A World Apart (21 page)

‘Tell me more, I don’t understand what you mean’ said Neville who remained still, watching Roger walk away back to his lorry.

‘It will all come back I’m sure, don’t ask just do’ replied Roger with his back to Neville.

‘Here, this should see you to the coast…be warned though, things back home are very different from the last time you were there’ said Roger as he walked back to where Neville stood and handed him a mixture of American and European money. Neville watched Roger drive away as he stood alone on the edge of the sea front, looking aimlessly out to sea as a great sense of dread and anxiety overpowered his thoughts became darkened. Frozen puddles were now starting to melt when the oblong strips of sun beamed over the walls that surrounded the sea front. Ship horns and jangle noises filled the docking bays, although Neville was oblivious to them. He walked along the mass stretch of walkway that preceded him, sloping down to levels of cargo shipment. Making a detour to his left past a grass verge, he noticed a café and shops opening up which delighted his senses, urging his presence. A tall brunette waitress strutted around outside collecting the odd glass and plate, clearly in need of some fresh air and sunlight but she scuttled off quickly when she appeared to be called back inside. Neville wondered into the open doorway and looked around, a man and a woman sat on an old style bench to his right in the café and a large bunch of shipping employees all huddled around the oval table, discussing something about cargo from the west which Neville heard briefly. Neville walked up to the desk, glancing down at sandwiches and cakes that all appealed to him. Instinctively, Neville withdrew his collection of money that had just been handed to him and selected a smaller note and ordered a regular coffee with an almond biscotti and chocolate coffee beans. His feeling of happiness warmed as he paid the man and found a single table next to the window where he sat down, taking off his tattered jacket and indulging without delay. The chocolate coffee beans worked their way into the unhealthy and worn body of Neville, making him increasingly aware of his whereabouts, feeling gradually more human. The view from outside was exquisite, dozens of ships and boats pilling their way to the shores, people working with an optimism that Neville felt was contagious. A few splatters of rain hit the window where Neville was observing the world, obscuring his vision as he squinted and turned back to stir his coffee and unravel the snacks. Neville couldn’t believe that he had reached the border, it had been a peculiar few days, making his dream even more surreal than he could have anticipated. Neville smiled as he thought of the friendly lorry driver offering him a lift here, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders on leaving the chaotic complexities of the city. He felt better about his prospects and he somehow he knew deep down he will eventually have a home and piece together his past in order to rebuild his future. A man in a drenched yellow overcoat hurried into the café, holding his hood from the snatch of the wind outside. The man briefly stood at the door, shaking himself dry as he lifted the hood to reveal lots of scraggly hair and a small face with rather a large and unusual nose. Drips of rain sprinted down his overcoat, landing on the bristle doormat and collecting in the cracks. The waiter greeted him personally as they talked for a moment before ordering his drink and sat behind Neville, reaching for a damp newspaper in a never ending pocket of his. Neville looked up at the ceiling, noticing a few leaks and damages from wear and tear of the years, eying the time on a clear white clock in the centre of the wall opposite which indicated it was quarter to twelve, when he was distracted by someone he recognised.

‘You keeping alright?’ enquired Roger looking courageously towards Neville’s direction as he ordered a coffee and pulled up a chair on Neville’s table.

‘I’m ok thank you. I just wanted to say thank you for bringing me here. What can I ever do to repay you?’ said Neville, finishing his coffee and clanging his cup and saucer as he placed the empty cup down.

‘No, don’t be daft. Just find your family and start over. I was once in your situation and I can sympathise’ replied Roger quickly to Neville’s kind-hearted remarks, making Neville feel even more guilty for his thoughts of running away with his money or his lorry.

‘Anyway, I only came to see if you were still here. I have to make a delivery to San Francisco in around twenty minutes so I had better scram’ added Roger, drifting away from Neville asking about his past.

‘Well…I probably won’t see you again will I?’ spoke Neville, realising that his saviour was now vanishing which made him feel saddened at the thought of not repaying him.

‘No…maybe not. I’m here often so if you ever want to stop by for help or anything then you know where I’ll be’ replied Roger, which made Neville think Roger didn’t believe he would be able to survive out in the big wide world, after all his is only sixteen.

‘Oh…if you do come and see me, bring me back something typically English’ said Roger, getting up and placing his coat and scarf around him and downing his drink. Neville thought about saying to him what black pudding was but refrained from doing so, laughing to himself and wishing him a safe journey. Roger left into the now slightly stormy early morning weather and gave a wave to Neville through the window, reassuring Neville and boosting his confidence which had been so punctured over the years of inner city living. Roger turned away from Neville and opened the door, giving a dull acknowledgement that Neville received as a goodbye. Roger felt deeply saddened by Neville’s story and he felt like he hadn’t done enough to help him on his search.

The waitress came hurrying back holding plates and pots that gave an unsettling wobble as she got closer to Neville. He placed the goods into his deep distasteful dark pocket and sipped the last shot of coffee left in his mug, wanting to stay a little longer and admire the view without paying for another drink. Deciding against that thought, Neville finished his coffee and thought of his next move. It was quite early and the vibe was very pleasant, so much that he planned to head around the docks and shops for a while, as this had been his dream place and most of all to escape. Feeling generous, Neville dug deep into the scary contents of his pocket once again, pulling a struggling expression that appeared to draw surrounding diner’s attention. His found what he was looking for after a few seconds and extracted some coins and a note to place onto the sparkling red and white checked tablecloth, which when in contrast with Neville’s appearance, highlighting his poor personal hygiene. Neville placed the notes onto the table and yanked at the door lever and exited, shivering and buffing his upper arms with his hands by rubbing them viciously. The door opened again which made Neville turn around as he looked back to see the waitress looking around the docks.

