Marry Me Tomorrow: The perfect, feel-good read to curl up with in 2017!

‘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 there. They’ve got showers and a place to do your laundry.’

‘That’s good.’ A gust of wind rattled the patio doors and the curtains moved slightly. I looked across at them. ‘Bet you’re glad you’re not sleeping out there tonight.’

Sam nodded. ‘I feel a bit guilty though. There are still people out there.’

‘You can’t think like that. They’re not your responsibility.’

Sam said nothing, just stared at the TV, chewing his lip, nursing the mug of tea between his hands. I noticed how dry and rough they looked: the nails bitten down to the quicks, the knuckles cracked and sore.

‘I don’t know how you stand it, night after night,’ I went on. ‘Are there hostels and places that let you sleep inside?’

‘There are places, yeah, but you need a local connection to the area and I’m from Manchester. Besides, there are people more in need of the rooms than me.’

I gave him a doubtful look. ‘Really?’

He nodded. ‘There are young kids, women, old people. I do all right; I’m fit and healthy and can handle myself a bit.’

‘But surely it’s difficult to sleep outside when it’s cold and wet and you’ve no shelter?’ Leaning forward, I placed my mug on the coffee table and tucked my legs beneath me.

‘Yeah, it’s pretty hard. I never sleep for long. I catnap in fits and starts usually.’

‘But that’s no good for your mental health, surely?’

‘Hmm it gets you down. I’ve never needed much sleep though so I get by. No point getting all depressed about it, is there?’ He flashed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

I thought about how cheery he was when I saw him in the mornings. He always asked how I was and made some joke about the weather. How did he manage to keep his spirits up?

‘Some of the kids who are out there are in bad shape, though,’ he went on. ‘It’s no wonder they turn to drink and drugs.’

‘Aren’t drink and drugs the reason they become homeless in the first place?’

‘In some cases. But once they’re on the streets it becomes a way of getting through the horror of it all. And it’s not only stuff like heroin and cocaine, those so-called legal highs cause massive problems too.’

‘Have you never been tempted to use drugs? Just to get through?’

He pulled a face and shook his head. ‘I’ve got enough problems without that shit. Sure, I’ve smoked a bit of weed in my time, but I’m not up for becoming dependent on anything else. Tobacco’s dear enough. I used to drink too much but I stopped when I fell over and cut my head open. Ended up in A&E covered in blood and no idea how I’d got there. Scary stuff.’ He shook his head. ‘Some of the old guys have stopped caring. They want to get shit-faced so they don’t know what’s going on. They don’t care if they lose days, or if they can’t remember what they’ve done or where they’ve been. I don’t want to get like that.’ He yawned widely. ‘Sorry, it must be the heat. I’m not used to it.’

‘Are you warm? I’m cold?’ I shivered and pulled my cardigan around me.

‘I’m boiling. I’ll be asleep in a minute.’ He yawned again.

‘Feel free to go to bed if you want to. You look knackered.’

‘No, I’ll be all right. I probably won’t sleep all night anyway. I never do.’

‘Well, if you do wake up in the night, feel free to make yourself something to eat or drink. Or watch TV, if you like.’

‘Have you got any music?’ he asked. ‘I miss music. Most of mine went when my car got nicked. Then my phone broke and I was buggered.’

‘Oh no! Really?’ I picked up the remote and changed to a music channel. ‘Is this all right? It’s just chart music.’

He pulled a face. ‘Nah, I want some old tunes on. Give it here.’ He took the remote control and started scrolling through himself.

‘When did your car get nicked then?’

‘February. I used to sleep in it. I was buggered after. It was found burnt out in some car park in Deeside. All my fucking stuff! Bastards.’ He shifted angrily in the seat and tapped the remote control on the armrest, agitated. ‘I was doing all right until then.’