All the Lonely People

by Mike Gayle

  At this there was a small chorus of sympathetic noises from the audience and Ashleigh took a moment to compose herself before continuing.

  “I moved to Bromley only five months ago, looking for a fresh start for me and my little girl, Layla. I wanted us to have friends and be part of a community, and so the day I moved in I made up my mind that I was going to get to know my neighbors. You’d think it would be straightforward, but in this day and age people don’t really talk, even when they live next door to each other. So, when I knocked on my neighbor’s door to introduce myself, I don’t mind telling you my knees were knocking too. I won’t lie, it wasn’t brilliant at first, and it didn’t help matters that after the third time I said hello to Hubert, I needed a favor. He could have said no, he could’ve said he was busy, but do you know what? He didn’t. He said yes. And that one act of kindness, that willingness to help, well, it meant the world to me. It was the beginning of a friendship I wasn’t expecting and I know he wasn’t either, but it’s a friendship I needed and one I wouldn’t be without.” She paused, glanced at her paper, and then with a shrug shoved it into the pocket of her denim jacket.

  “I had a whole bunch of other stuff I wanted to say to you all,” she continued, “stuff about how the campaign came about and what it all means to those of us on the committee, but there’s someone really special missing today and I’d like to talk more about him instead.” A picture of a grinning Hubert taken from the local newspaper flashed up on the huge screen above Ashleigh’s head. “This is the neighbor I was telling you about. His name’s Hubert Bird and without him, none of this would’ve been possible. I’m so sad that he’s not here today and I know he’d be here if he could, but he’s been going through a bit of a rough time lately and—”

  As Ashleigh stopped to dry her eyes and apologize for getting upset, Hubert began to notice people turning to look at him and back at the screen, as if confirming his identity, and in no time at all a wave of recognition had traveled through the crowd. Making the most of the silence from the stage as Ashleigh gathered her thoughts, a young man shouted at the top of his voice, “He’s here, Hubert Bird is here!” and before he could make an escape, Hubert saw a cameraman coming toward him and the footage he was filming appeared on the big screen.

  “Bloody hell!” yelled Ashleigh, pointing up at Hubert’s face on the screen as the cameraman descended on him. “Hubert, it’s you! I knew you’d come.”

  Hubert wanted to disappear. If it wasn’t enough that his panic-stricken face had been blown up on the screen for all to see, the crowd was also now chanting his name in a bid to get him to join Ashleigh on the stage. He was suddenly conscious of his shabby gardening clothes and was overcome with an urge to escape, but before he could make his move, one of the stewards stepped forward and began escorting him through the crowds. With every step he took, the chants seemed to get louder, and now strangers were patting him on the back like they knew him and shouting words of encouragement. Nearing the stage, Hubert was led past the security guards at the barriers to stairs at the side, where Councilor Pemberton was waiting.

  “Mr. Bird, I’m so pleased you could make it after all,” he said. “It would be my honor to help you onstage.”

  The crowd was still chanting his name as Hubert followed Councilor Pemberton up the stairs, and they exploded into a cacophony of cheers and applause as he walked over to join Ashleigh, who flung her arms around him and stepped back to look at his face anxiously.

  “Are you okay? I know that this must be a bit much. It’s just that I was so glad to see you. I didn’t have time to think it through.”

  “Me all right,” said Hubert. “A bit taken aback, but with you here, me will be okay.” And holding hands, the two walked up to the microphone together and eventually the noise of the crowd died down.

  Looking out across the audience, which seemed even bigger from this elevated vantage point, Hubert took a deep breath. Until this moment, the largest number of people he’d addressed in his life had been the forty or so members of his class when he was a schoolboy back in Jamaica. He had no idea what he was going to say or how he was going to express all of the feelings he was wrestling with. He didn’t know where to start, or where he’d end up, and then he remembered something Joyce would say to the children when they were small and so desperate to tell her a story about their day that they would stumble over the words.

  “Just take your time and start at the beginning.”

