Christmas came and went. The festive days were little different from ordinary ones for those with no roof over their heads. London streets were empty of the hustle and bustle, few shops were open, few pubs kept normal hours, and the majority of welfare and social units had closed.
There was little to do for the vagrant. But the sun shone, and the ducks quacked. Jon, with enough money in his pocket for food and beer for two days, felt tranquil at that moment with where he was and why he was there. He quickly dismissed thoughts of his previous years with his family, thoughts of laughter, warmth, plenty of good and rich food, and wine in abundance. He sat in a park hut, propped up in a corner, with his feet on the bench and boots firmly on a plastic bag. With time and space around him he wrote in his pad.
Being alone did not come easily, but once loneliness, like no mans land, was crossed I knew there was no other way to live. When I shared conventions facade living was easier. Outside tested aloneness, and in privation aloneness was like a protective leprosy. I felt like the worm just managing to keep ahead of the first plough. I saw in being alone a citadel which would become worthwhile, without life as a forfeit of course. It was not easy. Charades away the character punctured other life was like the one day season of the May butterfly. I felt like the butterfly but for a different reason, the need to follow the direction where instinct points. The butterfly flew by instinct, it knew not its destination. I did not know my destination. But I had this sense of urgency, this need to communicate. Inside, things were now stripped away and could at least be trusted. In aloneness accusation was heightened in the senses like steel, proven in reality. Previously ignorance had damped awareness.
I was on my journey though in using the word to convey I had to avoid the brick-a-brac of the past, comfortable cliches, compositing platitudes. I found I now had an earthy instinct that could be trusted. Hurt humanity had to be protected, not patronised. Words were killing more people than the wildest gunmen had ever killed. Pragmatism was no cure. Dogma was in the lethal race, and all that was left seemed to me to be on the betrayers list. I could not think of surrender for anything less than humanity. Lip-service was necessary only to survive as I skirted cities of assassins permuting past mistakes. How to get through the mind-fields? In words every second one was a religious mind-field, and in the deed many were missionaries of logical madness. It was as though knowing would soon be outlawed with Godo used as public enemy No.1.
Thats enough for to-day. Sitting huddled on that bench hasnt half made me stiff. Now I must foot it fast for a cuppa and a bite. Going to avoid charity as long as I can. Good show it was down at the Shelter over Christmas. Peeped in but didnt stay. Pity the charities can't extend their feeling of good will throughout the year. Bet the do-gooders get a lot of satisfaction themselves from what is known as making sacrifices to help the poor. Bet they talk about it to their friends and get an ego trip. Wonder if thats why they do it? Keep my beer drinking till to-night. There must be one pub open in the whole of town. Its a damned awful place over public holidays. No wonder the suicide rate rises. Look at me, walking fast with no real place to go. Just filling in the endless hours.
Sunday came round quickly. Jon, rested for once after a good nights sleep in Rolling-stock hotel, felt in the mood to speak more aggressively from his stepladder in the Park. He put his verbal confrontation with a police officer, who was frog marching a down and out to a van, well to the back of his mind. On arrival in the Park Jon saw that the crowd, taking advantage of the holiday break, seemed bigger than ever.
He collected the stepladder and stood patiently, waiting for the crowds attention. Then he climbed the ladder and he said solemnly, "Big Brother is here." He waited for a moment to see the re-action. The stony faced silent men seem to go tense. The crowd was still. So he continued.
"Humanity is being bound hand and foot, and we are all standing by watching from the touch line. We watch while pragmatists chip away at this countrys many imperfections. This cannot be fought with tools of democratic naiveness. How much are each of us prepared to lose to defend the right to walk the streets in safety, to prevent more no-go areas arising? Is it worth a personal sacrifice to stop the aged from living in fear? It was these people who served our country with distinction in the last war, and it is on the backs of these people that most of us walk in our lives of material comfort. Why is fair play now being substituted by gamesmanship?"
The crowd had swelled into a mob. It seemed as if malcontents, discontents and plain evil violaters were jostling around, waiting for an opportunity to fracture the equanimity of the afternoon. They started to goad Jon. He shouted above the crowd, "Fear injections of the ilk that you people create are worse than disease. Disease can only kill us, but fear we are compelled to live with. Fear producing, like Arab or Jew baiting, is a crime against living whoever does it. There is only one race, our human race."
