Nora phones me the next morning, as promised. I’m at the barbershop when I take the call and I have to be brief, as several people are already waiting in line. Earlier in the week, I put the recent rise in customers down to coincidence, but now I’m starting to believe it’s because of the press attention. Several people have even mentioned the free cuts for the homeless, mainly to say that they approve.
‘Bad news, I’m afraid,’ I tell Nora.
‘You didn’t manage to find that guy?’
‘No luck.’
‘Is there anyone else you can think of who might get involved?’ she asks.
‘Sorry, there’s not. I’m swamped here today too, so I doubt I’ll have time to look. I wish I could be more helpful, but—’
‘No, no,’ Nora replies. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll see if I can rustle someone up instead. Rudy’s not free today, anyway, as it turns out, but he could do tomorrow at a push. Would that work for you?’
I’m tempted to say no, on the grounds it’s my one day off. However, I don’t have the heart to let her down, particularly after my disappointing behaviour yesterday, which I feel I need to make up for.
‘I don’t usually open up on Sundays, but as long as it’s not going to take too much time, I’m sure we can work something out.’
Nora hesitates, like she’s considering suggesting to leave it until next week, but then she says: ‘Thanks so much. That would be great, if you don’t mind. No, it won’t take long at all. I’ll make sure we keep it as brief as possible.’
She calls me again early that evening to say she’s got someone lined up to help, so I agree to meet her and the others at the barbershop at midday tomorrow.
They’re already waiting for me when I arrive.
‘Sorry, am I late?’ I say, looking at my watch to see it’s only a couple of minutes past twelve.
‘No, no. Not really,’ Nora says. ‘We were early, to be honest. This is Ivan, by the way. Ivan, Luke.’
I shake hands with the man she brought along with her – someone I don’t recall meeting before – who’s wearing a Big Issue hi-vis vest and ID card.
Nora must have got in touch with him via her contacts at the weekly magazine. Clever thinking on her part.
‘And you remember Rudy, right?’ she adds, gesturing towards the photographer.
‘Of course.’ I smile and shake his hand too.
The three of them have been for breakfast at a nearby café, I hear. I’m guessing this was part of the deal she made to get Ivan along – Rudy too, perhaps.
Ivan’s also in need of a haircut, which I soon find myself agreeing to throw in while Rudy snaps various pictures of us both.
‘I heard about you doing this,’ Ivan says to me, as I’m busy giving him the skin fade he’s requested, despite my concerns that he might find it nippy out on the streets. ‘I thought about coming along on Monday, but something came up. How did it go?’
‘Really well, thanks.’
‘It’s a nice idea. I’ll spread the word.’
‘Cheers.’
Once I’m done with the haircut, Rudy asks if we can do a couple of shots outside too, saying he’d like to try incorporating some of the Northern Quarter street art as a nice backdrop.
‘Really?’ I say. ‘But I don’t do any cutting outside.’
‘That doesn’t matter,’ Nora chips in. ‘No one’s saying you do. It would just be for effect. It’s a good idea: a way to convey that you’re helping people who live on the streets. It brings the two things together in a nice visual way.’
It does kind of make sense when she puts it like that, so I agree. We get a few funny looks from passers-by but not as many as you might expect. This is the Northern Quarter, after all.
We’re finally done by 1.10 p.m., which isn’t bad. Rudy has to rush off and Ivan – who’s clearly chuffed with his new haircut, as he keeps looking at himself in the mirror – is keen to get to his patch to sell some magazines. Nora and I are left alone and, before I have time to overthink it, I ask her if she fancies grabbing a quick coffee together.
She looks at me with raised eyebrows. ‘Oh, right. I thought you were pushed for time.’
‘This didn’t take as long as I expected, to be honest. But no pressure. I won’t be offended if you have to get off somewhere else.’
‘Um, yeah, okay. Sure. Why not? Where did you have in mind?’
Awkwardly, my brain freezes and I can’t immediately think of anywhere, despite the fact I work and spend so much time around here.
‘I, er, don’t mind,’ I say, feeling stupid. ‘Is there a place nearby that you particularly like?’
She throws me a blank look. ‘Not really.’
