It's Only Temporary (6 page)

She explained that it was a constant struggle to pay the bills and the wages for herself and the cook. She also had some voluntary helpers but things were very tight financially, to the point where the centre was on the verge of closing. She had taken on the option of the delivery of some short term training to young adults in the hope the extra income from this would tip the balance in her favour and keep the centre open.

This was where I came in, unpaid but able to deliver the training. If it was successful then there was a chance that further paid training could be available but for now it was about survival.

As she spoke I unconsciously had sip of my tea, the sensation that assaulted my taste buds was the culinary version of chemical warfare. I fought the urge to spit it back into the cup and tried to avoid grimacing as I swallowed it.

A short Chinese lady who was dressed completely in white, shoes, trousers, shirt and hat walked in.

‘Morning,’ Stacy said. The Chinese lady simply nodded.

‘This is Yu,’ Stacy explained, She’s the cook.

‘Good morning,’ I said and got a curt nod in response. Perhaps she did not speak English?

‘Are you hungry?’ Stacy asked.

I had not eaten for over twenty four hours and was craving sustenance so much that I was actually considering drinking some more of my tea.

‘A little,’ I said.

‘Right well I will give you the grand tour and Yu will sort you out some breakfast?’ the second part of this sentence was a question directed at Yu which got yet another nod in response.

Leaving my mug of nuclear waste on the kitchen table we began our tour, the building had several large rooms that were unofficially designated by age.

‘This is the “Oldies Room” where everyone is over sixty five,’ she announced.

She could see the look of surprise on my face at her comment, ‘Don’t worry. They named it themselves, gives them a sense of identity they reckon!’

We also quickly toured the “Adults, Teens” and “Communal” rooms. Finally she showed me the last two rooms which she labelled “Classrooms”.

‘This is where you will be working,’ she said.

I reviewed them with a critical eye, they were very similar to the other rooms we had seen only much less cluttered. Each had a white board, a filing cabinet and tables and chairs.

‘You can use either one,’ she sounded a little pensive now.

‘This will be adequate,’ I said.

There was that smile again and I could not help myself smiling back.

‘In terms of supplies, I have got a small budget for pens, paper and things.’

‘Computers?’

‘Oh no. Sorry, I just couldn’t afford it. You can use the one in my office if you need to get onto the internet and stuff but there won’t be any in the classrooms. Not yet anyway, if this works out then maybe.’

Just for a moment her smile faltered.

‘This will be fine,’ I found myself saying.

‘Really? I hope so. How much teaching experience do you have?’

‘Fifteen years.’

‘Oh my. I didn’t realise you were a proper teacher!’

‘Professor actually.’

She laughed again.

‘Oh my god! That’s wonderful,’ I found the relief in her voice quite gratifying.

I laughed too and we made our way back to the kitchen. As we walked I asked ‘You mentioned the top floor is that where you live?’

She stopped and looked at me, then she said in a quiet voice ‘No, not anymore.’

I waited for her to continue but it was clear she was not going to; I was unsure what that signified so elected to say nothing. Eventually she said ‘I was going to but let’s just say my ex left me in the lurch in more ways than one. So it never happened’

‘Well quite frankly he must be a total idiot.’

I had no idea why I had just said that. I did not know her ex-boyfriend or Stacy herself really for that matter. Maybe she was an awful partner? Why had I made such a rash statement?  She looked at me again and then laughed ‘Thank you. I think. And yes he was a total pillock as it turned out.’

She seemed to relax a little and told me the upstairs was used for storage, also that she now lived with someone c
alled “Max” in a house a few miles from the centre. She then abruptly changed the subject which I found a little odd and suggested we see what Yu had created for breakfast.

As we walked in,
Yu announced ‘Full English!’ as she slid two plates across to us, both of which were loaded with bacon, sausage, egg and toast.

‘You speak English. I don’t mean that as an instruction, you know. Yu speak English! Just an observation.’

She rolled her eyes, ‘I am from Dartford,’ she said.

As we ate Stacy said ‘Wow! You are hungry.’

‘Sorry. I have not eaten since yesterday, I apologise.’

‘That’s fine. Why don’t you stay for the day, see how you like it and then you can have lunch. How does that sound?’

It sounded perfect to me.

‘That would be excellent, thank you.’

