All The Lonely People - David Owen Page 0,36

it. He marched inside ahead of her. The double-door entrance was plastered with notices for Slimming World, only a single lopsided sandwich board to announce the availability of the food bank. Together they walked along a musty corridor, feet echoing on scuffed tiles, and turned in to the hall.

Although it was only mid-morning, it was already busy. A ragged queue trailed from a row of tables. Other people sat on plastic chairs lined against the walls. Before she joined the queue, Mum carefully scanned the room, apparently deciding the coast was clear.

‘They’re taking Evie to the zoo today,’ said Mum as they waited their turn.

‘Who’s paying?’

She gave him a knowing look. ‘They said it was their treat.’

Every other Saturday, Evie spent the day with a friend she had made at nursery. Their family said they were glad to have her, and they usually just played at their house. Sometimes they took them out on more expensive trips, and it was always their treat. Evie would come home raving about it, a new toy clutched in her arms, before settling in for another long two weeks stuck at home. Wesley was glad she could have those experiences, but he wished it was he that could provide them.

‘You can’t tell Dave about this, okay?’ said Mum.

Wesley blinked, taken by surprise. It hadn’t even occurred to him. He wasn’t in the habit of telling anybody about the food bank. ‘He must know we’re not rolling in it.’

‘That doesn’t mean he needs to know we take handouts.’

The first time he had come here, Wesley had expected everybody to look homeless. To be queuing in dirty rags and loading their food into stolen shopping trolleys. Instead it was always mothers and fathers with prams, young people in their work uniforms, old men and women with walking sticks and hearing aids.

‘If he judges you for this then he’s no better than any of the others,’ said Wesley.

‘He won’t judge me. It’s just easier if . . .’ Mum trailed off. ‘He really does care about me. About us.’

We don’t need him to, he thought. ‘You said the same thing about the others.’

‘And I can admit I was wrong. But I’m not wrong this time. I’m happy with Dave, and I think . . . can you please just do what I ask?’

Behind the tables, the food and supplies were kept in colour-coded plastic boxes loaded into a rack of shelves, a few tins and larger packets stacked separately. Everything was offered in carrier bags, some already made up and others pieced together based on somebody’s needs. They usually took just enough to keep them going for a few days, to bolster the few things they already had. Thankfully Evie was the world’s number one fan of baked beans on toast.

When it was their turn, Wesley accepted a couple of pre-made bags. The cans clanked against each other as he lifted them. Then he moved across the room so Mum could ask for some personal items in peace. An older lady smiled at him from the next seat, and he returned it, before discouraging any further contact by taking out his phone.

It wasn’t long before he was due to meet Luke and Justin. They wouldn’t think much of this place, or of him for being there. It made him a failure – as a son and as a man. ‘Everything okay?’ said Mum, joining him with a third bag.

Wesley stood. ‘Yeah. Of course.’

‘Not just here. With Dave, and everything.’

‘I told you, it’s fine.’ He took the bag from her. ‘Let’s go.’

Outside, a beaten-up red Nissan Micra was waiting for them on the kerb. Jordan leaned against it, and when he spotted them he hurried over. Wesley gritted his teeth. There was no hiding where they had been. His brother tried to take the bags, but Wesley held tight.

‘I saw you going inside,’ Jordan said. ‘Thought I could give you a lift back?’

‘Thanks,’ Mum said uncertainly.

Wesley released the bags suddenly. Cans spilled onto the pavement. Both boys dropped for them, racing to collect the most.

‘I didn’t know things were this bad,’ said Jordan as he returned the food to the bag.

Under his mask of concern was an accusation. Two years had passed, and Wesley had failed to keep this from being necessary.

After the bags were loaded in the boot, Mum got into the passenger seat. Wesley lingered on the kerb.

‘You coming?’ said Jordan.

‘I’m going to meet some friends.’

The jokey smile that always meant an insult was coming hadn’t