The noise was greater than ever. Angry voices insulted the realm admitting their involvement in the early growth of terrorist murder and riot, declaring vengeance was their aim and petrol bombs were the answer to the meek and mild dialogue of fools like Jon. The Special Branch with their mask like faces stayed unmoved. There was a bus full of support police parked near-by, but they took no action.
Must have expected trouble this afternoon. Why all these extra police? Why this antagonistic mob? Hope something I have said has sunk in. Perhaps thats why they're angry.
Annoyed that the Special Branch were doing nothing to quieten the mob he called for silence so he could continue to talk. Miraculously the crowd responded.
"You have all heard the noise of dissent. You have all heard the abuse thrown at me and the boasting of evil and the airing of threats. Why is this not stopped? Why are the police silent? They are certainly here in abundance. they're the ones that dont move. Perhaps they are happier driving around in their white cars, blaring their horns reinforcing traffic regulations. Thats much easier than being on the beat meeting the public and dealing with crime on the spot. Where is the policeman of previous years who was approachable and the citizens friend. It is less hassle for them to fill their books with petty theft charges than to tackle serious crime." Jon watched the faces of the Special Branch either darken or redden. "Where is the authority in our land? Why is it that a crowd like you are publicly allowed to speak of arson and terrorism? Why are you all so proud of it? Where is there care for your homes or your families?" The crowd were really angry, and began a swaying movement.
"Cool it, cool it," said a Special Branch man. The crowd took no notice.
Jon continued addressing the mob, "You have made this place a hunting ground for packs of organised political jackals who barrack everything from reason to patriotic fervour. The only speakers you leave alone are the religionists pontificating about the next life." Jon turned his comments away from the action of the crowd to matters of greater importance. He saw groups of tourists clicking their cameras gleefully to capture on film the coarse human safari unfolding before them. The door of the waiting bus had been opened and there was movement inside. Jon continued, "I have spoken about some of the weaknesses of authority. I have pointed out the miscreant ways of us all. Who is going to alter the coarse direction of contemporary power? How is the injustice which is splitting the realm apart going to be made into justice? How can some of the existing inhuman structures be demolished? Around us all skullduggery works, often with official authority. There are too many philosophies to hide behind. Who is going to work for change? Are any of you? Or are you going to rest content dropping bombs on innocent people?"
"I told you to cool it, and well you know it." The largest secret policeman stepped to the front of the crowd. The other policemen started to come out of the bus. "Had enough of you to-day, causing a breach of the peace, you are." The crowd sensed trouble, they were well versed in the art of disappearing. Only the tourists were left looking bewildered. Jon left too, without a word to anyone.
Theyll pick me up sooner or later. Am having too many brushes with the law for comfort. Pity I can't be more on their side. The thin blue line is basically a necessity for the countrys social survival, but I seem to run into the negative side of their efforts.
He walked up Piccadilly aiming for Covent Garden where he had found a small tea bar run by a family which was open night and day, seven days a week.
Jon was on the island in the middle of Whitcomb street, he planned to go underground at Leicester Square, using the toilet facilities as he travelled. His mind was on the crowd, their agitation, their anger. A strong hand was placed on his shoulder while he was waiting for the traffic to stop.
"You are under arrest," said a heavy man in civilian clothes. Without looking round, Jon flung off the mans grip, wove through the on-coming traffic and reached the pavement. But the heavy man moved faster and captured him on the other pavement and began to subject him to knuckle sandwich treatment, so heavily that Jon felt his assailant must have a problem. The assailant, having pinned Jon up against the wall, accused him of resisting arrest, and, for the first time, identified himself as a police officer.
"You shouldnt be surprised at my re-actions. Anyone who has got any sense is going to resist. A surprise from behind without warning is bound to induce a defensive move," replied Jon and then added cheekily, "no wonder you've already got two black eyes."
His remark seemed to generate more fury, as the official thug, ignoring a gathering crowd, tried to batter Jon against the concrete wall, but although the official was a taller man, Jon was able to fend off any serious damage to himself. Soon a senior police officer appeared through the crowd, and ordered the thug to get into the police car.
