Help Our Heroes: A Military Charity Anthology

by T. L. Wainwright

  “She’s got the night off. Someone punched her last night when she went to help their dog.” He scowls and I feel my stomach lurch.

  “What? How the hell did that happen?” I stare at him, my body almost reaching boiling point.

  “She said the guy agreed she could check the dog over, and when she did he went for her. Drunken good-for-nothing.” Jo seethes, but manages to stroke Muttbags gently.

  “Was she on her own?” I narrow my eyes. Joe was supposed to be with her last night.

  He huffs, bandaging up the dog’s paw. “She wasn’t meant to be,” he says, looking over at me. “I got a call from my wife. She’s pregnant and was getting contractions. She thought the baby was coming so I said I had to go home. I told Kathy she should go home, too. She said she would.” He shrugged. “I’d have given her a lift only...”

  “Right.” I’m staring at him.

  He sighs. “Turns out she was on her way back to the Tube when she saw a guy with a dog down by the subway. The dog was whimpering so she asked if she could take a quick look. The rest, as they say, is history.”

  “Fuck!” I can’t help it. It just slips out.

  He nods. “I know. I shouldn’t have left her. It wasn’t that late, not long after we’d seen you, in fact. Luckily someone was passing that way and intervened. Kathy was okay, just a bit shaken up, and she’s got a bruise on her forehead, but nothing drastic, thank God.”

  “She shouldn’t have been on her own.” I spit the words out.

  “I know, man. You don’t need to tell me. I feel as guilty as sin over it, trust me.”

  I watch his face cloud over and I know he’s telling the truth. I’m an expert on guilt. We’re silent for a few minutes.

  “What did she have?” I speak first.

  “What?”

  “Your wife. Boy or girl?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Braxton Hicks.”

  I suck a breath through my teeth. “Ouch!”

  He nods. “In more ways than one. I have to admit they were quite convincing, even though we’ve still got another week. Poor thing was in agony. Nothing happening, though. She cried when they sent her back home from the hospital, but it wasn’t her fault.”

  I shake my head, imagining the scene. I’d love to be a dad one day. Looks doubtful now, though.

  “I didn’t know about Kathy until I got to work this morning. You could’ve knocked me down with a feather when I saw her.”

  “You work together, then? Not just...” I gesture to his sweatshirt.

  “Oh, yeah. She’s a junior at my surgery. St. Patrick’s down by the river.”

  “Oh.” I’m still none the wiser.

  “It’s the really old building with the scaffolding at the side,” he explains.

  “I know the one.” I frown. “I didn’t know it was a vet’s, though. I thought it was a ruin.”

  He sniggers. “It looks that way from the outside, but it’s not really,” he says. “My brother and I are into doing up old buildings. The vet’s is a project as well as my business. We’ve done the inside and it’s not half bad. You should take a look some time.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  “Kathy helped pick out the colour scheme for the reception area,” he says with a smile. “She did a good job.”

  “And talking of her job, will she be back at work tomorrow night?” I ask, hopefully.

  He smiles. “Yeah. I had a hard enough job keeping her away tonight.”

  “She seems very dedicated.” I’m thinking aloud as I idly stroke Muttbags.

  “She is.” He sighs. “I feel so awful about last night.” He clenches his fist. “I should never have...”

  “I know how you feel, mate,” I tell him. “But beating yourself up won’t change a damn thing.” I wish I could practice what I preach sometimes, but he looks grateful for the support.

  “Sounds like you know a bit about the subject,” he says with a weak grin.

  “Oh yeah. Lost some buddies in Afghan.” Saying it brings that lump back to my stomach.

  Joe’s eyes widen. “You’re a soldier?”

  “I was. They let me go saying I had PTSD. I’m not half as bad as some of them, mind, but they chucked me out anyway.” I shake my head as memories come flooding back.

  “God, I’m sorry.” Joe actually looks shocked. I wonder what sort of no-mark he thought I was. “I had no idea.”

  “Why would you?” I give a self-deprecating grin. “Maybe I should get a sweatshirt made.” I point at his logo and he laughs.

