‘Charming!’ She looked up and glared at me. ‘Here I am trying to protect you and you’re sending me home.’
‘Yes, but you’re making this whole weird situation even more stressful.’
‘Right.’ Lydia got to her feet, swinging her bag over her shoulder and tossing her hair. ‘I’ll go then. But don’t say I didn’t tell you so when it all goes wrong.’
‘I know.’ I followed her as she flounced towards the door. ‘Thank you for coming. I really do appreciate it.’
‘Hmph.’ Lydia flung the door open and stepped into the hallway.
‘Bye then.’
She went to walk off without looking behind but then suddenly doubled back and grasped my hand. ‘Call me, if you need me. Okay?’
‘Okay.’ I smiled at her, grateful for her concern, and she hugged me before striding off down the hall.
Closing the door, I dimmed the lights once more and went back to sit on the sofa. My hands were shaking and I fumbled with the remote control before turning on the TV. I wasn’t bothered about watching anything, I just needed a distraction from the doubts that were now crowding my mind.
What had I done?
Flicking through the channels mindlessly, my eyes kept darting towards the French doors. I could just about see Sam through the glass, leaning on the balcony, staring out at the city lights in the distance. He seemed to stay out there for ages, even when rain started spattering against the glass. With every passing moment, my anxiety increased. What if Lydia was right? What if he was some drug-addled nutcase? I didn’t know him. He was just some guy I saw each day on my way to work. I may as well have invited the bus driver or the coffee vendor or the man in the newsagent. All I had to go on was some imaginary connection between us and a bleeding heart desire to help the homeless.
Oh, and my pathetic urge to please my mother. This was all her fault.
I sipped my tea and waited. What was taking him so long? Surely it didn’t take him that long to smoke a cigarette? Maybe he was having two?
Maybe he was shooting up.
Maybe he was sharpening his knife collection.
The doors slid open and Sam came back in, bringing with him the smell of wind and rain and cigarettes. He stopped and looked around the room.
‘She gone then?’
‘Yes,’ I croaked, my voice embarrassingly crackly. Come back, Lydia. Come back!
He nodded and went to hang up his coat.
Clearing my throat, I took a deep breath and said, ‘I’m sorry about Lydia. She doesn’t mean any harm.’
‘No, it’s fine. She’s looking out for you. That’s what friends are for.’ He sat down in the armchair and reached for his tea. ‘Do you always do ridiculously irresponsible things?’
I looked at him sharply. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well…’ he puffed out his cheeks ‘…I could be all of those things that she said.’
‘I don’t think you are though,’ I said, carefully.
‘But how would you know?’ He frowned across at me, his eyes dark shadows in the low light of the room.
‘I don’t know. But I trust you.’ Even as I said this, my heart was pounding to the beat of no-you-don’t-no-you-don’t-no-you-don’t. But I was desperate to believe it.
He laughed, high and disbelieving. ‘You have no reason to trust me.’
I tried to swallow the anxiety that was now clawing at my throat, but it wasn’t going anywhere. My voice sounded strangulated when I said, ‘I can trust you though. Can’t I?’
‘Yeah, you can. I said so before, didn’t I? I just think this whole thing is crazy and you must be mad to invite someone you don’t know into your home. I could tell you anything and you wouldn’t know.’
‘I suppose that’s the same for anyone though,’ I countered. ‘I could have asked someone I work with and he could turn out to be a complete creep. I could date someone for weeks, only to discover they’re a pervert or an alcoholic or a junkie.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Sam’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Have you dated many perverted alcoholic junkies then?’
‘One or two.’
‘Really? Tell me about them.’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘No. This is about you, not me.’
‘No, I think this is very much about you.’ Sam laughed and looked away at the TV. ‘So, you’ve had a few bad relationships and now you’re picking men up off the streets?’
‘No! I did not pick you up, either! I asked for your help because you seemed like a nice guy. Besides, I don’t see why living rough makes you any worse than anybody else. Does it make you less human or something? I don’t think so.’
Sam blinked and I saw a shadow pass across his face. ‘Some people think so. Some people think we’re no better than garbage.’
‘Well, they’re wrong, aren’t they!’ I scratched my cheek and watched him carefully. ‘You seem like a nice guy to me. Don’t prove me wrong.’
‘I won’t. What makes you so interested in the homeless anyway? Is it just my undeniable charm and charisma?’ He quirked up an eyebrow in a Sean Connery manner. ‘Or are you some kind of charity worker or volunteer or something?’
‘Not at all. There’s just been lots on TV about the homeless recently, you know, raising awareness. And I’ve always been interested.’ I glanced at him, guiltily. ‘Not in a voyeuristic sense or anything. It’s just that, well, my dad walked out on us when I was little and I always wondered where he went and why he never got back in touch. Mum told me he was crap with money and that they used to argue about bills all the time. She said he couldn’t cope with the responsibility of family life. I thought that maybe he might have become homeless at some point, too proud to get back in touch.’
Sam looked sceptical. ‘Or, he could have won the pools and gone off somewhere living the life of Riley, too fucking selfish to get in touch.’
I gave him a look. ‘Anyway, the point is, I’ve been…sympathetic…for a while. Last November I did the Big Sleep Out. You know, where you sleep rough for one night for charity?’
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‘How did you find it?’
‘Hard. We were safe, of course, with none of the dangers that homeless people usually face. But it was a still a real eye-opener. And I was sooooo coooold! I don’t know how you stand it.’ I shuddered and cleared my throat. ‘Is there anything you want to watch on TV?’
‘Not really. It’s not like I follow anything, is it?’
‘What would you normally be doing now then at…?’ I picked up my phone to check the time ‘…half seven on a Saturday night?’
‘Just sitting somewhere. Or walking. I walk a lot.’
‘Where’s your favourite place?’
‘In the park or down by the river. Or by the canal under a bridge somewhere.’
‘Do you ever get scared?’
He shrugged. ‘Bored, mostly. You don’t realise how long each day is until you’ve got nothing to do and nowhere to go. There’s a few other people I sit and talk to. It passes the time. I go to the day centre and talk to people