It's Only Temporary Page 5

  By about fifty years, I thought to myself.

  ‘She is a good girl and needs a good man.’

  ‘Ok, well thanks for the tip.’

  ‘No problem.’ I attempted to follow Stacy but he kept hold of my wrist. ‘But know this fella, hurt her and I will cut out your liver.’

  Chapter 4.

  With the threat of impromptu surgery still ringing in my ears I moved to catch up with Stacy, she looked at me quizzically and I felt a moments panic. How was I going to explain to her that I had just been threatened by a geriatric? I was concerned that she may view my reaction negatively, after all Bert was established here and I was not. Thankfully she did not say anything so I continued to follow her and she led me to the “Teens” room, where a young man was sitting at a table.

  ‘This is Daniel, or “Dan the Man” as he calls himself. What else is it Dan?’

  ‘Danno. If you are part of the posse,’ he said.

  Dan was in his late teens and had Downs Syndrome, he was dressed in what I could only describe as a “Rapper” style. Baseball boots, baggy jeans, oversize red American Football jersey and a red baseball cap. I had no idea what a posse was outside of a nineteen sixties western film.

  ‘Looking sharp today Dan,’ Stacy said.

  Dan gave her an enormous smile; I stepped forward and extended my hand.

  ‘Nice to meet you Dan.’

  He looked down at my hand, closed it into a fist and gently punched it with fist of his own.

  ‘Fist pump,’ he announced.

  ‘Dan doesn’t do formal,’ Stacy said. ‘He adores the American rap stuff though.’

  Does that mean substituting formal for mock violence? I thought to myself.

  ‘I can see,’ I said.

  Turning back to Dan I felt I should attempt to engage him some more in order to build a rapport and hopefully begin to establish myself, I was more unnerved by Bert’s threat than I cared to let on.

  ‘What is the shirt you are wearing?’ I asked.

  ‘The Chiefs.’ he answered proudly. ‘From Kansas,’ he added to be sure I knew.

  ‘It’s very……colourful. It matches your hat.’

  Dan beamed at this and looked between Stacy and me.

  ‘Like I said Dan, looking sharp,’ Stacy said.

  Dan moved over towards her and kissed her on the cheek; before I could react he had also done the same to me.

  ‘See you later Dan,’ Stacy said and led me away.

  ‘You didn’t have a problem with that did you? That’s how Dan shows his affection,’ she explained. She was not criticizing me and genuinely seemed to be concerned that I had felt ill at ease.

  I found myself unable to respond for some reason merely looking back and forth between Dan and Stacy, ‘No, I …err. No. That’s fine.’

  ‘Cool, I think he’s fab.’

  This young man had just demonstrated unconditional affection and he didn’t even know me, a lot more than could be said for my academic peers I reflected. I began to appreciate what Stacy had just said regarding how she felt about knowing him.

  ‘No, that’s fine,’ I said again. ‘I do have one issue though.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Errr, yes. What on earth is a posse?’

  She laughed, ‘Anyone from the Silverdale Day Centre,’ she said moving her arm around in a sweeping gesture to take in the building. ‘The Silverdale “Posse” and you have just joined!’

  I was not sure if I should be thrilled or insulted.

  We continued our tour and I was conscious that Stacy ensured that she personally greeted everyone and was more than willing to spend time listening if they had a story to recount or a question to ask. Eventually she announced, ‘Right tea and biccies time!’

  In the kitchen Yu had filled an Urn with hot water, it sat on a four wheeled steel trolley and on the lower shelf of the trolley were mugs, tea bags, milk, sugar assorted spoons and biscuits.

  ‘Let’s do it!’ she said.

  We wheeled the trolley into the communal room where from memory Stacy began to pour out various versions of tea or coffee into each person’s preferred mug. I was amazed that she could remember the type of drink, how many sugars, which biscuits and which mug for so many people. I was supposed to have an outstanding IQ but right then I was in awe of her cognitive abilities.

