My Fair Man. Jane Gordon

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СКАЧАТЬ through this sad nether world, were somehow homeless herself. And that feeling made her all the more determined to find the man whom fate had placed in her path on the previous evening.

      At nightfall she decided to return to the beginning, the doorway where the argument resulting in the bet had started. In almost every entrance she passed there were bodies in sleeping bags and boxes. She wondered if these people came to the same place each night or if they selected their pitch by chance. If so, she thought as she approached the Halifax, it was unlikely that she would ever find him. There were three bodies lying amidst a clutter of carrier bags and clothing, and her heart began to race. Moving into the entrance she peered down to see if she could identify the boy.

      ‘Thank goodness I’ve found you,’ she said aloud, relief and hope flooding through her as she recognised him, his hand clasped round a length of blue rope on the end of which was his thin, nervous dog.

      They both flinched when Hattie approached them, the dog setting up a high-pitched squealing bark designed, she supposed, to protect his master. The boy didn’t recognise her at first and when he did he thought she had come for her change.

      ‘Yous give me a tenner,’ he said, taking a few coins from his pocket and holding them out to her. At this the dog began to growl and jump up at Hattie, a menacing look in his eyes.

      ‘Doon, boy, doon,’ the boy said firmly yet gently to the insistent dog.

      ‘I meant you to have that money,’ she said.

      ‘But it’s only 80p …’ he said, looking at her suspiciously.

      She realised now, as she stood before the boy, that her interest in him must seem, at the very least, odd. She couldn’t possibly tell him about Jon’s bet because, she realised, it was insulting and patronising and would, in any case, make her seem like some rich, bored socialite looking for a diversion. There was a silence between them – punctuated only by the squealing of his dog – whilst she searched for a way to appeal to him.

      ‘The thing is I want to help you. I really do,’ she stuttered. ‘My name is Hattie George and I want to help get you back into the real world …’

      He looked her up and down, wondering if she had any conception of what the real world was like but he didn’t say anything. One of the other figures camped by him sniggered loudly. Hattie felt ridiculous.

      ‘My friend and I – well, we want to get you back on your feet. Find you somewhere to live, a job, new clothes, you know the kind of thing …’

      There was a huge guffaw now from the two other men but her man still didn’t say anything. Her tone of voice became more beseeching and desperate as she continued with her plea. She realised that she must seem hysterical and maybe even a little deranged. But she was determined to convince him.

      ‘I’m on the level, honestly. Please don’t think this is some kind of trick,’ she said.

      The two men beside him, friends of his perhaps, made some comment she couldn’t quite make out. But the man she had come to see ignored her and began to spread out his sleeping bag.

      ‘Aren’t you listening to me? I want to help you,’ she said despairingly.

      ‘Listen to her, man,’ said one of his friends.

      ‘Why?’ he said, looking at them and then back at her with haunted and uncomprehending eyes.

      ‘Because I can help you,’ she said again, faltering a little for fear of offending him.

      ‘Why me, like?’ he said in his surprisingly strong and rich accent which, she thought now, was a little like that of that footballer who was always making a fool of himself.

      ‘Look, why don’t we go and have a coffee somewhere and talk about this? It’s very important to me that you understand,’ she said.

      ‘Coffee?’ he said blankly.

      ‘Well, I don’t know – can’t we sit and talk somewhere?’

      ‘This is me home, like. Sit doon here,’ he said, indicating his sleeping bag on which the growling dog was now sitting.

      Hattie crouched down beside him, self-consciously aware of the enquiring stares of passers-by and the inquisitive attention of his two friends. Behind the three men, nestling next to a rucksack, there were several cans – some empty and overturned – of Special Brew. Seeing her glance at them he took hold of one and passed it to her. She shook her head and then thought that it was probably rather impolite to refuse so reached her hand out and brought the half empty can to her mouth, wondering if he would be offended if she first wiped it with a tissue.

      ‘What’s your name?’ she asked as she handed him back the cold can.

      ‘Why d’ ye wanna know?’ he said in the lilting tones that she now found oddly attractive.

      ‘Because if I am going to help you I will have to know everything about you.’

      He laughed at that, laughter that was echoed by his incredulous friends.

      ‘I don’t want your help, hinny.’

      ‘Of course you do. You can’t want to go on living like this,’ she said.

      ‘Why not?’ he asked.

      ‘Because it’s such a waste. Because I – we – my friend and I – we can give you the life you have always wanted.’

      ‘And how do you know this isn’t what I’ve always wanted, like?’ he said.

      There was something very proud about him, Hattie thought as she sat watching him. Despite the grime that covered him, and that awful smell, he had an unmistakable dignity. And she had been right about the eyes – they were astonishing. Brilliant – almost turquoise – blue with long black fringed eyelashes that were almost beautiful. She was curiously excited by the idea of getting to know him, if he would let her. But she was aware of his ambivalence towards her. How could she convince him to allow her into his life?

      ‘Look, please come with me and meet my friend and listen to what we have to say,’ she said, reaching out to stroke his dog, which snarled and spat at her.

      The boy leant over to grasp the dog.

      ‘Doon, boy … Na, hinny, I don’t want your help,’ he said, turning away as if to indicate that this was the end of the matter.

      ‘Look, you must have had dreams, you must have had hopes. You surely didn’t imagine that you would spend your life sleeping rough in dirty doorways?’ she said plaintively.

      ‘There’s worse than this, pet,’ he said, an edge creeping into his voice.

      She went quiet then because she felt foolish. How could she have expected to put her own values, her own aspirations, on to this man who had led a life of such obvious deprivation. Why had she imagined that she could impress him with talk of clean sheets, hot meals and a regular job? She had no idea how he had got here and no conception of the suffering he had seen.

      ‘You can help me, darlin,’ slurred one of the other men, hopefully. ‘You can take me home with you …’

      ‘Nah,’ СКАЧАТЬ