Street Kid

by Ned Williams

  We entered and I flashed glances in every direction but there were none of my other crowd in evidence. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then just when I thought I was in the clear, Renata called over that she had a few messages for me. Lorna’s and Roger’s faces were a picture. In unison they turned their collective gazes in my direction.

  “Care to explain?” asked Lorna with a knowing glint in her eye.

  “They seem to know you,” Roger whispered so quietly that one could have heard him across a main road.

  “I expect I’m being mistaken for someone else,” was my lame comment. “A double, maybe?”

  “Bollocks,” Lorna spat. “If it was a mistake then why did that woman bring over those notes and you take them?”

  “I was being polite?”

  We were in there for about twenty minutes during which time there was no one I knew who entered but, as we left, I spotted Andy and Ian approaching. This was rapidly turning into a bad Whitehall Farce.

  “Let’s go this way,” and I attempted to guide them in the opposite direction to my fast approaching friends.

  “Why? That way’s longer.”

  As we passed my rent friends, they didn’t even give us a glance. “Cor, that little one’s oh so cute,” lusted Roger. “I wonder if he’s gay? Knowing my rotten luck, probably not.” Inside, I was smiling.

  Of one thing I was now certain; though I still adored contemplating Terry’s beauty, I had stopped wanting him sexually. His personality got in the way and put me right off. We never did get it together.

  A few days later, when I happened to mention to Roger about my new attitude towards Terry, he wondered how I managed to control my feelings when he had failed so miserably with his Richard.

  After a further month of all these high jinks, I was leaving the office with Sheba when she said, “You have a visitor.”

  Mickey had been waiting for me outside the main door. He told me that he needed to speak to me urgently. I was instantly worried. After all, he’d seen me with Terry, Roger and Lorna et al and there was every possibility that he had jumped to the wrong conclusion and the incident might have festered. Was this a ‘Dear John’ moment? Sheba excused herself and left us to it. We went into a local coffee bar.

  “Well?” I asked, waiting for the hammer blow.

  “It’s time,” he said in a hushed tone.

  “For what?”

  “For me to leave home. Everything’s sorted. We’ll start looking for somewhere. Yes?”

  Even to this day, I still don’t know what had held him back. Mickey always veered from talking about himself indeed, I never found out exactly what he did for a living. I knew it was something to do with being a sheet metal worker but that was it.

  “Yes.” My troubled mind was being engulfed with emotional oil and all my fears were alleviated. Mickey and I were going to live together and I couldn’t have been happier.

  The Jigsaw is Completed

  Because Mickey’s announcement that he was now available for a change of address was so sudden, we only had time to make a halting start in our quest to find a place to live.

  Separately and together Mickey and I began looking for a room or flat. This time I couldn’t call on the rents as that would have given too much away. Besides, they weren’t much help before I moved in with Lorna.

  There was one aspect of my life that cast a particularly long and sinister shadow over my happiness. Ever since I had deserted her onerous portal, I visited my mother on about a once per fortnight basis. These visits always followed the same pattern. I would arrive, she would let me in, we’d exchange a few courteous words of greeting, I would sit in a chair and then silence would reign. After an hour of this Trappist sobriety I arose and invited her to visit me to which the answer, predictably, was always a resounding ‘no’. We then said formal farewells and off I would go with the door being shut soundly behind me.

  Sheba, after years of estrangement, re-established contact with her older sister. Up until then she must have kept her sibling in an emotional cupboard. She was so successful in doing this that I thought she was an only child. At the time, I didn’t give this event too much thought. I should have known better as this reconciliation was to have far reaching consequences.

  The next time I visited Marti and our son, I told her that I was going to move in with someone for whom I felt a great affection. As I expected, she was thrilled and hoped that everything would turn out well. I promised that I would still come and see them whenever I could.

  “You know where we are. Make a new life for yourself. I’m pleased for you – both. You sound happy and that’s good – you deserve it.” At various times I had kept her updated on the state of my love life – such as it was. Her loyalty to me was such that she was always anxious that I might not find anyone.

