๐ ๐ฎ๐ป ๐ถ๐ป ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ธ๐ด๐ฟ๐ผ๐๐ป๐ฑ
๐ฃ๐บ ๐๐ช๐ฎ ๐๐ฆ๐ง๐ง๐ณ๐ฆ๐บ๐ด
Denise wanted a family portrait to hang in the hallway of their new house, and every so often she would hand Cam a leaflet for a professional photographic studio and urge him to check for discounts online.
โWe should do it before the girls get too old,โ she would say, referring to their daughters: Rosie, six, and Esme, who had just turned four.
Cam disliked the staged happiness in the photos of the families he saw on the websites. He hated the idea of wasting a day trooping his family out to some studio where they would pose together under bright lights. It would no doubt mean sacrificing one of his Saturdays, which he liked to spend playing football then having a few drinks with his friends. Besides, his preference was for something more natural.
An opportunity presented itself at the wedding of Deniseโs sister, Faith, one sunny day in late May. Stepping outside after the ceremony, Cam noticed how pretty the church gardens looked. The grass has been recently mown and the cherry trees were full of white blossom, some of which had been blown free by the breeze and lay strewed about the ground.
โQuick,โ Cam called to Denise, who stood to one side of the doors chatting to an older woman in a wide hat. โNowโs our chance.โ
Denise gave a little puzzled shake of her head. Cam pointed towards the cherry trees.
โPhoto opportunity.โ When Denise continued to look blankly at him, he added,
โFamily portrait.โ
โWhereโre the girls?โ
Cam rounded up Rosie and Esme, who were today both wearing lacy pink dresses which they had miraculously managed to keep clean. Denise wore a strapless floral print dress with matching hat in which she looked stunning, and Cam himself of course wore the grey slim-fit Moss Bros suit heโd bought for himself on a trip to London. It was the perfect opportunity.
The woman in the wide hat offered to take the picture, but instead Cam sought out his nephew Tyrone, who he knew was now at college doing media studies. This wasnโt going to be a point-and-shoot, he wanted it done properly.
โIf this doesnโt save us a trip to a photography studio,โ Cam said as he stood with his family under the cherry trees. โI donโt know what will.โ
โSmile,โ Tyrone said, holding up Camโs phone.
Rosie and Esme wanted to look at the picture straight away, but Cam knew that if he gave them his phone he would have a hard time getting it back so he slipped it into his jacketโs inside pocket in the hope that they would forget about it. He told them to find some other children to play with. After this he spotted his uncle, Jamel, who he hadnโt seen for years, standing on the church steps so he went to talk to him. He didnโt look at the picture Tyrone had taken until they arrived home that evening, at which point the smile fell off his face. The picture was perfect in every way heโd hoped it would be. He, his wife, and both his children were all smiling and looking into the cameraโa minor miracle in itselfโand the church gardens, sunlit and picturesque, were full of colour. The only problem was that a man had been caught in the left hand side of the frame, standing a few feet behind Denise. The man was clearly not one of the wedding party. He had a long scruffy beard and wore a knee length camouflage jacket and a peaked cap with a purple sweatshirt hood pulled over it.
โWhere the bloody hell did he appear from?โ
โEverything all right?โ Denise asked.
โThereโs a strange man in our picture. A bloody homeless man by the look of him. Must have wandered in off the street. For Christโs sake โ thatโs the last time I trust Tyrone to do anything.โ
Pausing as she buzzed about the kitchen, Denise leaned into him to look at the phone.
โThatโs a shame. I didnโt notice him at the time.โ
โItโs ruined. We canโt hang that on the wall with some random tramp in the background.โ
But it was more than the manโs presence in the photo that bothered him. The way the man had been caught in the picture made him look as if he belonged there, as if he were a part of the family, and it was this that irked Cam the most. It almost appeared as if he himself were being edged out of the righthand side of the frame, whilst the stranger muscled into shot next to his wife, not smiling but brazenly looking down the camera as if he were the photographerโs intended subject.
โWhat the hell was he doing there?โ Cam said. โWhy didnโt anyone say anything? Ask him to leave?โ
Denise stopped to glance again at the phone. โYou canโt stop people walking in the church gardens.โ
โWell, they should. Faith doesnโt want some crackhead in her wedding photos.โ
โYou donโt know heโs a crackhead,โ Denise said. โTheyโre not all on drugs. Itโs just bad luck. Anyone could end up homeless. You could.โ
โNever,โ Cam said.