Finally, my brain kicks into gear. ‘I’ll tell you what, I know a little place around the corner that has brownies to die for. I mean, they have other cakes too, obviously, which are probably also really nice. And drinks: coffee, tea and so on.’ Realising I’m rambling, I rein myself in before she starts to think I’m a total idiot. ‘Sound good?’
Nora chuckles. ‘Perfect. You had me at the brownies, to be honest.’
I grin. ‘Excellent.’
As we’re walking to the café, I panic it might be closed, seeing as it’s Sunday. Most places we pass are open, though, so I keep my fingers crossed and luck turns out to be on my side.
‘Here we are,’ I say, like there was never any doubt. There’s even a spare table in the window, which I grab, and I pass Nora a menu.
Without conferring, we both order a flat white and a brownie from the waiter, who’s freckly with long ginger hair, a matching bushy beard and large black-rimmed specs.
‘Jinx,’ we both say at the same time before erupting into a fit of giggles.
‘No brownies today, I’m afraid,’ the waiter says in a deep, deadpan voice.
‘What?’ Nora says in mock outrage. ‘This is a disaster. I only agreed to come here to sample one of the legendary brownies.’
Beardy is no fun at all and doesn’t even acknowledge this comment. He simply asks: ‘Anything I can get you instead?’
‘What would you recommend? You look like a man knowledgeable about his sweet treats.’ Nora winks at me when he’s not looking in her direction.
‘That’s really a matter of personal preference,’ Beardy replies. ‘Everything we have is detailed on the menu. Shall I give you a few more minutes?’
‘No, I’ll tell you what,’ I say to him. ‘Surprise us.’
‘Sorry?’ He peers down his nose at me like I’ve said the most ridiculous thing in the world.
I smile in a slightly exaggerated manner, careful not to push it too far. ‘You pick something for us that you think we might like, bearing in mind the fact we both love brownies.’
‘Chocolate cake?’ he asks with a sigh.
Nora rolls her eyes. ‘You’ve ruined the surprise now. I’m sure that’ll be fine, though. Luke?’
‘Fine.’
Beardy walks off without saying another word.
‘He’s a bundle of laughs,’ Nora says. ‘I thought we’d best not push him too far. Otherwise he might spit in our food.’
‘I know. He wasn’t here last time I came. I wouldn’t have suggested it if he was. Not exactly service with a smile, is it?’
We have a good chat. The conversation flows easily and we cover various subjects, from how I got into being a barber after quitting uni to a bad date Nora went on the other day, which ended soon after the man she met asked her if she was open to water sports in the bedroom.
I clench my teeth. ‘Really? That’s when you, um—’
‘Urinate on each other,’ she says, grimacing as she finishes the sentence for me, saving my blushes. ‘He seemed relatively normal when I was chatting to him beforehand, but – honestly – it’s a minefield. I had to text a friend to call me and pretend there was a family emergency so I could get out of there.’
‘You met him through a dating website, app, whatever?’
She nods, squinting at me across the table and smirking. ‘Are you judging me right now?’
I hold up my hands. ‘No, no. Not at all. That’s how most people meet these days, right? It’s just never been my thing. Call me old-fashioned—’
‘You are quite old-fashioned, come to think of it. What age are you again?’
‘Charming,’ I reply. ‘Thirty-nine.’
‘Ooh, nearly forty. It’s all downhill from there.’
‘Thanks for that. How old are you, then?’
‘Guess,’ she replies, to my dismay.
Erring on the side of caution, aiming to flatter rather than offend, I say twenty-seven.
‘Yeah, right,’ she replies, grinning. ‘Try thirty-three. When’s the big day, anyway?’
‘Not until October. I’ve plenty of time left in my thirties.’
‘If you say so,’ she says with a wink. ‘Old man.’
‘Wow.’ I shake my head, narrowing my eyes, and pretend to be offended. ‘That’s a low blow, playing the age card. Next you’ll be calling me a slaphead.’
Nora snorts with laughter at my comment, holding her hand to her mouth after doing so and turning pink. This sets me off and when Beardy walks past, frowning, we both end up having a full-on giggling fit.
We’ve almost recovered when Nora nudges me and points out of the window. ‘Hey, isn’t that the bloke you were trying to track down for the photo? The book guy. Sorry, I can’t remember his name. Terry, was it?’
