Joe

Saturday morning had started unusually sensibly.

This was largely because Barry was still asleep.

Alfie, meanwhile, had already been to chess club and football club.

Chess club had involved concentration, planning and several occasions when Alfie had quietly explained to another child that moving the queen there was “probably not ideal.”

Football club had involved running, passing, shooting and considerably more shouting.

By lunchtime, Alfie had completed enough steps for three Saturdays.

Barry and Marmaduke had done almost none.

They had spent the morning doing what four-year-old boys did best.

Moving between rooms.

Asking questions.

Eating snacks.

And having a disagreement about whether a cardboard box was a garage, a spaceship or a prison.

It had eventually become all three.

Mr Brand looked around the kitchen.

“Right.”

The boys stopped.

Mr Brand had the voice.

The voice that meant a decision had been made.

“What?” asked Barry.

“We’re going out.”

“Where?”

“Outside.”

Barry looked suspicious.

“Why?”

“Because we need some fresh air.”

Marmaduke nodded.

“I like fresh air.”

Barry considered this.

“I prefer normal air.”

“Fresh air is normal air.”

“Then why is it called fresh?”

Mr Brand ignored this.

“Alfie needs a break after all his clubs. You two need to burn off some energy.”

“I don’t have any energy,” said Barry.

“You’ve been running around the house for an hour.”

“I was looking for things.”

“What things?”

“I don’t remember.”

Mr Brand sighed.

“And Snowball needs a break from you.”

Barry looked horrified.

“But I haven’t done anything.”

Mrs Brand appeared behind him.

“You’ve asked her seventeen questions since breakfast.”

“That’s not doing anything.”

Snowball, who was asleep in her basket, opened one eye.

Her expression suggested that she strongly disagreed.

A little later, they were all in the local park.

The weather was much more pleasant than the oppressive heat they’d had earlier in the summer.

The air was cooler.

There was a gentle breeze.

The grass was slightly damp.

The trees moved softly overhead.

Mrs Brand and Marjory walked slowly along the path together, talking.

They were heading towards the little café in the park.

“Tea?” asked Marjory.

“Definitely.”

“Cake?”

“Obviously.”

They both smiled.

Behind them, Mr Brand had taken charge of the boys.

“Right. Football.”

Alfie immediately picked up the ball.

Barry and Marmaduke followed.

Snowball, safely at home, was probably enjoying the fact that nobody was currently explaining her blood results to her.

Mr Brand passed the ball to Alfie.

Alfie controlled it neatly.

He passed to Marmaduke.

Marmaduke passed it back.

Then the ball came to Barry.

Barry took a run-up.

Mr Brand watched him.

“Nice and controlled.”

Barry kicked.

The ball shot sideways.

It flew over a low fence.

Bounced once.

Twice.

Then disappeared into a dense patch of undergrowth.

There was silence.

Barry looked at his dad.

Mr Brand looked at Barry.

Marmaduke looked at the bushes.

Alfie looked at Barry.

Barry smiled. “Good kick?”

“No,” said everyone.

Mr Brand walked over. “Let’s see where it went.”

The four of them peered into the vegetation.

The ball was visible.

Unfortunately, it was about eight feet inside a thicket of brambles.

And these were not ordinary brambles.

These brambles were enormous.

Some of the stems were as thick as the arm of a particularly determined baby.

Alfie stared at them.

“That’s not going to be easy.”

Mr Brand nodded.

“No.”

Barry pointed.

“There!”

“I can see it.”

“Get it.”

Mr Brand looked at him.

“You kicked it in.”

Barry considered this.

“Yes.”

“So you can help.”

Barry took one step towards the brambles.

Then stopped.

“They look angry.”

“They’re plants.”

“They look like angry plants.”

Alfie sighed.

“I’ll help Dad.”

The two of them carefully worked their way through the undergrowth.

Mr Brand moved one branch.

Alfie moved another.

They reached for the ball.

It rolled further away.

“Oh, come on,” said Mr Brand.

Alfie laughed.

The ball was now firmly wedged beneath three enormous bramble stems.

“This is ridiculous.”

“You’re the one who said we needed fresh air,” said Alfie.

“I didn’t realise the fresh air came with a ball retrieval expedition.”

Eventually, after several minutes of careful manoeuvring, Mr Brand managed to pull the ball free.

He held it up triumphantly.

“Got it!”