Denise moved her face closer to the phone. โYou know he looks kind of familiar.โ
A week later, Cam was driving past the church where Faithโs wedding had taken place on his way to play football; something he thought of as his Saturday treat after a week spent at work. It was another sunny day, and again he noticed the cut grass and the cherry trees in full blossom; and this led to him remembering the ruined family portrait. Heโd been meaning to speak to Tyrone and tell him he hoped his college projects didnโt all have stray homeless people in them.
His momentary distraction in looking at the church and thinking about that photograph meant he wasnโt watching the road in front of his car and by the time he noticed something ahead of him it was too late. He hit the brakes and was jolted forwards, but he heard something thump against the car bonnet and roll away to the left.
That wasnโt a person, he thought. Please donโt let that be a person.
When he sprang the driverโs side door, he saw what looked like a bundle of rags lying in the gutter, but when he heard a groan he was dismayed to realise that it was indeed a human being. A man.
โIโm sorry, man. Iโm so sorry. Are you okay?โ
The prone figure had already begun climbing to his feet, and it was only now that Cam recognised the camouflage jacket and purple hood. As if to confirm his identity, the man turned his face towards Cam and muttered through his straggly beard: โWhat the hell you doing, buddy? You blind?โ
โIโm sorry,โ Cam said. โI didnโt see you. What were you doing in the middle of the road?โ
โTrying to get over there,โ the man said, pointing in the direction of the church. โWhat do you think I was doing?โ
Seeing the man lurch unsteadily onto the pavement, Cam moved to help him. He put one arm around the manโs back, trying his best to ignore the filthy, unwashed smell that came off him, and helped him to sit down on the low wall bordering the church gardens.
โAre you sure youโre okay?โ Cam said. โAnything broken? Maybe I should drive you to a hospital?โ
โIโm fine,โ the man said. โJust bruised and banged up probably.โ
Cam gritted his teeth against a pang of guilt. โCan I drive you somewhere? Do you have a home I could take you to? Aโฆ?โ
The man raised soft brown eyes to Cam. โUsed to have a home. A very nice home in fact.โ
โWhat happened?โ
โLost my job, didnโt I? Then my wife told me she wanted a divorce. The kids stayed with her, so she got the house. There was a man in the background too. She moved her new man in as soon as I was out. Into my house! Tried to stay afloat for a while on my own, but everything just seem to crumble away beneath me.โ
โYou have kids?โ
The man nodded. โTwo.โ
โDo you see them?โ
โNot lately. Donโt want them seeing me like this. Iโll go back one day. Soon as I get on my feet. Iโll go back in a nice suit and tie and Iโll say: Do you remember me? Iโm your daddy.โ
Cam glanced away, feeling another rush of guilt. So the man wasnโt a tramp or a crackhead. He felt bad now for saying those things about him. Denise had been right: it was just bad luck; it could happen to anyone.
โWhat did you do? In your job I mean?โ
โI used to program computers.โ
โI program computers,โ Cam said. โFor Reed Solutions. You know it?โ
The man jabbed a finger to his chest. โI used to work for Reed Solutions,โ the man said, his expression becoming hard. He squinted at Cam and pursed his lips. โMaybe youโre the son-of-a-bitch who stole my job out from under me.โ
โNo, no,โ Cam said. โI just started there last month.โ
The man continued to look at Cam from under his brow, until he finally dropped his gaze. โYou know what I miss the most, out of all of it? A nice hot shower. I sure wish there was somewhere I could go now and have a nice hot shower. You know?โ
Cam sighed. He glanced along the length of the street, thinking of the afternoon he could have spent playing football with his friends. Then afterwards, a few drinks in the pub across the road from the playing fields. If heโd kept his eyes on the road he couldโve been there now, fastening up his boots.
He shifted his gaze downwards. The manโs shoes looked like they were on the brink of disintegrating, the jogging bottoms he wore were stained, and the camouflage jacket was torn and frayed.
โWellโฆโ he said, at the same time thinking: no donโt do it, donโt say it, Denise will have a fit if you take this guy home. Just leave him here. Heโs fine. The guys are waiting for you. But he knew he couldnโt do that. Heโd knocked the man over with his car. Run him down. The least he could do was offer him a hot shower. That wasnโt much to ask, was it? โThere might just be a place.โ
Denise didnโt say a word except โOh?โ when he arrived with the homeless man whoโs name, as heโd learned during the drive home, was McKenzie although he insisted on being called Mac. She remained mute when they stood in the kitchen, listening to the sounds of the shower running and footsteps clumping about the bathroom above, but he could tell she was angry from the way she pressed her lips together and avoided his eyes.
โLook,โ he said, โIโll give it a good clean after heโs gone, okay? What was I supposed to do?โ
Denise sucked air through her teeth, another indication that she was less than happy.