Dont like the look of this much. Its my first physical brush with the law. Had plenty of verbal tiffs, but nothing so violent as this. My! It was a cool and callous way to get me hooked. How are other people able to cope? Not everyone knows how to defend themselves. That was one thing I did learn at the orphanage, and when a P.O.W., boxing and self-defence. Always thought it might stand me in good stead.
Jon took a quick look round. The crowd, eager spectators while the beating was going on, drifted away, not laying themselves open to be called upon as witnesses. Only one well-dressed man stepped towards the police officer.
"Whatever this man has done," he said, "you've no right to treat him like that. I shall report this incident to the nearest Police Station.
"Do that, but mind your own business now, or I'll arrest you too," replied the officer. That shut up the well dressed man who disppeared into the crowd, and Jon did not know if they would meet again. Very quickly a large square police van, well shuttered, arrived and six official heavies jumped out. Jon was viciously marched towards the van with his hands held behind his back by two of the heavies. On arrival at the Police Station he was charged with violent assault against an officer of the law. He was put into a large smelly cell.
Knew this would happen, sooner or later, cos of my public speaking and my tiffs with the police. Didnt expect the violence. Most upsetting. Much worse than I imagined. How do others cope whove never been in a cell before? At least I have known hardship in terrible conditions and know I can survive. For a first experience it must be terrifying, specially when the police are of the same nationality. I didnt somehow expect unprovoked violence from the British police. The Gestapo were different, anything from them came as no surprise. Blast you, can't you leave me in peace?
The observation slit in the cell door was opened frequently and shut with a loud bang. Slowly the seriousness of his situation dawned on him. The first arrival in Jons cell was another Senior Police Officer.
"I'm Head of the Department dealing with terrorist activities," said the official, his large belly thrusting against the serge uniform.
"Me? A terrorist? Dont make me laugh," Jon was so surprised he tried to crack a joke. Then he went on a different tack. "I can see you are of a high status because you are more civilised in your approached. I know what is said and because of that I've been put here, but dont waste your time trying to hook me up on some phoney charge, for if you know anything about me you will know I am as much opposed to the violence of those terrorists as you are. In fact if you had been at some of my public speeches you might have been able to arrest some of those very same terrorists who you could have incriminated on their own statements as they tried to undermine me. Surely your underlings reported back to you?"
The Police Officer began to look embarrassed. Jon pressed on with his views. "I know you're too intelligent a fellow to jeopardise your own career by getting involved in whatever conspiracy is going on, for surely I sense there is a conspiracy."
"O.k., O.K., calm down a bit," soothed the Police Officer. "I must go and report. It Won't be long before someone comes to see you." He left the cell, and Jon breathed a sigh of relief. "First scene over, and he wasnt heavy, thank goodness."
After several minutes another group of five arrived, four in uniform, and one civilian. The policeman with three stripes acted as spokesman. "This gentleman is the Police Doctor." He pointed to the man in ordinary clothes. "It is understood you have made complaints about violence and that you have pains in your stomach. The Doctor is here to examine you on the grounds of this complaint."
Now I must think fast. Whats the reason for this strange statement? I haven't complained about pains in my stomach. I must stop this bizarre state of affairs. If I let them check me, they will probably beat me up afterwards, why else the four men? I couldnt stand up to that, that I'm sure.
He addressed the Doctor. "Sir," he said, "I turn to you in your role of a Medical Practitioner, and in that role you must assess whether I tell the truth or not. I want to inform you that the statement made by that Sergeant is a lie. I have made no complaints about any pains in my stomach, and I wish to confirm that I have no internal injuries now, only facial bruising inflicted by the police. So if these thugs get ideas into their heads that they can beat me up after you have gone that is something you will have on your conscience.
The Sergeant cut in. "So you werent beaten up?"
"I was" replied Jon, "but I have no pains." When the delegation left the cell he muttered out loud, "Thank God for that. Perhaps I'll be left alone now." Later that evening he was bailed out in his own cognisance, and ordered to appear at Court at 10.00 am the following morning. The Duty Officer handed him a piece of paper on which was written the address of the man who was prepared to witness in his defence.
Jon trudged the streets wearily till dawn after his shift at the pub, upset and ill at ease. He breakfasted on tea and toast, and appeared at Court at the scheduled time. This Court appearance was a celebrated farce. Jon sought to go for trial where a jury could be involved, but the magistrate seemed unwilling to listen. The case was adjourned for a month, and Jon was told he was to put his request at his next appearance. There had been no chance for the vital witness to give his evidence. Jon met the man on the Court steps who told him that he had been to the Police Station the day before, and made a written statement on what he had seen of the thugs behaviour. Jon thanked him profusely, confirmed the date of the next trial, and the man promised he would be there. Jon was free for a month on bail.
