Paparazzi Princess (9 page)

‘Could you teach me how to do that?’ asked an old man seated on his own by the entrance. He looked like anyone’s granddad with ruddy cheeks, white hair and kindly eyes but there was an air of sadness about him, apparent from his shabby clothes, his stooped posture and his weary expression.

‘That’s Arthur,’ said Aunt Maddie, coming up behind me and drawing me to one side. ‘He’s a dear.’

‘Why’s he here?’ I asked.

‘He lost his wife a few years back and had a mental breakdown. They’d been together since they were teenagers and he couldn’t cope without her. He just fell apart, lost his job and then his house was taken away.’

‘And he has nowhere to go?’

Aunt Maddie shook her head. ‘At least he can come here for a few days, but it’s not enough.’

‘No,’ I agreed.

Charlie indicated a man at the far end of the corridor who had a puppy on his lap. ‘A lot of them have dogs,’ he said. ‘Why’s that?’

‘They don’t have anyone else. No home, no friends – just their dog. Sometimes, they’ll feed their animal before themselves. I remember once seeing a man out in the rain with his dog and the dog was in his sleeping bag, wearing a rain-hat, whilst his owner got soaked!’

‘I can understand that,’ I said. ‘Animals love you unconditionally. You’ll never find a more loyal friend.’ I was thinking of my cat, Dave. I’d had him since he was a kitten and, apart from Pia, he was my best friend – always there for a cuddle, my constant companion on the end of my bed when I woke up and when I went to sleep. After Mum died, I’d felt he’d understood how sad I was and made a special effort to be near to me and unlike with humans, I didn’t have to put on a brave act or even talk to him.

‘Exactly,’ said Aunt Maddie. ‘These people are just like us. They have feelings and they need companionship. Some of the centres don’t let dogs in over Christmas but we do. We recognise what they mean to our guests.’

I liked that and I was beginning to change my view of the homeless. A sudden fracas broke out in one room and within seconds, two burly men passed us holding on to a dishevelled man with shoulder-length ratty hair. As they passed, we stepped back and pressed ourselves against the wall. He stank really badly, plus I could smell alcohol as they went by, the man shouting and swearing at everyone.

‘Not all our guests are sweethearts like Arthur,’ said Aunt Maddie as the man was escorted firmly out of the front door. ‘Some are angry, bitter, difficult. No doubt that man has his story too but we have a zero-tolerance policy about bad behaviour here. We have to, because a few people can ruin things for everyone else and that wouldn’t be fair.’

Aunt Maddie then showed us the dormitories in the back halls where up to fifty people would sleep.

‘We can’t house everyone here,’ she said as we looked at the narrow beds lined up along the walls, ‘but there are six centres open like this around the city and over three thousand volunteers working. At least we can get some of them off the streets, if only for a short time.’

‘I hope Arthur has a bed,’ I said.

‘I already made sure he does,’ said Aunt Maddie. ‘He’s one of my favourites. I wish I could do more for him but there are so many like him to help. But there are people here to give advice on housing, how to get benefits and how to get set up again.’ She indicated an Indian lady in a corner with a couple of other older women. ‘That’s Usha over there. She was a teacher in a top school when she lived in India. Very proud. She despises her situation, being regarded as homeless. With her is Katya, a fantastic artist, and Sharon, a graduate who acts as quiz master for us every year. Many homeless people are actually highly qualified, some more so than the volunteers. There are ex-lawyers, ex-university lecturers, ex-teachers. All people who’ve had bad luck somewhere along the way.’

I looked into one room where there were a couple of teenage boys playing table tennis. ‘What about that guy there?’ I asked as we watched a fit-looking black boy thrash his opponent.

‘That’s Michael. He was thrown out by his parents when they found out he was gay. Not all societies are as liberal as the majority these days. In some ethnic groups being gay is still taboo.’

As we explored further, I was amazed at how many people there were about my or Charlie’s age.

