Читать книгу Marry Me Tomorrow: The perfect, feel-good read to curl up with in 2017! - Carla Burgess - Страница 11
ОглавлениеClosing the door, I dimmed the lights once more and went back to sit on the sofa. My hands were shaking and I fumbled with the remote control before turning on the TV. I wasn’t bothered about watching anything, I just needed a distraction from the doubts that were now crowding my mind.
What had I done?
Flicking through the channels mindlessly, my eyes kept darting towards the French doors. I could just about see Sam through the glass, leaning on the balcony, staring out at the city lights in the distance. He seemed to stay out there for ages, even when rain started spattering against the glass. With every passing moment, my anxiety increased. What if Lydia was right? What if he was some drug-addled nutcase? I didn’t know him. He was just some guy I saw each day on my way to work. I may as well have invited the bus driver or the coffee vendor or the man in the newsagent. All I had to go on was some imaginary connection between us and a bleeding heart desire to help the homeless.
Oh, and my pathetic urge to please my mother. This was all her fault.
I sipped my tea and waited. What was taking him so long? Surely it didn’t take him that long to smoke a cigarette? Maybe he was having two?
Maybe he was shooting up.
Maybe he was sharpening his knife collection.
The doors slid open and Sam came back in, bringing with him the smell of wind and rain and cigarettes. He stopped and looked around the room.
‘She gone then?’
‘Yes,’ I croaked, my voice embarrassingly crackly. Come back, Lydia. Come back!
He nodded and went to hang up his coat.
Clearing my throat, I took a deep breath and said, ‘I’m sorry about Lydia. She doesn’t mean any harm.’
‘No, it’s fine. She’s looking out for you. That’s what friends are for.’ He sat down in the armchair and reached for his tea. ‘Do you always do ridiculously irresponsible things?’
I looked at him sharply. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well…’ he puffed out his cheeks ‘…I could be all of those things that she said.’
‘I don’t think you are though,’ I said, carefully.
‘But how would you know?’ He frowned across at me, his eyes dark shadows in the low light of the room.
‘I don’t know. But I trust you.’ Even as I said this, my heart was pounding to the beat of no-you-don’t-no-you-don’t-no-you-don’t. But I was desperate to believe it.
He laughed, high and disbelieving. ‘You have no reason to trust me.’
I tried to swallow the anxiety that was now clawing at my throat, but it wasn’t going anywhere. My voice sounded strangulated when I said, ‘I can trust you though. Can’t I?’
‘Yeah, you can. I said so before, didn’t I? I just think this whole thing is crazy and you must be mad to invite someone you don’t know into your home. I could tell you anything and you wouldn’t know.’
‘I suppose that’s the same for anyone though,’ I countered. ‘I could have asked someone I work with and he could turn out to be a complete creep. I could date someone for weeks, only to discover they’re a pervert or an alcoholic or a junkie.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Sam’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Have you dated many perverted alcoholic junkies then?’
‘One or two.’
‘Really? Tell me about them.’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘No. This is about you, not me.’
‘No, I think this is very much about you.’ Sam laughed and looked away at the TV. ‘So, you’ve had a few bad relationships and now you’re picking men up off the streets?’
‘No! I did not pick you up, either! I asked for your help because you seemed like a nice guy. Besides, I don’t see why living rough makes you any worse than anybody else. Does it make you less human or something? I don’t think so.’
Sam blinked and I saw a shadow pass across his face. ‘Some people think so. Some people think we’re no better than garbage.’
‘Well, they’re wrong, aren’t they!’ I scratched my cheek and watched him carefully. ‘You seem like a nice guy to me. Don’t prove me wrong.’
‘I won’t. What makes you so interested in the homeless anyway? Is it just my undeniable charm and charisma?’ He quirked up an eyebrow in a Sean Connery manner. ‘Or are you some kind of charity worker or volunteer or something?’
