Chapter 5

Chapter 5

She clamped her eyes shut, praying that sleep would come. But her heart was thumping, her mind racing, and it was impossible to banish her fears.

Naomi had walked for over an hour in the driving rain, desperately searching for a dry, sheltered space where she could hide away from the world. But she had no clue where to go and whenever she did manage to find a safe, secluded spot, she soon discovered that some other desperate soul had claimed it. She'd encountered wide-eyed crackheads, an elderly woman who was convinced Naomi was her sister, even a pregnant teen who'd told Naomi in no uncertain terms to move on. As each minute passed, Naomi's spirits had plummeted further. Her jeans were saturated, her hoodie too, and her resolve was fast dissolving. Part of her was fearful she'd have to keep walking all night, risking hypothermia or worse, whilst another part of wondered if that might be the best plan. At least she'd be on the move. At least she'd be safe. But then suddenly she'd stumbled upon the underpass which, though filthy and unsettling, provided shelter from the driving rain, and that had decided it for her.

For a moment, she'd felt a sliver of relief, as she stepped out of the deluge and into the dry. But this feeling soon evaporated as she took in the dimly lit flyover, which was haunted by the desperate and dispossessed – slumbering homeless, muttering junkies and shivering sex workers, plying their trade without hope or emotion. Tentatively, Naomi had picked her way past a sea of hostile faces, which turned to take in the new arrival with a mixture of curiosity and distaste. Normally, Naomi would have hurried through this gloomy space, keen to be back in the open air, but tonight she took her time, desperately seeking sanctuary. At first, her search seemed doomed to failure, but eventually she found a berth that appeared to be unoccupied. It was an old service door, allowing access to the tunnel's electrical and lighting systems, the large danger sign fixed to it urging pedestrians to keep clear. But the wide doorstep was large enough for her to bed down in, so Naomi claimed the vacant spot, trying her best to make herself comfortable. Curling up on the cold concrete, she'd pulled her coat tight around her, tugging the hood hard round her face until it pinched her skin, then closed her eyes, seeking oblivion.

It was a fruitless endeavour. Not simply because of the dull ceiling lights that cast a sickly glow over the dirty interior, nor because of the overpowering smell of car fumes from the vehicles that shot by without a second glance, but because of the noise. The rain continued to hammer down outside, water pouring from a broken pipe at the entrance to the underpass, and above that could be heard the cat calls, screams and banter of this forsaken place's occupants. Gradually this tumult had abated, as the traffic eased off, the junkies passed out and the sex workers called it a night, but even so, the unfamiliar noises, sudden, sharp and unsettling, kept Naomi alert and on edge. She desperately needed sleep, she was wrung out physically and emotionally, but couldn't quell the fear that twisted her insides, or the cloying cold of her saturated clothes. Never in her wildest dreams had Naomi thought she would end up here, shivering, desperate and scared. But this was her reality now.

She willed herself to relax, to get some rest, if only to ward off the light-headedness that gripped her. But her mind kept projecting forwards. What would happen in the next hour? Before the night was out? Tomorrow? Would she have to resort to begging to survive? Hanging around the homeless hostel in the faint hope that one of their occupants would be kicked out? Something worse? Naomi was pondering this, her mind full of dark thoughts, when she heard a new noise.

Footsteps. Soft and measured, approaching her hiding place. Instantly, she tensed up. Was this unfamiliar noise the staggering progress of a crazed junkie or click clack of a sex worker? No, these footsteps seemed confident, purposeful. Unnerved, Naomi scrunched her body up, trying to disappear into her hidey-hole, but her attempt to blend into her surroundings failed, as the intruder came to a stop directly in front of her.

‘Hello, love. Are you all right?'

Naomi reacted, startled, but there was nothing hostile or alarming about the man's voice. In fact, he sounded warm, gentle, concerned.

‘This isn't any place for a young girl like yourself to be. What on earth are you doing here?'

In spite of herself, Naomi craned round to see who this well-meaning soul was. But instantly she recoiled, the powerful beam of his torch blinding her.

‘There's no need to be alarmed, I'd like to help you. There's all sorts of weirdos and dropouts down here, you don't belong with them. So what do you say? Shall we find somewhere better for you to spend the night? There must be hostels or B&Bs that can take you or at the very least a soup kitchen where you can rest up for a bit.'

It was a seriously tempting thought. What wouldn't Naomi give now for a dry, safe space and a hot cup of soup? So despite her natural caution, she turned to the man once more, hoping that her luck might be about to change. She wanted to see his face, to read his intentions, but the glare of his torch was still blinding and she could only make out a dark shape behind. Even so, she found herself responding to him now, as he reached out a strong hand to her, saying in a kind, encouraging voice:

‘Come on, love. Let's get you somewhere warm.'