Barry cheered.

Then he wandered away.

Mr Brand looked over.

“Barry!”

Barry was already several metres away.

He wasn’t looking at the football.

He was looking at something else.

Something he hadn’t seen in their local park before.

A man was sitting on the ground near the edge of the path.

He was wrapped in a sleeping bag.

His clothes were dirty.

He looked tired.

And sad.

Barry stopped.

Marmaduke came up beside him.

“What’s he doing?”

“I don’t know.”

Barry stared.

“Why’s he got a sleeping bag?”

Marmaduke shrugged.

“Maybe he’s camping.”

Barry looked at the man again.

There was no tent.

No camping chair.

No picnic.

Nothing else.

Just the sleeping bag.

Barry walked over.

Marmaduke followed.

“Hello.”

The man looked up.

“Hello.”

“Are you camping?”

The man smiled slightly.

“No.”

Barry looked at the sleeping bag.

“Why are you sleeping here?”

Marmaduke glanced at Barry.

The question was direct.

But the man didn’t seem offended.

“My name’s Joe,” he said.

“I’m Barry.”

“And I’m Marmaduke.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Joe nodded.

“Nice to meet you too.”

Barry sat down a little way away.

Marmaduke sat beside him.

“Do you live here?”

Joe was quiet for a moment.

“No.”

“Where do you live?”

Joe looked down.

“I don’t have a home at the moment.”

Barry frowned.

“Why?”

Joe took a breath.

“Well… things went wrong.”

He told them, in simple terms, that both of his parents had died.

Then his girlfriend had died too.

He had been struggling with everything that had happened.

He had lost his job.

Eventually he could no longer afford to keep his flat.

He had fallen behind with the rent.

Then he lost his home.

“So now I sleep wherever I can,” Joe said quietly.

Barry didn’t say anything.

Neither did Marmaduke.

They were both listening.

“You’re sad,” said Barry.

Joe smiled sadly.

“Sometimes.”

“Most of the time?”

Joe thought.

“Quite a lot of the time.”

Marmaduke looked at the sleeping bag.

“Is it cold at night?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you have food?”

“Sometimes.”

Barry looked worried.

“Where do you get it?”

“People help.”

At that moment, Mr Brand came running over.

“Barry!”

He stopped when he saw Joe.

His expression changed.

“What’s going on?”

Barry turned around.

“This is Joe.”

Mr Brand nodded.

“Hello, Joe.”

“Hello.”

“Barry was just talking to him.”

Joe gave a small smile.

“He’s been very kind.”

Mr Brand sat down beside the boys.

“What’s happened?”

Joe hesitated.

Barry answered before he could.

“His mummy and daddy died. And his girlfriend died. Then he lost his job and couldn’t pay for his flat, so now he doesn’t have a home.”

Mr Brand looked at Joe.

“I’m sorry.”

Joe nodded.

“Thank you.”

Mr Brand thought for a moment.

Then he said:

“Joe, I might know somewhere that can help.”

Joe looked up.

“Really?”

“I work with a charity that helps people who are homeless. They’ve got a hostel nearby. They can help with accommodation, finding work and getting support if you’re struggling.”

Joe looked uncertain.

“I’ve tried places before.”

“I know.”

“They usually tell me there’s a waiting list.”

“This isn’t a promise that everything will be fixed today,” said Mr Brand. “But I know Leon at the local office. He’ll at least sit down with you and work out what help is available.”

Joe looked at him.

“Leon?”

“Big bloke. Black guy. Heart of gold.”

Joe gave a tiny smile.

“You know him well?”

“Well enough.”

Mr Brand stood up.

“Come with us.”

Joe looked at Barry and Marmaduke.

Then at Mr Brand.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Mrs Brand and Marjory were sitting in the café with their tea and cake when they saw Mr Brand approaching.

With Barry.

With Marmaduke.

And with a man carrying a sleeping bag.

Mrs Brand raised an eyebrow.

“What happened?”

Mr Brand smiled.

“Long story.”

Barry immediately climbed onto the bench.

“We met Joe!”

Mrs Brand looked at Joe.

“Hello, Joe.”

“Hello.”

Mr Brand explained briefly. 

Mrs Brand listened carefully.

Then she nodded.

“I’m glad you’ve found someone who might be able to help.”

Joe thanked her.

The group then walked together towards the charity’s local office.

