Excerpt from Door to the River by Jason Fité

William Gale smiled at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was the morning of his fiftieth birthday, and he was feeling quite happy with his life, and with the world in general. I look pretty damn good for a man of my age, he thought. Though, maybe, I could do with losing a few pounds around the middle. He felt the small roll of fat around his waist. Nothing to worry too much about. I could always join a gym if I can find the time. He glanced at the clock on the wall above the mirror. No, there was no time for a proper self-assessment. Maybe later he would have a chance to take stock of his life?

   He put on his shirt and carefully tied his tie in an elaborate knot – a ritual he had enacted almost every weekday morning for the past thirty-four years. He remembered his first job at the age of sixteen, when he had been so naive that he had turned up without a tie. Had he ever really been that young and foolish? It seemed such an impossibly long time ago. He had changed so much since then. He was no longer the slightly pimply, pallid teenager wearing a shiny, ill-fitting suit and no tie. He was an important person now. He was a ‘Captain of Industry’. Those long years of endless struggle and hard work had eventually paid off, and he now considered himself an unqualified success. He gave his reflection one last smile and headed downstairs to breakfast.

   The kitchen was empty. His wife, Helen, was still fast asleep in bed and probably would not be up till after ten. Mike, his teenage son, would not be up till even later. He did not envy them their extended lie in. It had only just gone seven, and he was glad to be up and about while his family still slept. It made him feel like he had a good head start on the day. He believed that there was nothing worse than the stress of getting behind with things. He was not a workaholic, as his wife had sometimes described him when she felt neglected, but he did enjoy being busy and productive.    He made himself a cup of coffee and two slices of toast, and while he was waiting for his coffee to cool, he started putting last night’s dishes into the dishwasher. I should have done this last night, he thought. I should not have left the kitchen in such a mess, but then again, I had worked an extra-long day. He munched thoughtfully on his toast. Still, it’s bad of me to get behind with things. Maybe I am getting old, after all? He finished his toast and quickly downed his coffee. He grabbed his briefcase and headed out into the world.

   He briskly walked the length of his street and arrived at the train station at seven-thirty-eight. He had walked this same stretch of road so many thousands of times, he knew exactly how long it would take him – eight minutes give or take thirty seconds. He was never late for the seven-forty train, though the train itself was often late. Ten years ago, he had begun to note down how many minutes he had lost each week due to the train’s lateness. So far, he had recorded one thousand, seven hundred and fifty-four minutes in total. He always intended to calculate exactly how many hours, days and maybe even weeks he had spent waiting for delayed trains, but he had never quite got round to it. He did not mind the delays too much. As long as he arrived at the office by eight-forty-five, he was happy. 

   This morning, as every other morning, he bought himself a chocolate bar and a packet of mints from the station kiosk. The train was on time, and he took that as a sign that this was going to be a good day. He squeezed onto the already crowded carriage, found himself a discarded newspaper and settled down for his journey.

   Thirty-one minutes later the train trundled into London Waterloo, and he began the half-hour walk to his office in Old Street. The London streets were busy with people hurrying to work. William took his usual route along the South Bank, across Blackfriars Bridge and up Farringdon Street. The crowds of office-workers that pushed past did not worry him. It was good to see the bustle of the city so filled with people going somewhere - people with busy lives - people with purpose.

   As he waited at a road crossing, a homeless man approached him and asked him for some spare change. Avoiding eye contact, William shook his head, smiled slightly and mumbled an apology. He had done this so many times that it had almost become a reflex reaction. He no longer felt bad for not giving them money. He used to mildly resent them for making him feel guilty, but that feeling had long since faded and now they were no more than a minor annoyance. As he crossed the road, he wondered why somebody had not yet tackled the homeless problem. Wasn’t that why he paid taxes?

   He arrived at his office at eight-forty and was sitting at his desk at eight-forty-five on the dot. As usual, he was the first one in. Janice, his personal assistant, would arrive at eight-fifty-five and the rest of his staff would arrive at nine. 

   He enjoyed being in his office. It was where he belonged. He felt at home there and sometimes he felt more at home there than in his real home. At least here, he could have everything exactly as he wanted it. He made himself another coffee and settled down to deal with the day’s paperwork.    

   He became so engrossed that he did not at first notice when Janice put her head around the door and wished him “Happy Birthday!”  

