Tender Shoots

Tender Shoots

Nathan felt the crowd disperse. He’d been so engrossed in the music, the rhythm he’d created that he barely noticed the spectators leaving. He heard the ping, ping of the coins as they dropped into the biscuit tin placed on the footpath.

As his strumming on the battered guitar abated, he noticed an old woman who looked like she had just stepped out of the distant past. She stood out with her grey felt hat perched precariously on her head. A grey hat for a grey head he mused. He noted too the green, greasy old mac tied loosely at the waist with a piece of string. Her brown shoes too looked like they seen better days though they were of the laced- up sturdy variety that probably never wore out.

She appeared such an unlikely person to be interested in his music. She must be at least seventy he reflected.

He started to pack away his guitar. Dusk was starting to fall and he wanted to get back to the hostel before seven to ensure he had a bed for the night. He didn’t want to endure another night on the streets. He’d had enough of that.

He felt a hand on his arm.

“I really enjoyed your playing, son. It certainly took me back to when my son was a boy. He’s a great musician. A violinist.”

“Glad you enjoyed it. I wrote it,” Nathan replied.

 He turned away then to gather up the loose change he had earned. As he placed the coins into his guitar case, he saw her rummaging through her old bulky handbag. She surprised him when she proffered a crisp 50 pound note.

 “Thanks a lot,” he muttered, embarrassed by the amount she was offering.

“Are you sure? It’s a lot of money!”

She waved away his concern.

“You deserve it, son.”

 He noticed that her eyes were glassy. Had she been crying?

She shuffled away up the street and gradually faded out of sight. He slung his guitar case over his shoulder and bounded away in the opposite direction towards the hostel. Tired now, he hoped he’d enjoy the hearty meal provided by the volunteers at the place he now called home.

 The encounter with this woman had lifted his spirits. It wasn’t just because of the money although it was much needed cash.  It was more than that. She’d appreciated his music. Perhaps he really was talented after all! Maybe he’d be able to make a successful living and someday own a small place of his own. Her comment and generous gesture had opened up so many possibilities.

Nathan’s start in life had been difficult.  Nathan’s mother Lucy had him at the tender age of fifteen.

So Nathan had been born to a mere child herself. Lucy hung around with a wild bunch. The smell of stale alcohol- breath still made him feel sick, and brought back painful memories of Lucy the morning after yet another party session. He remembered the round of gaffs he stayed in- all noisy, chaotic and unsuitable for a young child.  He’d lost count of the number of schools he attended. Some people hate routine but he envied the kids who complained about their normal lives. He sometimes went hungry. He often felt alone.

Music had been his saviour. It was his uncle Mattie who gave him his first guitar. It wasn’t new but that wasn’t important. Mattie taught a very eager seven year old a few chords. Nathan enjoyed learning to play. Perhaps it was the bond between himself and Mattie that gave Nathan the impetus to excel. Mattie was amazed at how quickly Nathan picked up the chords and quickly moved on to learning tunes.

“It’s in your genes”, he’d repeat constantly. Nathan didn’t understand. Lucy had zero musical ability. She murdered every song he’d ever heard her sing. Mind you that was usually after she’d had a few too many.

 Perhaps he’d inherited the musical gene from his father, the man he’d never know.

Nathan discovered that playing music was an excellent way of getting his mother’s attention. She often boasted to her many boyfriends that her son was the next Ed Sheeran . Before long he was a way better guitarist than Matti. He would have loved to have more advanced lessons at that stage. But that was impossible. Life was too unsettled. And they were bloody well poor.

However, Mattie did show him various lessons on YouTube which were surprisingly good. Best of all they were free, provided he could get a Wi-Fi signal.

By the age of twelve he was entertaining everyone with his musical ability. He often busked around Dublin city centre and made decent money. Grafton Street was hot, with plenty of women shoppers who liked the kind of thing he played. Once he’d overheard a couple of women gathered around him.

“I love that song.”

“Yeah me too. He’s really good isn’t he? Easy on the eye too with that gorgeous smile.”

He was astute enough not to tell his mother how much he earned. He knew it would be taken off him and spent on booze and cigarettes. Slowly, a kind of inner strength was flowing in his veins, and he had plans.

He escaped at nineteen. He wanted to think she’d miss him, but deep down he knew she’d be relieved. Now she was free to do what she wanted.

The move to London wasn’t one of his better ideas. At least in Dublin he knew a few people. He didn’t like the couch-surfing style to which he’d become accustomed. However, in London he had nobody whatsoever to turn to. Within a few days of arriving in Camden, guitar and rucksack in hand, he knew he was going to end up sleeping rough. He slept on park benches, in car parks and in shop doorways. But at least there was a heat wave in June 2018. He realised it was only a matter of time before he was mugged, knifed or worse.

He kept his precious guitar in his possession by covering it with an old blanket he’d found on a bench in Hyde Park. So far it hadn’t been stolen.

His savings were rapidly depleting. Only for Karen……….

*

She was a twenty-year-old student nurse. During her free time she volunteered helping the rough sleepers in Camden.

Nathan met her on a hot and muggy day in July a mere three weeks after his arrival. That encounter was etched on his memory. She didn’t notice his cardboard- covered, supine body as he lay asleep in the doorway of Debenhams in Oxford Street. A piece of cardboard jutted into her path causing her to trip.