  And so that’s what he did. He told the story of a young man who traveled halfway around the world, leaving friends and family behind in search of work and a better life. He spoke about the desperate loneliness he felt living in a country that at times made it plain that it didn’t want him or his kind here.

  He talked of finding love in the most unexpected of places, of a marriage that made him a better man and of a family that gave him a purpose. He described the devastation of losing a son to drugs and his beloved wife, first to dementia, and then to pneumonia. And he talked about how his world fell apart following the tragic loss of his only daughter just five years ago.

  “Me thought me was beat,” he said, “that me had enough of life, that nobody needed me. And me let that bitterness and that sorrow eat me right up inside.”

  He paused and considered the crowd properly for the first time since he’d begun speaking, and was surprised to see that they were hanging on his every word.

  “And me probably would’ve stayed like that until my dying day,” continued Hubert, “but then out of the blue there was a knock at my door and that’s when me met someone who changed my life.” Ashleigh squeezed his hand. “You see, the key to helping other people out of them loneliness is nothing more difficult than good old-fashioned perseverance. It’s not always easy, me know that, but you’ve got to be willing to keep doors open, to carry on trying even if it doesn’t look like it’s working. You’ve got to refuse to give up on people, even if them given up on themselves.” He paused again, reflecting on just how lonely he’d been all those years, how cut off from the rest of the world.

  “When Ashleigh came up with the idea to end loneliness in Bromley, one of the committee members remarked that perhaps we should set our sights a little bit lower. ‘After all,’ this fella said, ‘it’s not as if we really can end loneliness in Bromley for good. That’s just pie in the sky!’”

  A peal of good-natured laughter rang out from the crowd.

  “But the thing is,” continued Hubert, “if you had told me a year ago that me, Hubert Hezekiah Bird, an old man from a small town in Jamaica, would be standing on a stage in a park in Bromley talking to a whole heap of strangers, me would have said that was pie in the sky too!” Another ripple of laughter ran through the crowd, peppered with some cheers. “And that’s the funny thing about life. Extraordinary things can happen to ordinary people like you and me, but only if we open ourselves up enough to let them.”

  49

  NOW

  The assembled crowd let out a deafening cheer and Hubert stood, hands shaking, heart racing, eyes brimming with tears, and gave everyone looking on a wave. It had been an amazing experience. Something he would never have imagined he could do, but something he would never forget as long as he lived. How he wished Joyce and Rose could see him now. How he wished they could be with him to share this moment.

  On behalf of the borough of Bromley the emcee thanked Hubert, and Ashleigh then announced the next act, a local dance troupe made up of tiny girls dressed in matching sparkly outfits who were already waiting in the wings. As he followed Ashleigh off the stage, Hubert turned and gave the crowd a final wave and, for a fleeting moment, thought he saw David. But before he could be certain, the flock of girls rushed past him to take up their positions and by the time Hubert looked back, David, if indeed it had been him, was gone, swallowed up by the sea of people. For a moment Hubert remained frozen to the spot, desperately scanning the crowd, hoping for another glimpse, but then Ashleigh appeared by his side, hugging
him and guiding him down the steps toward the backstage area.

  “Are you okay? For a minute there you seemed a bit lost.”

  It had most likely been wishful thinking on his part, reasoned Hubert, so there was no point telling Ashleigh about seeing David. And if it wasn’t, if that had been his son, then at the very least he hoped David knew just how much he loved him and how desperately he wanted him to be well.

  “Me fine,” said Hubert after a moment. “Me was just a little distracted, that’s all.”

  The next hour was a flurry of interviews for local and national newspapers, TV, and radio. Each organization wanted to hear Hubert and Ashleigh’s story and for them to distill their solution to the problem of loneliness into a snappy sound bite. They were photographed shaking hands with members of the public and posing next to local dignitaries. In one shot, Hubert and Ashleigh were even hoisted into the air by a Bromley-based rugby team who had pledged one hundred free tickets to their next match for anyone who was lonely.