   He looked up from his work and smiled at her. 

   William buried his head back in his paperwork for another hour, and then feeling the need to stretch his legs, got up from his seat and crossed to the window. He looked out at the London skyline and felt a deep sense of serenity.  

   He gazed down at the city which stretched out below him. London, the city he loved, the city he had been born and raised in and never wished to leave. This was his world, and it was all he needed. He was aware that the wider world existed beyond the horizon, but it really did not hold much appeal for him. Even on the infrequent occasions that his wife had managed to persuade him to go abroad for their holidays, he could not wait to return home again. “It’s true what they say,” he would tell her, “the best part of any holiday is coming home.” He sighed contentedly and turned back around to continue his work.

   He was extremely surprised to find a man sitting in the chair opposite his desk.   

   The man was quite elderly with fine, silver hair swept back from his forehead. He wore a faded, blue pinstripe suit and a matching waistcoat from which hung a shiny golden fob watch. His face was kind and wore an expression of amused expectancy.

   William had no idea who he was or how he had entered the office without William noticing. He felt momentarily astonished by this unexpected visitor, but quickly regained his composure. He sat down opposite the stranger and gave him a welcoming smile. “Hello, I wasn’t expecting you. Do you have an appointment with me?”

   “No,” replied the stranger and continued smiling at him.  

   William began to feel extremely flustered at the intrusion and unnerved by the way this strange man kept serenely gazing at him. He wondered if, perhaps, he was a bit simple. “Are you one of our clients?” asked William optimistically.

   “No,” replied the man.

   William began to feel annoyed but was determined to remain polite. “Sorry, who are you, exactly?” 

   “I’m Tom,” replied the man, as if that simple statement explained everything.

   William scrutinised the stranger, not knowing quite what to make of him. Instinctively, William found it exceedingly difficult to be rude to someone older than himself, so he did his best to remain composed and diplomatic. “Er, I think there may be some mistake. You may have got the wrong office.”

   The man pulled out a notebook from his jacket pocket, opened it and read the front page. “You are William Gale, aren’t you?”

   “Yes,” replied William, suddenly wondering if the unexpected visitor might be a policeman. He wracked his brain trying to think of what crime he might have committed which might provoke a visit from the police but could not think of any.

   The man put his notebook away again. “Then I’m in the right place. I’m here to offer you a deal.” 

   William breathed a sigh of relief. The man was a potential business client, after all. “Well, normally we would have one of our senior sales advisors deal with individual customers, but as you are here, I guess we can discuss your needs. So, which of our products are you interested in?”      Tom smiled, as though William had just said something amusing. “None of them. I’m here to make a deal with you.”

   William wondered if this vagueness was a negotiating technique the man was attempting to employ. He had dealt with numerous salespeople in his time and believed he had perfected the numerous tactics needed to get rid of them as quickly as possible without being offensive. It was best to get straight to the point with these people and finish with them quickly. He would have to have a word with Janice afterwards – she really should know better than to let someone in to see him without an appointment. “Okay, so what is this deal you wish to offer me?”

   “If you give away everything you own, God will save one human life.”   

   William stared at the man for a few moments as he attempted to process what he had just heard. He wondered if he had somehow misheard.   “Could you repeat that, please?”

   “If you give away everything you own, God will save one human life.”      

   William gave the old man a perplexed look. “I’m not sure I understand. Are you from a charity?”

   “No.”

   “A religious group?” William asked, attempting to hide the suspicion in his voice.

   Tom shook his head. “Not exactly. I have been sent by God.”

   William felt a moment’s panic as he realised the man must be insane or possibly some sort of religious fanatic, and therefore, potentially dangerous. He quickly decided his best option was to humour him and to get him to leave as quickly as possible.

   William nodded in pretend interest. “Interesting. So, what would I get out of this deal?”

   “You would be saving a human life.”

   “Whose life would I be saving?”

   The man shrugged. “Does it matter?”

   Despite the absurdity of the proposition, William felt the instinctive urge to negotiate. “Well, yes. It would. Would it be my own life or someone close to me?”

   The man gently shook his head again. “It isn’t usually someone you know. It might be someone you pass on the street one day, or it might be someone on the other side of the world that you never meet or know of.”     

   “So basically, you’re saying that I lose everything to help someone I don’t even know?”

