Spoiler
I realise I have some explaining to do at this point. I got so very stuck on chapter four and had this one ready and neatly waiting to be written t the back of my head. The fourth chapter is a flashback, which poses quite a lot of questions but is not yet crucial to the storyline. I so badly wanted to write this chapter and will get onto the previous one as soon as I can. Please review!!!
Chapter 5 – Big Harry
When you live on the streets it’s hard to keep track of the days of the week. Monday, Tuesday, they all seem to blur into one. The only days I could ever distinguish were Saturday and Sunday, all the others appeared the same to me; people going about their daily lives and never noticing us, never giving a second look at us.
The street rats.
That’s what they called us behind our backs, muttering darkly and proclaiming that they would never end up like us. They shuddered at the very thought of approaching us. Little did they know that this was of life wasn’t something you could choose. No-one could see it coming and when it finally emerged it was too late. It couldn’t be stopped.
I knew Sundays because that was the day that the church bells rang out across the town, proudly announcing the faith of those inside and inviting others to join them. On occasion I did so; it was nice to be able to escape the nightmare that was my life; even if it was only for a short hour or two. I began to feel accepted into their little community and they allowed me to sit silently at the back of the room, listening intently.
I never had anything to offer them donation-wise and I always felt guilty when the collection plate was passed around and time after time I could not put something in it. The looks of distaste were hard to bear, but they weren’t as bad as the pity.
Pity was the one thing I hated to accept, one of the main reasons I tried to look respectable. It wasn’t solely to feel clean, or smell acceptable, it was that I couldn’t face people whose faces changed as soon as they saw my ragged clothes and messed up hair. Some smirked, others raised their eyebrows, but many smiled pathetically. As if I wasn’t humiliated enough.
I could stand on my own two feet perfectly. Surely I had proven that by walking out? Nobody had come looking for me and I wasn’t a source of interest. I guessed they had all forgotten me, just as I had forgotten them.
Saturdays were market days. This was my best chance of getting food; it was easy to place myself near one of the stalls and wait until the owner wasn’t paying attention. Then, quick as a flash of lightening, I would grab a handful of fruit, vegetables, or whatever else was on sale at the time and run it back to my little box under the bridge.
The quality of food wasn’t good, but it was better than nothing. I learned quickly that you couldn’t be picky or you might just have been forfeiting your next meal. It was cheap food, or no food. Not a hard choice for anyone in their right mind.
Of course, not everyone on the streets was completely sane. The way of life was draining and offered no consolation to those who found it hard. Many stole drugs and bottles of alcohol, just to ease the pain.
One Saturday afternoon I took it into my head to attempt to patrol the butchers stall, ‘Sampson & Son’s fine cut meat’, to see if I could scrounge some decent meat for a change. This was the only known stall in town where the vendor took pride over his produce, and as a result it was a prime target for people like us.
Thieves.
Most of us tended to avoid that stall as we all knew it was Big Harry’s territory and no-one wanted to get on the wrong side of him. Not if you wanted to live that was.
I was sensible like the others and kept out of the way, I didn’t want to have attention drawn to me and attacking the key stall on the street was just the way to get it, on the other hand I had hardly eaten at all that day, and it had been so long since I’d eaten meat that didn’t look as if it had been going green for a while. I also hadn’t seen Big H for at least two weeks and rumours were circulating that he had left for a better life. Surely I could risk it?
I tried to be inconspicuous as I crept slowly past ‘Frankie’s Fruits’ and began the scow descent toward the butchers. As usual, nobody paid me much attention and I was again glad that my clothes weren’t all destroyed. The river at least gave me one advantage, I had discovered a small bucket near one of the bins and, after washing it repeatedly, had discovered that is was useful for pulling up water and cleaning my possessions in it. Of course, I had to go elsewhere for clean water but as far as I could see that couldn’t be helped.
I followed the cobbled street and made my way slightly more confidently to the butchers. Luckily for me, the owner was currently on a break as dictated by the sign that hung over the front of his van, reading: ‘back in five minutes’. The rest of the van was temporarily shut up whilst the vendor was out to prevent people like me from stealing his goods.