โHeโs not a druggie or anything. Heโs just a guy down on his luck. Wife screwed him over. Apparently, he used to be a computer programmer at Reed just like me.โ
โJust like you, huh?โ Denise said. Pushing past him, she went to watch over the children in the lounge.
Throwing up his hands, Cam trooped upstairs and began looking through his wardrobe. Selecting a bright orange hooded sweatshirt given to him by his mother-in-law for his birthday which heโd never worn because, as heโd told Denise, he didnโt want people mistaking him for a traffic light, he threw it down on the bed. He also took from the wardrobe a pair of jeans heโd never liked the cut of, a brand new pair of briefs and a thick pair of socks. There was also a black, waterproof jacket he hadnโt worn in a while. He added this to the pile on the bed.
Hearing the shower shut off, he went to the bathroom door and knocked.
โMac,โ he said. โIโve got some clothes here for you. To replace your old ones.โ
โWhat now?โ came the voice from the other side of the door.
โIโve got some clothes for you. Nothing fancy, just some things I havenโt worn for a while. Weโre about the same size, right? Iโll leave them outside the door. I might have some boots too, hardly worn. What size shoe do you take?โ
โEleven,โ Mac said after a pause.
โPerfect. You get dressed and Iโll see you downstairs.โ
Denise and the children sat together on the sofa. Denise still refused to meet his gaze, but the children watched him with their eyes full of questions.
โDaddy, whoโs that man?โ
โJust a man I accidentally hit with the car. I thought it might be nice for him to come and have a shower because he doesnโt have a house of his own.โ
โWhy doesnโt he have a house?โ Rosie asked.
โHeโs just had some bad luck, thatโs all.โ
โHe can live in our house,โ Esme said.
โNo he canโt,โ Denise snapped.
โGive him a break,โ Cam said. โHeโs harmless.โ
Denise jerked upright, suddenly aghast. โDid you close our bedroom door, Cam? I donโt want him going in there. My jewellery.โ
โYour jewelleryโs fine.โ
โBut, Camโฆ?โ
โShush,โ Cam said, hearing feet on the stairs.
He blinked when he saw Mac stood looking sheepish in the hallway, wearing the clothes heโd picked out for him. It was as if years had been stripped away. Originally heโd thought Mac must be in his late fifties or early sixties, but now he realised that Mac was closer to his own age, perhaps even younger.
โSit down,โ Cam said. โIโll make you a cup of tea.โ
โYouโre being very kind,โ Mac said. โI donโt want to intrude.โ
โNo really, itโs the least I could do.โ
As he boiled the kettle, he smiled, listening to the children quizzing Mac in the lounge. There were feet on the stairs, and he realised Denise had probably gone to survey the mess in the bathroom. When she returned and joined him in the kitchen, she had a bemused look on her face.
โHow is it?โ he asked, wincing at the thought of having to bleach down the shower cubicle. โBad?โ
She shook her head. โThereโs no mess. He must have cleaned up after himself. It actually looks better in there than it does after youโve had a shower.โ
โMe? What do you mean?โ
โYou normally leave it in an awful state.โ
โI do not,โ he said, but seeing the look on her face he fell silent.
โYou know,โ she said. โThereโs something strange about that man.โ
โStrange? What do you mean strange?โ
She thought a moment. โIf he shaved off that beardโฆโ
โWhat?โ
โYou could almost be twins.โ
Cam couldnโt remember whose idea it had been to let Mac stay the night in the extension. Perhaps Denise had suggested it. Could that be correct? Camโs plan had been to send Mac on his way after the tea, but the man appeared to have a natural affinity with children and had been getting on so well with Rosie and Esme, answering all their questions and making them laugh, that Cam felt bad about asking him to go. Then when Mac began telling Denise all about how heโd lost his job and been kicked out by his ex-wife, Cam knew heโd end up having dinner with them. After that it had seemed cruel to send him out on to the streets as it had started to pour with rain. So, somehow, Mac had ended up spending the night in the extension. Mac even insisted that Cam lock the door between that and the main house, given that he was a stranger and they had two small children to think of, something which Cam had planned to do anyway but which he was nervous of explaining to Mac.
โIโm sorry,โ Cam said. โItโs a bit of a mess in here. We were planning to turn it into a guest room, but we just never got around to it.โ
โDonโt you worry,โ Mac said. โIโll be okay. Itโs better than the NCP.โ
Closing and locking the door, Cam realised that he was only making it harder on himself by allowing Mac to stay. Tomorrow the man would be back on the streets, and Cam would think about him every time he went into that useless extension which Candice had originally planned to turn into a flat for her grandmother whoโd passed away the previous winter, much to Camโs relief.
