A Vagrant Story (17 page)

Even the heavens seemed eager to avoid this area, as the further they travelled the brighter it became, not in the skies but through the scenery. The warm Christmas lighting with the welcoming Christmas décor brought an added glow to these streets. As did the animated antics of all those middle-classed people rushing from shop to shop for some last minuet Christmas needs.

The local retailers, eager to rid the last of their holiday stock, had lit up shop windows with sale signs attractively disguised as the usual cold season décor, and in one case a witch on a broomstick.

A certain relief fell upon them. At long last they’d hit upon their typical Christmas scene, the first sign they hadn’t got their dates wrong. So far, Henry’s promised-land didn’t seem so bad.

Sierra looked at the less depressing atmosphere. Even the alleys glowed golden under the warmth of the streetlamps. “This place looks nice.”  

“You’re right,” Rum said. “Look at it, good spirits all round. Bet people here would be nice enough to lend a helping hand to some needy drifters for the holiday. Suckers everywhere.”

Sierra sent a harsh glance. “You’ve got a shallow mind, Rum. But seeing as you’re looking forward to it … you ready to get down on your ass and start begging?”

Rum gave a dismissive shrug, turning to Henry. “You heard the girl Henry, do a dance or something.”

Henry pointed innocently at himself. “Me? But I’m the one who told you all about this place.”

“And we’re in awe at the contribution. No one else here can pull off pathetic and needy quite so well - just sit in the snow and cry or something. If nobody feels sorry for you they’ll probably chuck spare change at your head to shut you up.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“Rum, I told you to do it,” Sierra said.

“You think I would? Not a bloody chance. How about you, Alex?” Rum looked up at the bruised yet always stern man, quickly turning away when he realised how hopeless it was to even try request something of Alex. “Never mind.” He placed his attention back on Sierra. “Why don’t you beg for cash, Blondie?”

“You know I don’t beg.”

“Right … You have those ‘principles’ of yours. It doesn’t look like we’re getting anywhere fast then.” He looked back at Henry. “You see that Duddy, you’ve ruined everything.”

“But I didn’t do anything. All I did was show the way.”

“To nowhere. You promised us a hostel, so where is it?”

Sierra eased Rum away with a wave of her hand. “Don’t listen to him, Henry. But yeah … we do need to rest soon. Alex looks about ready to collapse.”

“I’m fine,” Alex said, or mumbled incoherently.

Henry posed for thought. “They always set one up at Christmas. I don’t see any signs this year though.” 

Rum glared an inspecting eye. “So that’s it, I get it now. Of course he knows about the place, he must come here each year and keep it all quiet to himself.”

“I’m with you guys every Christmas,” Henry replied. “I knew about the hostel before I became homeless, I used to work charity their. I’d do it with my brother, Leon.”

“You used to work charity with the homeless?” Rum said. “Well strike me down the lord knows irony.”

“We were just kids at the time. Really, our parents made us do it. They were religious types. I guess they wanted us to be like that too … I don’t really remember much of it.”

“So … is this where you owned that shop of yours?” Sierra asked.

“Shop?”

“The one that burnt down.”

“No … that was … somewhere else. Like I said, I only ever came here when I was kid - never lived here. This is where we came to church. My parents were so particular about their choice of church they chose one halfway across the city. We spent a lot of time here.”

Henry took note of a telephone pole on the side of the street. A damp sheet of paper clung to the wood. It looked so melded to the pole it might have been put up last year.

It read in worn words: food and bedding for the homeless - Christmas time only.

***

Following the directions given on by the notice, they arrived at the temporary hostel.

Everything about it reeked of a church set up. At least that’s what Alex figured when he saw the two men out front, welcoming the endless stream drifters inside. Both men clutched bibles and cried out verses. They were preaching to the wrong crowd, other wise known as the right crowd on empty stomachs.

Rum tried to force his way ahead the ravaged bunch. His aggressive movements caught the eye of one of the social workers.

“There is no need to rush, brother,” the man said. “Please come inside. Sleep and eat in warmth and pray in thanks to the lord. The lord gives you everything you demand.”

The old man didn’t like his tone. Then again he didn’t really know what the guy was talking about. All he knew was that jackass was getting on his nerves. In fact, if Sierra hadn’t pulled him away by the scruff right then, he probably would have acted on it.

Latent hostility and biblical hysteria aside, it seemed like a popular place to be. The cafeteria had been filled on all sides by the community thrash. It didn’t seem likely they came from this well kept neighbourhood. This little set up was probably one of those things the local community would have kicked up over, for the safety of the children, of course.

The cafeteria itself was no more than a rented community hall ripped inside out. They added a number of long grey dining tables, ten up and down, ten from left to right so it looked like a prison hall. The oven those charity workers used to prepare food looked nothing more than a portable gas-grill, like something for a camping trip. 

They had to be a little curious as to how so many tramps caught wind of those tacky little posters, then again, it’s not like they have much else to look out for. Especially at Christmas.

The smell brought about by the other tramps, and probably themselves, was an unspeakable form of rancid. While the food, a welcome change from their diet, tasted pretty dire, and hardly cooked. The workers were rushing things. With their below-key advertising they must have been caught off guard by all this unmitigated attention.

The four tramps were given a few slices of buttered bread each, a soup dish for dipping, and a plate of scrambled eggs with the occasional rasher piece mixed in. It was all a little cold, and those bits of rasher didn’t taste like a pig should. They weren’t in the position to complain, so they placed their objections aside.

Alex received an icepack for his wounds. He held it firmly in place, chewing on one side of his mouth. It might have been his sorry state that brought the staff to offer them extra portions.

