Tor, with the help of Arek and Maddy, has set up the mobile food bank by the Meeting Place café on the seafront in Hove. Tor rotates the food bank in different locations around the city, but this one is closest to home. It’s dark already and the moonlight glows on the black sea in the distance. It’s hard to believe that they swim in there.
There are a few cars on the main esplanade, their lights blurring in the rain. An ambulance wails. She notices groups of people slinking out of the shadowy streets across the road.
She smiles across at Maddy. It’s so sweet that she’s come again. She came with Claire last week, but Claire has an online parents evening so Maddy has come by herself. Tor had had Maddy down as someone who wouldn’t want to get her hands dirty, but she’s been incredibly helpful.
‘Where did this all come from?’ Maddy asks, nodding to the sturdy green crates that they’ve unloaded from the van. She’s wearing no make-up and a long Puffa and a hat, as she joins Tor behind the trestle table.
‘From the supermarkets. They’re really helpful with our initiative.’ Tor picks up a can of soup and turns it round. It’s Chunky Hearty Cheeseburger Soup. ‘Never tried this, though. Not sure that’s on the top of my go-to list. Looks like a liquidised McDonald’s. It can’t be that nutritious.’
‘It’s so awful that so many people rely on food banks,’ Maddy says. ‘I thought we were supposed to be a first world country? I never knew about all this and it’s really quite shocking.’
‘Never knew, or never chose to notice?’ Tor says, wondering if she sounds rude, but she finds it easy to be direct with Maddy.
‘Well, yeah, fair enough. The latter, I guess. My friends would never believe this.’
‘Why?’
Maddy pauses, as if searching for the right answer. ‘If I’m honest because they’re like I was.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘It’s easy to be judgemental when you’re insulated in a home with an electric gate. I tell you, though, seeing this, I feel every bit the privileged white middle-class woman with absolutely no idea about what’s really going on.’
‘We’re all only ever a couple of steps away from being homeless,’ Tor says, then she waves at Vic who is coming down the pavement. ‘Hey, Vic. Are you all right?’
‘Chilly. I hate the rain. It’s a long haul until summer.’
‘I know. But the brighter days are coming.’ Tor tries to be encouraging.
‘I guess we’ve nearly done January,’ Vic says. ‘My mate Scotty was going to come, but he’s already on the whiskey he’s been saving for Burn’s Night. You don’t have any haggis, do you?’
‘I’m afraid not.’ Tor smiles at him. He’s ever the optimist. ‘This is Vic,’ she explains to Maddy, introducing him. ‘He’s one of my regulars. And this is Maddy. She’s a volunteer, but she’s also looking for her son.’ Tor nods encouragingly at Maddy who takes the laminated photograph from the pocket of her coat.
‘This is the last photo I have of him,’ she says. ‘You haven’t seen him around? I’m not sure if he’s in Brighton, even?’
Vic scratches his beard. ‘Well, come to think of it, he looks familiar.’
‘He does?’
‘James … Jamie?’ Vic says.
‘Yes,’ Maddy says, stepping forward. ‘Yes … Jamie.’
She gasps, turning to Tor, her eyes bright with excitement and hope. She puts her hand on Vic’s arm. ‘You’ve seen him? He’s around here? He’s near?’ Her voice is shaking.
He flinches but Maddy doesn’t notice. Tor, realising he’s not used to being touched, steps in next to her and clutches her arm, gently pulling her away from him.
‘Not for a while. I chatted to him once,’ Vic says, but he looks cornered and confused by the drama his innocent comment has caused.
‘Do you know where he’s living?’
Vic just shrugs.
‘But is he … is he … like you?’
‘Well, quite a bit younger actually.’
Maddy tries again. ‘No, I mean …’
‘Yeah, yeah, I know. On the streets? Yeah, he was. At least when I saw him.’
Tor can see Maddy taking this in. They’ve talked about Jamie before and Tor has been keen for her to look on the bright side – and not to assume that he’s homeless or in trouble – so this sighting from Vic is a body blow. Tor feels a shiver in the pit of her stomach. She can’t imagine that a kid from Jamie’s background has fared well out there. Not with some of the characters she knows are around here.
‘But when? When did you see him? Exactly?’ Maddy persists.
‘Don’t recall,’ Vic says.
‘But how was he?’ Maddy presses. ‘How did he seem?’
Vic sighs. ‘Probably miserable. The young guys find it tough. Twenty-four hours on the street and you’re a changed person.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘There’s nothing like the terror of not having a roof over your head. Not feeling safe. Of being alone. So very, very alone. Of seeing the world for the first time as the dog-eat-dog place it is. That changes you in here, you know. Forever.’ Vic taps at his temple with a dirty finger.
‘Then tell me. Just tell me, where I can find him.’ Maddy sounds desperate, but Vic backs away.
‘I can’t help you.’ He turns and leaves. ‘Jesus, lady. That’s all I know.’
Tor puts her arms around Maddy, giving her a spontaneous hug, seeing her eyes brimming with tears.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare him off.’
‘It’s OK,’ Tor says, but she wants to tell Maddy that she has to be gentle with people. She’ll get the hang of it, Tor’s sure of it, but in this crowd, they’re here to help, not to ask too many questions. People are often just hanging on by a thread. They don’t have the will or energy to justify themselves.
Maddy wipes at her tears with the cuff of her coat. ‘At least it’s something. It’s so good to know he might be nearby. To know that he’s …’ her voice cracks … ‘well, that he’s alive. That he might be here.’
‘You thought he might not be?’
‘I’ve imagined every scenario. I feel so shit about the whole thing, Tor. I should have … I don’t know. I should have done it all differently.’ She can’t stop the tears.
