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‘Do you have the money in your account at present?’
‘Well, no, it’s pretty much empty. So, if I could cash this cheque, I’ll pay some of it back in?’
The man shakes his head. ‘I’m afraid the cheque will take one working day to clear, which, as it’s Friday, means you’ll not see any of it until Monday.’
‘You what? It’s from my grandmother, the same bank as well. All you need is to check her balance, isn’t it?’
He purses his lips, like he’s genuinely sorry to give me bad news. ‘I’m sorry, Sir, there is not that facility.’
I rummage through my wallet. Breakfast set me back over a tenner including the tip for Jeanette. Yep, £21.70 with the bit of change I had in my pocket.
‘I’ve just arrived, I’ve got nowhere to stay. Surely you can advance me a bit on this cheque?’ Literally shaking with the injustice of it.
‘Can your Granny not transfer you some money now?’
I imagine trying to explain to Gran about transferring money they’ve already given me.
‘No,’ I feel my voice rising. ‘No, she bloody well can’t.’
The man pulls back, looks to the side of him. ‘Shall I be paying this in, the now?’
‘Yes. Go on.’ I stand to one side while he processes it. ‘Fucking bankers,’ I mutter. ‘Ripping us off for billions to pay for their obscene bonuses. And the fuckers can’t cash a grandparent’s birthday gift.’
He coughs for my attention. Looking side to side again, like I’m about to firebomb the place. I sign the chit, take my card, and leave.
Fuck-witted useless waste of space. How long have I had that bloody cheque? Moronic stupid dickhead. I pause at a display in the window of Blacks. The cheapest discounted tent is £40. I picture my tent, sleeping bag, cagoule, scattered about my room at home. All I’ve got is my half-ripped hoody and holey trainers.
Down another stone-building street and I hit the river with the castle looming on the greying skyline. I turn the other way towards some scrubby grassland around an old church. I sling myself onto the damp grass, lean up against a tree, head in my knees, and allow myself to cry while I beat my head with my fist.
I stop even cursing myself with the hot release of tears. I hug my legs and rock myself until literally I’m forced to sit up and clear my blocked nose on my sleeve. I shift against the damp seeping into my arse, move to perch on the bulging tree root.
OK, what are my options? Phoning Mum? Instant no. Getting more money out of Ben? Really not up for telling him I’ve failed at the first hurdle. Get the bus to Lochgillan and throw myself at the mercy of Don McCalstry? That’s if I’ve got enough for the fare. Supposing he’s not there or he tells me to get lost? Sleep on the beach and beg for food? Great plan on the Scottish coast without a sleeping bag and I’m betting they love beggars! Fuck, fuck. Come on.
I walk back to the bus station, passing a Yes Campaign stall – I’m so not interested now. Find out the daily bus to Lochgillan has left. So, I’m here until tomorrow whatever. I pull my phone out, is there a contact I haven’t thought of? But it’s dead, of course, with all that Googling. What the actual fuck do I do?
I wander back to the café and look through the window at the people happily downing fancy coffees. Half an hour ago that was me. I’m about to turn away when Jeanette walks past the window and waves as she sees me. Fuck it, it’s a social enterprise.
I pretend to look at the papers on the newspaper rack, until I see Jeanette moving towards the serving bar. I head towards her and she stops when she sees me.
‘Hi!’ She smiles. ‘Cannae keep away? Sit down, I’ll get you a coffee.’
‘Actually,’ I shuffle from foot to foot. ‘I kind of wanted your advice, just for a minute, if that’s…?’
‘Sure.’ She sets down her tray. ‘You’ll have to be quick though.’
So, I blurt out my dumb shit situation, ask if she knows anywhere I can stay for free.
‘I cannae take you home, it’s just, me ma, you know?’ She frowns.
‘Oh no, I just wondered, is there like a homeless hostel or something?’
‘There’s a drop-in centre, but that’s just the daytime.’ She purses her lips while she thinks. ‘There’s some lads camping rough up the river, they might help you. If you walk up-stream from the castle, you’ll see some wee islands and then a patch of woodland. You’ll probably sense the smoke from their fire.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, touching her arm.
She smiles and pulls back. ‘Ask for Skunky.’
It’s starting to drizzle, and I pull up my hoody as I head along the towpath, trainers starting to leak. Walking fast, I try to ignore the rising panic at the idea of invading some homeless people’s camp. What if they’re really hostile? Not exactly the adventure I had in mind. Come on, nearly there. It’s worth a try.