‘There are more than a hundred and twenty thousand children and teens homeless or in temporary accommodation,’ said Aunt Maddie when I asked about them. I glanced at some of their faces as we went through the various rooms. They looked no different to the kids at my school – hanging out, watching DVDs, playing cards – they just looked scruffier and maybe more tired, with shadows under their eyes. I couldn’t imagine not having a bed and a hot shower each night and clean clothes every morning, and my heart went out to them.
I will never think of them just as the homeless again
, I thought,
I will think of them as people, just like me, but who have fallen on hard times
.
Individuals
.
I will remember each has their own story and I will think about who they are and
why
they have no home, instead of just thinking about them as people to be avoided.

Soon it was time for lunch to be served in a hall where trestle tables had been laid out with red tablecloths, cutlery, glasses and crackers. Charlie and I helped serve up and I made sure I gave Arthur and Michael an extra helping of turkey. The atmosphere in the hall was happy and festive, with a great fuss made over the pulling of the crackers. Now everyone wore their paper hats, homeless and volunteers alike. And not a scrap of food was left on the plates when we cleared away.

After lunch, I got chatting to a few of the guests, as Aunt Maddie called them. Mary, a young pregnant woman, cried when she told me that apart from having no home, she was anxious that the authorities would take her baby away. She also told me that the streets weren’t safe for women. I couldn’t imagine being out all night, in all weathers. I always hurried home when I had been out somewhere and always made sure I was with someone or had Dad or Gran pick me up if I was going to be late. It had been drilled into me by Mum, Gran and Dad that it wasn’t safe to be out alone, but these girls were out all hours, on their own and vulnerable.

As I went around, I noticed that many of the guests had carrier bags with them. A cute cherub-faced volunteer called Matt told me that those bags contained all they owned in the world. I couldn’t help thinking of Alisha’s designer carrier bags stuffed with expensive presents, her dressing room full of more clothes than she could possibly wear. It was such a contrast.

‘Sadly, lots of them turn to drugs and alcohol,’ said Matt. ‘I suppose it’s a way to numb the reality of their situation and who can blame them? So many are depressed, feeling they have no hope so they drink themselves into oblivion to blot it all out. It’s a downward spiral. If you’re an alcoholic, no-one will employ you. If no-one will employ you, you get depressed, so you drink.’

‘No wonder,’ I said. ‘It must be awful.’

The day so far had been a total wake-up call for me. Not what I’d expected at all. Yes, the situation was sad for all of them, but so many of them were brave and resigned and eager to get back to normal – and very enthusiastic about making the most of the facilities provided for these few days.

Charlie and I went back into the kitchens to do our share of the washing up then Aunt Maddie said that we could go home.

‘You’ve both worked hard,’ she said. ‘Take off any time you want.’

I looked at Charlie. ‘I’d like to stay. How about you?’

‘Deffo,’ he said. ‘Anyway, I’ve a table tennis game booked with Michael.’

‘Great,’ I said, ‘because Katya was going to show me some of her drawings.’

At tea-time, mince pies, brandy butter and great urns of tea were supplied. Once again, the guests tucked in with gusto. After tea, there were games and music and it seemed every type of entertainment had been laid on and many of the advisers came to join in the fun. Everywhere in the hall and adjoining rooms, something was happening. Around nine o’clock, Matt started up a conga. At first only five people got up to form a line and put their hands on the person in front’s hips. The boys from the rock band got up and ten more people joined in. Aunt Maddie, Katya and Sharon, Charlie, Michael and even Arthur joined the line. In the end, almost half the guests were on their feet and the line circled the main hall, danced into the corridor, all singing ‘
Oh, the hokey-cokey!’
at the tops of their voices.

‘This has been one of the top Christmases ever,’ I said when it finished, and I collapsed onto a chair near Charlie. I couldn’t have felt more surprised. A day I had been dreading had turned out to be better than I could have imagined. Porchester Park was so quiet, with everyone gone away and it had felt flat there despite the fabulous decorations. Here, it was buzzing with Christmas cheer – a group of people working together and a great atmosphere. I’d never felt the Christmas spirit more keenly, even though I knew it was bitter-sweet. It had been such a happy day but I felt so sad about the guests’ situations. I only wished I could do more to help them, especially people like Arthur.