   “Yes, that’s the deal.”

   William could not help but smile. “It doesn’t seem like a very good deal, does it?”

   The man slowly rose from his seat. “I can see you will need some time to think about it. Please consider carefully. It really is very important. I’ll be in touch.” He headed, with surprising swiftness, towards the door. He turned as he reached it and smiled at William. “I must apologise, I forgot to properly introduce myself. My full name is Tom, Tom Chambers.”

   William stared at him in bemusement. “Are you supposed to be some sort of angel?”

   Tom smiled, and a moment later, he was gone.

   William leant back in his chair and sighed deeply. 

   He really could not decide what to make of this strange visitor who had so genially introduced himself as Tom Chambers. William had met many eccentric people in his time but there was something about this particular man that disturbed him. He drummed his fingers in frustration upon his desk, wondering why this unexpected encounter had produced such an unsettling feeling within him. He glanced at the door through which his mysterious and uninvited guest had so recently departed. He wondered for one terrible moment whether he could have somehow imagined the entire thing. Had he been daydreaming at his desk? Were his subconscious thoughts somehow seeping into his everyday life? Is this what happens to people when they reach the age of fifty?

   He stood up, crossed to the window, and gazed once again at the world below, determined to convince himself of its reality. Opposite his office block was a small communal park and on a bench in the park he could clearly see Tom. The old man sat, throwing breadcrumbs to the pigeons that quickly gathered around him. With a deep fascination, William watched the old man as he fed the birds. He was startled when Tom suddenly looked directly up at him and waved.

   William quickly backed away from the window and out of sight. Slightly flustered, he returned to his desk and picked up the pile of paperwork which sat upon it, its very weight and feel proving reassuring and familiar. He started reading the first page which was a report containing the company’s latest sales figures. He found himself unable to concentrate on the figures as he was struck by a sudden worrying thought.

   He picked up the desk phone and connected to his PA. “Hi, Janice, I just wanted to check this morning’s appointments. Was there a Tom Chambers on the schedule?”

   “Yes, the gentleman you just saw.”

   That was a relief - at least he had not just imagined him. He was not going mad. “Which company was Mr. Chambers from?”

   “It doesn’t say.”

   “Can you remember when he made the appointment?”

   “It was before I started.”

   “You mean sometime early this morning?” asked William, feeling a little confused.

   “No. I mean that when I started working here in March, I remember looking through the appointments diary and Mr. Chamber’s appointment was the only one that was booked months in advance. I remember it because it was scheduled for your birthday.”

   “Does it say who made the appointment?”

   “No, just the name and the date.”

   “Okay, not to worry. Thanks.”

   William put the phone down and cautiously moved back to the window. Discreetly peering out, he could see that Tom was still sitting on the park bench, though now he seemed to be engrossed in reading a book.

   William returned to his desk, picked up his paperwork and once again started to read the sales figures. His mind more at ease, he found himself more able to concentrate and soon lost himself in his reports.

   A few hours later he was startled by the sudden shrill ring of his phone. It was Helen. 

   “Hello, Bill. What time are you planning leaving work today? I need you to be at the FoxHills Country Club by six.” 

   William made a quick mental calculation of how much work he had left to do and realised that he would have to skip lunch in order to be home for six. He was acutely aware that Helen had been planning a ‘secret’ surprise party for him and was quietly flattered that she had gone to so much trouble for him. “I’ll be there for five-thirty,” he reassured his wife.        

   “Wonderful,” she purred. “Well, I have to dash – lots of things to buy for tonight.”

   He smiled as he returned the receiver. Tonight promised to be very enjoyable. He wondered who Helen had invited. There were so many old friends he had not seen in such a long while. It would be so good to catch up with them all again. He wondered how their lives had changed since he had last seen them. They were probably just like him, he reflected - no real changes, just a little more stomach and a little less hair. 

   He decided to head out and buy himself a sandwich for lunch, which he could eat at his desk. There was a bakery just across from the office where he bought his lunch almost every day. He bought himself a chicken sandwich, and as it was his birthday, and therefore a special occasion, he also bought himself a small bag of chocolate cupcakes. It’s a nice day and I deserve a little break, he thought to himself as he crossed the road to the park. As soon as he walked through the park gate, he suddenly remembered his unexpected visitor from earlier. He paused on the gravel path, realising how awkward it would be if the old man was still sitting on the bench. He was relieved to discover that the bench was empty. He felt relieved - and a little disappointed, though he could not understand why. 

