[mid-morning in a riverside park. A homeless man is sitting on a bench looking at nothing in particular. A smartly dressed woman walks along the path and stops right by the man]

“Are you all right?”

Those four simple words dragged me out of my stupor. I looked up and saw the owner of the voice for the first time, a woman in her early thirties and judging by her clothes, she wasn’t doing badly for herself.

“Not really but you can’t help me,” I replied without even thinking.

“I’m sure that is not the case. You have been sitting there for more than an hour looking as if the whole world is on your shoulders. Are you sure that you don’t want some help even from the Police?”

The mere mention of the word ‘Police’ made me react. They were the last people I wanted to be seen with.

"Please… you don't have to worry about me. I'm a loser. Judging by the shoes you are wearing and the handbag that you are carrying, you aren't like me, so please leave me alone."

If I had hoped my words would make her walk away, I was wrong, so very wrong. It did totally the opposite. The woman sat down beside me. I could smell her perfume. Delightful. For half a second, I wished that it was me that was the one wearing it but that desire had been a big part of my downfall. Now I was at rock bottom.

The last thing I needed was a lecture about picking myself up and getting on with my life. That’s what I’d been trying to do for the last nine months. Nine horrible months since my wife had kicked me out. In that time, she had done everything in her power to strip me of my humanity. The news that I’d received earlier that morning was the final straw. I’d been served with another High Court Writ claiming that I owed people lots of money. This time it was for a mortgage on a property that I’d never heard of. Someone had borrowed almost half a million pounds to buy a house and had never made any repayments. I’d told the process server that they’d have better luck getting blood out of a stone and that I’d been homeless for nine months so I could have hardly been in a position to sign the documents agreeing to the loan. I was flat broke or as near as dammit. I didn’t need to ask how they’d found me. I knew exactly who was behind it.

“I’m sure that it is not that bad.”

“Worse. It is worse than bad and there is nothing anyone can do to help me.”

"That sounds very fatalistic?" said the woman.

“Want to share? A problem shared is a problem halved and all that.”

“Lady, I don’t know who you are but frankly, you really don’t want to have anything to do with me. I’m toxic to all those around me. If I were you, I’d run a mile right now.”

"When you have through what I have been these past months there really is no other way to think. Then today, I was served with a writ saying that I’d defaulted on a half million-pound loan to buy a house. A house that I never knew I’d seen let alone bought. How would you feel eh?”

“That sucks… to put it bluntly.”

“What did I say? I’m a loser and just being close to me is enough to get infected.”

"I'm sad to see someone as down as you but I'll take your hint and as you say, go run a mile. I'm on my way to the gym and I'll probably do more than five miles before I’m done.”

I looked at her once again. If I could ever have a fairy godmother then I hoped that she was like her.

With a sigh of resignation, she got up and left me alone. Alone save the noise of the Magpies and the distant laughs of children playing on the other side of the park.

I don’t know how much longer I’d been sitting on that bench by the side of the river but it must have been at least another two hours. From the position of a watery sun in the sky, I estimated that would be dark in a couple of hours and I could try to find a hole to crawl into for the night. I was flat broke until… sometime never. I’d finally taken the courage and signed on two weeks ago and the first payment of my benefits such as they were, was due at the end of the week. Then I’d be getting fifty-seven measly pounds a week. Thanks to being a sole trader before my very own personal disaster struck, it seemed that despite paying a full National Insurance contribution, I was not entitled to anything more than the absolute minimum. More fool me, I guess. I was sure that others in my position were able to work the system better than me but at the moment it was the best that I could do.

I know that I’m wallowing in self-pity. There really isn’t much else to do. Well… there is. Many of my homeless colleagues drowned their pity in large quantities of cheap cider. It takes money to live and even more to drink your life away and I don’t have any money and despite my predicament, I had no wish to die yet even though, some people would like that a lot.

The lack of money in my pocket or the bank was not my fault. Well… not directly. What I had was taken from me by my wife in a series of raids on my assets. It all emanated from the time that she caught me doing something she very much thought abhorrent. I wasn't doing anything illegal but she took it as a direct insult to her person and everything she said that she stood for.

The sun was just disappearing behind the Town Hall when I moved from the bench that had been my resting place for the last ten hours. On my way into town, I used the toilets just before they were closed for the day. Even after all these weeks and months, I was finding it hard to get used to living on the street. Knowing when vital services opened and importantly closed was as important as ‘The Knowledge’ that a London Taxi driver has to know in order to get their licence.