‘I’m going to volunteer every year,’ I said.

Charlie nodded. ‘Me too. My band could come and play. I’m sure they’ll all be up for it when I tell them. And then I am going to become very rich rock star so I can donate. I mean,
someone
has to pay for all of this and not just with their time.’

I glanced at Aunt Maddie who had sat down on a nearby chair. She had a big grin on her face. ‘Well, your mum would certainly have enjoyed seeing you two wash up and peel vegetables!’ she said. ‘She’d be in hysterics over that.’

‘Cheek!’ I said.

She straightened her expression. ‘Sorry. Couldn’t help it. It’s just great to have you two here and I’m so glad you enjoyed it. I think your mum would have loved it too.’

I nodded. It was
exactly
her kind of Christmas Day.

Sorted. Every year from now on, this is where I’d be. Somehow I could feel Mum smiling down on us – and not just because we’d done some washing up!

I’d found my perfect new Christmas tradition.

‘So, you ready to rock with Riko?’ asked Pia as we made our way over to the front of Porchester Park.

‘Yeah,’ I replied reluctantly. ‘I guess she needs friends but I’m glad you’re coming too.’

Last time I was up at the Mori’s apartment, visiting the cats, Riko was moaning that Porchester Park was like a prison and how she was going crazy. While I was there, she asked her dad if she could go shopping with me now that we were friends
. Friends? That’s new to me
, I’d thought but I’d agreed to show her round, especially when I heard she wanted to go to Harrods, as they had an awesome sale. Sure enough, she was waiting for us in reception with her father the first day the shops were open again after Christmas.

‘I think I can trust you to look after my daughter, Jess,’ said Mr Mori. ‘You’re a sensible girl. Stay together and you have my number if you need to call.’

‘Da-
ad
,’ said Riko as she bustled us out towards the waiting limo. ‘I’ll be fine. Come on, guys. Let’s go.’

We got into the car and were soon being whisked away towards Harrods which was all of two minutes down the road.
Mad
, I thought.

Riko was in a good mood. ‘
Free-ee
!’ she declared giving us a big smile and putting on her huge black sunglasses. ‘I just want to merge with the crowds. No-one watching over me. No-one noticing me. I want to be invisible.’

I didn’t say anything but the chances of her not being noticed were pretty unlikely dressed the way she was. She was wearing a vintage blue silk jacket, a massive pink scarf wound twice around her neck, denim shorts, sports sneakers and ripped fishnet tights. Her hair was piled on top of her head sticking out at all angles and kept in place with what looked like two red chopsticks. Like all her unusual outfits, it worked, but invisible she was not. I felt so boring next to her in my jeans and ordinary three-quarter-length red coat.

The car dropped us at the entrance to Harrods. The young American driver looked at his watch. ‘I’ll return in two hours,’ he said. Riko didn’t reply. She headed straight for the shop door.

‘Thank you,’ said Pia to the driver. ‘We’ll make sure we’re here.’

Inside the shop, a doorman in a green-and-gold uniform glanced out at us, then opened the door. Immediately, we were swept into a frenzy of noisy, enthusiastic shoppers as they pushed and shoved their way down the aisles, eagerly looking for sales bargains. All around, I noticed different accents, – every country seemed to be represented here: Italian, Japanese, Indian, French, German, Arab, Americans – a united nation of bargain hunters under one roof.

‘This place has got more pull for tourists than all the London museums and galleries put together,’ I shouted to Pia above the babble.

‘And it’s much more fun,’ said Riko as she forged her way forwards.

‘Is there anything in particular you want?’ Pia asked Riko when we caught up with her.

She shook her head and took her sunglasses off. Her eyes shone with excitement. ‘All of it!’ she said and set off towards the cosmetics department.