  Dan appeared and between us we acted as impromptu waiters and once everyone had been served the three of us began to clear up, afterwards we congregated around the trolley.

  ‘Will Dan want a drink as well?’ I asked.

  She looked at me and didn’t answer at first.

  ‘Why don’t you ask him?’ she suggested.

  I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me; I had just done to Dan what Ada had done to me a short while ago, talked about him as if he was not there. I was mortified and I had to fight my initial reaction which was to want to leave as quickly as possible.

  ‘I am sorry Dan that was stupid of me.’

  ‘That’s ok. You’re still my friend,’ he said as he handed me a biscuit.

  I felt like I had fallen at the first hurdle, my own preconceived ideas had caught me out. Of course I should have asked him, he had Downs Syndrome he was not incapable. Yet despite this he had befriended me, I felt very humble.

  Stacy was looking at me closely, ‘Don’t worry, he isn’t.’

  ‘Isn’t what?’

  ‘Worried. If he was he would have told you but believe me he has had much, much worse.’

  I knew she was trying to ease my guilt but it was not working, in fact I felt worse. Why on earth people through either ignorance or choice would find ways to treat this kind and caring young man in a derogatory manner was beyond me.

  Then I realised that was exactly what I had just done.

  The rest of the day was spent familiarizing myself with the layout and procedures of the centre, Stacy handed over the guide duties to Dan who seemed to relish the role of showing me around and introducing me to everyone.

  I was still feeling guilty about my thoughtlessness and elected to try and find as much out about Dan as I could. Knowing more about him as a person may help me to see him as simply Dan, with no labels attached I rationalised.

  ‘Do you like it here Dan?’

  ‘Yeah, my friends are here.’

  He looked at me with a very open almost expectant expression, as if he was waiting for me to say something else.

  ‘Oh, that’s good,’ I said.

  That’s good? Was that all I could manage? I realised I was trying to get to know this lad but had no idea how to do it.

  ‘Errm, what brought you here then?’ Maybe we could talk about his history?

  ‘The bus.’

  Yes, of course he came on the bus stupid! I could not believe I had asked such an imbecilic question. If anyone had asked how I had come to be at the centre I may well have said I walked. I was making a total hash of this.

  ‘Number seventeen,’ he offered helpfully. ‘My Mum walks me to the bus stop and I catch it myself, I sit by the driver,’ he advised me. The pride in his voice was evident.

  ‘Well that’s really good.’ Yet another inane comment I thought. ‘I, errr, I walked here. I assume I will need to work out which bus to catch.’

  ‘You can sit by the driver too.’

  ‘Yes maybe I can.’

  ‘Would you like to see my paintings?’

  I jumped at the chance to have something other than my own ineptness to focus on,

  ‘Yes, yes I would.’ My first unforced comment I realised.

  He led me back to the communal room and gestured to numerous pieces of paper attached to the wall.

  ‘The Centre,’ he said pointing at one. The myriad of coloured lines may have represented a building I could not be sure.

  ‘This is me, playing NFL.’

  I looked more closely at the picture and thought I could possibly see the stick outline of a figure.

  ‘NFL?’ I asked.

&nb
sp; ‘Yes.’

  Again I needed to be more thoughtful with my turn of phrase. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘American Football.’

  A subject I knew nothing about, a situation that over the course of the day was evidently becoming a recurrent theme.

  ‘Stacy,’ he said pointing again.

  I considered the picture of the stick person that was meant to be Stacy. He had managed to attempt to paint her hair and her smile, but there was something about it that seemed to make it stand out. At first I could not put my finger on it and it was only when I glanced back as we walked away that I realised that this was the only picture in which he had painted the sun shining.

  As the day drew to a close Stacy approached me.

  ‘Shall we sit down and have a chat?’ she suggested.

  We entered her office where I was dismayed to see she had already made two cups of tea, I had managed to drink water throughout the day but this time there would be no escape it seemed.

