EIGHT
COULDN’T BE A BETTER STREET NAME
Alex
‘Merry Christmas, Alex,’ Bernie Sayers greeted me at the door of Hope Street Church, Community Hall.
His waist-length dreadlocks were tied back, and a paper Christmas hat balanced on top of his head.
He was wearing a light-up Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer festive jumper.
He pressed the nose, and Jingle Bells played from somewhere within the garment.
‘Merry Christmas to you too,’ I replied. ‘You’re looking very festive.’
‘I think Jules has a spare jumper if you want to wear it,’ he said, nodding in the direction of the kitchens where his wife was.
‘No, you’re all right.’ I was all for helping out on Christmas day, feeding the homeless and anyone who was on their own for the day, but I was definitely drawing the line at a flashing jumper.
‘Besides, I have these.’ I pointed at the festive bauble earrings I’d put on that morning.
My only compromise. Christmas wasn’t about me.
It never had been. I didn’t have any expectations either and preferred to be doing something like this.
‘What have you got there?’ asked Bernie, nodding at the cardboard box I was carrying in my arms.
‘Christmas crackers,’ I said, placing the box on the nearest table. ‘On me.’
‘Ah, Alex, you didn’t have to do that.’ Bernie gave me a hug.
‘I know. But I wanted to.
I spent the morning helping set up the tables and chairs for our guests, then went into the kitchen to help with food prep.
This was my third year of helping at The Grub Club.
A name that had started out as a bit of a joke but had become incredibly successful over the years.
It was one of the few things I did regularly.
I didn’t like habits and patterns, but The Grub Club was different.
It didn’t only operate at Christmas, it was monthly.
Although I didn’t come along each month, that was too much of a routine. I did help out whenever I could.
It wasn’t just helping others, it gave me a sense of community.
I wasn’t religious by any stretch of the imagination, but I had known Bernie and Jules for a long time now, and they were better than any family I’d ever had.
Uncomplicated. Unconditional and maybe a little unconventional, but it suited me.
It also gave me some headspace. I had agreed to the job up at Risk.
It felt right, and I liked the way Oliver hadn’t pushed me on anything.
The way he didn’t always feel the need to speak or overstate something.
It was refreshing, though a small part of me felt exposed, or that I could be exposed.
I needed to make sure that didn’t happen.
Vulnerable wasn’t me. I refused to let it be me.
The queue outside the community centre had been building up since around ten o’clock that morning. Now, at midday, I went out to open the doors. It was bittersweet to see so many people turning up for The Grub Club. The number seemed to grow every year. I just hoped we had enough food for everyone.
I was initially out the back in the kitchen, bringing the big trays of cauliflower cheese, Brussel sprouts and roast potatoes out to the serving area.
Christmas music played in the background as people chatted to each other at their tables.
This time of year, people seemed more open to talking to each other.
Christmas crackers were pulled. I definitely hadn’t bought enough of those.
Jokes were told and coloured paper hats donned. It was a heartwarming sight.
Three hours of organised chaos later, and the last of the dinners had been served.
There were still people sitting in the hall eating, some of them didn’t have anywhere else to go, and the prospect of a cold London street, or a damp park bench, wasn’t encouraging them to leave, and who could blame them?
The last of the food was shared out into takeaway containers, where Bernie would later go out onto the streets and hand them out to any rough sleepers who wanted them. Nothing went to waste at The Grub Club.
‘Do you want a cuppa?’ asked Jules as I came into the kitchen with a tray full of dirty plates and cups.
‘Yes, please.’
I put the tray down by the sink and leaned back against the worktop to check my phone. It had buzzed a couple of times earlier in my pocket, but I hadn’t had time to look at it.
Caller unknown.
I hesitated. Surely this wasn’t another one of those anonymous messages. On Christmas Day? Really?
I swiped it open.
Happy Christmas, Alex. It’s Oliver Laker. Just checking in with you after yesterday to make sure you’re OK. Noah said you were with friends today.
I smiled at the message. That was kind of him.
We’d made it back to London without any problems last night.
The bad weather hadn’t travelled with us and once we were flying over the north of England, it had just been a drizzly winter’s night.
Oliver had insisted on Paddy driving me to my door, despite my protests but, on the other hand, it had been nice to be home last night.
I tapped out a reply.
Happy Christmas to you and Noah. Hope you’re having a good day. All OK here.
I wondered whether he texted all his employees on Christmas Day or whether it was just me. I kind of liked the latter idea better. I added his number to my contacts list.
