Chapter 5

I was still panting from all the running I had done already that morning. There was a feeling of spring all over the city with white buds bursting from the blackthorn hedge along the embankment. I had hit rock bottom but now I had become concerned only with my own survival. The world had flown past with horrifying speed, past all those ordinary people who remained oblivious to the enormity of what was unfolding in my life. There was a stream of people flowing in and out to the station, talking and laughing and in some small way I began to see myself as one of those normal people with a future almost within my grasp. But for the moment time was suspended.

Full of the joys of Spring, I made my way to the Shelter and met Maura in the corridor. This time I was feeling a lot more positive. “I will take up your kind offer and have another shower if I may.”

“Of course.” I needn’t tell you, there isn’t a long queue at this time of the morning.”

Left alone in the shower room, I felt like a new person. I could have stood there forever with the warm water giving me that long-lost feeling, Maura met me coming out of the showers. “Here, I have found you a nice warm blanket.”

“Thanks, this is perfect,” I bowed my head and tried to hide my embarrassment. “I really do appreciate all you are doing for me.”

“You know I am always here if ever you want to talk,” she said.

I thanked her and feeling quite hopeful and a lot cleaner, I ventured into the dining room.

But there was no Kate. I felt an emptiness which I couldn’t explain and just slumped into a chair next to Jock. The other volunteers came over to see to all my needs.

“Oh bloody hell, you smell like a chemist’s shop. What’s all that muck on your hair?” Jock looked at me in disgust.

“I had a shower and it’s only a bit of gel,” Inwardly I thought that a good wash and some clean clothes wouldn’t go amiss with poor old Jock.

“Why don’t you get some more warm clothes from Maura and a blanket? They have everything in that store room.”

“I have everything I need. Leave me alone lad. You do your thing and I’ll do mine. That’s a fair deal.”

Sr. Gabriel came across with a plate of food and hot drink and placed it on the table in front of me.

“Glory be to God, is that yourself Kevin? I thought you were a member of that film crew who are making a documentary about the Shelter. Did you fall into a puddle on the way over?”

I smiled at her joke. “No Sister. I just went to the shower room and got some clean clothes from the store room!”

“Are you Irish?” she asked. “Me brother is called Kevin, a very popular name over in the auld country.”

“Well no. I’m actually from Derbyshire. But my father had Irish ancestors so I guess that’s how I got the name. Do you all come here every day?” I ventured to ask.

“Yes most of us. Well, all except Ellie and Kate. They are teachers and only come at the weekends.” So that explained the mystery of the missing Kate. I don’t know why I had singled her out and I began to look forward to seeing her again on Saturday.

Sister Gabriel was a tall, friendly nun, always in a cheerful mood. She went around jollying everyone up. I found out later that she was in her seventies, travelled from the East End by two busses and two trains every day of the year come rain or shine. Strangely I hadn’t paid much attention to her before either. And I was also becoming more aware of Len, one of the street people like myself who kept everyone informed in the latest news, with his fund of knowledge, though not all of it good. A whole new world was opening up in front of me, a world full of real live people.

Len sat with a sandwich, cup of coffee and the newspaper spread out on the table. Reading the papers was a lengthy business for him. He liked to assimilate all the latest news and knew just about everything there was to know about politics and the social history of London. Today he talked about the hype of the press. The sensationalism! But I sat in a quiet corner trying to piece my own life together. I was a disgrace to the human race. “I didn’t get to say goodbye to Helen,” I had mulled this over and over in my mind. It was now well over a year since the tragedy. Yet in a way, since I had met Maura, I had taken on an air of quiet hopefulness.

“I am like an alien from another planet but nobody really bothers me,” I thought.

“You have to grow up and act like a man,” I told myself. Every part of my being had been ruled by my own misery but now I seemed to have woken up and to be yearning for warmth and friendship, for any crumbs of attention that came my way.

My mother had said our lives should make a difference to the world. So what went wrong? I shouldn’t be a charity case. I had no right to rely on the help of other people. I knew in my heart that I had to get back my life, allow myself to accept responsibilities for it. I owed it to my mother and to myself.