‘Not at all. There’s just been lots on TV about the homeless recently, you know, raising awareness. And I’ve always been interested.’ I glanced at him, guiltily. ‘Not in a voyeuristic sense or anything. It’s just that, well, my dad walked out on us when I was little and I always wondered where he went and why he never got back in touch. Mum told me he was crap with money and that they used to argue about bills all the time. She said he couldn’t cope with the responsibility of family life. I thought that maybe he might have become homeless at some point, too proud to get back in touch.’
Sam looked sceptical. ‘Or, he could have won the pools and gone off somewhere living the life of Riley, too fucking selfish to get in touch.’
I gave him a look. ‘Anyway, the point is, I’ve been…sympathetic…for a while. Last November I did the Big Sleep Out. You know, where you sleep rough for one night for charity?’
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‘How did you find it?’
‘Hard. We were safe, of course, with none of the dangers that homeless people usually face. But it was a still a real eye-opener. And I was sooooo coooold! I don’t know how you stand it.’ I shuddered and cleared my throat. ‘Is there anything you want to watch on TV?’
‘Not really. It’s not like I follow anything, is it?’
‘What would you normally be doing now then at…?’ I picked up my phone to check the time ‘…half seven on a Saturday night?’
‘Just sitting somewhere. Or walking. I walk a lot.’
‘Where’s your favourite place?’
‘In the park or down by the river. Or by the canal under a bridge somewhere.’
‘Do you ever get scared?’
He shrugged. ‘Bored, mostly. You don’t realise how long each day is until you’ve got nothing to do and nowhere to go. There’s a few other people I sit and talk to. It passes the time. I go to the day centre and talk to people there. They’ve got showers and a place to do your laundry.’
‘That’s good.’ A gust of wind rattled the patio doors and the curtains moved slightly. I looked across at them. ‘Bet you’re glad you’re not sleeping out there tonight.’
Sam nodded. ‘I feel a bit guilty though. There are still people out there.’
‘You can’t think like that. They’re not your responsibility.’
Sam said nothing, just stared at the TV, chewing his lip, nursing the mug of tea between his hands. I noticed how dry and rough they looked: the nails bitten down to the quicks, the knuckles cracked and sore.
‘I don’t know how you stand it, night after night,’ I went on. ‘Are there hostels and places that let you sleep inside?’
‘There are places, yeah, but you need a local connection to the area and I’m from Manchester. Besides, there are people more in need of the rooms than me.’
I gave him a doubtful look. ‘Really?’
He nodded. ‘There are young kids, women, old people. I do all right; I’m fit and healthy and can handle myself a bit.’
‘But surely it’s difficult to sleep outside when it’s cold and wet and you’ve no shelter?’ Leaning forward, I placed my mug on the coffee table and tucked my legs beneath me.
‘Yeah, it’s pretty hard. I never sleep for long. I catnap in fits and starts usually.’
‘But that’s no good for your mental health, surely?’
‘Hmm it gets you down. I’ve never needed much sleep though so I get by. No point getting all depressed about it, is there?’ He flashed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
I thought about how cheery he was when I saw him in the mornings. He always asked how I was and made some joke about the weather. How did he manage to keep his spirits up?
‘Some of the kids who are out there are in bad shape, though,’ he went on. ‘It’s no wonder they turn to drink and drugs.’
‘Aren’t drink and drugs the reason they become homeless in the first place?’
‘In some cases. But once they’re on the streets it becomes a way of getting through the horror of it all. And it’s not only stuff like heroin and cocaine, those so-called legal highs cause massive problems too.’
‘Have you never been tempted to use drugs? Just to get through?’
He pulled a face and shook his head. ‘I’ve got enough problems without that shit. Sure, I’ve smoked a bit of weed in my time, but I’m not up for becoming dependent on anything else. Tobacco’s dear enough. I used to drink too much but I stopped when I fell over and cut my head open. Ended up in A&E covered in blood and no idea how I’d got there. Scary stuff.’ He shook his head. ‘Some of the old guys have stopped caring. They want to get shit-faced so they don’t know what’s going on. They don’t care if they lose days, or if they can’t remember what they’ve done or where they’ve been. I don’t want to get like that.’ He yawned widely. ‘Sorry, it must be the heat. I’m not used to it.’
