Chapter 12
Sniffling the first thing Nigel did upon waking was curse for not covering up properly. Rolling out from under the air-conditioning pipe he called home Nigel looked down the narrow workman's passage.
What time was it? One look told him the sun was up and the muffled sound of the street suggested he'd slept later than usual.
Pulling himself to his feet, limbs, old before their time, creaked as he tried to steady himself. Rubbing the remainder of the sleep from his eyes he shuffled down the walkway.
He hoped he hadn't missed Jean.
Coughing up a thick lump of flem he started retching, but nothing came up.
As he coughed Nigel became acutely aware of a pain on his arse, a quick pry confirmed his piles had burst.
Why did he always have to wait till they burst before he did anything?
He knew they were coming back by the itching.
All that walking yesterday couldn't have helped either.
Funny really, he mused, considering the location they never became infected.
One of life's great mysteries.
With that thought he began coughing again.
This time it didn't stop until he brought up a mouthful of bile. Overcoming the chest wracking onslaught he wiped the tears from his eyes, coughed up the sour tasting phlegm caught in the back of his throat and spat it out before heading to the gate.
On the street the day was well underway, addicts by the phone-boxes and kids making their way to school.
A large ginger haired lad looked at him in disgust,
"Fucking loser.
Nigel fixed him with a glare before responding,
"Well I was good enough for your mum.
He realised it may have been a bad idea as the lad shoved him.
The kick-ins weren't so bad when he was drunk, but it wasn't the best way to start the day.
As he prepared for the assault a voice shouted,
"Oi numb nuts.
Everything stopped.
"Yeah that's right, you.
Nigel saw a figure leaning from a window, yelling at the group of lads.
"Fucking leave him alone.
They didn't need telling twice and Nigel raised an appreciative hand.
There was a time when none would have dared to start on him, but years of living on the streets had taken their toll.
Arriving at his destination he knocked on the front door, hopeful he hadn't missed her, squatting he peered through the letterbox. Seeing the old lady walking down the hallway he stood erect again, taking in his dishevelled appearance in the glass. A face ingrained with dirt, framed by matted sandy hair, shiny with grease and a wild beard.
As the door opened the musty smell of the old lady wafted out.
She smiled warmly standing aside to let him enter,
"Nigel, I didn't think you were coming, how are you?
Nigel nodded, before another spasm of coughs racked through his body. Regaining his composure he saw concern in her eyes.
"You should see someone about that cough, she admonished.
"It's nothing Jean, Nigel smiled, "it comes and goes.
"Still you should get it checked out.
It was left at that as Nigel followed the old lady down the hall towards the kitchen.
Putting the kettle on she looked over,
"You need a bath, why don't you have one after you've eaten?
"Maybe later, until he got that first drink inside him he didn't feel like doing much of anything. Even keeping food down was a problem, but knowing it could be the only meal he'd get inside him he'd learnt to.
It hadn't always been like this.
Nigel had arrived on the Riverside after being discharged from the army on medical reasons. Having no family to speak of he'd decided not to go back to the town where he'd grown up. Already messed up he took to drinking on top of the prescribed medication. Gibbering to himself and shouting the odds had earned him the reputation of being the local madman. In no time he'd found himself wasting his days with the local winos sat in the nearby cemetery.
The local landlords became fed up with him, eventually it was impossible to find somewhere to live in the area and he found himself on the streets.
Local oiks who'd once listened to his tales of Northern Ireland now mocked him, few believed he'd even been there.
But he'd been there alright.
County Armagh.
It was a sunny afternoon in June after a regular patrol, he was pulling his best pal Reggie into the back of the truck, joking about a night on the town after another day of no action. As he heard the harsh crack of the sniper rifle Reggie's brains had been all over his face. Nigel never recovered and was discharged shortly after.
Jean's raised voice snapped him out of the trance,
"Nigel, Nigel.
"Sorry Jean.
"That's okay.
Looking over her glasses the pity was written across her careworn face.
Placing the plate of scrambled egg on toast in front of him she smiled,
"Are you sure you don't want that bath?
"Maybe later aye.
She smiled again and nodded.
The food was devoured in minutes and they sat sipping tea, waiting for Nigel to ask for his daily loan.
Jean didn't mind, he always paid her back, and though she didn't approve of his drinking she knew he wouldn't stop. It kept out the cold, he told her.
Nigel began coughing again, this time it went on even after drinking the water Jean rushed out and poured. As he recovered she jabbed a finger at him,
"You must do something about that cough.
"It's okay.
"No, no Nigel it isn't, I mean it, you must go and see the doctor.
"I'll make an appointment later.
"No I'm going to make one now, seeing the look on his face she added, "and then I'll give you your loan.
This, she knew, was a sure-fire way of forcing him to see the doctor. Not waiting for his response she grabbed the phone.
Nigel hated seeing the doctor, always looking at him with that sneer, he knew what she thought of him.
Nigel hoped for a moment they would be too busy but then remembered Jean wouldn't take no for an answer.
After a little bickering on the phone she smiled over, Nigel tried to smile back.
Replacing the receiver she announced she'd managed to get the doctor to see him at noon, though the doctor hadn't been happy about it.
Glancing up at the clock nor was Nigel.
As if reading his thoughts Jean disappeared into the kitchen returning with a bottle of brandy.
Pouring him a glass she announced,
"For emergencies.
The brandy was knocked back in one and she smiled inside while pouring him another, a little larger this time. Returning to the kitchen with the bottle she announced sternly,
"And that's your lot.