   He sat on the bench and opened his bag of cupcakes. He felt a little guilty starting on them before eating his sandwich. He could hear Helen’s voice in his head warning him about his high blood pressure. He bit into the first one. It was delicious and he quickly popped another one in his mouth and then another. He ate this one more slowly, enjoying his guilty lunchtime pleasure. 

   He found himself wondering where Tom had gone. He had probably headed off to work his hokum on some other unsuspecting businessman, who would then have the same problem of getting rid of him. At least I was polite, William reflected. Anyone else would have had security forcibly remove him from the building. It must be a scam of some sort – a way of extracting money from the more gullible. He wondered if anyone had ever been foolish enough to give away even a few of their possessions. Maybe it was some sort of cult. He had heard of such sinister organisations before – they brainwashed you, bombarded you with crazy ideas until you were so worn down that you would believe anything, give them everything you owned and put yourself completely under their control. Insane! William wondered what emotional problems these people must have that they would so completely give themselves over to these crackpots. How weak willed and lost, how desperate to belong, how downright bloody stupid would you have to be to fall for something like that? What was this irresistible need people possessed to believe in something, anything, no matter how absurd?

   He heard footsteps and glanced up, feeling sure that he would see Tom approaching. In his mind he was already preparing the excuses he would use to get away from him, but instead saw a young woman pushing a buggy. William looked at his watch. He was shocked to discover he had been sitting on the bench for nearly half an hour. He was equally startled to see that he had unknowingly eaten four cupcakes in quick succession. What would Helen say? And now, he would have to struggle to finish his work and leave on time.

   He quickly scuttled back to the office and buried himself deep in his paperwork, oblivious to the old man who had returned to the park and spent the afternoon sitting on the park bench, reading his book, and occasionally glancing up at William’s office.

______________________

 

William felt deeply honoured to be able to celebrate his birthday at the rather grand FoxHills Country Club and felt surprisingly at ease in the almost palatial setting. He looked around the crowded dining room with an immense sense of satisfaction, unable to believe that all these people had turned up just to celebrate his fiftieth birthday. There had to be at least a hundred. He had never felt so popular.

   He sat at the head of the long table with Helen seated to his right and his teenage son, Mike to his left, both engrossed in conversation with those sitting next to them. William had already had three glasses of Prosecco and was feeling quite pleasantly inebriated. Over the rim of his fourth glass, he discreetly scanned the row of faces before him. He recognised most of them, though those towards the end of the table were less familiar. They were probably friends of Helen’s. They were good-looking couples, smartly dressed and eminently respectable. Alongside them were a group of Mike’s friends, who were chatting and laughing happily amongst themselves. 

   William wondered what teenagers talked about these days. He guessed that they probably still had the same preoccupations and interests as he had had when he was young; the latest fashions and music, who fancied whom, what to do for the weekend? He envied them the long future stretching before them. Life had yet to begin for them and he wondered what adventures they would have. He looked at his own son who was animatedly talking to a middle-aged lady next to him. Mike is so much like his mother, William reflected. I was never so self-possessed and confident at his age. I was awkward and shy and self-conscious around grown-ups. And now? I guess I still feel a little bit awkward even though I am a grown-up. And I’m fifty! What a strange age. Certainly, a milestone, but exactly what kind of a milestone? he wondered. Is this a half-way point? Have I really lived half of my life already? He had always vaguely felt that he would live to be a hundred, though he had never seriously considered how he would spend the second half of his life. I’m thinking too much, he realised, I just need to relax and enjoy myself.  

   Helen laughed at something one of the guests said. William caught her eye and smiled. He was so lucky to have her that he felt like laughing out loud. At that moment he loved her so much it almost hurt. Everything she did seemed so effortless, so natural. She was always at ease whatever the occasion or the situation. She always knew the right thing to say and the correct thing to do. He knew he would be lost without her. How great life felt at that moment. He took his wife’s hand and gently squeezed it.    

   She looked around in mild surprise and then leant in and briefly kissed him on the cheek. She then picked up her handbag, which had been hanging on the back of her chair, opened it, and carefully pulled out a small package, neatly wrapped in shiny, gold wrapping paper.