Here we are with this space weโre not using, he would think. And thereโs Mac out there on the streets. Cold, wet, hungryโฆ
Perhaps this was the reason why, after a week, Mac was still living with them. Then a month went by. Then two months. Mac knew how to make himself useful, helping Denice with the housework whilst Cam was at work, even once or twice picking the children up from school. He also knew how to make himself scarce, retreating to the extension when he sensed the family needed space. After three months, Cam stopped locking the door between the extension and the main house. It was around this time that Denice finally convinced Mac to shave off his beard.
โItโs like I said,โ Denise told Cam one night when they sat up in bed together. โHe looks just like you.โ
Cam sneered. โYou think so? I donโt see it. Not at all. Heโsโฆโ
โOh, yes,โ Denise said. โItโs remarkable really. Only heโsโฆโ
โWhat?โ
โHeโsโฆwellโฆโ
โWhat is he?โ Cam said.
Denise shrugged. โMore handsome, I suppose.โ
โMore handsome?โ
โYes. And more thoughtful too. Definitely more thoughtful.โ
โMore thoughtful now?โ
Denise smiled to herself. โYes, heโs just like you, only with an upgrade.โ
Cam turned to her, his mouth hanging open. โI canโt believe you just said that.โ
She gave a little titter then lay down on her pillows, half turned on her side away from him. โโNight,โ she said, and switched off the light.
One day when Cam arrived home from work, he opened the door to the sound of girlish laughter. Following the sound to its source, he was surprised to find that it came from Denise. She and Mac were sat at opposite ends of the dining table, both cradling mugs of tea and smiling. He wondered why heโd not recognised the laughter as Deniseโs. Had he never heard her laugh so freely before? And what had Mac said or done that had made her laugh like that?
โWhat are you so happy about?โ
โMac got a job.โ
โReally?โ
โItโs true. And itโs all thanks to you two.โ
Cam took the letter Mac held out to him. A few months earlier, he had decided to try and help Mac get back into the computer programming business. Together, they had searched for vacancies online; then when the invitations for interview arrived Cam had even lent Mac his Moss Bross suit; though heโd regretted this when Denise remarked that Mac looked better in it than he did.
Cam studied the letter. โSenior Computer Programmer? Senior?โ
Mac nodded, still grinning. โThatโs right. It wasnโt the job I was interviewed for, but I must have impressed them so much they offered me the senior position instead.โ
โThatโsโฆโ
Glancing up, Cam noticed Denise reach across the table and place her hand over Macโs. She removed it almost at once, but the image lingered in Camโs mind.
โWhereโre the girls?โ
โTheyโre in bed already. Mac took them to the park after school, and they had so much fun they were tired-out by the time they got home.โ
โYou should have kept them up. I havenโt seen them today.โ Cam heard the blunt tone of his own voice. Even he wasnโt sure why it was there.
Denise looked at him askance. โThey were exhausted, Cam. I just managed to get some dinner in them before they fell asleep on the sofa.โ
โI could have taken them to the park.โ
โSince when do you like going to the park?โ
โI take them. I enjoy taking them.โ
โI can count the times youโve taken the girls to the park on one hand,โ Denise said.
Cam huffed. He switched his gaze to Mac. โNew shirt?โ he said, noticing the elegant blue designer dress shirt the man wore.
โYes, sir. Your wife bought it for me. As a way of saying congratulations, I guess. She says blue is my colour.โ
โDoes she now?โ
โWhatโs got into you?โ Denise said. โMac has been such a help around here, itโs the least I could do.โ
We gave him a roof over his head, didnโt we? he wanted to say. We fed him, didnโt we? And all heโs done isโฆisโฆ
What he actually said was: โIโm going for a shower.โ
Upstairs, as he changed out of his work clothes, Cam noticed that the hideous orange sweatshirt his mother-in-law had given him was back in his wardrobe. It rankled him, seeing it there. Then when he looked at his face in the bathroom mirror, he didnโt recognise himself. It had been a busy couple of weeks at work, heโd put in so much overtime, and heโd been in such a rush in the mornings that he hadnโt bothered to shave. Now he had the beginning of a beard. As he stared into the mirror, an odd thought passed through his mind that he was not looking at his own face at all, but at Macโs. He remembered the letter: Senior Computer Programmer. A few months ago, the man had been sleeping in carparks and rummaging through skips behind the supermarket for things to eat. Now not only did he have a job, he was moving into a position that Cam had been trying to move into for years. Camโd done the work. Heโd put the hours in. He deserved it. He deserved it more than that man whoโd let his life go to ruin and ended up living on the street. Cam would never let a thing like that happen to him. He was stronger and more resilient than that.
