time, though. I can’t let down the cancer charity that I’m running for. Dad got so much help from them when he found out he had terminal cancer. If I keep training hard, and everyone at work sponsors me, I’ll be able to make a donation to help fund the good work they do with people like Dad…
Taking refuge from the damp weather in a bus shelter, a middle-aged man in a dirty coat, tracksuit bottoms and tatty-looking trainers sat slumped on the bench.
The writer, shook her head – not from disgust, but from wondering how these poor people survived without a roof over their heads or proper meals in their stomachs for weeks, months, years...
Homeless. He was a businessman once; he’d owned a camera shop. Although he managed to keep up with the times, when the digital camera age came his business struggled to a miserable end. Online shopping meant that people came in and looked at his cameras, but bought them cheaper from the internet.
Aleksander Borkowski pulled up the collar of his coat. I am so far from my family in Poland, and this certainly isn’t the ‘better life’ I came all the way to England for. It was only two years ago that I came over and I was so happy when I found a job almost straight away working for a building company. A good, physical job – it made me feel more worthwhile somehow to create something that would still stand after I am dead and buried.
It’s been three months now since I was laid off. I couldn’t pay the rent on my little bedsit anymore and was forced to leave. With nowhere else to go, I ended up like this – living on the streets. Where will I sleep tonight? Perhaps the lady whose greenhouse I slept in last night will be understanding again and not call the police…
The writer wondered about the stories of all the people she’d seen that morning: the teenager with her secret assignation; the man taking his daughter to see her great grandfather; the old man whose father had been killed in the war; the runner and his two-timing lover; and the homeless man who had lost everything because of the internet shopping age. Which one would she write about next? All of them, she decided.
Time to Go
“It’s time to go, Sarah,” said Mum, a proud smile stretched across her face and her hand outstretched towards mine. “You don’t want to be late on your first day at school!”
I returned her smile uncertainly and reached out for the proffered hand.
“Oh, I almost forgot! Daddy said to take a photograph of you in your uniform so that he can see how sweet you look…”
“And grown up,” I insisted.
“And grown up,” agreed Mum, hurrying off to find the camera. “Now then, I think here is a good place.” She put her hands on my shoulders and manoeuvred me in front of a plain area of wall. “Say cheese!”
I smiled obligingly, then blinked and rubbed my eyes as the flash bulb fired.
Mum looked at her watch and frowned. “We really have to get going now,” she fretted, grabbing her handbag and pulling me along the hall to the front door.
“It’s time to go, Sarah,” said Mum. “You don’t want to miss the bus on your first day at the High School!”
I grabbed my bag and dashed for the front door.
“Have you got your bus pass? And your dinner money?” Mum called after me.
“Of course!” I replied nonchalantly.
“Oh, what about your first day photograph? We haven’t done that yet!”
“Oh, Mum,” I groaned, “I’m too old for that now. See you later.” I hurried out of the door, shutting it with a bang behind me and leaving Mum standing in the hallway.
“It’s time to go, Sarah,” said Mum. “Your driving instructor is waiting outside, and you don’t want to keep him waiting.”
I pulled on my coat and picked up my shoulder bag, stopping in the hallway to give Mum a peck on the cheek.
“I’m sure you’ll get on well with Mr Keeler, he used to drive for the police, you know.”
Wondering why my instructor’s police experience was important and seeing a brief mental picture of myself chasing a bank robber’s getaway car through the streets of Hastings, I smiled briefly.
“And remember to say thank you to Dad this evening, for paying for your lessons,” Mum reminded me.
“Of course,” I said, shutting the door behind me and scurrying off towards the driving school car parked outside.
“It’s time to go, Sarah,” called Mum. “You don’t want to miss the train and be the last one from your course to arrive at the University.”
“I’m just taping down the last of the boxes for Dad to bring up at the weekend,” I shouted back, grabbing the scissors and cutting the parcel tape.
Taking a deep breath, I looked around the room I’d slept in almost every night since I was born. It was odd to see it looking so bare, with the posters removed from the walls and my dressing table empty of its usual assortment of trinket boxes and toiletries.