   She handed it to him with a quiet smile. He carefully unwrapped it, revealing the small, square box inside. Clicking it open, he removed the expensive looking watch within. He gazed at it admiringly for a few seconds and then beamed at Helen.

   “Do you like it?” she asked.

   He slipped off his old watch and gently strapped the new one onto his wrist. “It’s beautiful. It must have cost you a fortune.”

   “It’s worth it. It only loses a tenth of a second every two thousand years. Can you imagine that? It’s a classic timepiece.”

   William turned his wrist and looked in awe as his new watch caught the light. “It’s really amazing. I’m overwhelmed.”

   “You deserve it.”

   They both raised their glasses and toasted to their happy lives together. William leant back in his chair and basked in his sense of benign contentment. It doesn’t get any better than this, he thought. I really do have everything a man could possibly want. He poured himself another glass of Prosecco and beamed at the world around him.

   A couple of hours and numerous Proseccos later, William began to have the beginnings of what promised to be a very bad headache. I’m not used to drinking this much, he reflected, or maybe, I really am getting a little bit too old to be staying out so late. He turned to his wife, but she was lost in conversation with the woman to her side and he decided not to disturb her.

   He rose slightly unsteadily from his seat and headed towards the main doors leading out to the landscaped gardens.

   He breathed in the fresh night air, his head immediately feeling clearer. He gazed around the gardens approvingly. Even in the semi-darkness he could see they were immaculate and well-ordered, with barely a blade of grass out of place. The night was cold, but he realised he did not mind. He felt a warm glow rising inside him. It’s not just the drink, he thought, it’s so much more than that – it’s the satisfaction of knowing that I’m where I am supposed to be in life, and I’m doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing in the world. I have everything a man could wish for; a beautiful, loving wife, a handsome, dynamic son, wealth, social standing, a nice house in a good area, an expensive car. He had it all and he was grateful. This, he realised, is one of those rare, perfect moments when everything seems to be just right. He basked in his own happiness for a few moments before reluctantly realising that he would soon have to return to the party.   

   Unthinking, he glanced up at the clear night sky and then quickly looked away and shuddered. A sudden panic rising within him, he stared intently at the gravel-covered ground at his feet and fought to control his sudden heavy breathing. He struggled to gain control over himself. It’s just the drink, he reassured himself. I’m not used to it, and it’s made me too emotional, too sensitive, too... it’ll pass in a moment, and I can go back inside where it’s warm and familiar.

   Ever since he had been a small boy, William had suffered from an extreme and inexplicable dread of the starry night sky. Those millions of tiny twinkling lights shining so far above represented something to him unknowable and terrible. As he had grown older, he had learnt that they were all suns - boiling masses of fire, millions and millions of light years away, all perfectly understood by science and all completely without any deeper meaning. Yet this knowledge had only served to increase his fear. To him they seemed alive, and they seemed to be watching him with some unknown purpose of their own. He knew that what he felt was entirely irrational, and as the years had passed, the fear had diminished and had almost been forgotten. Living in London, he so very rarely saw the stars and therefore they did not seem to have such a powerful effect on him. He was so rarely alone at night that he could not remember the last time he had even had the chance to look up at the sky. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, knowing that the mild nausea would soon pass.

   “Are you enjoying the party?” inquired a kindly voice.

   He opened his eyes expecting to see one of the guests who had popped out for a cigarette or some fresh air, but instead found Tom standing next to him and gazing up at the night sky.

   “It’s quite a wonderful night to be alive, isn’t it?” Tom gave a contented sigh. “Happy Birthday, by the way.”

   William was too astonished to immediately reply. His ingrained politeness conflicted with his sense of rising indignation.

   “How did you get here?”

   “The usual way. Through the front door.”

   “And nobody stopped you?” William asked, incredulously.

   “Why would they? I’ve found that if you walk into a place and act like you belong there, then nobody ever questions if you are meant to be there.”

   “So, you gate-crashed my birthday party?” William asked him, not bothering to disguise the accusation in his voice.

   Tom did not seem in the least bit upset by William’s harsh tone. “Yes, I suppose I did. I thought it might be a good opportunity to remind you of the deal.”

   William could hardly believe what he was hearing. “And you really thought that this was an appropriate time and place?”