  Eventually, however, the journalists and their camera crews, photographers, and sound technicians drifted away, leaving an exhausted Hubert and Ashleigh free to go and get themselves a cup of tea. Heading to a tent that Ashleigh referred to as “the green room,” the pair were met by raucous applause the moment they walked in.

  “That was outstanding, guys,” said Tony. “Absolutely outstanding.” He shook their hands and slapped Hubert on the back, grinning from ear to ear.

  “You were wonderful,” added Fiona. She kissed Ashleigh and Hubert on the cheek as everyone gathered around. “You both came across brilliantly.”

  “You were amazing,” said Emils. “I was standing next to a group of young schoolkids and they were all shouting your name, Mr. Hubert, like you were a movie star!”

  “And that moment when you came onstage, Hubert,” said Randip. “It was just so unexpected. I was in floods of tears.”

  “You did very well,” said Maude. “And I particularly like your new look, Hubert. Normally you’re a bit too trussed up for my liking.”

  “Thanks,” said Hubert as his eyes searched the tent.

  “You looking for Jan?” asked Emils. “Layla was desperate for wee so Jan took her. They should be back soon.”

  Hubert breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment, he had worried that Jan had deliberately absented herself as he had arrived. As someone put a cup of tea in his hand, he searched around for somewhere to sit down. Spotting an empty chair, he went to take a seat, but before he could do so, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

  “Sorry to bother you,” said a steward, “but there’s someone at the security barriers claiming they’re a relative of yours and they’re desperate to talk to you.”

  Hubert’s heart raced. It had to be David. It had been his son that he’d spotted in the crowd after all.

  “Let him through,” said Hubert. “He’s my son.”

  The young man looked at Hubert, confused.

  “Er… actually it’s a girl, a young girl, mid to late teens.”

  “Oh,” said Hubert. “Let me come and find out who she is.”

  Hubert followed the steward to the security barrier, where there was indeed a young woman waiting for him. She had dark brown hair tied back in a ponytail, clear skin, and a pleasant smile, and looked like one or the other of her parents might be Chinese. She was wearing a light gray hooded top, ripped black jeans, and black suede trainers with a logo on them and was carrying a bright yellow rucksack. Hubert didn’t know this young lady from Adam, and he couldn’t imagine for a second why she might think they were related.

  The steward beckoned to his colleague to let her through the barrier.

  “You okay, dear?” asked Hubert. “This young man says that you want to speak to me.”

  The young girl beamed at him. “You’re Hubert Bird, yeah?”

  Hubert nodded.

  “And you were married to Joyce Anne Pierce, yeah?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, the thing is I recently found out that my great-grandma Peggy was your wife’s sister. Which, I think, makes me your sort of great-grandniece or something.”

  Hubert blinked hard as he recalled the one and only time he’d spoken to Joyce’s sister, on his wedding day when he’d begged her to come and celebrate with them. And now here, all these years later, was one of her descendants standing right in front of him.

  “You’re Peggy’s great-granddaughter?”

  The girl nodded. “My name’s Melody, Melody Chen, and I just really wanted to say sorry to you, on behalf of all my stupid family. We saw you in the paper, that’s what made Mum tell me everything about what happened back then, you know, how they all treated you and Joyce. It makes me sick even thinking about it. Anyway, I know I’m too late to say all this to Great-Auntie Joyce, and that’s really sad, but I just wanted to say that I’m sorry my mum’s side of the family were such idiots. Would you like to come round to ours for tea one day or something? Have you got a mobile?”

  Speechless, Hubert shook his head, and so she slipped the rucksack off her back, reached her hand inside, and pulled out a pen and some paper on which she scribbled something down. She handed the paper to Hubert.

  “That’s my number at the top, our landline in the middle, and Mum’s number at the bottom.”

  Hubert stared down at the piece of paper in his hand, still quite unable to believe that he was talking to a relative of Joyce’s.