“What is holding me back?” I had asked this question over and over.

Len continued to sit in the corner in his usual position by the small window, surveying the world from his own perspective.

“Things are not like they used to be” was his favourite saying.

“Pubs used to be small and cosy. Everyone knew everyone else and the barmaid always had a smile for everyone.” Len had been in Australia for forty years. The one thing he looked forward to was a quiet English pub.

“I always loved a quiet pint in the old days and I couldn’t wait to get back to the English beer and English pubs. But nowadays you can’t even find a seat. There’s pushing and shoving at the bar, silly girls shrieking in every corner. It’s worse than Australia. The old folk used to tell stories over their pints and put the world to rights. It would take more than a pint to put the world to rights today.”

Sister Gabriel floated over in our direction, her long black habit swishing between the tables.

“More coffee Kev?” I noticed she had shortened my name, probably in some form of endearment. Before I could answer, she whisked my mug off the table and returned with a steaming hot coffee and a Danish pastry.

“Thanks Sister,” I said. “You are too kind.”

“We must have a long chat sometime,” she said and swished off to attend to everyone else’s needs.

“And what about the countryside? That’s another matter,” Len was still pontificating. “There used to be larks and nightingales, cuckoos and a land of curlews and blue skies. All gone. Killed by insecticides and industrial farming! Now it’s all cars and pollution.” Most people found Len irritating but I often sat within earshot. A lot of what he said made sense. Occasionally I made some polite reply but decided to lose himself in books. This morning I had discovered the books in the Shelter and I knew there were book stalls along the Millennium Mile. I wanted to read and reread anything I could get my hands on.

“It’s what I am best at,” I thought. “Books, reading, the free newspapers, my music, my running. There isn’t much else to do.”

I had been trying to work out my repertoire for the afternoon’s stint on my busking patch. A Bette Midler song was running through my mind as I went to pick up my guitar. I quickly tried to memorise the words, tuned up and decided to give it a go.

Some say love, it is a river, that drowns the tender reed...When the night has been too lonely, and the road has been too long, and you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong....

I had just finished my session and was packing up when I got a surprise to find Richard standing in front of me.

“That was brilliant, one of my favourite songs,” he said. “I see you have taken on a new look. Why don’t you come around the corner to one of those coffee bars and we can have a chat?”

We sat across the table like old times. This was the first time I had spoken with Richard for any length of time since I came on the streets. I told him about the difficulties of living on the edge, the risks and hardships but how my life was beginning to turn a corner.

“It’s strange,” I said. “I think I am almost ready to resume a proper life, to go back home, sort out my finances, take up Uncle Dave’s offer to rejoin the law firm.”

“But,” he said. “There is a ‘but’, isn’t there?”

“Good old Richard, my only true friend who knew me better than anyone else in the world. Astute as always,” I thought.

“Well yes there is a big ‘but’. If I return to the straight and narrow, I will lose contact with my friends at the Shelter. At the moment, they are my lifeline.” I didn’t tell him about my feelings for Kate. But in my heart I knew this was just infatuation. Our friendship couldn’t really go anywhere. Anyhow I had only seen her once or twice at the weekends and there could be no future in this type of relationship.

“You are wise,” he said. “Give yourself a little more time. There is no need to rush into anything just yet. Ok, so that’s it. I will be back to listen again and next time we will make arrangements to have you over to dinner at my place. Here, give me the guitar. It will save you the walk.”

“Thanks,” I said and watched him stroll across the bridge, heavy briefcase in one hand and my large guitar case in the other. I thought of something Oprah Winfrey had said, “Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down.” That was Richard! And William Butler Yeats had his own take on friendship, “Think where man’s glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.” I stood there counting my blessings, looking across the river and thinking of all the treasures in my life, Richard, my family and now my new friends at the Shelter.

But that night a dark figure hovered on the bridge gazing down towards the cardboard, standing arrogantly, unchallenged, certain of its own authority.