   “Yes. You are celebrating your fiftieth birthday and you are alone gazing up at the stars. What better opportunity would I have to express to you the life-changing importance of the deal?”

   “Just to clarify, this is the deal where I lose everything and gain nothing?”   

   “That’s one way of looking at it. Have you decided to accept?”

   “Of course not. It’s a terrible deal.” William could feel himself beginning to lose his temper. 

   “It’s the best deal anyone will ever offer you. You have the chance to save one human life.”

   “Millions of people die every day. I’m not responsible for them.”

   “Yes, you are.” The words were spoken quietly, matter-of-factly, as though Tom was doing no more than simply commenting upon the weather. William stared at him in amazement.

   “I’ve heard enough of this nonsense. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

   Tom nodded agreeably. “It’s time I got going, anyway. You probably need a bit more time to think things over. I’ll be in touch.”

   William watched in disbelief as Tom strolled towards the main building.  As he took his first step into the hallway, he turned to William and smiled. “There really is no need to be afraid of the stars, you know.” He turned back into the hallway and was soon lost to sight.

   William downed the last of his drink and returned to his party.    

   Helen came rushing up to him. “Darling, there are some incredibly important people you really have to meet.”

   “Can it wait a little while? I’m really not feeling too great.” 

   “Oh, but you have to. They are leaving soon. Please? For me?”    William shrugged and smiled. He could never refuse Helen when she was being so charmingly insistent. 

   He spent the last few hours of his birthday making polite small talk with a group of people whom he had never met before, the conversation with his uninvited guest quickly forgotten.

______________________

 

William awoke the next morning with the realisation that he was suffering from his first serious hangover in over ten years. He took some painkillers with his blood pressure medication on his way to work. 

  His sense of contentment had dwindled somewhat since the previous evening, and he remained in a resolutely bad mood for most of the morning but put it down to the unusually late night and the fact that he had just celebrated his fiftieth year. Was ‘celebrated’ the right word? he asked himself. What exactly is it that I’m celebrating – the fact that I have managed to last for fifty years without dying? What kind of achievement is that? It really is just another number, another ten-year milestone. He remembered back to his fortieth birthday. Ten years ago, I was sitting in the same office, doing exactly the same job. Since then, the furniture has changed, the technology has changed, even the fashion in neck ties has changed, yet I have not. I’ve aged but I haven’t changed.

   There was a knock at the door. He looked up, glad to have some distraction from his despondent reflections. 

   It was Nigel from Sales. “Hi, am I early?”

   “No, come in.”

   Nigel bustled into the room and took a seat opposite. He opened his notebook and promptly began discussing the sales projections. William tried hard to concentrate on what his colleague was saying but realised that for the first time in his life, he had no interest in talking about work. 

   "Will you excuse me for a moment?"

   Stopped in mid-sentence, Nigel sat with his mouth still open, as William stood and quickly hurried out of the office. “Where are you…?”

   But it was too late. William was already halfway down the corridor. He considered taking the lift but decided he would rather not wait that extra ten seconds it might take to arrive. He walked swiftly down the stairs, two at a time, to the ground floor and out the main doors. The soft sunlight felt pleasant on his skin, and he paused for a second to enjoy its warmth.  

   He then quickly headed into the park and towards the bench where he thought he had spotted Tom. He was pleased to see that there was indeed a man sitting on the bench. William hurried towards him. He had no idea what he would say to Tom – partly he wanted to berate the old man for upsetting the equilibrium of his life, and partly he wished to discover exactly who this strange old man really was and why exactly he had chosen William as his target. Most of all, he was surprised to discover that he felt a powerful urge to simply be in Tom’s company. Tom, despite his extreme oddness, was a very calming person to be with.

   The man on the bench looked up as William approached. William was dismayed to discover that it was not Tom, after all, but rather a very unkempt homeless man. William stopped, suddenly unsure what to do. The homeless man gazed up at him optimistically. William in return, frowned at him disapprovingly. “Morning, could you spare some change?” the homeless man asked.

   Avoiding eye-contact, William replied. “No, sorry. I don’t have any.” He remained rooted to the spot staring at the bench, but still avoiding looking directly at the homeless man. “Do you know a man called Tom who sometimes sits here?”

   “No, but my name is Dave if that helps?”