As he showered, he began thinking about the picture on his phone; the one taken of his family at Faithโs wedding; the one that had been ruined by Mac. When he emerged, he took his phone and searched for the picture. He remembered the impression heโd had when he first looked at it; how Mac had appeared to be muscling in from the left next to Denise, and edging him out of the picture on the right. When he brought it up on his phoneโs screen, he saw now that this wasnโt the case. The homeless man in the background behind his family had a forlorn look, as if he thought he belonged in the picture but had not been allowed to stand central with the others. And the more he looked at it, the more he became convinced that it was not Mac who stood there in the ratty camouflage jacket and purple hood, face obscured by unruly beard, but himself. Those were his eyes, werenโt they? He could see in them the fear and confusion he was feeling at that very moment. And that proud looking man with his arm around Rosie and Esme. Wasnโt that Mac? It had to be. Somehow Mac had usurped him that day, taken his place in the picture, in his life.
After dressing he stormed downstairs. Heโd thought Denise mightโve had his dinner waiting for him, but she was still sat at the dining table with Mac, drinking tea and talking and laughing. Denise had been reaching across the table, covering Macโs hand with her own again. She removed it when Cam entered the room. The two stopped talking and looked at him. Cam saw it all then, in a flood of images. Denise telling him, stony faced, that she wanted a divorce. Him moving into the extension, whilst Mac moved upstairs into the marital bed. One day he would arrive home from work to find his bags had been packed for him. He would kiss the children goodbye, and they would say, โIs Mac our new daddy?โ Then, a bedsit, which would be all heโd be able to afford after the monthly child maintenance payments left his bank account. Weekend visits with the children, during which they would increasingly look at him as if he were a stranger. He would ask them what theyโd been doing and theyโd talk about Mac. Mac took us swimming. Mac read us a bedtime story. Mac taught us to ride a bike. Mac. Mac. Mac. Whilst he, Cam, would just be some man to them. Some man in the background of their lives. Some man they were forced to spend the weekends with in a grotty bedsit where they didnโt even have a room of their own. And what if he lost his job? Thereโd been a round of redundancies already at Reed. They were always cutting back. What if they decided to get rid of him? What then? Who would he rely on? What if he couldnโt afford the bedsit anymore? He would end up homeless. Homeless and on the street. Sleeping in carparks. Searching through skips behind the supermarket forโฆ forโฆ
โGet out,โ he said.
โWhat?โ Mac and Denise said in unison.
He fixed his gaze on Mac. โGet out. Youโve been here long enough.โ
โIs this about the job?โ Denise said. โYouโre not jealous, are you?โ
โOf course Iโm not jealous. I want him out of my house. He was only supposed to come here for a shower, but heโs been here five fucking months already.โ He turned back to Mac. โGet out.โ
โCam!โ
โNo,โ Mac said, holding his hands palm outwards and rising from his chair. โHeโs right. Iโve overstayed my welcome. You people have been more than kind, youโve helped me get back on my feet, and now itโs time for me to let you have youโre home back.โ
โDonโt be ridiculous,โ Denise said. โYou canโt go.โ
โYes he can,โ Cam said.
Mac nodded, briefly catching Camโs eye. โIโll get my things together.โ
Denise glared at Cam. โWhatโs the matter with you? You canโt make him go now. Not whenโฆโ
โItโs my house, isnโt it?โ
โItโs our house. And I want him to stay.โ
โPlease,โ Mac said. He had made it as far as the dining room door and turned back. โDonโt fight over me. Iโll be okay. Just say goodbye to the girls for me. Iโll miss them.โ
โNo,โ Denise said, her face suddenly distraught. She shook her head. โNo.โ
It took some time for life to return to normal after Macโs departure. Denise wouldnโt look at Cam for a week, wouldnโt speak to him for two. Rosie and Esme sat around the house, silent and wall-eyed; and when Cam suggested they do something, go to the park perhaps, they would look at him in bewilderment and shake their heads. In time, though, things returned to normal. Denise seemed to appreciate the extra effort Cam made around the house. He said no to overtime at work and spent the time he gained helping the children with their homework and teaching them to ride their bikes; and Saturday football with the guys and a few beers afterwards was replaced with family swimming lessons at the local pool, or trips to the park. That image still haunted him; that image of himself as a homeless man dressed in a frayed camouflage jacket, never seeing his children, and eating out of skips.
From time to time, when he entered a room, Deniseโs face would light up, only for a moment. But as soon as he spoke, some other expression would appear on her face and she would glance away, her eyes straying to the window. She was thinkingโhe knewโof someone else. โฆ