All the Lonely People

by Mike Gayle

  “Leaving home is always difficult,” said Hubert. He thought not only of his own journey from Jamaica but also of Joyce’s from the comfort of her family home in Bromley to a dingy boardinghouse in Brixton. Then of course there was Rose flying halfway around the world to start a new life in Australia.

  “It was,” said Ashleigh. “I missed home something dreadful at first. I missed my family and my friends, and you know, the closeness of it all. But I was in love, and I thought he loved me too, so I just got on with it. And when this one came along two years ago”—she leaned down and stroked the top of Layla’s head tenderly—“things were great, and I thought to myself, ‘This is it, Ashleigh Elizabeth Jones, this is your happy ending.’”

  “So what happened?”

  Ashleigh sighed.

  “I won’t go into the details but it turns out he’d been having it away the whole time I’d been in London with—get this—the only girl down here that I felt close enough to call my best friend! I was proper devastated I was, and then he dropped the bomb that he’d got her pregnant too and I was like, ‘That’s it, I’ve had enough. I’m out of here.’

  “I packed my bags and everything and I even bought a train ticket back home, but then as I was waiting for the taxi to take me and Layla to the station I thought to myself, ‘No, you are not going to just run back to south Wales with your tail between your legs! And you’re not just going to sit here in Enfield feeling sorry for yourself either! You’re going to make a fresh start, in a new area, make new friends, and you’re going to make a new life for you and your daughter.’

  “So that’s exactly what I did. I kicked him out, applied for a flat swap through the housing association, and three months later I was here, and now look at me! I’ve got a new flat, the chance of a job at the vet’s, and to top it all, I’ve got you, Hubert Bird, my new friend! How’s that for hitting the ground running?”

  Hubert was not at all sure how to reply to her comment about them being friends. Granted, due to his lies about Dotty, Dennis, and Harvey, and Rose’s upcoming visit, he was in the market for new companions, but a young Welsh single mother certainly wasn’t what he had in mind. He needed friends of his own age, friends who his daughter would think appropriate company for a man of his advanced years, not someone young enough to be his own granddaughter.

  “Me think you’re doing very well,” he said in the end, as it seemed the kindest thing to say under the circumstances. “Me think you’re doing very well indeed.”

  They talked for a good while longer, mostly about the neighborhood and how it had changed. “These days the neighbors are mostly all them… what you call them again? Yippies, or what have you… with them fancy suits and big cars,” Hubert had noted. Eventually, however, the conversation had drawn to a natural conclusion. Ashleigh had collected the dirty plates and cups and insisted on washing them up, and then once they’d been dried and put away by Hubert, it was clear that their time together was over.

  “Thanks again for everything.” Ashleigh leaned down to strap Layla back into her buggy. “You really have been amazing.”

  Hubert shrugged.

  “It was nothing.”

  Ashleigh regarded him intently.

  “It was not nothing, Hubert Bird. At least not to me. London’s a really big and scary place and as a single parent with no friends or family nearby, it’s easy to get lost and feel lonely.” Without fanfare she stepped toward him, threw her arms around him, and hugged him with a ferocity that almost took his breath away.

  Other than his GP, Dr. Aziz, and the nurses who checked his blood pressure, Hubert hadn’t felt the touch of another human being, let alone been hugged by one, in so long that he’d almost forgotten what it felt like. Moments later as he stood on the doorstep waving goodbye to his new neighbors, the embrace was all he could think about, and once he’d closed the door firmly behind him, he felt his legs buckling as tear after tear rolled down his cheeks. And in that moment, as he attempted to stem his tears, Hubert realized something he hadn’t quite understood before now: he was lonely, really lonely, and most likely had been for a very long time.

  12

  THEN

  August 1958

  Third floor needs these special deliveries going up, pronto,” shouted Mr. Coulthard over the usual Monday-morning hubbub: boxes being opened, cages loaded with stock, the telephone ringing nonstop.

  “I’ll take it,” said Kenneth, raising his hand.

  “No, you won’t,” replied Hubert. “You’ve got enough to do. Me sort it out, Mr. Coulthard.”

  “Do I look like I care which one of you bleeders sorts it out?” snapped Mr. Coulthard, exasperation heavy in his voice. “Just stop dithering and get it done.”

  Glaring at Kenneth, as it was likely to cause less trouble than glaring at Mr. Coulthard, Hubert loaded the special deliveries into a cage and then made his way to the lift. Pushing the button for the third floor, he took a moment to smooth down his hair and straighten his tie. It felt like forever since he’d seen Joyce, even though it had only been since Friday. They’d met up for lunch in their favorite square and it had been on the way back to work that Joyce had told him she wouldn’t be able to come out on Saturday night. “I’ve got family coming over for my niece’s christening,” she’d explained. “A whole load of aunties and uncles and they’re staying for the weekend.” Though disappointed, Hubert had tried his best to hide it, not wanting her to feel guilty for not seeing him, and told her that they would make up for lost time in the coming week. So when Monday came around, he had been so desperate for a glimpse of her that he had jumped at every opportunity to visit the third floor, but he had yet to catch sight of her.