  ‘Ok, so what do you think?’ she asked.

  I was not sure how to respond, nothing really had changed since I walked through the door a few hours before, this was simply a stepping stone to my next job.

  ‘It’s nice,’ I said truthfully.

  ‘Uh huh?’ she said sipping at her tea. I nearly made the mistake of reaching for mine but decided to fill the gap by saying something which was seemingly what she was expecting.

  ‘Dan is a character.’ A pause, so I added ‘He showed me his paintings.’

  She smiled at this, ‘He likes you.’

  I had no idea why, I had initially treated him in the most appalling manner and then failed to build any effective bridges with him.

  ‘So overall then, what do you think?’ she continued.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Coming here and teaching!’

  ‘Oh, yes definitely.’ I was not going to drive a tractor and yet again I told myself “It’s only temporary.”

  ‘Ok, great. Now the guys you will be teaching are nothing like Dan or anyone else here for that matter. Do you think you will be ok?’

  ‘I will be fine.’

  ‘Well great stuff. They don’t start till Monday and I was wondering if you would like to come in tomorrow as well to sort yourself out? We don’t open over the weekend so tomorrow being Friday is your only real chance.’

  The realisation that I had to leave soon and go back to my flat where I would be spending my first night hit me. It was a depressing and if I am honest, a little frightening thought.

  ‘Will I be able to have breakfast and lunch again?’

  She laughed, ‘Of course!’

  ‘I will be here then.’

  ‘Ok, let me just grab my stuff. Once I have done that we can set the alarm and go.’

  She left the office and I took the opportunity to tip my tea into a pot plant. She returned a few minutes later and said ‘Right let’s go.’

  She paused for a moment to frown at the pot plant before she closed the door.

  As I walked back towards my flat I remembered that I needed to call into a supermarket, it was one of the smaller versions of a national chain. As I had no cooking facilities I needed to plan carefully especially as I had limited funds. I broke my weekly allowance down into a daily allowance with which to feed, clothe and generally support myself with. I felt confident that I could manage; I had no idea how much the bus fare would be but I could walk if I needed to.

  First thing on the list was some Earl Grey and a few lemons; I had a choice of two types of tea. One was an own brand version the thought of which made me shudder, the other a recognised brand which although twice the price was in my opinion worth it, after all there was no sense in skimping on necessities was there? I bought a lemon and a peeling device as well as some readymade chicken and pasta; admittedly I went over my daily limit by a few pounds but was confident I could readdress the deficit the following day.

  Returning to my flat I encountered a man on the landing, I immediately recognised him but could not initially place where from. He was in his mid-fifties and evidently had not shaved or showered for that matter for a few days. He was dressed in a slightly worn tracksuit and it was this observation that enabled me to recall where I knew him from. He was the man in the job centre who had been holding “Illegal Raves” and appeared to be going to the gym. This was evidently where he was either returning from or heading out to.

  ‘Hello mate,’ he said.

  ‘Hello.’ I replied as I hurriedly attempted to retrieve my keys from my pocket in order to minimise the time I had to spend in his odour.

  He eyed my shopping bag, ‘Just moved in?’

  ‘Yes actually. It’s a temporary arrangement.’

  ‘Yeah, we all think that mate. Got a light?’

  Light? The landing was in shadow but it was far from dark and hardly needed illumination.

  ‘Errr sorry?’

  ‘Y’know for a smoke,’ he waved a battered looking self-made cigarette at me.

  ‘Oh no. I don’t smoke. Isn’t it against the rules?’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Smoking.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Isn’t there a rule against it?’

  ‘Dunno, don’t care,’ he said as he broke into a gap toothed grin and slapped me on the shoulder hard enough to cause me to grab the handrail to stop myself falling down the stairs.

  ‘Alfie’s the name,’ he said thrusting his hand out at me. Would this be traditional hand shale or a fist pump? I looked down at his hand as I could not see any form of fist took it my own. He then performed some kind of hand manipulation that would not have been out of place in a Free Mason lodge meeting.

