In The Bleak Midwinter
It’s true, the friends who stay beside us through the worst of times are the ones who mean the most…
Iwas a loner, not used to having a friend. Yet this lad of the streets somehow warmed my insides, and after a few weeks I let him hold my hand.
He was my guardian angel and saved me from loneliness on the streets of London. I soon discovered there were no golden streets – only grey, dirty, smelly ones full of frightening shadows.
His dog Bess met me at first, nuzzling my legs, and as I patted her soft brown furry head, Mike arrived. We sat on the park bench and he shared his sandwich with me. I was so hungry.
Somehow we connected. Well, we were both homeless teenagers, secretly yearning for some sort of comfort in our drab lives.
I sat on the pavement near Kings Cross begging, but usually averted my eyes from passing faces. I felt ashamed, wishing I could end this nightmare.
Mike and Bess stayed around Covent Garden and we met up later in the evening. I would look up at the darkening sky and whisper, “Where is my rainbow and my crock of gold?” But I guessed that was only in fairy tales.
The nights became longer and colder and I wished there was somewhere warmer to stay, rather than bus shelters and benches. It was nice to have Mike’s skinny arm draped around me while we both cuddled Bess.
Each morning I would slip into the ladies’ toilets to have a quick wash. I liked to be clean, even if I couldn’t help looking shabby.
Mike sidled up to me one cold night full of excitement. “I know of a dwellin’…” Meekly I followed him across two roads towards the arches of the railway station. We headed inside. The rumble of trains scared me, yet it was warmer – so slowly, with Mike’s hand clasping mine in the dark, I managed to fall asleep. I felt safe.
“Stay ’ere with me and Bess – be a bit like a family,” Mike urged the following morning. So I did.
The autumnal chilly nights now became cold, frosty winter ones and Christmas was almost upon us. The shops were crammed with lovely presents and people became more benevolent, throwing change our way as they darted in and of the shops holding bulging bags.
MISSING my family? I’d MOVED from home to home, ALWAYS the OUTSIDER
One day I bought two thick coats from a charity shop, one for me and one for Mike, and a scarf for Bess. But I felt cold inside. Not long before Christmas and we never even had a tree.
That night we sat, huddled in our sleeping bags beneath the railway station, eating a meat pie. I was unable to stop the tears slipping down my face.
“Mary, what’s up? I ’spect you’re missin’ yer family?”
I shook my head. I could hardly remember my parents and had moved from home to home, always the outsider.
“No.” My voice a mere whisper. “Wish we had a tree though.”
Bess licked my hands as Mike kissed my cheek.
“Yeah… Christmas always gets to yer, like, don’t it?”
In just a few days’ time it would be the twenty-fifth and the soup kitchens were beginning to open to bring us homeless some relief.
The following night when I came back to our little dwelling, I gasped with surprise. Beside our sleeping bags stood an enormous fir tree and Mike was diligently distributing colourful baubles and glitter over it.
“Oh, Mike!” I clapped my hands with
joy. “Where did you get it from?”
He winked and touched his nose. “Anyfing for my gal.”
Together we giggled and sang carols while Bess howled and sniffed the tree. We’d managed to prop it up in the corner of the archway. Now I smelled fresh pine, and for a while the damp, musty aroma was forgotten, as we sat in our bit of paradise.
The atmosphere invited us to talk and we related many things from our haphazard lives, perhaps for the very first time ever. This was our night – our very special night.
“I think…” I felt very nervous as I framed the words. “That I want to be more than a friend with you.”
“You sure?” His voice came out more as a grunt but his arms held me protectively. I let go of Bess, whom I had been stroking continuously, and held Mike instead. It felt good.
He opened his sleeping bag and gradually I drifted into it. Emotions took over and the cold disappeared as our bodies found an intense, united heat together.
After almost eighteen years of feeling alien, alone, I belonged to another.
How I loved this boy – the look of him, his dark leanness in his skinny jeans, the humour and cheekiness in him – even the smell of him, which wasn’t always too nice.
The following night I came back with an angel I had bought from the charity shop and was going to place it on the top of our tree. Mike held my hands and shook his head.
“Nah – you’re the only angel I want in ’ere. What we want is a star – a bright, shiny star.” Taking my arm he led me outside. “Look, Mary,” he said, pointing upwards and sure enough the sky was ablaze with stars. “I’ll grab one fer yer – even the moon if I could lasso it and bring it down.” He was teasing, but suddenly he climbed upon the parapet of the bridge with his arms outstretched. I screamed in terror. “No. Mike! Come back down.” Laughing, he leaped back down beside me again and I gasped. For there on the ground at my feet lay a key – an old, rusty key.
“We ’ave a flat, Mary – me, you and Bess. I been selling the Big Issue and been offered our own place. So after Christmas we’ll be off the streets. We can get proper jobs.”
He kissed me passionately. Perhaps the moon had decided to deliver a crock of gold from the end of the rainbow. Standing there beneath the glowing night sky, I knew that despite the brighter future we now faced, this would be the best Christmas I could ever have.
“After CHRISTMAS we’ll be off the streets – we ’ave a FLAT, Mary”