I would have to wait.
I found a small gap just below the serving counter and perched myself on it precariously, all the while checking to see that nobody was watching me.
No-one was.
The way I was seated meant that the people purchasing supplies couldn’t get to me but I could simply reach my hand back and pull a sausage or two down from the shelf above me. They were already cooked; the van also sold hotdogs and burgers and the meat needed to be precooked for those. I had watched Big H do it many times.
After a few minutes I heard footsteps approaching the van, gradually getting louder as they neared my hiding place. That must be the owner returning. I thought to myself, remaining quiet and shuffling myself back a few feet. But strangely, there was no noise to signify that he was opening the van. Cautiously, trying not to be seen, I poked my head out from under the counter and peered around. As far as I could see there wasn’t anyone nearby. I slid a little closer, allowing my neck and shoulders to be out in the open.
Big mistake.
A hand grabbed my left shoulder instantly, roughly pulling me out from my not-so-secret hiding place. My blood ran cold as I tried, unsuccessfully to wrench my arm free of the claw like grasp upon me, twisting and turning as I tried to release myself.
“So,” a deep voice growled.
I waited, frozen in place, but the voice did not continue.
“So,” The snarl came once more, “you took it into your pretty little head to come and stake out MY position did you?
As he said this he spun me round to face him. I could see immediately that it was Big Harry, his blue eyes boring into mine, a look of utter disgust spread across his face. He seemed to study me for a moment, as though contemplating his next words. A look of confusion crossed expression as he eyed my face, suspiciously, as though he was unsure of what to do. I gazed downwards, at the ground, trying to avoid his scrutinizing stare.
Then he spoke again, but softer this time. ‘You’re new here huh? Don’t think I’ve seen you around before, what’s your name kid?’
I remained silent. What was happening? Surely Big H should have been ripping me limb from limb, I forced myself to look up at him. He was smiling.
‘Come on girl,’ he chuckled, ‘I ain’t gonna bite you know!’
I just gaped at him, lost for words.
‘Name?’ he prompted when I continued to be unresponsive, ‘what do they call you?’
‘Urm…’ I muttered, ‘urm…’
‘Urm? That’s unusual.’
‘No’ I heard myself reply, ‘I’m Ashling’
Yes! She speaks!
I could have sworn I saw his eyes widen at this statement, but when I looked back his face was set back in its jaunty grin.
‘Pretty,’ he shrugged. ‘I'm Harry. Jus’ Harry.’
‘I know,’ I admitted sheepishly. How could he think I was oblivious to the stories about him? That everyone spoke of him in fear, whispered that he was dangerous and to cross him would be the last thing you ever did.
‘You look cold,’ he noted.
I looked down at my body which had lost a considerable amount of weight in the last couple of months. It was hard to sustain a filling diet for a period of time and any extra weight you came to the streets always vanished in the first two weeks. It would have worked wonders as an extreme dieting system but somehow I couldn’t see the dieting companies advertising it all too readily. I was astonished to notice I was shivering, I hadn’t noticed any chills sweeping over me and part of me had an inkling they had nothing to do with temperature whatsoever.
‘Here.’ He was shrugging out of his black jacket, revealing a blue sweater underneath. I quickly realised I hadn’t been paying any attention to what he was wearing. He was surprisingly well dressed for someone who had been living on the streets for as long as the rumours let on.
Apparently spotting my look of surprise Big H laughed. ‘What’cha staring at Ash?’
I closed my open mouth. ‘Nothing’
‘Take it,’ he told me, offering the jacket toward me. I simply looked at him, what was going on? Surely Big Harry, the terrifying and cold-hearted thug who cared for only his own needs, could not be offering me his jacket? The day wasn’t warm and he would have been cosy in the thick leather.
‘Seriously, you look like you need it more than me; in fact, I’d say you had no fat on you! When was the last time you had anything to eat girl?'
‘Urm…’ was my intelligent response. Truth be told I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a proper meal. Certainly not this week at the least.
