He wandered through the night-time streets of London, swaying unsteadily after indulging in a fair bit of whisky. Where had he ended up? He didnt care. This was his city; his legs would carry him home out of sheer habit. He was far more preoccupied with pondering lifes great questions, muttering them aloud to the indifferent city.
Why is my life such a mess? Twenty-seven, and all my mates have kids in primary school, while the longest any girl stays with me is a month if Im lucky. Am I rude? Maybe I am Well, thats how a blokes supposed to be, Henry grinned to himself. Business is the only thing Ive got right in life. Not a millionaire, but I get by in style.
Suddenly, he stopped, clutching his head, and tears welled up in his eyes.
Ive thrown so much money at that specialist, and in the end: Cant help you, mate. Heres the address of a chap in London who might, but, frankly, I dont think hell be any good either. Still, Ill give it a go and see this expert tomorrow, wont I?
He ambled up to a bridge, glancing down at the murky Thames below.
Should I just throw myself in? The rivers deep itd all be over in a flash, he looked at the water once more. No, too cold for that. Besides, Socrates hasnt been fed. Ill go home.
He started across the bridge, when he spotted a young woman standing in the middle, a baby in a carrier strapped to her chest. The woman gazed down at the Thames, then suddenly climbed up onto the railing, standing with her arms stretched wide. Without a seconds thought, Henry sprinted towards her, grabbing her round the waist and pulling her back down. The pair of them tumbled onto the wet pavement, and the child burst into tears.
What on earth do you think youre doing? Henry shouted, suddenly dead sober.
Whats it to you? Why not mind your own business? she sobbed.
Just had this feeling it was a bit soon for you to be checking out, he nodded at the wailing little boy. And especially for him. Up you get go home, to your husband or your mum! Whove you got?
I havent got a home, or a husband, or a mum. Theres no one left for me!
Of course, I bump into this on my own doorstep, he grumbled, helping her and the baby to their feet. Come on.
Im not going anywhere with you. For all I know, youre a lunatic.
Keen as you were to jump, Id have thought fear of a lunatic wouldnt bother you. Lets get moving! Come on!
***
They trudged through the shadowy city, the babys cries filling the silence. Eventually, Henry couldnt help himself:
Whys he crying all the time?
Hes hungry! the young woman cuddled her child closer to her chest.
Then give him some milk.
Ive got no milk, and no money.
And, apparently, no sense either, Henry glanced around. Look theres an all-night Tesco. Lets go and get some milk.
***
The cashier and security guard gave them wary looks as they entered, but Henry grabbed a basket with determination, nodding at the woman to follow him.
Wheres your milk aisle? he asked the cashier.
Over there, she pointed.
They reached the fridge.
Take as much as you need, he instructed.
This one, she picked up a small carton.
Get more. However much you need do it properly, he waited until she filled the basket. What else?
Nappies.
What in the world are nappies?
Right there, a faint smile flickered across her lips.
Grab them.
Can I have some baby wipes, too?
Of course.
At the check-out, Henry fished out his card.
We only take cash at night, said the cashier.
He pulled a crumpled stack of £50 notes from his coat and handed one over.
No change, love, the cashier replied.
Just give us some chocolate for the change then, Henry said impatiently, pointing at a bar of Cadburys.
***
Back at his flat, the woman looked around in surprise. Henry kicked off his shoes, made a beeline for the fridge, pulled out a fish and tossed it to his waiting cat, then grabbed a carton of orange juice and gulped it down. Sated, he turned to his guest.
Youll stay in that room, he gestured sternly. Kitchen, bathroom. Im off to bed.
He started towards his bedroom but paused at the doorway.
Whats your name?
Megan, she replied.
Im Henry.
***
Doesnt seem like a madman, Megan thought, heading to the kitchen. She turned on the hob and set the kettle boiling. Dear me almost threw it all away tonight. If it werent for that strange man, where would I be with little Riley? Frozen in some doorway. Hell throw us out in the morning, no doubt. Still, at least its warm tonight.
The kettle whistled. She hurried back to the spare room Henry had shown her, laid her tearful son down, fished a small bottle out of her rucksack, then dashed back to the kitchen to clean it. Megan filled it with milk, warming it with boiling water.
The baby gulped it down hungrily, then drifted off to sleep. She cleaned him with a wipe, slipped on a fresh nappy, and tucked him up warmly. After washing up and freshening herself, hunger hit she opened the fridge and, unthinking, seized a slice of cold ham and stuffed it into her mouth. Next came some bread, more ham, and a wedge of cheddar.
Sated, she realised shed helped herself rather rudely, but shrugged, collapsed onto the bed beside her son, and was asleep in seconds.
***
Morning. Twice in the night shed been up feeding Riley; eight months old and always hungry. Shed heard Henry stirring, moving about the kitchen, and now she quietly rose so as not to wake her boy.
Time to go, Megan whispered to herself, straightening her clothes. Good things never last.
Henry was busy at the hob. She washed up quickly and stepped into the kitchen.
Sit down! he told her, nodding at a chair. Ill get the eggs on.
How about you sit down instead? she nudged him gently aside.
She pulled some fresh parsley from the fridge, chopped it finely, and sprinkled it over the eggs. Carefully, she scrubbed a couple of glasses, made some proper instant coffee, and set it on the table.
The whole time, Henry was making calls, barking orders, having a row or two; to Megan, it seemed she was all but invisible. He ate, drank his coffee, and stood up.
She tensed, sure he would send her packing.
Megan, listen up! Ill be gone for a week. Most important thing feed the cat. His names Socrates. Dont even think about giving him that Whiskas rubbish only fresh fish or meat, right? And dont go in my study. Do what you like with the rest of the flat.
A cry echoed from the spare room. Megan jumped to her feet, looking at Henry.
Go on! he nodded.
A few minutes later she returned with Riley in her arms. On the table stood several crisp fifty-pound notes.
That should see you through the week, Henry said, nodding at the cash. Im off.
He made for the door. Just then the child reached out little arms to him, saying something that sounded suspiciously like da-da. Maybe Henry was imagining it, but his heart ached all the same. He would never be anyones father.
Megan, may I hold him? he blurted, surprising even himself.
Of course, she smiled as she handed Riley over. Never held a baby before?
No.
Like this see?
Riley gurgled with delight, waving tiny hands. Henry gazed at him in wonder.
Ill never have a son, he thought, as a shadow crossed his face and he gently returned Riley to his mother and left.
***
He trudged home that evening. The top London doctor had told him straight: hed never have children. He felt hollow.
Whats the point? All this money, four-bed flat in Hampstead, a Land Rover that seats seven. What use is it? A mans meant to earn for his family. My flats always a tip, my cars always empty.
He opened his front door with a heavy heart and was greeted by spotless tidiness. Megan gave him an apologetic smile.
Da-da! Rileys chubby arms reached out.
Henry dropped his bag; his hands stretched instinctively towards the little boy.
Sometimes, when you least expect it, life gifts you a family in the strangest ways. And you only truly start living when you finally open your heart to others.