  As the lift came to a halt, Hubert pulled back the door and pushed out the cage, scanning the stockroom for Joyce, and this time was rewarded as she and Sue, another girl from her department, came through from the shop floor.

  “Your delivery, ladies.” Hubert gave a comical bow. “All present and correct.”

  Sue giggled and playfully told Hubert off for flirting on work time, but Joyce didn’t even crack a smile.

  Hubert began unloading the cage. “Did you have a good weekend, girls? Get up to anything interesting?”

  “I went to the pictures and saw that new one with Max Bygraves in it,” said Sue. “It was ever so good.”

  Hubert looked expectantly at Joyce but she said nothing.

  “How about you, Hubert?” asked Sue. “Did you do anything fun?”

  “No, my girl was busy so me stayed in and saved my pennies so me can give her a real treat next weekend.”

  “Lucky girl,” said Sue wistfully. “I wish someone was saving their pennies to take me out on the weekend.” She smiled and added, “Put in a good word with the boys downstairs for me, will you?”

  Hubert took his time unloading the boxes, desperately hoping that Joyce might come up with a reason to send Sue on an errand, leaving the two of them alone, but she didn’t. And now all that was left for him to do was leave.

  “Right then,” said Hubert. He closed the door on the cage. “That’s me done.” He eyed Joyce carefully, hoping for a smile, a flicker of affection in her eyes, but there was nothing. Hubert was worried. Although it was an unspoken agreement that they would keep their distance at work, this coldness was new and strange and made him uneasy. He flashed her a look, one that desperately begged for some small recognition of who they were to each other, but none came.

  “See you later,” called Sue over her shoulder. Hubert watched her and Joyce turn and walk away. “And don’t forget what I said about putting in a good word for me in the warehouse!”

  As they left, Hubert told himself that everything was fine. She would come back in a minute. Explain that she had to act that way because some of the girls suspected something was going on between them. Or perhaps she was just tired after being with her family all weekend. Or maybe she’d just missed him so much that a casual smile or friendly wink would’ve seemed like too i
nadequate an expression of her true feelings. He stood there for five whole minutes in the silent stockroom, ears straining for the sound of her return, but she didn’t come, and as he entered the lift and closed the door behind him, a cold, slow fear began to take hold. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. And it took until after work that evening for Hubert to find out what it was.

  “I think… I think… I’m pregnant,” stammered Joyce.

  They were sitting on what had become their bench in their square. It overlooked a small rose garden, the flowers of which were in full bloom in the summer heat. They had the square to themselves with the exception of an elderly man across from them who had fallen asleep and a young, smartly dressed woman wearing sunglasses walking a tiny dog.

  “You’re…” Hubert struggled to find the words to finish his response. “You’re absolutely sure?”

  Joyce nodded, keeping her eyes fixed to the ground. “I missed my monthlies for the third time in a row, and I’ve already started putting on weight.”

  Hubert’s temples began to throb and he could feel his blood rushing through his veins.

  “But me thought we’d been careful.”

  Joyce shrugged. “Well, not careful enough, it seems.”

  There was a long pause. Hubert couldn’t think through the implications of what he was hearing because the roaring sound in his ears was making it difficult to think of anything at all. The man across the way woke suddenly as a mischievous young boy broke free from his mother’s grasp and ran into the square toward a flock of feeding pigeons, sending them into the air with a loud beating of wings.

  “How long have you known?”

  “I’ve been worried about it for a while. I’ve just been praying that it wasn’t true. It wasn’t until last week I was really sure. That’s why I didn’t come out on Saturday.” She started to get upset. “I’ve tried everything, Hubert; hot baths, gin, every old wives’ tale in the book.”

  Hubert put an arm around Joyce’s shoulders and pulled her toward him. “Come now, don’t you worry. Everything’s going to be all right.”

  Joyce wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her jacket. “You don’t know that. You can’t possibly know that. What am I going to do, Hubert? My parents will throw me out on my ear the second they find out, and I won’t be able to keep it a secret forever. Tell me, what am I going to do?”

  Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down, Hubert considered the question as best he could, but he drew a blank.

  “Me don’t know.” Hubert drew her even closer to him. “Me really don’t know. The only thing me do know is we’ll get through this together.”

  They stayed in the square watching the world go by, barely saying a word for a good half hour, before Joyce checked her watch and told Hubert she had to get home before her parents started to worry.

  “At least let me walk you to your bus. Me hate seeing you upset like this.”

  Joyce shook her head.

  “There are too many people who could see us. And you know how they like to gossip. They’ll see me upset and you with me, and put two and two together just like that. And before you know it, the whole world will know.” She stood up. “No, let’s say our goodbye here. It’s for the best.”

  Hubert couldn’t help feeling that this wasn’t any ordinary goodbye, but rather a final one, and it broke his heart that she might be thinking like this.

  He put his arms around her and held her so tightly he could feel her heart beating against his chest.

  “Me promise we’ll be fine, Joyce,” whispered Hubert. “We’ll be fine.”

  That night, Hubert turned up at Gus’s lodgings and was relieved to find that his friend was not only home but also alone.

  “Smiler, man! To what do I owe the honor?”