‘Urm…’
Big H raised his eyebrows. ‘You say that a lot,’ he noted, chuckling.
‘Sorry,’ I muttered hastily, ‘it’s a bad habit.’
‘Don’t worry, I think it’s cute.’
I pondered this for a moment. Big Harry thought I was cute? Big Harry who terrorised the town thought I, the mumbling buffoon, was cute?
‘Hello?’ A big hand was waved in front of my eyes. ‘Earth to Ashling? Come in Ashling do you read me?’
I blinked. ‘Sorry’
Stop saying sorry!
‘Listen girl where do you live?’ When I looked at him he altered his wording abruptly. ‘Where do you stay?’
I pointed up the hill toward the top of the town. ‘There’s a river up there with a pretty tall bridge over it. I generally use it to keep the rain out. Nobody seems to come along there either.’
‘Doesn’t sound that child friendly!’
I’m not a child!’ I said in outrage.
‘Sorry,’ he scoffed. ‘Does that mean the child doesn’t want roof over her head?’
‘You bet,’ was my instinctive response, ‘wait… what?’
‘I got a spare room,’ he told me. ‘It’s been kinda lonely these past few weeks and I could use some company. It’s indoors and sheltered, not like this bridge of yours. You could come and be my ‘flatmate.’ He winked, ‘what do you say?’
I gaped at him.
‘Just come and see it,’ he pushed. ‘I promise I won’t force you to stay if you decide you don’t want to.’
I nodded meekly.
‘Lead the way.’
‘Sure you can keep up with your little legs?’ he teased.
I scowled at him. ‘Just walk.’
**********************************************************************************
Big H was slowing down now; it looked as though we had reached our final destination. It looked like an abandoned shop, the enormous glass windows had been covered with white paint from the inside and I couldn’t make out anything inside.
With a swift glance to around him Big H withdrew a small key from a pocket in his faded jeans and inserted it in the keyhole. He twisted it gently and the door clicked open, he pushed it and beckoned me towards him.
‘Welcome,’ he said, ‘to Casa de Harry’.
I stared around in awe. The walls were filled with old posters of bands I didn’t recognise and the floor was covered with a shiny blue rug.
‘Shoes off here, if you please,’ Big H instructed me as he slipped off his own trainers and slung them neatly into a basket, indicating for me to do the same. I followed him as he wandered over to the couch that was situated in the middle of the room. A shirt hung over the back of it along with various other garments that had been carelessly draped on it.
‘Shit, sorry,’ Big H muttered, turning red, ‘I don’t tend to have many visitors.’ He bundled the clothes into a pile and lifted them over to the other side of the room which, I now noticed, was the kitchen. It wasn’t very big but I was surprised to notice that it had all the essentials. A mini-fridge, a table and a chair and a microwave (goodness knows where he had obtained that from) that perched tidily on the counter.
‘I’ll show you your room,’ he told me, heading towards a door that I hadn’t noticed before. Behind it was a short corridor with three exits. Big H pointed the first two out as we passed them. ‘Bathroom.’ ‘That’s my room.’
We reached the end of the corridor and he signalled for me to open the door.
‘This,’ he said, ‘will be where you stay.’ I pushed it open and gazed inside. In the far corner was a small camp bed with light blue sheets and a box shoved next to it to form a bedside table. There was a single candle on it and what looked like a battered book. Walking closer I picked it up. It was a copy of Pride and Prejudice. I was stunned.
‘You like Jane Austen?’ I asked.
‘I like reading,’ was his simple response.
I placed the book back down and walked toward a set of shelves on the opposite side of the room. They were empty apart from a few blankets and a pillow. I hoped that maybe Big H would lend me some books and I could keep them in this room.
My room.
‘It’s not much,’ he said anxiously, ‘it’s messy and not very well decorated. I don’t have a very good taste in furniture, it’s about as un-designer as you can get but at least there’s a bed.’ I didn’t answer. I was contemplating the idea of never having to live under the bridge again. I sighed peacefully.
‘I think it’s brilliant B- Harry’. I beamed at him. ‘Really brilliant.’
