Evan had preferred pubs in the days before, sadly the bank accounts of too many hadn’t made it through the dark days of lockdown. There was still The Crown, but it being a sports pub meant there were too many occasions when it was crammed to bursting point, the excess of testosterone pungent in his nostrils.
Being a big man with a good line in glowering, he’d been left to his own devices. But since being ill, it seemed that his newfound weakness was worryingly apparent to those with an aggressive nature, so he’d taken to cafes and coffee houses, drinking tea or coffee instead of beer. It was probably good for him, and he didn’t miss the beer… well, not t00 much.
But the side effect of having lost a lot of weight was how badly he felt the cold. Perhaps it was karma for his past impatience with those similarly afflicted. Heating being as expensive as it had become, he’d taken to spending time away from home where he could piggyback on some else’s spend. It was surprising how little he could get away with spending, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to cooked.
There was a friendly Irish lady in one of the local charity shops, and she put aside anything suitable for a man of his height. He’d been able to buy a new wardrobe for an absolute pittance due to her kindness, and all it took was his willingness to pass the time of day with her. She even made him a brew or two when she was on her own in the shop.
He’d given up on the TV a while back. The licence fee was crazy expensive for the rubbish you could watch now, and of course he wasn’t going to pay for all those streaming services. He made do with the radio – Radio 4 or the BBC Overseas service droned away in the background any time he was at home.
After the day when the friendly Irish lady gave up her job in the charity shop, he realised the only words he exchanged were about items off the menu. But then, he wasn’t sure what he’d talk about anymore. She’d made it easy for him, chatting away or asking gentle questions. So he decided it was time to broaden his horizons and visit the library. After all, signing up cost nothing, and it was another place to sit in the warmth.
Soon his daily practice was to read the papers, before heading to a cafe with a library in hand. There he’d take his time over a pot of tea and some sort of breakfast. Sometimes he’d read, but most of the time, he sat with a book open, and just listened to the conversations going on around him.
He began to recognise some of the other regulars, and even had his favourites. From his eavesdropping, he came to know their names, the names of the people in their lives, their trials and tribulations, their joys and successes.
What Evan liked to do best was walk, so with the onset of the lighter and warmer months, he eschewed his eavesdropping in the cafe and heading to the seaside, to woods and parks – anywhere free that he could find a bench for when he was tired to take a load off, to pull the flask out of his backpack, enjoy a cuppa and a read. As a bonus, Evan was surprised at the number of walkers who joined him on the bench and engaged him in conversation about the book he was reading.
But when the cold and wet months came round again, no matter how far he walked or how warmly he dressed, he found it hard to shake the cold and damp out of his bones. So in winter, he stuck to the warmth indoors – the library and the cafe – and he dipped once more into the lives of his fellow customers. It helped him while away time as he waited patiently for the arrival of lighter, warmer and dryer days; days when he’d get to talk about more than items on the menu.
© Debs Carey, 2024
Fiction Can Be Fun 