‘You shouldn’t blame yourself.’ Tor feels genuinely sorry for her.
‘But I do. Because it’s my fault. That’s the thing when you’re young: you think you’ll have all the answers by the time you’re old, but you still manage to fuck things up. I just want the chance to put things right with him. That’s all.’
‘We’ll find him.’ Tor tries to sound reassuring, but she knows how homeless people become invisible in every way. That’s the thing that gets to people most – the way they’re ignored and treated as if they literally don’t exist. She’s witnessed the humiliation and hurt of the young rough sleepers on West Street after the gangs of drunk lads on a stag party took a piss on them.
Tor isn’t religious, but she can’t help feeling that as a society in general, everyone has gone seriously up the wrong path. Because where has all the kindness and compassion gone? Why has it been replaced by suspicion and fear? Everyone is human, after all. Ultimately, everyone is in the same boat. Hasn’t the pandemic taught everyone that?
The usual rush of regulars come and Tor is happy to check-in on them and she can see Maddy has recovered a bit and is chatting to them too.
All of the food has gone in less than half an hour and Tor starts stacking the empty crates.
She smiles at Maddy. ‘You were great. Thanks for coming. I really needed the extra pair of hands.’
‘You know, I can’t believe that a month ago all I thought about was perfecting a perfect Instagram post and now I’m here,’ she says, with a little shake of her head.
‘Yeah, well, I need all the help I can get. It’s going to get worse. Even more people are going to start falling through the cracks. What we’re doing here is just a drop in the ocean.’
‘But at least you’re doing something. Seriously, Tor, I have to say it … to have organised all this … to help people the way you do, it’s very inspiring. Your parents must be so proud.’
‘I wouldn’t say they’re proud.’
‘They must be, surely?’
‘I have a twin sister, Alice. She’s the golden child. The favourite,’ Tor explains, noticing Maddy pausing as she packs up the boxes. ‘I wish my mum was like you. She’s sweet, but she doesn’t notice me. It’s all about Alice.’
Maddy shakes her head. ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’
‘You don’t know my family. And they really don’t know me. They have no idea that me and my girlfriend, Lotte, live together. That we’re, you know …’ Tor shakes her head. Why is it so easy to talk to Maddy and yet she still can’t say the words?
‘You’re …’ Maddy prompts. Her eyes are searching hers out and Tor blushes.
She says in a hurry, ‘That we’re a couple, but my family … they don’t even know I’m gay.’
‘Why haven’t you told them?’
‘Because …’ Tor doesn’t know how to explain about her relationship with Mike and how her parents will be flabbergasted when they realise it was all a sham. ‘The bottom line is that … that I think they’ll reject me. Judge me.’
‘No, they won’t.’
‘You don’t know them. My mum will be so “disappointed”.’
‘Well, I know anyone who has brought up a girl to become a woman like you must be a good person and want you to be happy. And anyway, a mother always senses when her child is lying and keeping something from them. Well, I always thought I did with Jamie. And what I realise now was that he was keeping the burden of all the pressure I put on him and how unhappy that was making him,’ she says, frowning, as if she’s only just realised this. ‘My point is, if your mother doesn’t already know, then she’ll suspect. I promise you. All she’ll want is for you to be happy and safe. That’s all any mother wants.’
Tor nods as she lets this sink in. She’s so used to seeing her mother mothering Alice that she’s always felt left out, but in her own way, her mother has been supportive. She’s been the one to encourage Tor to follow her path. Plenty of mothers stick their oar in when it comes to their daughter’s choices, but Tor’s has always let her go her own way. Maybe Maddy is right. Maybe her mother is proud. Maybe she feels that her job is done in a way that it’ll never be done with Alice.
It’s been strange tonight witnessing how raw Maddy’s instinct is to find Jamie. Would her mum be the same if Tor was missing? Imagining her mother being hurt brings up a powerful emotion. It’s the same feeling she fears she’ll bring about if she spills the beans about Lotte. But what if Maddy is right and her mum suspects Tor is keeping something from her? Surely that’s even more hurtful?
Finally, it’s time to go home and Tor is glad. Her bones ache, in particular her little finger, where the gnarled knuckle is red. She’s hoping for a dip in the morning and Maddy says she’ll come along too.
Before they part, Tor asks Maddy about Trent.
Maddy shrugs sadly. ‘I guess it’s over.’
‘You don’t sound so sure.’
‘It’s just so sad and messy and I miss him, or at least I miss us. What we were and what we could have become. And then I remember what he’s done and, well … that’s that.’
‘Yep, well, life is messy. You only have to work in a homeless charity to understand that nothing is ever just black or white. It’s just a question of recognising the bright moments.’
‘I suppose.’
‘You know what you need?’
‘What?’
‘You need to go on a date with someone else.’
‘How would that solve anything?’
‘It wouldn’t. But it might be fun.’
‘Well, now you mention it, there is my neighbour, Matteo.’ Maddy shakes her head and smiles bashfully. ‘I can’t even believe I’m telling you this.’
‘Matteo?’
‘He’s Luna’s owner. He and I have become, well … friends. But I sense a … I don’t know … a vibe. We’ve been out for coffee twice in the last week and we really get along.’
‘A vibe? That’s good, isn’t it? Maybe you should, you know … make a move.’
‘Seriously? Isn’t he just a distraction? Aren’t I making things more complicated?’
‘Well, you know what they say?’ Tor remembers Alice’s old phrase, from the fun days before Graham. ‘The only way to get over someone is to get under someone else.’
Maddy laughs and Tor raises her eyebrows at her and she laughs even more. ‘Stop it. Stop it,’ she implores.