‘So tell me all about yourself Marcus,’ at least she was getting my name right.

I relayed my tale of woe to her and at one point as a gesture of empathy she gently touched the back of my hand as I spoke. This sent a shiver down my spine and I found myself unable to articulate any further so ended up saying ‘So that’s me.’

‘Well you are in the right place. We cater for those in need and you certainly seem to fit that bill. Of course we need you as well so I guess that makes us partners.’

She allowed me to check my email inbox via her computer, it was still empty. By this time I was aware that people, her clients I assumed, were starting to arrive and once I had filled out the necessary paper work she informed me that she was going to introduced me to “The Gang” as she put it.

We began with the “Oldies”, as we entered there were four people sat in comfortable chairs, three men and a woman. Although looking at the gentleman who was furthest away I could not quite ascertain if he was asleep or in fact had died and no one had noticed.

‘This is Albert, or Bert to his friends,’ Stacy informed me. ‘He’s a little deaf,’ she whispered. Why was she whispering I wondered, if it was to avoid upsetting him then it made no sense. He was deaf and thus seemingly would not hear her so there was no need to whisper surely?

I was about to point this out when she started shouting. ‘Bert! Bert!’

Bert looked our way, ‘Hello sexy,’ he said.

I was horrified; this man was old enough to potentially be her Grandfather. Should I chastise him for his inappropriate comment?

Stacy looked at me smiling, ‘He’s a bit of ladies’ man, or so he thinks.’

‘Who is this?’ Bert asked.

‘This is Marcus.’

‘Carcass?’

‘Marcus!’

‘Hard case?’

‘No! Marcus,’ she said elongating the last two syllables.

‘Oh Marcus! Pleased to meet you.’

I nodded and smiled at him.

‘He is here for the day,’ Stacy continued.

Bert paused for a moment then said, ‘Well there’s no shame in that son. Not in this day and age.’

Even Stacy looked confused by that response, I was totally baffled. There was a shrilling noise and Stacy said ‘Just gonna get the phone ok?’

Before I could respond she was gone. I looked at Bert again and smiled, he turned to lady sitting next to him who had been preoccupied with the contents of her bag during my initial introduction.

‘Here Ada, this is Marcus,’ he said gesturing to me. ‘He’s gay.’

What?

Where had that deduction arisen from? I may be single but I certainly was not gay. My last girlfriend Sarah had been three years ago and apart from a one off encounter with Fiona, a now departed bursar, I have been celibate since then but not gay.

‘Oh, are you joining us?’
Ada asked before I could correct the misperception.

‘Yes I am. I am coming to work as a teacher here for a short while. Also I am not….

‘George!’ she said turning to the man next to her. George had been fascinated in our encounter but had not as of yet commented.

‘This is Marcus,’
Ada continued. ‘He’s a poof.’

Oh lord above, not only had she passed over my educational expertise she was focusing on my sexuality, incorrectly as well.

‘Shirt lifter eh?’ George asked.

‘Actually no,’ I said.

‘My grandson is one of your lot, maybe you know him?’

‘I doubt it as I am not gay.’

Stacy mercifully reappeared.

‘They think I’m gay,’ I said sounding rather pathetic.

She laughed, ‘Guys, he is not gay!’ she said emphasising the last two words. ‘Are you?’ she asked more quietly.

‘No.’

She smiled and inexplicably said ‘That’s good.’

Was she homophobic?

‘I said he was here for the day! And even if he was that would not matter!’ She turned to me and said ‘Paul one of our volunteers is gay, maybe they were trying to match make?’

So if she had a gay volunteer then she was not homophobic. This was very confusing.

‘Oh!’ Ada exclaimed. ‘That’s good. He is a nice looking fella, it would be such a waste.’

Was I not in the room now? They were talking about me as if I was absent.

‘Not a shirt lifter then?’ George asked. At least he was addressing me.

‘No, I am not.’

‘So you won’t know my grandson then?’

‘Probably not.’

As we moved to leave Bert grabbed my hand, ‘Not gay?’

‘No.’

‘Married?’

‘No.’

‘Girlfriend?’

‘No.’

‘Right, you could do a lot worse than sexy Stacy,’ he told me. ‘I would have ago myself but I think I am a little too old for her,’

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.’