother to you!’
‘Ha! You catch on quick. That’s right. And I have a son. Mikey.’ Tom closed his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts.
‘Do you miss them?’ DJ asked.
‘Every single second of every single day. Not much time goes by that they are not the centre of my thoughts.’
DJ held his phone out. ‘I’ve got credit left. Go on, Doc. Call them.’
‘I’m not sure that there’s a phone out there that can make the kind of call I’d need to reach them. If there is, kid, I’d like to find it.’
DJ said, ‘I have some money from my birthday left. You can have it so you can buy a train ticket to go see them.’
Tom looked at the kid in wonder. ‘Thank you for that offer. But I don’t need your money.’
DJ stood up and said, ‘I didn’t have you pegged as a coward! No matter why you left them, they’ll be glad to see you. Remember what you said to me, about my mam unconditionally loving me? I bet they feel the same about you!’
Tom looked at DJ and smiled. ‘Oh, they loved me. I’ve never doubted that. I felt the blanket of their love every day we were together.’ He paused for a moment and looked away. ‘I didn’t leave them, kid.’
‘Then what? I don’t get it.’
‘They left me.’
Bette Davis moved to her master’s side and nudged his leg in sympathy. Then she raised her ears and sat up. They heard footsteps approaching them.
Bloody Lash, back for a row. Tom jumped up and stood in front of DJ. He should have sent the kid back to the hotel as soon as he saw him.
But it was a woman who came into view. She stopped when she spotted DJ sitting behind the old man on the bench. ‘DJ!’
‘That’s my mam.’ DJ jumped up to greet her. He was in trouble, it was way past his time due back to the hotel.
Ruth ran towards him and they stopped a few inches away from each other. ‘Are you all right? Where have you been?’
Tom watched the woman’s face go through several emotions: fear, relief, then fear again. She turned to take a better look at the man who had been sitting chatting to her boy in the park.
Years fell away like leaves from the trees, as recognition sparked between them.
‘Hello, Ruth.’ Somewhere in the back of his mind Tom already knew that it would be her. Their lives were connected, always would be, by the kid.
DJ looked between his mother and his new friend, puzzled. How did Doc know his mam’s name? Ruth looked at the man in confusion. She didn’t recognise him, yet his voice and his eyes reminded her of someone. I know you. But how? She moved closer to him, keeping her son behind her.
‘Who are you?’ Ruth demanded.
‘He’s my friend,’ DJ said. ‘It’s the Doc. He’s really cool.’
The Doc?
Tom saw fear change to shock as their eyes locked once more. ‘It’s good to see you again, Ruth Wilde.’
The world shifted for Ruth and she felt unsteady on her feet. She did not trust her eyes, her ears. She grabbed DJ by his arm and pulled him after her.
‘See you tomorrow, Doc,’ DJ shouted over his shoulder.
Ruth looked back one last time, feeling the old man’s eyes on her. He raised his hand in salute in the way that he always did.
Dr O’Grady. She would not be a mother if it had not been for this man.
And now he was here, standing close by, almost unrecognisable.