By Cat.
Chapter 10: The Rain Man Cometh…
A short chapter following Nat’s walk in the rain after leaving Hope House.
Music trickled into Nat’s consciousness along with awareness of the rain, he stopped walking, shivering, as much at the haunting melody as with cold, uncertain if it came from within or outside himself. Hair dripping, jeans and sweater sodden, he felt suddenly regretful of his impulsive decision to leave home without a coat, or, he looked down at his feet, rainproof footwear, his slippers were in a sadly soggy state. He’d come a good way since leaving Hope, almost to the outskirts of the town where the building that had once been the town theatre, then cinema, and now a Bingo hall was located. He rounded the corner, finding the source of the music huddled in the shelter of the one time stage door, guitar on his lap, eyes closed, as he played for an audience that existed only in his mind. For a second Nat thought that he was viewing a scene from his personal Pandora’s box again, himself twenty odd years earlier, masking his loneliness and pain with notes of music. Squinting through the rain he sought other figures to confirm that he was being visited by the ghosts of memories, half dreading, yet half hoping to see them materialise before his eyes, but there was no one else there, just the lone figure playing a sad tune to the rain soaked air. Wiping away the tears that had been steadily mingling with the rain since leaving home, Nat studied the figure, whom he now recognised as being very real, and in fact, a one time regular visitor to the drop in centre that Hope House offered two afternoons a week- the oddly named Keely Knowles. He hadn’t been in some time, and he and Gordon had speculated once or twice about what might have happened to him. Whatever it was, it didn’t appear to have done him any favours, he looked unkempt and uncared for as he slumped against the peeling paint of the door, eyes closed, thin fingers moving restlessly across his guitar strings. Nat made known his presence by loudly clearing his throat before moving any closer to him. The figure opened its eyes, peering through the darkness.
“You play well Keely, very well,” Nat smiled, moving across the pavement, squatting down so that light from the small lamp in the alcove illuminated his face, “remember me?”
Keely gazed hard at him for a few moments, as if trying to bring him into focus, then slowly nodded, “yeah, I remember, Hope House, only you were drier then. You still with the scary guy?”
Nat gave a small laugh, “yes, still with the scary guy. How are you Keely, we haven’t seen you at Hope for a while?”
Keely shrugged, “been around.”
“Prison?” Nat felt the weather called for bluntness.
“Nah,” Keely shook his head, “rehab, residential.”
“How long have you been out?”
“Month, two months maybe, tempus fugit and all that,” he gave a lopsided smile.
“Where are you living now?”
Keely’s lopsided smile gave way to a sardonic grin as he gestured around himself, “welcome to my humble abode.”
Nat felt in his back pocket, checking to see whether he’d picked up his wallet when he got re-dressed that afternoon, he had. “You don’t look well Keely, dossing in a doorway in this weather isn’t going to make you feel any better, that’s if the police let you even try without moving you on all night. There’s a hostel on Holly Street, it’s clean, warm, they provide a meal and a bed. How about I put in a word for you, I know the couple who run it, nice people, I’m sure I can get you a bed for a few nights.”
“I know it, they charge, minimum, but still more than I’ve got at the moment, it ain’t the weather for busking, rain makes people tight. It takes sunshine to open purses and pockets, and seeing as busking is the only job open to me these days that’s me stuffed,” he laughed, bitterly, “catch 22, no fixed abode, no social, no social, no fixed abode, no job, you know how the sequence runs.”
“Yep, I know,” Nat smiled sadly, he stood up, offering his hand, “come on Keely, let’s get you somewhere more clement. If it makes you feel better you can pay me back when the weather improves and opens people’s hearts to generosity.” Keely hesitated, then grasped the hand. Nat pulled him to his feet, noting the tremor in the younger man’s body, a tremor that he suspected wasn’t due entirely to hunger or fever induced weakness. He didn’t comment, now was not the time, shelter and food were the first priorities.
They walked in silence, the weather incompatible with conversation. Nat couldn’t help feeling that providence had meant him to find Keely, it had broken the pattern of introspection that had been driving him aimlessly through the October darkness, taking him further and further from Hope. Fully in possession of his present self again, Nat suddenly realised that his hand was sore where the boiling water had splashed it. A memory of Anna and Paul’s shocked faces as he rounded on them popped into his mind, bringing remorse and concern with it, poor babies, they’d be worrying about him. Gordon too would be wondering where he’d got to and was likely to be a teensy bit put out by his reckless decision to go walking in the rain without suitable attire, though, knowing meal times at Hope, there was every possibility that he was too preoccupied to give him much thought at all.
After seeing Keely settled in the hostel, Nat declined a lift home from the manager’s wife, he wasn’t quite ready for a sudden return to Hope House, he needed the space that the walk back would give him, it wasn’t as if he could get any wetter than he already was. His thoughts assailed him, turning miles into moments that passed like seconds; coming alongside a familiar, brightly lit shop gave him welcome repose from them. Nat paused, then gave a little shrug, he might as well do something positive with a negative situation, and quickly, it looked like the owner was getting ready to shut up shop for the day. He squelched inside, “hello again,” he smiled brightly as the proprietor eyed him, and the puddle he was creating, with suspicious eyes, “I’d like to buy a goldfish please.”
“Another one,” the man gazed at Nat whom he recognised well, despite his soggy appearance, “by heck mate, that tank of yours must be fair chokablok by now?”
Nat kept his smile fixed in place, “indeed, have you got one, nothing fancy, just a plain gold one?”
“You must want one pretty urgently,” the man’s eyes travelled from Nat’s rain slicked hair to his saturated slippers, “to have dashed out without your umbrella on an afternoon like this, takes goldfish love to a new level does that.”
Nat felt his smile slipping, he was cold and suddenly desperately tired and if the pet shop boy didn’t watch out, he’d end up snorkelling in one of his own fish tanks. He spoke tersely, “have you got one or not?”
Leaving the shop and taking a deep breath, Nat embarked on the last leg of the journey back to Hope House, his thoughts now centred on how Gordon had coped with teatime. Hopefully the pasta had been salvaged and everyone was feeling pleasantly relaxed, well as near to relaxed as the inhabitants of Hope ever got. Reaching the set of stone steps that led to the front door he felt a surge of relief. Ascending them, he very quietly turned the handle on the door, pushing it open and stepping into the hall, feeling as he always did, a sense of homecoming sweep over him. He jumped slightly as the sound of a door being banged filtered down from the upper storeys, someone was in high umbrage. His ears pricked as he heard Gordon’s voice coming from the kitchen, judging from its tone, someone else was in serious trouble, it looked like teatime had been less than peaceful after all. Carefully placing his purchase inside the umbrella stand, he squelched his way down the hall…….