‘Are you warm? I’m cold?’ I shivered and pulled my cardigan around me.
‘I’m boiling. I’ll be asleep in a minute.’ He yawned again.
‘Feel free to go to bed if you want to. You look knackered.’
‘No, I’ll be all right. I probably won’t sleep all night anyway. I never do.’
‘Well, if you do wake up in the night, feel free to make yourself something to eat or drink. Or watch TV, if you like.’
‘Have you got any music?’ he asked. ‘I miss music. Most of mine went when my car got nicked. Then my phone broke and I was buggered.’
‘Oh no! Really?’ I picked up the remote and changed to a music channel. ‘Is this all right? It’s just chart music.’
He pulled a face. ‘Nah, I want some old tunes on. Give it here.’ He took the remote control and started scrolling through himself.
‘When did your car get nicked then?’
‘February. I used to sleep in it. I was buggered after. It was found burnt out in some car park in Deeside. All my fucking stuff! Bastards.’ He shifted angrily in the seat and tapped the remote control on the armrest, agitated. ‘I was doing all right until then.’
‘So when did you actually become homeless?’
‘Last summer.’ He glanced across at me and away again. I watched him, wanting to ask what had happened but not wanting to sound too nosy. He took another sip of tea and changed channel again. A Pearl Jam video was playing. ‘Ah that’s more like it.’ He placed the remote control back on the armrest. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Not at all.’ Chewing my lip, I fought the desire to interrogate him. Was he going to leave it like that? He couldn’t, could he?
‘I love nineties music,’ he said. ‘That whole grunge scene reminds me of being a teenager. Smoking behind the bike sheds, getting drunk in the park and all that shit.’ He sniffed and glanced across at me. ‘I bet you didn’t do all that, did you? I bet you were a right good girl.’
I stiffened, feeling defensive. ‘Is that a bad thing?’
‘Bad?’ He laughed. ‘How can being good be bad?’
‘It’s usually seen that way. Well, more boring than bad, I suppose. Uncool.’
He smiled. ‘I shouldn’t worry about that.’ He yawned again. ‘So, what did you do as a kid, if you didn’t hang around drinking and smoking with your mates?’
I frowned slightly. ‘I had friends that I hung out with. We just didn’t smoke and get pissed. Well, not until we were older. But at school, we went to each other’s houses or went shopping and stuff. Lydia only lived around the corner so we were always together.’
‘So Lydia’s an old school friend, is she?’
‘Yes. We’ve known each other since we were eleven.’
‘Nice one. No wonder she’s so protective of you. Is she single, too?’
‘No, she’s married to Dave.’
He nodded and looked back at the TV. ‘So why aren’t you married, then?’
‘I am,’ I said. ‘To you.’
‘Ha ha, but why aren’t you really married? Or at least have a boyfriend?’
I shrugged. ‘Why do I have to have a man in my life? Is that the only thing that should define me as a woman? I think not. I’m perfectly happy on my own.’
‘Are you gay?’
‘What?’ I gaped at him. ‘So, because I’m over thirty and don’t have a man in my life, I must be gay?’
‘I’m just asking! Don’t get all offended.’ He laughed. ‘I just meant, you’re a very attractive lady, and it’s hard to believe that you’re single.’
‘I have had boyfriends in the past, you know! They’ve just all been crap, useless arseholes. I’d rather be alone than with some annoying man who makes me miserable.’
‘Great. So why didn’t you tell your mum that instead of making up some crappy lie?’
‘I have, repeatedly, but she says that it’s rubbish and I must be lonely.’
‘Are you lonely?’
‘No!’ I said, a bit too aggressively.
‘So what’s her problem?’
‘I don’t know really. It’s probably because of my dad leaving. After he left, she struggled on her own but then she met Alan and her life – our lives – improved so much. We moved to a bigger house, went on nice holidays, had a decent car. She married him when I was five so I think of him as my dad, really. He died when I was eighteen. We were devastated, and I suppose Mum was really sad and lonely with me away at uni. But then she met Mike, who was some big shot businessman and she moved to New York with him. Obviously, he was minted. They split up a couple of years ago, and then she met Len, who she married last Christmas, and she’s all loved up and happy again and thinks the whole world should be loved up and happy with her.’ I shook my head and sighed.