  “Joe, we’re about to go. You finished there yet?” Another guy comes up to us, closely followed by a younger one.

  “Just about.” He gives Muttbags another stroke on the nose and the dog licks his hand. “Will you come back this way tomorrow for another jab?” He looks expectantly and I notice his whole demeanour towards me has changed.

  I nod. “Yeah, of course. We’ve got to get this fella back on his feet, haven’t we?”

  “You need to keep that wound as clean as you can,” Joe says, putting his stuff back in his bag. “I know that’s easier said than done, especially as he’ll prefer walking on the soft mud instead of the street, but do what you can.”

  “I will.” Last night I’d have come out with a smart-ass remark, but not now. This guy’s a professional who’s as human as I am, not some patronizing do-gooding prick like I first thought.

  “I’ll be down here around seven.” Joe promises, giving Muttbags one last stroke on the head before standing up.

  I stand up and shake his hand. “Thanks. And it’s Chris, by the way.”

  As I watch the three guys make their way down the street I can’t help feeling sorry for Joe. He clearly felt dreadful about leaving Kathy to make her own way home last night, but I really couldn’t blame him. He must have been in a blind panic, thinking the baby was on its way.

  I haven’t the heart to make the poor mutt walk on that leg tonight, so I sit back down beside him on the pavement, pulling part of my coat under my arse. It’s not just Brass Monkeys that suffer in this weather!

  Chapter 4

  I wake up the next morning in time to catch a few commuters who seem to take even more pity on Muttbags with that dressing on. We — or at least, he — makes enough to buy us a warm drink and a bacon roll from the street-vendor just down the road. It’s great to get something hot inside me for a change, though I’m not sure if Muttbags appreciates the temperature of the food as he wolfs down half the roll and slurps the last of the tea.

  I decide not to splash out on the public toilets this morning, as I’ve managed to find quite a few half-empty water bottles in the bins. The water’s much colder than that in the taps yesterday, but at least it’s clean and I feel much fresher once I’ve cleaned my teeth and drenched my face. I even use some to wash my hands after taking a pee in a back alley.

  Whether it was the warm breakfast, or just a change in the weather, I’m not sure but it certainly doesn’t feel quite as cold as we potter around the streets after that. Muttbags is putting that paw quite gingerly on the ground, and I know it must hurt him, but he still needs the exercise, and it’s never a good idea to stay in one place for too long when you’re on the streets.

  It’s a long and boring day, and I can’t stop thinking about Kathy. She must have been terrified to get hit like that by a perfect stranger. I wonder if there’s any way of finding out who the bastard was. Drunk or not, there’s no excuse to hit a woman.

  We take a stroll towards the subway near the Tube station. It’s quite busy and we get jostled by passers-by who act like they don’t even see us. Luckily, Muttbags has the sense to stay close to my side so he doesn’t get too knocked about. He’s a sensible mutt, that one.

  I notice the gang that chased us yesterday are at the far opening, and stop short. There are more of them today and one of them’s got a dog. I wouldn’t put it past any of them to hit a woman. I’m not hanging around with Muttbags in this state, though, so turn him around and head
back the way we came.

  There’s some of his treats still in the bag from last night, so I give him one to enjoy while I nip behind a shop and grab a large cardboard box from a pile of folded-up ones left in a stack by the rubbish. I’m thrilled to find it’s quite thick, so hopefully we’ll have a warmer night tonight.

  We pick a spot at the side of a shopping street and try out luck, sitting on the folded box. I was right about it being warm, and I notice a nearby alleyway where I’ll be stashing the box ready for our return tonight.

  It’s a good day for us; that bandage seems to be helping a lot, judging by the sympathetic looks Muttbags receives as passers-by throw their cash our way.

  It’s great to have his fur to snuggle up to as the dog snores quietly and I have a little daydream about seeing Kathy tonight. It’s all that’s keeping me going today, I realise.

  By the time the clock chimes seven we’ve made quite a bit of cash and I spend the journey to Frimstone Road thinking about what to spend it on. The trick is not to put all your eggs in one basket, so to speak — you never know when you’ll make your next quid.