”Shit!”

 He was shocked into wakefulness. She narrowly prevented herself falling into a heap at his feet. Recovering her composure she knelt down beside him and asked him if he was okay.

“Ah I’m grand. No worries”, he assured her rubbing his eyes all the while.

 A long conversation ensued where Nathan spilled out his entire life story. He had no idea why but she was easy to talk to and he was lonely. The fact that she was red haired and freckled- faced maybe had something to do with his candour. He recognised her Celtic looks even though she spoke with a strong London accent.

 Within a few hours she’d brought him to a hostel and ensured that he had somewhere to sleep until he was in a position to rent a room somewhere. Deep down he knew that was in the very distant future. Karen also punched her number into his mobile phone and told him he could call if he was stuck again.

“I mean it Nathan. I’m only a WhatsApp away.”

As he walked through the hostel entrance he ignored the multiple syringes in his path. The stench of urine made him feel queasy. Making his way along the corridor he kept his head down trying to avoid eye contact with some of the druggies, also in for the night. Two days before he’d witnessed one addict head-butt another guy. The crack of temple against temple was hard to forget. Sometimes, he felt fear in his gut. However it was better than sleeping rough.

He approached the six bedded dorm of the hostel, taking in the soiled magnolia painted walls. The harsh, pungent disinfectant lingered in the air. He tried to overlook the graffiti on the walls.

 His mind drifted back to the old lady he’d met earlier. He caressed the 50 pound note in his pocket. He hoped she wasn’t doing without because of him. He had to put that out of his mind. She wouldn’t give it if she couldn’t afford it. Would she?

 He could now treat himself. His mind wandered. Maybe buy a pair of jeans from the charity shop across the street. He definitely needed shower gel. A couple of spare guitar strings wouldn’t go amiss either.

 What a strange encounter! If she’d been well dressed, he would have understood her generosity.  She also looked strangely familiar. There was something in her face that resonated with him.

He legged it down the hall to the canteen. Right now his empty belly craved food.

After breakfast the following day Nathan left the hostel to go busking on the high street. He was wrecked. A couple of the men in his dorm had an argument during the night and he hadn’t slept a wink.

 “Stop fuckin’ snorin’ asshole

 “Who are you calling an asshole? Fuck – face.”

The fight only lasted a couple of minutes with the warden poking his head in the door,

 “Stop fightin lads or you’ll be back out on the streets.”

 Nathan’s anxiety kept him awake, on his guard in case it kicked off again.

 As he rounded the corner close to Regents Canal he saw Karen.

“Hi Karen! Surprised to bump into you . . . “.he began.

“I’m just on my way to college. Want to go for a coffee?”

“Yeah sure.  But I’m buying. To say thanks ye know.”

“For what?”

“Ah come on Karen. Only for you I’d be lying in a doorway somewhere.”

They crossed the road to Starbucks. He felt proud he could buy Karen a coffee. He didn’t like always being on the scrounge.

“An Americano okay?”

“Sure. Great”.

It wasn’t long before he was seated opposite Karen at a window table.

 She looked very attractive with her flaming red hair tied back in a ponytail, dressed in smart black skinny jeans and red sweatshirt. She smelled great too.

“You look exhausted Nathan. You must’ve been out on the tiles all night.”

“Chance ‘ld. be a fine thing! No, a couple of the lads in the dorm were shoutin’ and roarin’ during the night.”

“It can’t be easy living’ there”, she commented.

“Beggars can’t be choosers”.

As soon as he said it he regretted it when he noticed how uncomfortable Karen became. She almost squirmed in her seat. Him and his big mouth.

 He had to change the subject and fast.

“I had a very strange experience yesterday” he blurted out.

“Why, what happened?”

“An old woman gave me 50 pounds while I was busking? She looked kinda poor”.

“It wasn’t near the markets was it?”

Nathan’s eyebrow arched in surprise.

 “That’s exactly where it was. Opposite the Flyin’ Swan boozer.”

“I bet you that was old Maisie Johnson.”

“You know her?”

“Everyone knows her around here. She’s even been on the telly. She used to be wealthy but fell on hard times a few years back. Her old man hit the bottle. Hard! Squandered all their money. Her son is a well-known violinist. Kenneth Jonson. Plays with the philharmonic. Tours the world. Word is he’s abandoned his old mum. Can’t be bringing her along to Carnegie Hall now can he? Wouldn’t suit his image.”

Nathan knew it! He’d seen her before. Some music programme or other. Karen sipped the remains of her coffee. She looked at her phone.

“Sorry Nathan but I’ve a lecture in five minutes. Gotta go.”

“No worries.”

“Why don’t we meet on Friday? I won’t be as rushed then. Same time here?”

“I’ll have to consult my diary, “he tried to joke. “But sure. Yeah that’s perfect Karen.”

She glanced over her shoulder on her way out and flashed a beaming smile in his direction. His heart melted. Nice.

Just then the lyrics of a song he’d written came to mind,

“Water the tender shoots of friendship baby,

Help it thrive,

Tender shoots bring HOPE Baby,

Without HOPE we can’t survive”.