“What are you doing in there?”
Joe wasn’t sure if he was awake, or simply dreaming that he was awake. He certainly couldn’t move. His body felt stiff with cold, and every part of him ached. Joe couldn’t open his eyes yet, but knew without doubt that he hadn’t woken up between the silk sheets of his four-poster bed.
“I said, what are you doing in there?” came the voice again. Joe frowned, puzzled. His butler didn’t have an Indian accent. Joe struggled to unglue eyes that had been stuck together with sleep. He saw a big smiley face hovering over his.
It was Raj’s.
“Why are you here at this ungodly hour, Master Spud?” asked the kindly newsagent.
As dawn was beginning to glow through the gloom, Joe took in his surroundings. He had climbed into a skip outside Raj’s shop and fallen asleep. Some bricks had been his pillow, a piece of tarpaulin his duvet, and a dusty old wooden door his mattress. No wonder every part of his body ached.
“Oh, er, hello Raj,” croaked Joe.
“Hello Joe. I was just opening up my shop and heard some snoring. There you were. I was quite surprised, I must tell you.”
“I don’t snore!” protested Joe.
“I regret to inform you that you do. Now would you be so kind as to climb out of the skip and step inside my shop, I think we need to talk,” said Raj, in a deadly serious tone.
Oh no, thought Joe, now I’m in trouble with Raj.
Although Raj was adult in age and size, he was nothing like a parent or a teacher, and it was really difficult to get into trouble with him. Once one of the girls from Joe’s school had been caught trying to steal a bag of Wotsits from the newsagent and Raj had banned her from his shop for all of five minutes.
The dusty billionaire clambered out of the skip. Raj fashioned him a stool from a stack of Heat magazines, and wrapped a copy of the Financial Times over his shoulders like it was a big pink boring blanket.
“You must have been outside in the cold all night, Joe. Now, you must eat some breakfast. A nice hot mug of Lilt perhaps?”
“No thanks,” said Joe.
“Two Rolo eggs, poached?”
Joe shook his head.
“You need to eat, boy. A toasted Galaxy bar?”
“No thanks.”
“A hearty bowl of Pickled Onion Monster Munch perhaps? With warm milk?”
“I am really not hungry, Raj,” said Joe.
“Well, my wife has put me on a strict diet so I am only allowed fruit for breakfast now,” announced Raj as he unwrapped a Terry’s Chocolate Orange. “Now, are you going to tell me why you slept in a skip last night?”
“I ran away from home,” announced Joe.
“I guessed that much,” slurred Raj, chewing away on multiple segments of Terry’s Chocolate Orange. “Oooh, pips,” he said before spitting something into the palm of his hand. “The question is, why?”
Joe looked ill at ease. He felt the truth shamed him as much as his dad. “Well, you know that girl I brought in here the day we got some ice lollies?”
“Yes, yes! You know I said I had seen her somewhere before? Well, she was on TV last night! On an advert for Pot Noodle Snacks! So did you finally kiss her?” exclaimed an excited Raj.
“No. She was only pretending to like me. My dad paid her to be my friend.”
“Oh dear,” said Raj. His smile fell from his face. “That’s not right. That’s not right at all.”
“I hate him,” said Joe hotly.
“Please don’t say that, Joe,” said Raj, shocked.
“But I do,” said Joe, turning to Raj with fire in his eyes. “I hate his guts.”
“Joe! You must stop talking like this right now. He is your father.”
“I hate him. I never want to see him again for as long as I live.”
Tentatively, Raj reached out and put his hand on Joe’s shoulder. Joe’s anger immediately turned to sadness, and with his head bowed he began to weep into his own lap. His body shook involuntarily as the waves of tears ebbed and flowed through him.
“I can understand your pain, Joe, I really can,” ventured Raj. “I know from what you said that you really liked that girl, but I guess your dad was, well… just trying to make you happy.”
“It’s all that money,” said Joe, barely audible through the tears. “It’s ruined everything, I even lost my only friend over it.”
“Yes, I haven’t seen you and Bob together for a while. What happened?”
“I’ve behaved like an idiot too. I said some really mean things to him.”
“Oh dear.”
“We fell out when I paid some bullies to leave him alone. I thought I was helping him, but he got all angry about it.”
Raj nodded slowly. “You know, Joe…” he said slowly. “It doesn’t sound as though what you did to Bob is so very different to what your father did to you.”
“Maybe I am a spoiled brat,” Joe told Raj. “Just like Bob said.”
“Nonsense,” said Raj. “You did a stupid thing, and you must apologise. But if Bob has any sense, he will forgive you. I can see that your heart was in the right place. You meant well.”
“I just wanted them to stop bullying him!” Joe said. “I just thought, if I gave them money…”
“Well, that’s no way to beat bullies, young man.”
“I know that now,” admitted Joe.
“If you give them money they’ll just come back and back for more.”
“Yes, yes, but I was only trying to help him.”
“You have to realise money can’t solve everything, Joe. Maybe Bob would have stood up to the bullies himself, eventually. Money is not the answer! You know I was once a very rich man?”
“Really?!” said Joe, instantly embarrassed that he sounded a little too surprised. He sniffed and wiped his wet face on his sleeve.
“Oh, yes,” replied Raj. “I once owned a large chain of newsagent shops.”
“Wow! How many shops did you have, Raj?”
“Two. I was taking home literally hundreds of pounds a week. If I wanted anything I would simply have it. Six Chicken McNuggets? I would have nine! I splashed out on a flash brand new second-hand Ford Fiesta. And I would think nothing of returning a DVD to Blockbuster a day late and thus incurring a £2.50 fine!”
“So, um, yeah, that sounds like quite a rollercoaster ride,” said Joe, not sure what else to say. “What went wrong?”
“Two shops meant I was working very long hours, young Joe, and I forgot to spend time with the one person I really loved. My wife. I would buy her lavish gifts. Boxes of After Eight mints, a gold-plated necklace from the Argos catalogue, designer dresses from George at Asda. I thought that was the way to make her happy, but all she really wanted was to spend time with me,” concluded Raj with a sad smile.
“That’s all I want!” exclaimed Joe. “To just spend time with my dad. I don’t care about all the stupid money,” said Joe.
“Come on, I am sure your father loves you very much, he’ll be worried sick. Let me take you home,” said Raj.
Joe looked at Raj and managed a little smile. “OK. But can we stop off at Bob’s on the way? I really need to talk to him.”
“Yes, I think you are right. Now, I believe I have his address somewhere as his mum gets the Mirror delivered,” said Raj as he began to flick through his address book. “Or is it the Telegraph? Or is it Canal Boat Weekly? I never can remember. Ah, here we are. Flat 112. The Winton Estate.”
“That’s miles away,” said Joe.
“Don’t worry, Joe. We will take the Rajmobile!”