Barry walked beside Joe.

Marmaduke walked on his other side.

Alfie walked with Mr Brand.

“What happens now?” Alfie asked quietly.

“We’ll see.”

“Can they give him somewhere to stay?”

“They may be able to help with accommodation, or connect him with the right services. We don’t know yet.”

Alfie nodded.

“So you don’t know exactly what’s going to happen.”

“No.”

“But you’re taking him somewhere where people can help.”

“Exactly.”

Alfie smiled.

“That’s good.”

The office was warm.

A man was sitting behind a desk.

He was enormous.

Not frightening.

Just enormous.

He stood up.

“Mr Brand!”

They shook hands.

“Leon, this is Joe.”

Leon immediately turned his attention to him.

“Hi, Joe.”

Joe nodded.

“Hello.”

“Come on in.”

Leon pulled out a chair.

“Let’s have a chat.”

Barry whispered to Marmaduke.

“That’s Leon.”

Marmaduke nodded.

“He’s very big.”

“I told you.”

Leon looked over.

“You two boys behaving yourselves?”

“Yes,” said Marmaduke.

Barry nodded.

“Mostly.”

Leon laughed.

“I like an honest man.”

Joe sat down.

Leon began asking questions.

Where had he been staying?

How long had he been without a home?

Did he have identification?

What had happened with his job?

Did he have somewhere safe to stay tonight?

Was there anyone else who could help?

Joe answered.

Nobody promised miracles.

Nobody pretended everything would suddenly become easy.

But someone was listening.

Someone was making calls.

Someone was looking at what could happen next.

And that mattered.

Barry sat quietly beside Marmaduke.

Eventually, he whispered:

“Are we helping?”

Marmaduke nodded.

“I think so.”

Barry looked at Joe.

Joe was talking to Leon.

He looked tired.

But he didn’t look quite as alone anymore.

Mr Brand put his hand gently on Barry’s shoulder.

“Sometimes,” he said quietly, “helping someone isn’t about fixing everything for them.”

Barry looked up.

“What is it about?”

“Making sure they don’t have to deal with it completely on their own.”

Barry thought about that.

Then he nodded.

“I think Joe needed that.”

Mr Brand smiled.

“I think you’re right. Come on, let’s leave them to it.”

The boys went to the door. Mr Brand gave Joe a hearty handshake and wished him luck. He gave a nod and a smile of thanks to Leona, and followed the boys. 

Outside, the afternoon sun had softened.

The football was still tucked under Mr Brand’s arm.

The brambles were still guarding the place where Barry had kicked it.

And somewhere back at home, Snowball was probably asleep in her radiator hammock, enjoying another peaceful afternoon without being asked whether she could hear the fridge.

Barry looked back at the office.

“Can Joe come to our house?”

Mr Brand shook his head gently.

“It’s not quite that simple.”

“Oh.”

“But we can make sure he gets to the people who can help him.”

Barry nodded.

Then he looked at Marmaduke.

“I’m glad we talked to him.”

“So am I.”

Marmaduke smiled.

“And next time you kick the football into the bushes, perhaps don’t wander off.”

Barry thought about this.

“I was helping someone.”

“You were.”

“So technically I was being helpful.”

Alfie looked at him.

“You kicked the ball into a bush.”

“Then I found Joe.”

“Yes.”

“So it all worked out.”

Mr Brand laughed.

“That’s one interpretation.”

Barry grinned.

And as the family walked home together, Alfie carrying his school club bag, Marmaduke chatting about Bubble, and Mr Brand carrying the football, Barry looked unusually thoughtful.

He had learned something that day.

Sometimes you saw something you didn’t understand.

Sometimes you asked a question.

Sometimes the answer was sad.

And sometimes, if you were lucky, there was a person nearby who knew where to find help.

Barry looked up at his dad.

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Is Leon really made of gold?”

Mr Brand laughed.

“No, Barry.”

“But he has a heart of gold.”

“He does.”

Barry nodded.

“Good.”

He thought for a moment.

“Because he might need it.”

Mr Brand smiled.

“Yes, Barry.”

And behind them, the park carried on as normal.

Children played football.

People walked their dogs.

The café served tea and cake.

The wind moved through the trees.

And, just for once, Barry had managed to discover something important without getting himself into trouble.

Although the football had still ended up in a hedge.

Some things, apparently, were simply inevitable.