Dont feel much like working at that Pub any more. Too many questions, and too much agro. Must try something else. Funny that I should feel so low. Got a bad taste in my mouth. Must buck myself up before next Sunday, and more speaking. Got to keep up the momentum. Ill go and sit in St Jamess. Thats always soothing.
"ullo, Guv. Bit rough, are yer? Oi watched all that were appening. ad a bad time in the cell? Didnt rough yer up, did they? Got a month on bail, ave yer?" It was the thief, bright and perky and looking well monied.
Though angry at having his privacy invaded, Jon produced a smile. "Well, well, well, what is it that you dont know about me? How do you manage to find it all out, so close to the Law, yet so much sought after by them."
"Oive me ways," winked the thief. "And now Oive been told its time yer left London for a bit. Mustnt get into trouble when on bail. Can see yerll speak again, given alf a a chance. Mustnt speak again till yerve bin to court. Got a plan for yer, Oi ave. Come wiv me and meet Ben."
With nothing better to do Jon agreed. "Nothing to lose, have I? But dont expect me to agree with what Ben suggests, whoever Ben maybe."
"Bens O.K," said the thief, "es got more money than e lets on. Too many irons in the fire. Does more fiddles in alf an our than Oi do in a week. Nice chap though. Yer be likin im." Jon was very quiet as they walked down Beak Street, across Regent Street and into Conduit Street.
Looking at the street names Jon chipped, "if you go on much further youll be in Mayfair. Dont tell me your Ben lives in Mayfair. Not the right kind of place for the likes of me. Nor for the likes of you for all I know." The thief made no reply. Goaded Jon continued, "How do you know everybody? How do you know about me? Take me to your leader." Still no reply. "I dont think you need to resort to crime, so why do you do it?"
At last the thief replied, "the more Oi get the more Oiave to give away. Thats what makes me life tick. Gets the old adrenalin flowing. Yer do yer work wiv words, Oi do my work by nicking. Now were quits. eres Bens ide out. Pretty good, aint it?"
Jon looked at the shallow steps, and the large wood door with black knocker. Somebody from Bens circle silently opened the door, and equally silently took Jon and the thief upstairs, wide curved stairs with a well polished curved banister. They came to double doors which opened equally silently.
"Hi there, Tucks, glad to see you." The thief moved across the room and slapped a great man across the shoulders. He was the broadest man Jon had seen for a long time, and he had a large florid face and bright blue steely eyes, which seemed to unpick everything they looked at.
"Good to see you, boss," replied the thief. "This is Jon. You know all about him."
"Hi there, Jon. Tucker has sent word about you."
I must remember that the thiefs name is Tucker, at least that is what he says it is to this man, Ben. I bet he has a lot of other names as well. I'm going to play it cool till I can find out what this vast creature wants of me. Dont want to get indebted to him. What a strange set-up. No shortage of money here, thats for sure.
"Good morning," said Jon rather formally. "You seem to know more about me than I do about myself. Tucker there said you had some plan for me. Whats it all about?"
"Sit down, man, sit down. Have a brandy, or a beer? What about a smoke?" Ben effortlessly played the part of host.
"Ill have a brandy, thanks. No smoke." Jon sat on a black leather pouffe, very conscious of his shabby clothes.
Ben turned to Tucker. "You can go now, mate. Thanks for coming along. Be seeing you, usual time, usual place."
"Bye now, Guv," replied the thief. He turned to Jon. "Oill be watching for yer when yer come back. Got to take yer speaking more easy." He walked out of the room moving silently as if he had been a thief all his life.
"Now, I'll tell you whats it all about," said Ben placing a large brandy on the small table by Jons chair. Ben began, "I know you're a bit of a hot potato at the moment. I know why you are where you are, trying to instigate change. Must say, its a bit of an uphill task, eh?" He laughed and his fat stomach, his jowls, and his lips wobbled like a stiff blancmange. Jon found Ben somewhat revolting. He waited silently.