‘Ooh, someone is looking very pleased with themselves.’ It was Jules. She put the cup of tea down beside me. ‘Got yourself a boyfriend?’ She nudged me with her elbow and gave an exaggerated wink. ‘Hey, Bernie, Alex has got herself a man.’
‘I have not!’ I said. ‘It’s my new boss. I’ve actually got myself a new job.’
‘And he’s texting on Christmas Day.’ Jules laughed.
‘He’s just checking I’m okay.’
‘I bet he is,’ Bernie called over from where he was stacking some clean plates away.
‘Here, let me take your picture, you can send it to him,’ said Jules.
I kept hold of my phone. ‘I’ll take a selfie of the three of us. Hey, Bernie, come over here a second.’
I wasn’t sure what made me decide in that moment to send a selfie of the three of us, but I did. I added the message.
A few dishes to wash and then I’m off home. Say hi to Noah for me.
‘Ah, she likes him,’ said Jules.
‘He’s nice, but he’s my boss,’ I said.
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah.’ Jules waved her hand dismissively.
I shook my head as she went off, and Bernie winked at me before he went back to his dishes.
I took a moment to relax and enjoy the cup of tea.
I may not have many friends, but those I did have, like Jules and Bernie, were the kind of people I liked around me.
I tried not to examine too closely how that small text exchange with Oliver made me feel.
I finished my tea and went back to clearing away. A warm glow settled around my heart.
It was about an hour later when my phone pinged an alert.
I opened the message and was confused at first. There was a picture of me, Jules, and Bernie, all standing together, taking a selfie. But it wasn’t the selfie I had taken and sent to Oliver.
My stomach lurched as my brain made sense of the image. It had been taken from the dining hall, from the other side of the serving counter. I spun around and stared out at the space, sense checking what I was thinking. Another message pinged in. A text message from an unknown caller.
Merry Christmas, Alex.
I gasped. My hand went to my mouth. Whoever had taken it had been just behind me, taking a photo of me taking a selfie. They had been just metres away.
My hand shook as I looked back at my phone and the selfie I’d sent Oliver.
I zoomed in on the background, and there it was.
The person taking the picture of us. Except I had no way of identifying them.
They were wearing a baseball cap, pulled low down over their eyes.
A coat with the collar turned right up. Their phone was held up, obscuring their face as they took the picture.
I looked back out at the hall, frantically scanning the room. Looking for someone in a black baseball cap. I caught a glimpse of someone leaving through the main doors. Someone wearing a green coat and a black hat. I raced through the kitchen, almost running into Bernie.
‘Hey!’ Bernie called as I swerved out of his way but didn’t stop. ‘Alex?’
I burst through the door and into the hall, running between the rows of tables. I barged the door open with two hands and took the three steps out onto the pavement in one jump. I stood there in the middle of the path, my head moving left to right as I tried to spot the person who’d just left.
Black hat. Green jacket. Where were they? I tried to slow my breathing. Calm. I needed to stay calm. The person had been there in the same building just moments earlier. How could they just disappear?
‘Alex?’
A voice from the side of me had me spinning around.
‘Oliver.’ I looked at him. He held my gaze for a moment before flicking his eyes down to the side. Noah was standing there, holding his father’s hand.
I tried for a smile but wasn’t sure I made it. I took a quick, steadying breath. ‘Hi, Noah.’
He smiled back uncertainly. That kid was as observant as his father. Never missed anything.
‘Hello,’ he said.
‘Everything all right?’ asked Oliver. His tone was cautious.
I looked at him. My brain was not helping me out here. I couldn’t find the words. What could I say? Someone sent me a picture of me taking a selfie that I sent to you, and now I’m chasing after them. And now they’ve disappeared into thin air. I heard the door to the community hall open.
‘Alex, you okay?’ This time it was Bernie. He moved down the steps and came to stand slightly in front of me. His gaze fixed on Oliver. ‘Everything cool here?’ He stood taller and broader. Ready to take on Oliver in my defence.
I saw Oliver’s gaze switch from Bernie to me and back again to Bernie.
‘Everything’s cool,’ he said. ‘We were just coming to say hi to Alex.’
He gave Noah’s hand a little shake, and Bernie looked down at the boy.
‘It’s okay, Bernie,’ I said, putting my hand on his arm. ‘This is Oliver Laker. Oliver. Bernie.’
