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I shrug. ‘Not sure now, it was 245 when I last checked but we signed up more after that and by the looks there’s more waiting now so let’s hope they’re all signing up. Are you going to take photographs?’
He nods. ‘I’ll do the next instalment in the serial about the People Library experiment and hopefully get you some more bodies in here for Alfie’s.’
‘You’re a star.’
‘It’s been said before,’ he jokes.
I go to kiss his cheek and then pull back. The last thing we need is gossip about us,instead of the experiment. ‘Go and do what you need to and I’ll be lurking around getting the best shots and interviewing people about their reactions.’
‘Thanks, Finn!’
I find Harry and Sofia. ‘It’s go time,’ I say, blowing out a breath.
Harry’s whole demeanour has changed. With his shoulders pulled back and a firm smile in place, he appears confident and in control. ‘You look like a million bucks, Harry.’
‘I feel like it too. It’s not often a person gets the chance to be in the spotlight, so here goes, eh?’
‘Good luck!’ I say, leading him to the seating area. ‘And remember this is your story and it’s up to you what you’d like to share. If at any time you need to stop, then just signal to me.’
‘I’m all good, Elodie. Don’t you worry about a thing.’
My gut roils for my friend but I give him a supportive smile. It’s such a brave step he’s taking, and I’m not sure I could do the same in his shoes.
I find Harry’s ‘reader’ and set them up away from prying eyes and ears, but I’m sure people will sneak as close as they can to hear at any rate.
‘Jamie, this is your human book: Harry. I hope you’ll enjoy hearing his story …’
HARRY
‘They call me Homeless Harry. They think I don’t know that but I do. I am homeless, I guess. But it wasn’t always like that. I used to have it all. A wife, daughters, a steady job. A cottage with a garden big enough to grow vegetables.You could say I was living the dream. There wasn’t a lot of money, but there was enough. The girls never went without, and my wife stayed home and cared for us all, making the budget stretch with her simple meat and three veg meals. We used to take trips on Sundays, going out in the car, a basket of ham sandwiches and a flask of tea. We’d go to parks and the girls would run around, getting grass stains on their dresses, to my wife’s dismay. Looking back, I wish I could bottle those memories and forget what came after. But that’s not how life works, is it?
‘I was a train driver. Loved my job, until I didn’t. These days you have a term for what happened to me, but back then I hadn’t heard of it. PTSD, you know it?’
Jamie nods her head, her features sombre.
‘A young lad jumped in front of my train one day and there was no time to react. It happened so fast. I can still see his face, the panic in his eyes on impact. The regret. He knew at that moment he had made a grave error in jumping but it was too late. God, his death plagued me. I played theIf Onlygames until my head swam. If only I was running late, he might have changed his mind. If only I’d seen him sooner. If only, if only, if only. That’s when I took to the drink. It started off slowly, one or two after work. The money had to stretch to accommodate it, but my wife made allowances. She could see the brightness in my eyes dim. The thirst grew. At the weekends I drank to forget, so I couldn’t see him, see those eyes of his, pools of terror. I drank and drank so I couldn’t see him anymore. Though he still managed to sneak into my dreams, which became nightmares.
‘Back at work, my hands shook and my heart raced. What if it happened again? I tried to drive but my vision would blur. The only thing that helped was a stiff drink.Then and only then could I loosen my shoulders from around my ears and drive. I hated every second of it. And I started to make mistakes. Small things at first and more when the drink took hold. I could have killed someone, driving drunk like that – the irony is not lost on me.
‘Like my wife, the boss made allowances. But that’s just the thing: when people forgive bad behaviour you think you’ve got away with it, so you push those boundaries again and again. And that’s what I did. I missed an entire Christmas with my girls because I went to the pub on Christmas Eve and didn’t come home. Woke up on someone’s sofa, I swear I’d never met. And on it went. Everyone tiptoed around me and I resented it. But I should have seen that for a reflection of the love it was. They were too good for the likes of me. I stopped giving my wife my pay cheque. I stopped going home at all. In retrospect, I don’t know how I expected they’d survive. I don’t think I cared. By that stage I only cared about the drink. But that didn’t matter because soon I didn’t have a job to go to. Got laid off once the boss figured out I was drinking on the job. My life imploded, fell down around me like a house of cards.
‘One day, after I’d been gone for months, sleeping rough by the railway tracks, I hobbled home to find another family there. Sitting at the dining table, laughing and joking, just like we used to. My heart shattered that day. Here was this new family sitting where we used to, my own family gone, disappeared because of my actions. I’m sure I could have found them, could have cleaned up my act, and got back on the straight and narrow. But I didn’t. I took to the streets, driven by shame, fuelled by anger. How could I face my family after the choices I’d made? And where were they?
‘I moved around before I found a sanctuary by the front door of the library. It’s quiet at night, semi sheltered from the wind. I don’t drink these days, can’t stand the smell of it. My body can’t handle it. It tastes like the poison it is – and maybe that’s a punishment for what I’ve done. I can’t find oblivion at the other end of a bottle now. I can’t dull the hurt when it comes. I have to face it head on and let it play out.
‘My family are in my heart every day. So is the lad who chose my train and I puzzle over why he decided on such a path to end his life. One thing I know for sure is, he must’ve been suffering a pain so great that he thought he had no other choice, and I understand that. I’ve been there myself. As the end of my life approaches, I’m beginning to make amends with myself. You can only beat yourself up so long, you know? I’ll never forgive myself for the hurt I caused my family, the way I abandoned them, but I try and make peace with it. The thing about the regret is, it’s always just a step behind you, just like your shadow. If you stumble, it catches you and you relive that pain over and over again.’
‘You’ve never heard from your family since then?’ Jamie asks, her eyes bright with tears.
Harry shakes his head sadly. ‘I never did. My wife had a brother in London, so I presume she went to him. I only hope her family wrapped them in love and provided for them, in a way I never could. I dream of my girls. I picture them now, mothers themselves perhaps, or working abroad, living exciting lives in a big city. I miss them, every single day. My wife too. Did she remarry? I hope she found a wonderful man, a teetotaller, who opened her heart once more and helped her learn to love again.’
‘You should find them, Harry.’
He bites down on his lip to stem his own tears. After a heartbreaking pause he says, ‘I don’t think I deserve it. I’d hate them to see me like this.’
‘Don’t you think it should be up to them to decide?’ Jamie says gently.
He waits a beat. ‘How could they be anything other than disappointed? They’re probably full of anger. I abandoned them.’