‘Hey…you. You forgot something Sir’ cried the young girl, whose voice could hardly be heard over the thick and erratic wind that bounced the docks, knocking the sound of her voice slowly over to Neville. Neville stopped for a moment as he thought he had caused a problem and for a split second he thought about running, although this time his newly acquired confidence made him stand his ground for once. He walked back, fighting the outbursts of weather as he held onto his coat that was flapping wildly.

‘This was on the table under the bundle of notes, I thought it might be important’ said the girl, whose voice was turned down slightly from before. She held out a piece of paper with some black ink marks that Neville strained to make out. He stared at her questioningly as if it was a hoax but then came closer to her to retrieve the item she was holding aloft in her pale thin arms, her light ginger hair flurried in the wind as she rebounded the hair that collided with her face. Neville took the piece of paper with his eroded thick skinned hands and looked down at the falling ink from the cries above. The note was crinkled and mucky in places, revealing its age as Neville read the letters that formed surprising words judging from Neville’s facial expression, his rolls of wrinkles torn and tangled with confusion and intrigue.

‘
Ask for Micky-1145200 D1p. I hope you find what you’re looking for Neville. The stomach rumbles for one reason only Nev!’

The note flapped in the aggressive gust of ferocious wind just as Neville finished reading, sending shivers down his spine, when he was distracted by the night sky being broadly filled with a cracking clear white light.

‘Well?’ asked the girl, clearly drenched and cross by the time Neville was taking to read it. Neville stared blankly back at her with no thought going through his mind. Neville’s hand was suddenly filled with the note he had been observing for the past few moments. He lifted his head and saw a stern look on the girls face as she stormed off back inside. Neville submerged himself back to the paper, looking for answers to the details in front of him, as he stood scratching his forehead with one finger. Neville couldn’t find the meaning for most of the note, as he questioned the meaning of the numbers and it was then that it occurred to him, what was he looking for? Neville also wondered why he calls him Nev at the very end of the note, although he dropped the thought and just assumed it was related to his ill sense of humour. The numbers looked like a code of some sort, or maybe a communication number thought Neville, browsing the numbers and counting them with his left hand finger.

The day progressed and before Neville realised it, it was approaching tea-time as he felt the usual disorientation happening in his stomach. Neville had been wondering the shops and café’s for the past few hours, buying time in order to meet this person that Roger had kindly informed him of. He felt nervous about meeting the stranger, not knowing who or what he might be, for all he knew he could be dangerous. Trustingly, he decided that he shall meet the stranger later that evening, but he still had to find out what the note meant. The shops, bars and restaurants were starting to obtain a light buzz of activity as more groups entered willing to be entertained, smiles most broad set across the face of many as Neville smiled to himself as he saw a father place his daughter on his shoulders. She screamed with fright but then realised she was in safe hands and started to poke and prod at the young tall father, the mother concerned but keeping in with the fun from a safe distance. Neville harmlessly gazed over at the family as they all hurried into the busy Italian restaurant on the corner of West Wingulmill Street, on the edge of a parade of life that trickled behind the restaurant. Cobble streets filled with muck caught up in the nooks and cranny’s, giving the appearance of fingernail dirt as Neville’s eyes were fully fastened to the ground beneath him, coming close to colliding with some thirsty scholars on their way for a few drinks after some intense studying. The five young men and one blonde young lady climbed the steps to a bar that flourished with freshly cut green and bore the name of ‘Yanks & R.O.W’ which made Neville think for a while, until his train of thought was mowed over by an over-intoxicated individual who decided that the world owed him something, staggering and falling at random when he disappeared down an alley and out of sight, letting out a sound that was much to be desired. Passers-by certainly kept their distance, avoiding the trail of destruction. Neville sat on a nearby rock propped around a green to then quickly spring into action and headed for a mobile pretzel van, the sweet smell pleasing the small crowds. Neville watched two birds swoop above his head and fade in the distance. It was not until now that Neville began to think of how alone he was in the world, desperate to find his family and friends that he struggled to picture from his past. Broken images and confused stories formed in his puzzled mind as he tried so restlessly to piece together his life. He took the note out from his pocket and unfolded the soggy content, and read it as he walked towards the busy food stand, placing it back in his pocket again as he ordered a pretzel and a fizzy drink. He noticed a young boy behind the counter that reminded Neville of him a few years back, scruffy hair, vacant expression and a general body language that suggested he would rather be elsewhere. An older worker made a blunt comment over to the boy who shrugged his shoulders and worked quickly, refraining from answering to his colleague. Neville paid for his goods and was handed a white greasy bag and an exceedingly cold drink, which he opened without delay, feeling energetic after only a few sips. He made his way along the docks, noticing restaurateurs carrying menu blackboards outside for customers as well as using their annoying sales technique of persuading passers-by and tempting them with offers they couldn’t miss out on apparently. A few innocent families resulted in dining in a restaurant that was quite empty compared to most on the road ahead of Neville, whether it was out of sympathy remains uncertain. It was approaching four o’clock slowly and Neville felt the temperature drop as he fastened his jacket up and pulled some holy gloves from the pouch at the front of his coat and putting them on with care, stretching the individual finger slots. It was still reasonably light due to it being a few weeks into spring but there seemed to be a prolonged piercing cold that wouldn’t budge this year. Neville had enough cash on him to last around a month living quite expensively as he divided segments of the cash into chunks for weeks and then he broke it down further into days, helping him to spend wisely. Being on the streets has taught him one thing at least and that is to treasure what you have, from a close friend to a lucky blanket. After counting his money out, he cautiously scanned the area around him, paranoid that an opportunist thief would snatch it from him. He stowed the money safely into a tattered wallet he hadn’t used for a while and sat down on the green thirsty grass and started to feel like he was going to get things sorted this time around.