‘Did you go to the wedding?’
‘Yes, it was fabulous.’ I smiled at the memory. ‘Christmas in New York with all the snow. It was really nice. Mum went a bit Bridezilla though. She was different.’ I pulled a face. ‘And Len’s nice but he seemed dead old. Like a grandad or something.’
‘Is he rich?’
‘I think so.’
‘Your mum must be pretty glamorous to pull these rich men?’
‘Yeah…’ My voice trailed off, unenthusiastically. She never used to be that way. I remembered her pegging out the washing in our back garden, or on holidays in the Isle of Wight. Now she went to Len’s holiday home in Hawaii or on Caribbean cruises for weeks on end. Not that there was anything wrong with that. I was happy for her. It just seemed like she was a million miles away from how I remembered the woman who was my mum. ‘I suppose she is now. She’s always in really lovely clothes with nice jewellery and stuff.’
‘Are you jealous?’
‘No!’ I said, too quickly. ‘Well, maybe a little. But not really about that… Ah, it’s hard to explain.’
‘Try.’
I looked at him, slightly annoyed. ‘Do you think you’re my therapist or something?’
Sam laughed and shook his head. ‘No, but you look a little bit upset talking about her.’
‘No I don’t.’ I scratched my face and went back to watching the TV, but I could still feel Sam’s eyes on me. ‘I just feel like she’s not my mum any more,’ I said, eventually. ‘Does that sound silly? I’m a grown woman, with my own life and everything, so I don’t really need her. And actually, I left her to go off to university so it’s not really fair that I feel that way. But it feels like she’s different to the woman who brought me up.’
‘But she isn’t though. Not deep down. And you always need your mum, no matter how old you are.’
‘I know, but…I don’t know.’ I shook my head. ‘Is your mum still around?’
‘No she died a good few years ago.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘Yeah. I still miss her.’
‘What about your dad?’
‘He died two years ago.’ Sam’s voice thickened and he looked away. I blinked at the TV, tearing up in response to Sam’s emotions. I wanted to say something to him, but couldn’t find the right words. Sam cleared his throat. ‘He had a heart attack. We were at a football match at the time.’
‘Oh no! You were there? That’s awful.’
Sam didn’t speak for a few minutes. He stared at the TV instead, sipping his tea slowly.
‘Were you United fans?’ I asked after a moment.
Sam threw me an incredulous look. ‘No, fucking City. Fuck off.’
‘Sorry.’ I laughed.
‘So you should be.’ He grinned.
The song changed on the TV and Sam flicked through the channels, trying to find another one that he liked.
‘Do you want a beer or something?’
‘Oh! Okay then.’ He looked startled.
I got up to get him a beer, coming back a few minutes later to find him dozing off in the chair. He came to with a start. ‘Christ! Sorry.’
‘I told you, go to bed if you want.’
‘I might after this.’ He yawned as he picked up the bottle and I sat down with my glass of wine. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the back of the chair and sighed. ‘It’s so nice to be warm and dry,’ he murmured. ‘I can’t believe it.’
I smiled and sipped my wine. ‘So, you’ve been homeless for – what – a year and a half? What was your life like before that?’
He opened his eyes and blinked. ‘I was in the army for years. Went in when I was sixteen, came out at thirty-one and then worked as an engineer in Manchester.’
‘Oh really?’
‘Hmm.’ He looked across and me and laughed. ‘Go on then.’
‘Go on then, what?’
He laughed again. ‘It’s killing you, isn’t it? I can tell.’
‘What do you mean?’ I felt my cheeks redden.
‘Go on. Ask me how I became homeless.’
‘Oh, well.’ I cleared my throat, embarrassed. ‘Lydia already asked you that so I didn’t think you were telling.’
‘That was her, not you.’ He took another swig of beer, looking at me through narrowed eyes. I saw him swallow, glance at the bottle, rest it on his knee. ‘I found out my wife was having an affair with my cousin,’ he said after a moment. ‘So I left.’