  We pass a chippy on the way and the smell beckons me in. Poor Muttbags has to wait outside the door but he doesn’t seem to mind as he scavenges in a nearby bin. I treat us to a large portion of chips and we eat them as we walk. They’ve got salt and vinegar on, too, and they taste like heaven. I’m not sure the dog’s all that keen on vinegar, though, by the look on his face, but he gobbles them down anyway.

  I’m disappointed not to see anything of Kathy, Joe or the others despite walking the whole length of Frimstone Road. I know it’s after seven but I’ve no idea how late it is and begin to wonder if we’ve missed them. Maybe we shouldn’t have stopped for the chips on the way? Did Joe mean for us to get here bang on seven o’clock, like an appointment? Damn!

  We try the next street and the one after that, but there’s no sign. Typical! Fucking liar! I take deep breaths, trying to quell my anger. Although I know it’s possible — and looking likelier by the minute — that Joe was bullshitting me about helping with a whole course of antibiotics, somehow I’m finding it hard to believe. Maybe I’m getting soft in my old age, but he certainly seemed sincere. And besides, for him to have been lying meant that Kathy would have been, too and I just can’t see that somehow.

  “Come on, boy. If the mountain won’t come to Muhammad...” I lead the mutt towards the river.

  Luckily the area around this part of the Thames is quite well lit up and I can see the dilapidated building Joe was talking about. In fact, on closer inspection it doesn’t look quite as bad as I thought. The building’s in darkness and it occurs to me that maybe the surgery just ran over. I berate myself for getting so het up. I really need to stop getting angry so damn quickly. I had counselling when I left the Army, and they talked a lot about anger management. Trouble was, I stormed out in a huff one day and never went back!

  Someone opens the front door as we approach, and torchlight floods out onto the steps leading up to it. A heavy-looking mat is flung over the banister-rail before we’re even noticed, and I jump back to avoid being hit by it.

  “Oh God, I’m so sorry!” Dim light from inside bounces off the shiny, brunette hair of a pretty girl, who I recognised as soon as she opened her mouth. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “That’s okay.” I’m surprised and a little flattered that she seems so mortified at ignoring us — not that anyone could blame her.

  Her eyes light up as I take a step closer and I feel a lurch in my stomach. Something that should know way better stirs in my jeans and I silently admonish myself.

  “Hey, it’s you!” At first I thought it was the dog she’d recognised, but she’s actually looking right at me. No-one’s looked that happy to see me in years.

  “Chris.” I nod. “Hi, Kathy. How are you?” I smile at her, then frown at the bruise on her forehead, half-hidden by her fringe. “Joe told me what happened.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, it wasn’t as bad as it sounds,” she assures me. “The guy was drunk and just lashed out. It was all over in seconds.”

  I shake my head. “It should never have happened, though.”

  “I know. Anyway, come on in.” She opens the door wider, inviting us inside. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” She actually looks delighted to see us, and bends down to give Muttbags a stroke as he passes her in the hallway. “How’s this fella?”

  “Damn! His anti-biotics!” Joe struts towards us, torch in-hand and a sheepish look on his face. “I meant to bring them down tonight. I’m really sorry. We’ve had this flood, as you can probably see.” He points the torch up at the ceiling. “It’s even worse through here.”

  I look up as he focuses the light on a large, damp patch on the newly-painted ceiling. While Kathy fusses Muttbags I follow Joe through to a large room, feeling the carpet squelch under my feet. Part of the ceiling has broken through, and bits of plaster scatter the otherwise-stylish waiting room. Water is trickling down the walls and dripping through the gaping hole.

  “Jeesh!”

  “I know. Luckily it didn’t happen while we were open. We were just getting ready to go out when there was a huge crash and the damn roof caved in!” Joe shakes his head.

  There’s giggling from the doorway, where Kathy’s standing with Muttbags. “Maybe a slight exaggeration there, boss,” she says. “It was a good job we didn’t have any customers in, though.”

  “What’s up there?” I point upwards.