My next stop was the main square. A few other street people were hanging around when I got there. We were waiting for the Salvation Army Food Van to arrive. Good Samaritans like these are a lifeline to people like me. Getting some hot food and an even hotter drink was a real godsend on days like this.

Dead on seven, the shutters rolled up and an orderly queue formed amongst the homeless. This was the one time of the day when there were no arguments. If anyone argued then the van would simply close up and drive off. If that happened, it was not good for anyone.

With a word of thanks to the staff, I received my food and drink and sloped off to a quiet corner to have my one meal of the day.

I’d just left the square in search of somewhere out of the wind and rain where I could spend the night when I almost ran into ‘her’ again.

“Hello again,” she said.

“Hello.”

“Are you interested in a clean bed for the night?”

I almost jumped at the chance but I stopped myself just in time.

“What’s the catch? Please don’t say that there isn’t one. There is always a catch. No one does anything for nothing these days especially the Police. You lot are always on the lookout to get some poor innocent into jail while the people who steal billions walk around as free as a bird.”

She had mentioned the Police earlier but I’d never met anyone in the Police who was even remotely like her so I wasn’t convinced but I had to assume that she was with ‘the Plod’ and so far, she had not told me otherwise.

She smiled back at me.
“The people running that Food Truck seem to be doing just that aren’t they? Helping out without asking for payment.”

She had me there.
“Ok. Most people don’t get or do owt for nowt these days.”

“What if I’m not most people?” Came her confident reply.

She had me there again.

“Ok, you got me. ‘But… there has to be some ulterior motive for you coming back and talking to me.”

“All in good time.”
She paused for half a second.
“Now do you want a clean bed and the chance to get your clothes clean?”

“I suppose so.”

She smiled back at me.

“Good. My flat is just around the corner. Would you like to follow me?”

I grunted my agreement. I was still trying to work out why she was doing this and what sort of trap that I was walking into. It hurt me to think this way. Before… Before I’d been much more trusting of people in general. That was before.

Her home was modern and expensively furnished. What was stark was that not a thing was out of place. It was almost as if no one really lived there. I searched for the right word to describe how I felt about it. Then it came to me. Sterile. That’s it, the place was sterile. That made me think that it was rented rather than owned.

“The bathroom is in there,” she said pointing at a door.

I didn’t move.
“What’s up?”

“I don’t know who you are. I’m Craig Scott for what little that is worth these days.”

“Please don’t belittle yourself. Craig. I’m Jennifer Watts or Jenni for short for what it is worth. I know quite a bit about you but that can come later.”

“This place is worth quite a lot isn’t it?” I replied changing the subject slightly.

Jenni laughed.
“This pad belongs to a friend. He’s working in Dubai for the foreseeable future so he lets me use it when I’m in town which is about once a week at the moment.”

“Oh… You don’t live locally then?”

“I may,” replied Jenni.
“It all depends upon how my business develops in the area… But… that is for the future.”

“You mean catching innocents and giving them a criminal record? You are a cop aren’t you?”

She laughed.
“Far from it. I’m interested in some very nasty people.”

“That lets me off the hook for a bit then. As far as I know, I’ve never broken any laws that would attract the likes of you. Now… if you were in uniform and wearing body armour then that would be a different story.”

“I’m not just any Police Officer.”
She’d closed down that conversation very well.

“What can I get you to eat and drink? There is plenty to choose from in the freezer. By the look of you, you could do with a really good meal?”

I glared back at her but she was right. I’d lost a good bit of weight since I been on the streets.

“You choose something. No booze though. Almost everyone else like me is an alky. I might be down and almost out but I do have a little bit of pride left. That is something that can’t be taken away from me.”

Jenni smiled back at me.
“Why don’t you go and get clean. If you put your dirty clothes outside the door, I’ll put them in the washer.”

I managed a small smile.
Jenni guessed what I was about to say.

“Robbie, my friend who owns this place left some clothes here. I’m sure that he won’t mind you borrowing some for the evening. I’ll get some for you and leave them outside the bathroom door.”

“Thanks.”

I went off to get clean thankful that she'd not commented on how much I smelled. At first, it had bothered me but after a while and like most things, you get used to it.