  Did no-one simply shake hands anymore?

  ‘Marcus’ I replied.

  ‘Cool. Catch you later mate, got to see a man about a horse as they say?’

  Horse? I elected to not even begin to try and fathom what he meant; perhaps he worked at a stable? He certainly smelt like it.

  I entered my room; it seemed a bit grand to call it a flat and deposited my bag on the floor. I quickly washed my hands in case Alfie had left me any lingering residue before I took stock. My first mistake quickly became evident; I had food for the evening but no cutlery or crockery. I also had tea and lemon but no kettle or cups. I could empty my Egyptian sand from my mug but had nowhere to put it.

  It was a nice evening and my room did not really offer much in the way of entertainment so I walked back to the supermarket where I was able to buy myself some cutlery and against my better judgement a mug as they had no cups. Earl Grey in a mug? What next? Perhaps I should invest in a track suit and neglect my personal hygiene?

  This slightly petulant train of thought made me realise that I would also need washing up and toiletry supplies. The young lady behind the counter advised me that I could obtain a Kettle from the larger version of the supermarket if I caught the bus.

  Following my return bus journey, purchasing a kettle, some washing powder and on impulse a magazine I returned to my flat. I was horrified to see that I had spent the equivalent of four days money in one go but I reassured myself that the kettle had been the biggest expense and was a one off. As I drew the curtains I could see that the bar of the pub was very busy, well at least some one had the finances to entertain themselves. I was surprised however to see that one of the drinkers was Alfie.

  Having made some tea I settled on my airbed to eat my pasta and read the magazine, although the food was a little bland it was not unpalatable but drinking the tea was like welcoming in an old friend. I settled down to sleep confident that the next day I could check my e-mails and maybe find a way forward.

  Chapter 5.

  That evening I was treated to a variety of noises, once the raucous pub goers had departed it seemed that every pipe, radiator and floorboard had its own particular rattle, squeak or gurgle that emanated throughout the night. However these were just the warm up for the main event, an on-going
symphony of car alarms, arguments and emergency service sirens. The culmination of which was the sound of someone vomiting which seemed to be coming directly from below my window.

  A short while later I heard what I assumed was Alfie making his inebriated way up the stairs, perhaps he was the architect of the noise from below my window? For a moment I was anxious that he may elect to come and visit me. I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard him stagger past my door and onwards to his own flat.

  Arriving at the centre the next morning I was greeted by Stacy. ‘Hi, how are you today?’ she asked with her trademark smile.

  ‘I’m fine thanks. You?’

  ‘Well I’m glad you came back!’ she laughed.

  For some reason this brightened my spirits considerably, the fact that someone was glad to see me was a tonic to my overall despair. It was almost a pity it was only going to be temporary. We were the first two there and Stacy immediately began to prepare some tea.

  ‘Err, actually Stacy I have brought my own tea bags.’

  ‘You didn’t need to do that, I know we aren’t rolling in it but we can afford tea bags.’

  ‘Well you see, its errm, its Earl Grey tea.’

  ‘Earl Grey? Really?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You seriously drink that, like for real?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I could not fathom her response to this, perhaps she was mocking me? Looking at her face I came to the conclusion that she was not, she was just simply surprised for some reason that my tastes went beyond supermarket own brand.

  ‘Would you like one?’ I offered.

  ‘An Earl Grey?’

  Was this a difficult concept to grasp?

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No thanks, didn’t like it the first time. Probably not gonna the second either.’

  Oh well “You can take a horse to water” as they say. Or maybe introduce a philistine to culture was more apt?

  ‘Do you have any lemon?’

  ‘Lemon?’

  Feeling exasperated I realised further discussion on the subject was futile, Stacy was obviously an experiential learner. The only way for her to comprehend the quality of Earl Grey and the need for Lemon was to actually try it.