  “Right, then,” she continued. “I can see you’re busy so I’ll get off. But definitely give us a ring, yeah? It’ll proper blow Mum’s mind when I tell her that I’ve met you. She’d been on about trying to contact you, but I think she was just a bit too shy to do anything about it.” She slipped her rucksack back on and prepared to leave. “I just want to say that today has been sick, yeah? Your speech and what that girl said, it proper got me and my friends right in the feels, and we’ve all been talking about what we can do to help lonely people. Maybe when you come round, I can go through some of the ideas with you?”

  “Me would like that,” said Hubert quietly. “Me would like that very much.”

  Taking out her phone, Melody asked Hubert if she could take a selfie with him, and before he could object, she’d positioned herself next to him and, resting her head on his shoulder, she lifted her free hand in a peace sign and took several snaps, changing her pose with each one.

  She quickly scrolled through the photos with her thumb.

  “My mates are going to be proper impressed when I post these.”

  Hubert carefully scanned the young girl’s jaw for any resemblance to Joyce and noted that perhaps there were hints in the shape of her face and the slope of her nose.

  “Well, it was lovely to meet you, Miss Melody, and me look forward to seeing you again soon.”

  Melody ignored Hubert’s outstretched hand.

  “I’m more of a hugger, yeah?”

  She put her arms around him, embraced him tightly, then, giving him a huge grin, turned and walked away.

  Ashleigh came over to join him.

  “Who was that? Another fan?”

  “It’s a long story. But a wonderful one, which me have to tell you all about once me speak to Jan. Are she and Layla back yet?”

  “I haven’t seen them yet… Actually—” She pointed over Hubert’s shoulder. “Here they are now.”

  Hubert turned around to see Jan and Layla walking hand in hand across the backstage area toward them. Catching sight of her mother, Layla let go of Jan’s hand and rushed screaming excitedly into Ashleigh’s open arms. Hubert smiled as Ashleigh showered Layla with kisses, and then, turning his attention to Jan, began walking toward her.

  “You were amazing,” said Jan. “I had a right old sob listening to you. You had the whole crowd in the palm of your hand.”

  “Me don’t know about that,” said Hubert. “In fact, me don’t know about many things, if the truth be told. But if there’s one thing me certain of, Jan, it’s that me really like you�
� me like you a lot… And me know everything me said yesterday about waiting, but the truth is… as me stood up there in front of all them people, me kept thinking about how short life is and how precious… None of us know how long we’ve got, none of us know what lies ahead, the only thing any of us truly have is right now. And right now, Dorothy Janet Walsh, what me want is you.”

  “But are you sure?” asked Jan. “I’d hate to think that this was just you feeling guilty.”

  In response, and without regard for where they were or who might be watching, Hubert took Jan in his arms and planted a long and lingering kiss on her lips.

  “Well,” said Jan, blushing, “I suppose that answers that question.”

  At Jan’s suggestion, they took a walk around the park. The place was still full of people, some chatting around the various stalls representing community groups, some watching the local folk band playing onstage, while others lounged on picnic blankets, making the most of the pleasant weather.

  As they picked their way through the crowd, they were stopped every few steps by people who recognized Hubert. Some just wanted to say hello, others to have their photo taken with him, but most heartening of all were those who were simply excited to share what this day had meant to them.

  Two elderly ladies told him how they had lived on the same street for thirty years without ever having said hello until today. A group of parents with young children outlined their plan to set up a weekly visit to the local old people’s home, and a young man revealed his intention to open up his flat once a week to anybody who wanted to drop by for a cup of tea.

  This, thought Hubert, was what the campaign had always been about: getting people to be more outward-looking, to share their stories, to form bonds, and it was happening all around him, it was happening to him. If it hadn’t been for the campaign, that young girl Melody would never have found him. He would never have known how much things had changed in Joyce’s family. He would never have been able to have enjoyed the peace that he currently felt, knowing that in some small way Joyce had been justified, the sacrifices she’d made for their love had been the right ones, and ultimately the family she’d left behind had become broader, richer, and more accepting. A family she would’ve been proud to be part of, instead of ashamed.