‘Tommy,’ I say, spotting who she’s pointing at, strolling by on the other side of the street, a sleeping bag under one arm and a rucksack over his shoulder. ‘Yes, you’re right. That’s him.’
I hesitate for a second, unsure what to do. Is it best to leave him be or to go after him? My mind says to do the former, especially since Nora’s here with me, but my gut has other ideas.
I look Nora in the eye with sudden sincerity. ‘I could do with having a quick word with him. Would you mind if I—’
‘Not at all. Go for it.’
‘I’ll be back in a minute, I promise.’
‘That’s fine. I’m not going anywhere.’
I dash out of the café and up the street in the direction Tommy was walking. I can’t see him straight away, due to all the other pedestrians milling around, but after a moment I spot him and make chase.
When I’ve nearly caught up with him, I stop running and try to slow my breathing so it’s less obvious how keen I am to chat. What do I want to say, actually? I’ve no idea now the moment is upon me. All I know is that I feel bad about what happened on Friday and I want to make sure he’s okay.
‘Tommy!’ I call out when I’m about two metres behind him, with no one in between.
He turns around, stares at me blankly and then, slowly, a look of recognition lights up his face. ‘Barber dude, right? How’s it going?’
We both stop walking and, to get out of other people’s way, stand towards the inside of the pavement, under the canopy of a children’s clothing store. This works out well because it’s started spitting with rain.
‘I’m fine, thanks, Tommy,’ I say before reminding him that my name is Luke.
‘That’s it. Like the geezer from Star Wars. Nice one.’
Tommy looks dog-tired. There are a couple of scratches on his cheek, but otherwise he appears more or less back to normal, compared to the last time we met.
‘How are you doing?’ I ask.
He shrugs. ‘Can’t complain. Still liking my haircut, although you were right about it being a bit cold.’
‘I thought you said you had a hat.’
‘Yeah, I do,’ he replies. ‘Somewhere.’
‘How’s the book?’ I ask, half-expecting him to say he’s lost it.
Instead, for the first time in the conversation, a spark briefly returns to his eyes. ‘It was brilliant. I raced through it in no time. I couldn’t find anyone to pass it on to who’d actually bother to read it, so I swapped it for a different one at a book exchange. Not a Rankin, though. There weren’t any. Hope that’s okay.’
‘Of course,’ I reply. ‘Would you like another?’
‘Definitely.’
‘No problem. Leave it with me.’
I’m tempted not to say anything about Friday, particularly as Tommy doesn’t appear to have any memory of the incident – or at least of seeing me there – but my bloody gut won’t let me. He looks more or less fine now, but … I can’t simply forget what I saw. And I feel like I have to do something to make up for my shameful behaviour.
‘Hey, I’m guessing you don’t remember this, but I ran into you on Friday. You weren’t really with it. I got the impression you must have, um, taken something. Does that ring a bell?’
Tommy’s eyes widen upon hearing this and he looks from side to side, no longer meeting my eye. ‘Sorry, what?’ he says eventually. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you sure you’ve got the right person? Maybe it was one of the other guys who—’
‘No, it was definitely you, Tommy,’ I say. ‘You were properly out of it. I was a bit concerned, to say the least. It seemed to me like you might have taken some of that, um—’
‘Listen, I have to get going,’ Tommy says, interrupting me before I can finish. ‘It’s good to catch up and all that, but I need to see a man about a dog, so to speak.’
‘Are you in trouble?’ I ask him. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
‘I live on the streets, mate. Every day is trouble. I do what I can to get through it, yeah? And no offence, but how I manage that is my business. If you really want to help, a bit of change is always useful.’
‘I’d rather buy you a sandwich, Tommy. Are you hungry?’
He shakes his head. ‘Not right now.’
‘Sorry, I don’t have any change,’ I say, not willing to fund his next drug binge. ‘I only have a card with me. But seriously, I’ll happily buy you a coffee or whatever, if it’s not food you want.’
‘Maybe next time. Gotta go.’
He pats me on the shoulder and, before I can stop him, darts off.
Feeling dazed by our encounter, I stand there alone on the pavement for a minute, gathering my thoughts. And then my mind turns to Nora. Dammit. How long have I been gone? I need to get my arse back to that café sharpish.