"Its like this. I'm trying to produce a film. Its short, has a small cast, and is set in the country by the sea. We have chosen North Devon for it, Saunton Sands actually. Do you know the place? I have allowed myself a month to do it. We want you to take a small part."
Jon burst out laughing at the proposition. "I'm such a bad actor. Why, I even had to be sacked when I was a stand-in for a statue. I kept on blinking, I was far too human. Id be no good on the film set. Been acting in real life most of the time, and look where its got me."
"Youll be got in even stranger places if THEY get you while you're on bail. Going to Devon will get you out of harms way for the month. There are no strings attached. Once the month is over its finished. Youll get board and lodging, and a small amount of money. can't be much because we are doing it on a shoe-string. The film is going to be called The Cross and the Double Cross. In its way it too is a radical protest. Come on, man, take it. It will solve a lot of problems."
"But what about my public speaking?" asked Jon.
"Forget that for the moment," said his persuader. "Our main concern is to keep you out of trouble."
Who is this our that he talks about? I dont think he wants anything more from me. I feel he has my welfare at heart. I dont like the man, but I'll be doing a job of work, so I'm not accepting something for nothing. If it wasnt me, it would be someone else. Give me a break. God, I need a break. Some of the poor buggers under Westminster Bridge have been there for years. they're so low theyve forgotten what it is like to want a future. Mustnt let myself get like that. Got to keep on with my work and my speaking. Maybe some day someone will read what I've written.
"Youre in a dream, Jon. "What about an answer to my question?" Bens voice brought Jon back to the present moment.
"O.K," said Jon out loud. "Ill come. When do you want me to be ready?"
"Wednesday morning, here, 9 a.m. If you come earlier, you can have a bath and shave. Might be a good idea to get another jacket and shirt. Now whatever you do, keep a low profile." Ben did not even bother to say good-bye, he turned to his desk and started to study some papers.
Suppose he's used to seeing lots of people. Now I'll give notice to that Pub, and then tomorrow go back to my old friend Herbert in his so-called shop and try and re-kit myself. I wonder. Do I smell that bad that its necessary to offer me a bath? can't smell myself, in fact cant smell much these days except bad air and fumes.
Jon spent the next two days very quietly, keeping well away from anyone in uniform. On Tuesday he lived on tea and an old piece of cake that Herbert in the tiny shop had offered him. Herbert had scrummaged around and found another jacket and a polo necked sweater and some old fashioned underpants. Jon laid all his money on the table, it was less than a pound, and Herbert accepted it without looking up. Several hours were spent just talking, it was if the old man were starved for company. Jon told him part of the story of the last few days, and Herbert listened intently, nodding from time to time. Jon promised to call again, and when he said this the old mans face lit up. Jon was glad he had paid him a visit, welcomed his change of clothes, and once again walked out into the night.
The rendez-vous on Wednesday passed without a hitch, and after a bath and a shave he felt equal to any of the gang who were to be with him. There were two car loads involved, and on the journey it was explained to Jon that there were four actors in the film, a policeman, an odd looking beggar in a wheel chair, a priest, and a young girl. There was also a curious time machine. He was to play the part of a priest. Again Jon burst out laughing.
"Me, a priest? With my red hair, beard, and suspect past?"
Although it was still January, the weather was warm, and the skies were blue. The film crew and actors spent most of the days on or near the beach. The script of the film had few words, and expressed the phantasy in the girls mind. Jon proved his words were true, he was no actor. In spite of the support he received, as well as being dressed up in a priests regalia he stalled.
"No way can I lift up the knife and kill the beggar. Tomato Sauce and all. He looks at me with those big eyes, and I can't even pretend. Youll have to think of something."
The producer used his wits. He asked Jon to pull the knife from behind the beggar, looking angry as he did so. They then reversed the film. Jon enjoyed the time spent away from the filming. There was plenty to drink and eat, but he had difficulty in disguising his need for food. Ben had given him some money in advance, so Jon was able to stand drinks round for round. The sea air, the good food and the company made him feel really well. Unfortunately the month allowed for filming was not enough, so Jon had to leave before it was finished. This put everyone to much inconvenience, for all the scenes that Jon had acted had to be re-done. It appeared nobody minded the inconvenience, the crew and actors were occupied, paid, and in no hurry to return to London. Jon journeyed alone to London to continue with his conflict with the law.