I frowned. ‘You just left? What? Everything?’
‘Pretty much. I slept on my brother’s couch for a few weeks, but…’ he shook his head ‘…my head went. I was drinking too much, showing up to work late, or showing up to work still drunk. In the end they let me go, and my sleeping in my brother’s lounge started to become a big problem with his family. He’s got two teenage kids and a wife, so it wasn’t ideal. So one day, I just packed up the car and went travelling.’
‘Didn’t you try to sort things out with your wife?’
He shook his head. ‘I did go back and talk to her, but it was clear things were unfixable. She’d been sleeping with him for years. Way before I’d got out of the army. He used to go round to check if she was all right, you know, when I was away and stuff. He was like another brother to me. We were dead close.’ He gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘Just goes to show, you never can trust anyone.’
‘That’s awful.’ I bit my lip, wanting to reach out to him, wanting to make it better, but I didn’t know how. ‘What did she say? Did she say why? I mean, not that there’s any excuse, of course.’
‘She said it happened by accident, they never meant it to happen and they never meant to hurt me.’ He took another swig from the beer bottle, shaking his head. ‘Such a fucking joke. I mean, I know I was probably hard to live with when I got out the army. I’d been in there for so many years that I was kind of institutionalised. I couldn’t get used to life without the army and I wished I’d never come out when I did. But I thought that’s what she wanted, and I was working my way through it. She kept moaning about me being away, and when the baby arrived I thought it was the right thing to do.’
‘You have a child?’
He hesitated. ‘No. Turns out I don’t.’
‘Oh no.’ I stared at him in horror. It was almost too horrible to comprehend.
‘Oh yes. One paternity test later and I’m no longer the daddy.’
‘How old was the child?’
‘Nearly one.’
‘But that’s just awful. Sam! You should be having counselling for this stuff, not living rough on the streets.’
He shook his head and shrugged. ‘Nah, I don’t need some counsellor sticking their nose in.’
‘What about the house? Isn’t half yours?’
He shrugged.
‘So you’re living homeless on the streets and your wife is still living in a house that’s half yours? That’s ridiculous! Please tell me you didn’t just walk away and let him move in with your wife and child?’
‘I couldn’t deal with it back then. Besides, there’s the baby to think about. Jessica still needs a roof over her head. I still love her, even if she’s not mine. I’m not going to turf her out on the street, am I?’
I stared at him, horrified. ‘So, you just went off in your car? What did your brother think?’
‘I told him I’d got a new job in Scotland.’
‘And he believed you?’
‘My plan was to travel around and find a job. See the country. Clear my head. Pick up jobs along the way. And I did for a while. I worked in bars and restaurants, met some really lovely people. Sort of like Alexander Supertramp – do you know about him?’
I shook my head.
‘He was this American kid who left home one day and went off to live in the wild. He was trying to get to Alaska.’
‘Ohhh I remember now. There was a film, wasn’t there? Into the Wild? Christopher his name was.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ Sam nodded enthusiastically. ‘Anyway, it kind of inspired me. You know, leave all the bullshit and the lies behind. Just to get as far as possible away from it all and live as simply as possible. I wanted to find out who I really was and prove to everyone that I didn’t need anyone else.’
I frowned. ‘Where did you sleep?’
‘B&Bs at first. Or in my car. I bought a tent. Pitched it wherever. Woke up to some fantastic views. It was amazing. But then I started to run out of money. I came back to England, thought I’d get a job and sort myself out but ironically enough, that’s when it really went wrong. I came to Chester to look for a job, got a job interview with an engineering firm then went to wash my clothes at a launderette. But when I got back, my car had been nicked. I didn’t know what to do then. I’d lost everything apart from the clothes I’d just washed.’
‘So why didn’t you go back to your brother’s then?’
He shook his head. ‘I couldn’t go back. I’d lost everything.’
‘But it wasn’t your fault.’
He shook his head. ‘I’d been lying to them for months. Every time I phoned I said I was doing all right. I couldn’t face going back to them and telling them I was in an even worse position than I was when I left.’