“Sarah!” called Mum.
“Coming, Mum!” I turned and, seeing one of my old teddies discarded on the floor, stooped to pick him up, gave him a hug and tucked him into my bed. A tear ran down my face as I hurried down the stairs.
“It’s time to go, Sarah,” said Mum.
I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. Was that me, that pretty girl in the wedding dress? I smiled as I imagined Tom turning to look at me as I made my way down the aisle to become Mrs Williams.
Scanning the bedroom that had been mine until I left for university, I smiled as I noticed my teddy, who still occupied my old bed whenever the room was not in use.
Turning back to the mirror, I saw Mum come up behind me. “Oh, my beautiful girl!” she said, her bottom lip wobbling and a tear spilling down her cheek.
“No, no, don’t hug me – you’ll crumple the dress! Or I’ll get it wet with my foolish tears!”
I hugged her anyway.
“It’s time to go, Sarah,” said Mum quietly, reaching for my limp hand. “Everyone will be waiting at the crematorium.”
The living room at my parents’ house had never seemed so quiet and still. It’s silly how the death of a parent can make your childhood home seem cold and unfamiliar. It’s just a house. But he made it a home.
How could Mum bear to live here, and sleep in the same bed where he…
When I asked her that question, she said that she was proud to walk in Dad’s footsteps. What an odd thing to say.
A cold shiver ran down my back, as though icy fingers had touched my neck.
How would the world go on without Dad in it?
“It’s time to go, Sarah,” said Tom, charging into the room carrying my packed hospital bag.
“Are you OK?” he asked, reaching out to touch my hand as my face twisted with the pain of another contraction.
I nodded. “Fine,” I said, trying to reassure him. Why was I trying to reassure him? He wasn’t the one who was going to give birth in a few hours’ time!
He made me take the staircase carefully and slowly, then put the little suitcase down to help me on with my coat.
“Let’s go, then,” I said, since Tom seemed to have forgotten what we were actually doing.
“Oh. Yes!” he pulled open the front door and rushed outside, fumbling through his various pockets in search of his car keys.
“Tom?” I called.
He looked back at me, an expression of panic on his face.
“The suitcase?” I said, laughing.
“It’s time to go, Sarah,” said Tom the next morning, after the doctor had said I could take little Jessica home.
“I think she’ll need a change before we go,” I announced, wafting a hand between our infant daughter and my nose.
“I’ll get that, you just sit for a moment,” he offered.
“Fine by me,” I replied. “I hope you’re going to get into the habit of offering to change nappies.”
“Well, I can’t exactly do the breastfeeding, can I?” he grinned. “I’m happy to do anything I can to help with our little girl.”
As Tom dealt with the stinky nappy, I push
ed the remaining clean ones back into the changing bag and stood up slowly.
“Take it easy,” said Tom, popping the used cotton wool balls into the hospital’s metal pedal bin.
I smiled. “Let’s go home,” I said.
“It’s time to go, Jessica,” I said, a proud smile stretched across my face and one hand outstretched towards hers. “You don’t want to be late on your first day at school!”
She returned my smile uncertainly and reached out for the proffered hand.
“Oh, I almost forgot! Daddy said to take a photo of you in your uniform so that he can see how sweet you look…”
“And grown up,” she insisted.
“And grown up,” I agreed, hurrying off to find the camera. “Now then, I think here is a good place.” I put my hands on her shoulders and manoeuvred her in front of a plain area of wall. “Say cheese!”
Jessica smiled obligingly, then blinked and rubbed her eyes as the flash fired.
I looked at my watch and frowned. “We really have to get going now,” I fretted, grabbing my bag and pulling Jess along the hall to the front door.
Stopping by the front door, I remembered a similar day from my own childhood. A shiver ran up my spine – not a shiver brought on by fear, I realised, with a smile, but caused instead by a brush from of the finger of fate.
Watching
Walking through the woods in the hope that the fresh air would clear his head a bit after an evening in the pub, out of the corner of his eye Luke caught sight of something white. It moved. Doing a swift double-take, he realised it was a girl sitting with her back to him in a small clearing about 15 feet or so away