Bernie’s eyes widened. ‘Ooooh,’ he said slowly. ‘Oliver Laker. As in the Oliver Laker––’
‘I sent the selfie to,’ I finished for him. ‘Yes, that Oliver Laker.’
Bernie’s shoulders relaxed, and a smile spread across his face.
I didn’t look at Oliver, but I felt him take it in.
Bernie, dreadlocks, the flashing jumper, the easy way he’d put himself between me and a stranger without a second thought.
Bernie held up his hand in a casual street-style greeting, which Oliver clasped.
‘Nice to meet you,’ said Bernie.
‘Same,’ said Oliver.
‘Bernie runs The Grub Club here at Hope Street church,’ I said, somehow gathering enough thought together to construct a sentence.
Oliver nodded.
‘What are you doing out here?’ asked Bernie, turning to me.
I was glad it had taken a few moments to get to this question. I had time to prepare a reply.
‘I thought I saw someone I knew,’ I said. ‘Came out after them, but they’d gone.’
‘They were in the hall?’ asked Bernie.
‘Yeah. Not to worry. I’ll catch up with them another time,’ I said, aware Oliver was looking at me.
How could a man who said nothing speak so loudly? I knew for a fact he did not believe me.
‘Ah, shame,’ said Bernie. Then to Oliver and Noah. ‘You’re welcome to come in and have some food, if that’s what you need, but…’ he paused. ‘I must admit you don’t look like our regular Grub Club attendees.’
‘We’re just clearing up, actually,’ I said. ‘Were you… just passing?’
Oliver smiled. ‘Thought we’d pop by and see you, that’s all.’
‘We wanted to ask you to come to supper,’ said Noah.
‘Supper?’ My face clearly did not hide my surprise.
‘If you want. Wasn’t sure what you were doing after this,’ said Oliver. He looked at Bernie. ‘You’re welcome to come too.’
‘Ah, man, thanks for the offer but me and my wife will go home now and put our feet up.’ He put his hand on my shoulder. ‘But Alex would love to accept the invitation.’
‘I would?’ I said.
‘That didn’t need the verbal question mark at the end,’ said Bernie.
‘I’m still clearing up,’ I said.
‘We can help,’ said Oliver.
‘Perfect,’ said Bernie.
Before I knew it, the three of them were walking up the steps to the hall. I followed on, not quite sure how this all happened.
‘Hey, Jules. This is Oliver Laker,’ called out Bernie to his wife.
‘Oliver Laker. Selfie Oliver Laker?’ said Jules, leaning on the counter.
‘The one and only. He’s come to help us tidy up, and then he’s taking Alex to supper. This is his boy.’
I exchanged a look with Oliver, who shrugged. ‘Only if you want to.’
‘Of course she does!’ Jules called out. ‘You can go now, Alex. You don’t have to hang around.’
‘No, there are still things to do,’ I protested.
I needed time to get my head around what was happening.
‘We’ll help,’ said Oliver. ‘Just tell us what you want us to do.’
Jules didn’t need telling twice. She put Oliver to work folding the tables and stacking the chairs while Noah was tasked with sorting the clean cutlery into boxes.
An hour later, Bernie was shooing us out the door, wishing us a happy Christmas evening, and I was to call him if I needed anything between now and the New Year.
‘What’s happening New Year?’ asked Oliver as we stepped out onto the pavement.
‘Grub Club,’ I said. ‘A repeat of this, but without the Christmas crackers.’
‘This a regular thing for you?’
‘Yeah. Whenever I’m about, I try to help out.’
‘Keeps you busy?’
‘Something like that.’ I liked the way he understood.
‘So, do you want to join us for supper? I had planned to be a bit more subtle about it,’ he said, pulling the woolly hat onto Noah’s head.
‘Supper would be nice. But I’m not exactly dressed for it.’ I looked down at my jeans and DM boots. ‘Actually, is there anywhere open?’
‘Yes, it’s called Chez Nous,’ said Noah, grinning.
I looked at the boy in surprise. ‘Chez Nous. Your place?’
‘Sorry. I really shouldn’t let my eight-year-old deliver the key lines,’ said Oliver. ‘I’m going to pick up some food on the way home. There’s a Chinese takeaway near us that stays open. You’re welcome to come and equally welcome to say no.’
I opened my mouth to say no. It was the right answer. The sensible one. I didn’t do impromptu suppers with my boss and his kid on Christmas Day. I had rules about that kind of thing.
Noah looked up at me with identical eyes to his father.
‘That sounds good,’ I heard myself saying. ‘Thank you.’