Rum slurped down a spoonful of soup, spilling most of it on his beard. “So, do we spend the night here or what?” 

Sierra eyed some splashes on the table. “Would you look at yourself, you’re getting soup stuck in your beard. Not to mention everywhere else.”

Rum looked around at the other bums in the room. They didn’t seem to be all that bothered with their eating habits. “You’re asking me to mind my manners? Here of all places?”

“If you think you’re too great to beg and sleep on a cold bench, then you’re too good to eat like a rabid dog. And yeah, we’re staying the night, I’m knackered.”

“I don’t seem to recall voting you in as our leader?”

Alex peered at Rum from behind an icepack. “Well I don’t care who gets to be leader. I’m too lazy and you’re too stupid. Seems like a perfect fit.”

Sierra laughed at the old man, holding her palm over mouth to keep the food in.

His honour insulted, again, Rum made haste to defend himself. “What was that? You dumb lanky streak of piss! Apologise for that now.”

“No.”

“It’s a damn good thing I’m too drunk to bother kicking your ass. I’d add another purple tattoo to your face.”

“You’re always drunk, so I guess I’m safe.”

Rum leaned back in his chair, giving off a snort. “Stupid weirdo.”

With no more than a sigh, Alex suggested it was time to end the argument. Looking to Sierra, he asked, “Hey Blondie, what did you do with that cheque we got from the off-license?”  

“I gave it to the nurse. They really did need the money.”

“You … gave it to her.”

“You have a problem with that?”

“No, I just…”

“You can’t decide to keep the money because you thought the nurse was a bitch. What was with you back there anyway? You went all slouchy and grumpy - more than usual.”

“Well I wouldn’t say I’m usually grumpy. I-”

“He’s trying to change the subject,” Rum grunted passively, chewing food.

“I’m not changing the subject. At least I didn’t mean to. Do I do that a lot? I don’t mean to if that’s what I do. I think maybe I get carried away in thought and start rambling on about-”

“You’re doing it again. Quit it and spill it. Did the nurse actually do something to you, or are you really just nuts?” Sierra asked.

“Well, it’s just that … Well … she really put that guy down. All that John guy did was try to help by donating money. I don’t like seeing people put down like that - the way she did. Even if he was an asshole he didn’t deserve it. It reminded me of … It always reminds of that agent … whenever I see people doing that.”

Sierra nodded. “The agent who ripped you off then robbed your books?”

“The nurse probably didn’t deserve to be treated that way. For working in a dump like that she probably isn‘t the worst person out there. It was that place though … there was something about it. Bad memories started floating around. I didn’t realise what it was until…”

Alex stopped as if food caught in his throat. He stared into soup, stirring a spoon round and round.

“Bad memories?” Sierra said. “So you were there before. I thought so. I saw it in your eyes the moment we arrived in that place. The nurse told us it used to be a nice place. Guess it must have changed a lot since you were last there.”

“Yeah … it used to be a real nice place. It’s a memory now. Let it rest or else you’ll likely be trapped. I’d like to go back and fix things, but it’s gone. All we have is now, and the hand we’re dealt for mending.”

“That’s your melodramatic way of flogging me off,” Sierra said.

Alex nodded.

“And that CD you’ve been clinging to since we found you beaten to a pulp … is that supposed to be your new hand in life?”

“It’s a finger or two. A full hand will take time.”

“And money,” Rum interrupted. “Everything takes time and money. In case you ain’t noticed you’re missing one of the above. Try to guess which. Enjoy your porn disc though.”

“One can be achieved through the other if prepared correctly.”

“You think time equals money? If a man could make money from time then bums would be living goldmines. Time is just something you waste while accumulating money. Connections - that’s where money comes from. Sierra mugs for money and I beat the guys who try take ours. Break one, lose the lot. That’s connection.”

“You don’t think I can do it alone?”

“Up there in the real world you might make it half way. But you’re trapped down here with the rest of our sorry asses. Down here people either work together or crash on top of one another. We’re like seven little dwarves standing atop each other’s shoulder to bag a glimpse in Snowy’s window. You’re talking about climbing in when you haven’t got a shoulder to stand on. Look at us, Blondie quits mugging people for a few days and we don’t have enough cash to catch a train. Now this whole adventure is as futile as that daydream world you prance around in.”  

“Life is one long struggle to catch the next train, but if everyone missed there’d be no passengers. You might stand on dwarfish legs but mine are long enough to see through the pane.”

“That’s not a metaphor. You’re just an overgrown freak.”

“And so Rum’s exhilarating argument ends there,” Alex concluded.

Sierra stared upon Rum. “The old man neglects to mention one important point. Down here, on our level, we little dwarves have more than one way to pay.”

“Sure,” Rum said, “trading items is another way to go. But what have we got to trade that’s worth four train tickets? Let alone what have we got that other bum’s don’t already have?”

Probing eyes peered upon Rum. Rattling bottles in his pocket clinked like alarm bells. If only to drown it out, Rum yawned wide, patting his full stomach.

“Well I’m done, tired too. Boy, I didn’t realise how late it was.”

“You’re not going to take a pre-bedtime sip of whiskey, Rum? You know, make sure you can’t feel those bed bugs biting,” Sierra said. “Better take your fill while you have the chance.”

“You better not be thinking what I think your thinking. These bottles are mine. I earned them fair and square.”

“You stole them from an old man’s off-licence!”

“He didn’t catch me … so that’s fair. And in case you forgot, that little old man worked for criminals. I helped the community … at least more than the cops ever did.”

“For all your whining you could make at least one donation.” 

“Sure, I’ll give one donation. I’ll donate the dregs and put them in one bottle.”