  After a thoroughly disheartening week of fruitless searching for a home for Mickey and myself, my over–worked Guardian Angel, who looked after me, once again came to my rescue. Lorna heard a strange noise coming from outside the flat. She looked out of her window and saw that there were some boxes being piled up outside the front door. Being somewhat nosey, she pulled the curtains across, leaving a small gap through which she could snoop. A modest furniture van arrived in the street and drew up at the bottom of the steps. The illusive couple from upstairs loaded up their few possessions and without a word of farewell, indeed, no word at all; they sloped off in a blast of exhaust fumes. As she watched this departure, Lorna, almost thinking aloud, mused, “So, the upstairs flat is now empty. Hm!”

  After what seemed liked suitable break, well, about five minutes, Lorna grabbed my arm and marched me purposefully down to have a word with the landlord. In the expectation of having found a place, a tingle of excitement went through every nerve I possessed.

  The landlord, realising that he could get an instant replacement for his departed tenants enthusiastically took Lorna and I up to view the place. To me it was perfect. It was a duplicate of Larry and Lorna’s rooms except that these were combined with no partition so we would have a living room and a separate bedroom. Because the corridor between was intact, there was enough room for a small kitchen. As there was no hallway outside the flat door, the main room was huge.

  Later I was due to meet up with Mickey.

  “Wha’s happened?” I totally failed to hide my excitement but I didn’t want to deliver the good news immediately. My plan was to get him over to the house and take him upstairs to surprise him.

  “You’re going to have to come over to where I live and meet Lorna – now.”

  “Not on your Nelly!” was his trenchant response. Had I made a mistake of epic proportions in that he would turn down the flat because of his apparent dislike at the thought of Lorna?

  “I don’t insist very often but it’s important to me that you come over this evening.” He gave me a quizzical look as if to say, ‘What are you up to?’ “Will you? Please? For me?” I was trying everything I could think of not to ruin the surprise.

  “Okay, if I must.”

  And this is how Mickey finally met Lorna and things didn’t bode well for the future.

  “This is Lorna and Roger,” I said hopefully.

  “Watch’er.” For my sake, Mickey was putting on a brave front but he was obviously unimpressed by the girl. Lorna had taken one look at Mickey and, straight away, removed herself to her chair where she sat staring at the fire.

  He and Roger actually shook hands and exchanged looks that stopped just short of a glower. Roger wiped his hands together as if he’d just handled a fresh turd and Mickey, in response, turned his back on his adversary. Antipathy certainly ruled and not ‘okay’.

  It didn’t take long for Mickey to calculate that there weren’t enough beds for three people. I received another of his looks. As he never brought up this mismatched sleeping arrangement, I decided that the best thing to do was to let the whole thing slide.

  “I think the landlord’s in,” managed Lorna.

 
“Carl, my little honey pot, can you pop in and zip me up, there’s a dear?” came a voice from the cupboard.

  “In a second,” I yelled. Mickey looked with askance at the closed cupboard door then towards me and then back again to the door. “Excuse me a minute, I just need to help Larry with his frock.”

  Mickey was staring around as if he had entered Bedlam.

  I left the trio of antagonism to it and popped in to Larry’s. He was swanning about in a creation of his own making which would have turned Zsa Zsa Gabor bright green.

  “Did I hear a strange voice in there?” he asked casually as I struggled to encase and contain his surprisingly muscular body.

  “It’s my other half.” Coming from my mouth the words were strange but seemed so right.

  Larry spun around so fast I nearly jammed my fingers in the zip. “Wait a minute. Hold the lights. ‘Other half’? And who, may I humbly ask is this ‘other half’ of whom you speak? Is he gorgeous? A paragon? He’d better be ‘cause I don’t want to lose out to a Frankenstein Monster.”

  “He’s a complete paragon of gorgeousness.”

  “If you don’t mind, I will be the judge of that.”