  “Me need advice,” said Hubert shakily, “and me need it fast. Joyce is… well, she is in the family way, if you know what me mean.”

  After standing in the doorway for a second in stunned silence, Gus ushered Hubert inside his room. Sitting him down on a chair next to the fireplace, he reached under his bed and fetched out a half-drunk bottle of rum, then grabbed two chipped enamel mugs from the shelf over the sink. He poured them each a generous measure and then sat down heavily on the chair opposite. Once they’d each taken a fortifying sip, Gus asked Hubert to tell him what had happened from beginning to end.

  “Well, Smiler,” he said as Hubert finished, “the good news is that you aren’t the first man this kind of thing happen to, and I doubt you’ll be the last. But if it’s advice you want, the way I see it you have three options: one, see if Joyce can get rid of the baby somehow.”

  “Me can’t ask her to do that, and anyway me wouldn’t want to—it’s not right.”

  “Cha, man! It doesn’t have to be in the way you’re thinking. You could have the child adopted.”

  “And have my own flesh and blood brought up by a stranger or even worse, stuck in a children’s home?” Hubert shook his head in disgust. “Me couldn’t live with meself if me did that.”

  Gus sighed. “Then just run for your life! If not back to Jamaica then maybe Birmingham or Manchester? I hear there’s plenty of work there, just like London.”

  Hubert reached for the rum and topped up his mug. “Me can’t abandon Joyce like that. That girl is my life. Me love her more than anything. Me can’t just leave her when she need me most.”

  Gus snorted, took the rum from Hubert, and refilled his own mug. “Right then, all that’s left is for you to marry her! But mark my words, love will be no use to no one when the two of you are living in a tiny room with a screaming pickney and not two pennies to rub together because only one of you is working!” He shook his head. “Smiler, man, the deed is done. There’s nothing you can do now to change things, so what good is both your lives being ruined? Take it from me, Joyce’s parents might be vex with her when they find out, but you know what these English people them like, they look after their own. They’ll come round and she’ll be fine, just you wait and see.”

  Hubert gulped back his rum in one go, causing his throat to burst into flames. The pain felt right, exactly what he deserved under the circumstances. How could he have been such a damn fool not to think something like this might happen? Gus had painted such a bleak picture of the future. Under these circumstances Hubert couldn’t imagine how either he or Joyce could ever be happy, even if they were to stay together. Surely their love would turn into resentment when faced with the realities of raising a child with no money and no family to help. Hubert couldn’t bear the thought of it, but the prospect of life without Joyce seemed just as impossible to contemplate. It was a no-win situation. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.

  Gus refilled their mugs again, then lifted his as if about to make a toast. “Drink up, we’re not going to fix this problem today.”

  It was late when Hubert finally left, having helped Gus not only finish off the half bottle of rum but also make a sizable dent in a second. Waving goodbye to his friend, Hubert staggered down the road, briefly enjoying the sweet relief the alcohol offered from his problems. At the same time, however, he was keenly aware that when the rum wore off, not only would his problems be there, but he would have a king-sized hangover to deal with too.

  In a bid to lift his spirits, Hubert began singing calypso tunes one after the other, songs that spoke of love gone wrong, of hearts broken and joyous reunions. As he turned onto his street, singing loudly enough to wake the neighbors, he saw Joyce. She was standing outside his lodgings, a suitcase at her feet.

  “I… I… told my parents.”

  Shocked, Hubert walked toward her and took her hand.

  “My mum guessed and so I told them about the baby and about you. My dad was so angry he packed my bag and threw me out. I’ve got nowhere to go.”

  “That’s not true, you’ve got me.” Letting go of her hand, Hubert reached into his jacket pocket, took out a small velvet box, and then unsteadily got down on one knee. “Me
been carrying this round for weeks waiting for the right moment, but me wanted to do things properly, to ask your father for your hand first. But it wasn’t to be.” He took the ring, the ring he had bought back in June that cost every last bit of his savings, and slipped it onto her finger.

  “Joyce Anne Pierce, would you do me the honor of being my wife? And not because of the baby, and not because you have nowhere else to go, but because me don’t want to waste another single minute without you.”

  13

  NOW

  When Hubert had woken up that morning he’d been well aware that with Rose’s visit fast approaching he really should be doing something, anything, to make some new friends. But at a loss as to what to do, he suddenly found all the odd jobs he had been putting off for months pressingly urgent. And so it was that he wound up clearing out the drawers in the sideboard in the front sitting room.

  It had taken him a good hour to go through the contents, file what needed to be filed, and shred what needed to be shredded. And now here he was, faced with a large pile of items that didn’t belong in the drawers but that he didn’t feel right about getting rid of either. For instance, there were a couple of David’s old school reports, a receipt from the undertaker for Joyce’s funeral, and several years’ worth of Father’s Day cards from Rose. And that was only the items on top of the pile.

  He picked up one of the school reports and flicked it open to the first page, which read: “David is a pleasant, intelligent, and engaged member of the class and has settled in well to senior school life. He has excelled both academically and on the sporting field and I have no doubt that he will continue to build on this early success and go far! Well done, David!”