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Pisssss---- Sean came
to with a start-- Pisssss
He wearily opened his eyes only to be greeted by the rear end of a Toy
Poodle, leg cocked, aiming a steaming stream at the wall, just feet from
where he lay. “Merry Christmas to you too misses” He shouted at the well
dressed, bag laden woman at the other end of the lead. She looked straight
at and through him “I thought most guide dogs were Labradors” he shouted as
she disappeared in to the blur that was humanity finishing its shopping.
He hauled himself up so that he sat with his head resting on one wall of the
entrance to the boarded up shop and pulled the sodden coat up over his
knees.
Wearily he reached in
to the old sports bag his hand finding the battered brass clock. Through the
zip he could see it was almost four. A smile came to his lips “Care for an
aperitif sir” “Don’t mind if I do” He replied to himself. “I’m afraid we
just have the Monks Mogadon sir” he said withdrawing the half empty bottle
of Bucky. “That’ll do nicely Jeaves one can’t be to fussy this late on
Christmas Eve” “Indeed sir, indeed” he said raising the bottle to his lips
and drinking deeply on the liquid amnesia within.
Most of the others had gone to Hostels or specially opened centres. It
looked bad having the streets littered with the homeless, put you right off
you’re shopping so it would. It brought an old Slade song to his mind “I
wish it could be Christmas every day” -To bloody right he thought, mind you,
could society extend the pretence of caring for the whole year- As he
watched the blur pass him by without so much of a glance, Sean thought not.
He could have gone too, but he was dammed if he’d see out his last Christmas
without a drink. The blood had been coming for months now, the pain in his
stomach no longer dulled by the Bucky. He took another satisfying swig as he
watched. They didn’t recognise that any one of them could be down here, and
he could be up there. In fact had been: The agency, campaign of the year and
all that.
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“Sean, wake up you
big ejit” Wearily opening his eyes he saw bright light spilling from the
door behind him, “Your awake” said the man in doorway, come on in and have
some food” “You can stick your
hostels” Sean replied
“Well at least have a drink, your making the place look untidy, come, let
the natives shop in peace” “ A drink did you say? Just a small one then”
Sean replied already halfway through the door.
Inside was a long room, with a marble floor. On the far side a table
stretched in to the distance. Some other people were already seated but were
two far away to make out. “I’m Liam” The man said pulling out a familiar
styled high backed chair “Mackintosh”? Sean enquired “Yes an original from
the great man himself” Liam replied as a large fish supper accompanied by a
bottle of Australian Shiraz arrived. Sean took a sip, a sip mind you not a
glug and felt a glow in his stomach instead of pain.
As he ate Sean took
in more of the room. Two Picasso’s were on the wall opposite. Picasso had
been the subject of his dissertation at Edinburgh. In the background was the
unmistakable sound of Elvis. “On the streets at Christmas” or at least
that’s what it sounded like. He’d finished his food “Another glass?”
enquired Liam. “Thanks mate I’m fine for now” Sean replied somewhat in awe
of the statement he had just made.
”The Picasso’s and the Elvis track are new to me, original too I suppose”
“Undiscovered works; let’s just say we have lots of resources” Liam replied
with a wink.
”If your ready we’ll get you processed” He continued.
Liam led him over to a TV screen. On the screen Sean saw a down and out in a
doorway. A Police man was standing over him radio to his mouth. “When did
you record this”? Sean asked realising it was him in the doorway. Liam took
him by the arm and turned him towards the light “It’s live Sean, and to be
honest your better off out of it mate” And as Sean walked in to the light
the one thing was sure of was that he couldn’t argue with that.
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