  “Just an old flat. We were going to do it up once we had chance, maybe let it out eventually. The pipe must have frozen then cracked when the place warmed up a bit. We’ve had to keep down here heated up more than usual these past couple of days as we’ve got a few animals staying over in the recovery cages.”

  “Have you switched off the water up there?” I assume he has, or it’d be pouring down here now.

  He nods. “Yeah. We’ll need to call a plumber out in the morning. We’ve already gone over-budget getting this place up and running, I don’t know how we’re going to afford the repairs on top — and we all know plumbers don’t come cheap.” He heaves a heavy sigh.

  “I could take a look if you like?”

  Joe stares at me. “Really?”

  I nod. “I learned plumbing as soon as I left the Army. I’m not exactly an expert, but I know the basics.” It feels good to see his impressed expression and I look over, hoping to see a similar look on Kathy’s face. I’m not disappointed. She’s beaming.

  “Come this way.” Joe eagerly leads me up the stairs.

  The door to the flat’s wide open and the bare floorboards are soaked. I’m surprised how big the place is, and peer into the kitchen. It’s got plenty storage units and seems in quite good condition.

  “It’s the bathroom that’s done it,” Joe explains, pointing down the tiny hall.

  I go over and see that the floor is completely drenched. Tiles have lifted from underfoot and there’s a wet patch on the wall behind the pipe work. I quickly locate the shutoff valve and ensure that Joe has cut off the supply fully. Then I switch on the taps to drain the system. Meanwhile, I check the pipe for the damage.

  “I could probably fix this with some epoxy and a rubber seal,” I tell him. “Where’s the nearest hardware shop?”

  “B&Q’s open late tonight, it’s not far,” he says, hopefully.

  He leads me back downstairs where Kathy’s giving Muttbags a good meal in the surgery’s kitchen. She looks up and smiles when we arrive.

  “We’re just popping out to get some supplies,” Joe tells her with a grin. “Can you give him a shot of antibiotics for me?”

  She nods. “Of course.”

  I give the dog a quick stroke. “Be good for the lady, Muttbags,” I tell him, “and mind your manners.” I wink at her and am thrilled to see her blush before I head off after Joe.

  It’s not far to the DIY centre and I feel like a kid in a toyshop looking at all the tools and equipmen
t stacked from floor to ceiling. Joe’s quite happy for me to just select anything I think I‘ll need and I look forward to the day I can buy this sort of stuff for myself.

  Most of the shoppers are men, dressed in overalls or scruffy jeans, some splattered in paint or filler. For once I feel quite at home here, and like no-one’s judging me for the way I look.

  Joe gets us all a Chinese take-away on the way back, and I’m surprised how much I look forward to seeing Kathy again. She’s a beautiful girl, as well as being the kindest person I’ve met in my life.

  Muttbags is pleased to see me, too, as always — not that we spend much time apart from each other these days. I take a torch and some rag and run upstairs to turn off the taps before we eat. I rub down the pipe as well as the wall behind it, leaving it to air-dry while we enjoy our meal. I feel more content than I’ve felt in years as we all enjoy our supper, chatting about anything that comes into our heads. There are some gas heaters burning in the back of the surgery to keep the recovering animals warm, so it’s quite toasty and I relax more than I have in a long time.

  “His paw’s clearing up well,” Kathy tells me with a smile. “And I’ve put another clean dressing on. I reckon one more shot of antibiotics and he’ll be well on the mend.”

  “I still can’t get over how you guys do this stuff for free,” I tell her.

  “Street Vets is quite a new thing,” Joe informs me. “London’s one of the few cities that has them, but we’re hoping more and more surgeries will join in. There’s certainly a high demand out there, and we’re well aware how much homeless people depend on their dogs. You’ve all got enough to worry about without the added trauma of seeing your best friend suffering.”

  “Tell me about it.” I get up. “Well, I’d best get this pipe fixed so you two can get off home.” I didn’t mean to put an edge in my voice, but I really didn’t need to be reminded that, unlike them, I didn’t have a home to go back to.

  I take the new torch we just bought and head upstairs. As I’m checking the pipe, I’m surprised to hear light footsteps.