‘Did you get insurance money from the car?’
‘A bit, but the car wasn’t worth much anyway.’
‘But all your stuff!’
He shrugged. ‘Yeah, so, I bought a bottle of whisky and went to sit by the canal, and before I knew it, I was just another homeless guy, sleeping rough in parks.’
‘What about the job interview?’
‘I never went.’ He shook his head and smiled sadly. ‘I know, what a loser, right?’
‘So really, you could go back to your brother’s house in Manchester?’
‘I suppose. But they think I’m working abroad.’
My mouth dropped open. ‘But you can’t go on living on the streets for ever when you could go to your brother’s and get back on your feet.’
‘But I was causing problems between him and his wife. He has a family. I can’t be sleeping on his sofa when they’re trying to go about their daily lives.’
‘That’s what families are for, surely?’
He shook his head.
‘So what’s your plan?’
‘I don’t have one.’
‘How old are you?’
‘Thirty-eight. I think?’ He frowned then nodded. ‘Yeah, thirty-eight. I feel older, though. Some days I feel about a hundred.’
‘Well that’s what sleeping rough will do. Do you know what the average age of death is for men living rough? Forty-seven. Do you really want to die at forty-seven?’
He gave a bitter laugh. ‘The way I feel some days, I’d be happy to die tomorrow.’
‘You can’t mean that! I don’t believe that. The way you are, always smiling, always chatting to someone, if you’re like that when you’re homeless then you must have been a great man when you had a job and a wife and a life.’
He shook his head. ‘You never appreciate what you’ve got ’til it’s gone. I reckon I was a right miserable git after I got out of the army. The baby helped but…’ He shrugged.
‘Do you still talk to your brother?’
Sam nodded. ‘I phone him occasionally.’
‘So what if I drove you to your brother’s house? So you could visit?’
‘No.’
‘Why not? Come on, it’s Christmas. People visit each other at Christmas, don’t they?’
‘What would I say? I’ve been lying to you for eighteen months and I’m on my arse? I’m an even bigger loser than everybody thought I was? No thanks.’
‘You don’t need to do that,’ I said. ‘Just go and say hello, see how it goes. You have to go back. You have stuff to sort out.’
‘Like what?’
‘Well, legal stuff. You can’t walk away from your house when you have nowhere to live. And are you still married? Maybe you should get a divorce?’
Sam looked away towards the TV. ‘No. I’m not ready.’
‘Oh, Sam!’ I said. ‘You just said you went away to find yourself, but don’t you see that you’re more lost than ever? You need to go back to your family. Let them help you sort yourself out. That’s what families are for, aren’t they?’
He shook his head. ‘Emily,’ he said, in a low voice, ‘I can’t go back to Manchester where everyone knows what happened. My whole life has become a joke.’
‘She’s the joke, not you!’ I snapped. ‘What she did to you is cruel. No one will be laughing at you, Sam.’
Sam grunted, and I could see by the set of his jaw that he didn’t agree. I couldn’t believe that his wife had treated him so badly. It was awful.
Sam changed the channel again to one playing Christmas songs and we sat in silence, listening, until Sam’s head dropped onto his chest. Glancing at my watch, I saw it was nearly eleven. This was it then. I was about to let a strange man sleep in my flat.
Getting to my feet, I touched Sam’s knee and he jerked awake, wide-eyed and startled, making me jump back. ‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’ He blinked up at me, as though trying to work out where he was. ‘I’m going to bed.’
‘Right.’ He took a deep breath and sat up, blinking around at my flat. ‘Okay.’ He got to his feet and I pointed him in the direction of my spare room.
‘You know where everything is. I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘Goodnight.’ His door closed behind him as I bent to switch off the Christmas tree lights, plunging the flat into near darkness. Somehow, it made this moment more real.
I stood in the shadows for a moment, breathing in the familiar smell of my flat, trying to calm my thudding heart. It would be the same if I took in a lodger, I reasoned, or shared my flat with someone. I thought back to my university days, moving into a student house with five strangers. It was just the same as that.
Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed.
I went to my room and barricaded my door.