As I let the hot water flow over my body, I tried to remember the last time I’d had a shower without a time or water limit. It must have been more than nine months ago. Yes, that was it. I’d spent a couple of days in a Motel after ‘she’ had chucked me out. It would have been longer but my bank and credit cards suddenly stopped working. I found out that my bank account had been emptied and my credit cards marked as stolen. At first, I was angry but I soon realised that this was all part of her plan to drive me into the gutter. That’s where I’ve been for these past months but I was determined not to give her the satisfaction of getting the monster pay-out from the life insurance policy that she had taken out on me shortly before putting her plan into action.

Gradually, my melancholy disappeared down the drain along with a lot of dirt.

Once I was dressed, I left the bathroom and went in search of Jenni. It wasn’t hard to find her. She was in the kitchen making something to eat.

"That smells nice," I said as I walked into the kitchen.

Jennifer smiled back at me.
“It is all straight from the freezer, tins or packets I’m afraid. Pasta with Tuna and Sweetcorn and a white sauce.”

“That sounds pretty good to me.”

"Your clothes are in the wash. I took the liberty of looking through your backpack. There are two more loads are waiting to be washed. I'll put them in the dryer after the wash. They'll be good to go by the morning."

My heart dropped. A padded bag in my pack contained all the gory details of what had happened to me financially and legally. I keep it as proof to others that I’m the victim not the perp despite what she might say about me. Even the Bailiffs have started to understand that I’m not the criminal mastermind and don’t have millions stashed in a tax haven. If I did why would I be living on the streets and sleeping rough. I labelled the bag ‘Blood and Stone’ more out of jest than anything.

Jenni saw the look of consternation on my face.

“I didn’t look at your papers but I have one question.”

“Fire away,” I replied as my stomach rumbled.

“Is your current predicament down to your wife, Imanuela Scott?”

I nodded my head.
“How do you know her?”

“We received a tipoff about some work her company did at the NEC two years ago. Just as we began to investigate it, she just closed the company down and opened up another company with a slightly different name. It is called ‘Phoenixing’.”

“That sounds about right. You’ll probably find that I’m… or was a director of those companies. I never knew anything about it until it was too late. One of those many pieces of paper in my pack is one informing me that I’ve been banned from taking any directorships for five years. That was news to me and to the person who served me with the order. He’d never ‘served’ a homeless person before. That pissed me off no end I can tell you.”

“Did you do anything about it?”

I nodded my head.
"I saw an old customer of mine. She owed me close to £100.00. I collected what I was owed and used the money to buy myself a train ticket down to London. I visited companies house and saw the accounts that had been filed. The signatures on the company accounts were close to mine but not mine, if you get my drift. I have copies of those accounts in my pack. You can see for yourself if you like.”

“This is just about ready. Hungry?” asked Jenni totally ignoring my last statement while

“I’m sure that I can manage a morsel or two.”

The food was while simple, like nectar from the gods. It brought back memories of better times. Times when I did most of the cooking for my wife. I mentally beat myself for continually harking back to the good old days. They will never return and the sooner I accept that fact the better.

“Penny for them?” asked Jenni.

“Sorry. I was miles away.”

She grinned.
“I could tell that. Thinking about happier times perhaps?”

“Something like that.”

Jenni ate some more of the excellent pasta.
“One day, you will explode. Keeping everything bottled up like that isn’t good for your blood pressure.”

I nearly choked on some tuna when I heard that.
“If anything, my BP is on the low side. Not eating regularly, doing a lot of walking and not drinking booze helps but only so far.”

“Am I right? About keeping things bottled up and all that?”

"Yes, but this is not the time nor the place and at this point in time, I don't know you from Adam and Eve to let it all come out. Besides, telling my tale of woe will take days if not weeks and you obviously have a life to lead and a job to do without me dragging you down to my level and risking your own personal safety. Believe me, the broken ribs that I have had since being on the streets is no joke.’”

"Oh, I believe you. It was your visit to the hospital some months ago that alerted us to your plight. One of our Officers was dealing with another case but heard your name mentioned by the staff. We'd been looking at your wife's business for some time and your disappearance had us worried."

“Why didn’t you contact me before now?”

Jenni laughed.
“We weren't ready too. Our investigations were at a very early stage. Things are a little more advanced now hence my approach to you earlier today."

I wasn't convinced. All I knew was that in a few hours, I’ll be back on the streets. Clean and moderately sweet-smelling but still homeless and broke and with no prospects for a future beyond the streets. I knew deep down that even if my wife was sent down for life, I’d be no better off. Life at times like this sucks, sucks big time.

[to be continued]