  I turned him around again and continued my wrestling match with the obstinate zip. “We’re here to look at the flat above.”

  “Oh yes, I’d heard they’d slid away.” By now I had won completely my battle with his frock.

  “I’d better go back in,”

  “Darling, I’ll come through in a minute. I know you would need and expect my approval and, believe me, my dear, I will give it. Totally unvarnished! If I permit the relationship to go ahead then I might even shed a small tear for you both.”

  When I returned to Lorna’s, the room was silent and it appeared that no one had budged an inch. “Madame Tussauds or bust,” was my automatic observation. I could hear Lorna give a slight snigger.

  “Who?” asked Roger. I thought it pointless to answer. Mickey, who was still standing and shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another.

  “By the way, Larry...” I could go no further because, without knocking, Larry fluttered into the room with a look of mock angry determination. In this particular outfit, the adjoining wall was out of the question so he was forced into using the door. It was the only time I ever saw him use it.

  “Right, darlings, where’s this jerk who is here to steal my Carl from me. I want to meet him and scratch the goddam evil queen’s eyes out.” He spotted Mickey and went all sultry. “Why, hello.” Mickey stared in shock and gave me a look full of appeal. “Oh, aren’t you the cutey? Carl, he’s gorgeous and I hate you both.” His attention returned to Mickey. “Now you look after my man or you’ll have to answer to me.”

  “Okay,” grinned the warming Mickey.

  Larry then whispered theatrically in Mickey’s ear, “And if you don’t, you know where I live.” Larry looked at me and winked, “He deserves more than a small tear. I’ll shed a flood.” Mickey looked puzzled but I didn’t bother to explain.

  Roger decided to come to life. “Why would he want a saggy old cow like you?”

  Larry looked around in mock surprise. “Did I hear something or was it someone farting? Oh no, it was Roger trying to be funny. You know, Roger, you have one very bad habit.”

  “And that is?”

  “You breathe – and the sooner you cut that out the sooner we’ll all be pleased.”

  “We have to go.” I mumbled, sensing a rather one–sided confrontation.

  Larry put an arm around Mickey’s unflinching shoulders, “And we were just getting to know one another. Carl, you are a complete spoil–sport and I hate you – again!”

  I wrestled Mickey away and substituted my arm for Larry’s. Steering our way towards the door I said “Come on, let’s go down and see the landlord.”

  “Landlord? Why?”” asked Roger who hadn’t been informed of the latest developments.

  “None of your fucking business,” Lorna threw in. I think she was worried that Roger might become her new neighbour.

  “The flat upstairs has become vacant and...,” as we descended the stairs to where the landlord resided, I hurriedly filled Mickey in on the bit of good fortune.

  “Fantastic,” he enthused. The cloud which had previously shrouded his face lifted and he quickly assumed his usual calm and warm countenance.

  The landlord escorted us up to the flat and as we walked through the main door and even before the landlord could utter a word Mickey blurted out, “It’s ours. We’ll take it.” I am sure my eyes were shining – or they should have been if they were truly reflecting the delight I felt.

  In spite of Mickey’s instant response, the landlord managed to convey to us the rental on the place and, like a record stuck in its groove, Mickey repeated, “It’s ours. We’ll take it.”

  “Let me see,” plunged on the Landlord before Mickey could reiterate his latest catch phrase, “today’s Wednesday. You can move in on, say, Saturday. Is that acceptable?”

  Mickey looked at me and I smiled and winked my agreement. “Done!” he said so emphatically that the landlord took a step back.

  As we left the house to go and have something to eat, Mickey was elated. He had a spring in his step and kept asking if I was as happy as he. Indeed, I was.

  For the few days that constituted the rest of the week I stayed away from Lorna’s as much as I could. I saw Mickey only once and we used our time to make plans and embark on a couple of trips to Lorna’s with some of my stuff he’d been warehousing. Lorna wasn’t in but Roger was.

  We intended merely to dump my luggage and depart but Roger, who was plainly bored out of his hidebound brain and required entertainment, had other ideas. He managed to find inconsequential topics to keep us interested – which we weren’t. It reminded me a little of my mother’s frequent ploy. After many attempts at engaging our attention fruitlessly he started on Mickey.

  “Don’t you ever speak?” Mickey simply looked at him as if he were bellyaching in some incomprehensible foreign language. “Doesn’t he ever speak?” I was asked.

  “Yes, when he’s got something to say to people who are worth saying it to.” Roger looked a bit like one of his pet fish.

  “Eh?” Right over his head, that one. Mickey’s habit of speaking like a telegram confused Roger but there again, most things confused Roger.

  Mickey addressed Roger, “I’m no ventriloquist’s dummy and you’ve got some fish floating in your tank.”

  “Shit!” Roger busied himself with removing the offending corpses.

  “And this time you can flush the bloody things away yourself,” I insisted.

  “I’m perfectly able, thank you.” Roger said stiffly as he made his way to the door. Mickey stepped back to let him pass and gave the fish a look that could have turned milk sour.

  When we were alone Mickey sighed and said, “Let’s go before it gets back.” And we did.

  As we entered a local café for our bite to eat, Mickey moaned, “That bloke’s a loony isn’t he? Will he still be there when we are?”

  “I don’t know. Possibly. It depends on Lorna and how long she can put up with him once her reinforcement has moved upstairs.”

  On the Saturday and with the help of his two brothers who had borrowed a van from their workplace, Mickey moved in, complete with the remainder of my possessions. I was not there to collect the keys from our landlord as I was secretly seeing a client so Mickey took it upon himself to get everything sorted. He even managed the onerous task of facing Roger who actually helped transport all my gear from Lorna’s up the flight of stairs. According to Mickey, Lorna sat hugging her fire and looking sad. By the time I arrived ‘home’, Mickey had tidied up and put everything away. I was greeted with an undrinkable coffee and we toasted our new abode.

  “I’ve spread everything around the place. If you don’t like it then we’ll change. Fine?”

  “Absolutely fine.” I looked around and I couldn’t think of a single change which could have
been made. He had placed his record player in a prominent place and, at the moment, the LPs were filed in a large bookcase.

  We spent the afternoon listening to music, making lists of urgent purchases and sorting through some bits and pieces which Mickey had been unsure as to where they should be housed. At about eight o’clock we heard a commotion below. Mickey, who, along with Lorna, also had a nosey streak, turned off both the Carl Nielsen ‘Symphony No 3’ and the lights and peered out of the window to imbibe what was happening.

  “And make sure you get over here tomorrow without fail and remove that fucking fish tank,” broadcasted Lorna to Roger and the whole road. We couldn’t catch Roger’s whining reply but the sound of the front door slamming was audible enough. We could see Roger scrabbling around retrieving his scattered clothing which were decorating the steps and shrubs.

  “We’d better go down and make sure Lorna’s all right.”

  “You go. I’ll stay here.” There was a feeling of distaste in Mickey’s voice.

  I found Lorna seething. I sat and listened as she poured out her frustrations into my ear.

  So, as I semi–predicted, as soon as Mickey and I moved in, Lorna threw Roger out. As I suspected, she couldn’t get on with him any longer. I still don’t know where he went or what happened to him. Lorna certainly looked more contented but after all the recent comings and goings in her room, she appeared a little lost and lonely. I felt guilty leaving her in this state but I had my own life to lead and there was a loving young man waiting for me.

  “Is she fine?” asked Mickey.

  “She’ll survive.”

  “Good,” he sympathised and then dropped the subject for the rest of the evening.

  As we sat together on that first night I looked across at Mickey who had just put a Sibelius Symphony on his/our record player. The image of my life’s jigsaw puzzle came into my thoughts. Not only had the last piece been slotted finally into place but I could now see the full picture and understood what it all meant – well, almost. Another massive upheaval was shortly to peek over the horizon and fix its great beady eye on me.