   William really did not care what the homeless man’s name was but felt obliged to be polite. “I’m William.”

   “Pleased to meet you, William. So, who’s this Tom fella you’re after?”   

   William considered the question. "I don’t know," he replied truthfully. “I just know his name is Tom.”   

   “Why are you looking for him?”

   “I don’t know.” He realised how dumb this must sound. “He’s just an old man who sits here sometimes. I have to go now.” He turned and started walking back to the office.

   “It was nice talking to you, William. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

   “Thanks. You too.” William called out without looking round. He considered giving Dave some money but kept walking. It seemed easier.

  He walked back to his office where he spent the remainder of the gloomy day attempting to catch up on paperwork. Every few minutes or so, he gazed out of the window at the bench where Dave was now sound asleep.

______________________

 

Each weekday for the next two weeks followed an identical pattern. On his way to work, William made a detour through the park in the hope of seeing Tom on the bench, and each morning he was disappointed, finding only Dave sitting there smoking and watching the passers-by. 

   Then William would spend the rest of the working day sitting mostly alone in his office and working through the endless amount of paperwork which seemed to arrive on his desk on an hourly basis. He began to despair of ever getting on top of it and wondered if any of it really served any purpose or what would happen if he simply ignored it? Once or twice a week he would attend management meetings, but even these he soon began to dread. They seemed as purposeless as the paperwork – just people endlessly discussing the trivial matters of the business, but never actually physically doing anything. During the meetings he would force himself to contribute a few facts and figures and agree with the consensus that the company needed to be ‘dynamic’ and ‘progressive’, though no one ever suggested just how these vague aims should be achieved.

   After a while he became resigned to this daily routine, and it soon became as automatic as breathing. His discontent dwindled into acceptance and soon he stopped even hoping to see Tom, though he still continued with his morning walk through the park out of unthinking habit.   

   One morning proved to be different. He headed down to the kitchen at six-forty-five as he did every weekday morning and was very surprised to find Helen sitting at the breakfast table.

   He smiled at her. “Morning. You’re up early.”  

   “Meaning?” she asked him with surprising iciness.

   He put the kettle on and started preparing his morning coffee. “Nothing,” he replied, wondering what he had said that was wrong. “I just don’t

usually see you this early. Is anything wrong?”

   “I don’t know. You tell me.”

   “Everything’s fine,” he replied cautiously.

   “You’ve changed,” she stated accusingly. “I’m not sure how exactly, but I know I don’t like this new version of you.” William was extremely surprised and confused by this unexpected accusation.

   “There is no new version of me. Maybe I’ve been feeling a little bit low recently, that’s all.”

   “What do you have to feel low about? You have everything you could ever want. I’m a bit insulted that you think I don’t make you happy.”   

   William felt immensely guilty. “Of course, you do. Don’t worry, I’ll perk up in a day or two.”

   Helen smiled with relief. She leant over the kitchen table and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m glad to hear it. Well, I’m going back to bed for a few hours, I didn’t sleep well last night.”

   Feeling slightly perplexed at his wife’s mercurial mood, William quickly drank his coffee and made his way to work. He realised that the unexpected early morning conversation had made him a couple of minutes late, so he walked more quickly through the park. He pondered his wife’s accusation that he had changed and decided that she was right – he had no reason to feel down, so he decided to try to focus more on the positive aspects of his life and be grateful for all the good things he had going for him.

   Lost in his own thoughts, he did not notice the small group of people that had gathered around Dave’s bench until he was only a few yards away. Realising that something was amiss, he stopped and observed what was happening.

   He quickly surmised that the group surrounding the bench was comprised of paramedics, police, and park staff. Their focus was on the bench which they obscured.

   William approached the scene with a mounting sense of dread. As he got closer, he could make out Dave’s body which lay rigidly on the bench, his still open eyes gazing blankly up at the empty sky above him. It only took the briefest moment for William to realise that the man who had been so friendly to him and whom he had decided to ignore was now dead. He approached one of the paramedics and asked him what had happened.   

   “He must have frozen to death in the night. Even in summer it can get really cold at night. Considering his age and condition, I’m surprised he survived this long,” the paramedic replied, in a matter-of-fact way.    “What will happen to him now?” William asked, aware of the sick feeling rising in his stomach.

   “The council will dispose of the body. Cremation usually.”

   The paramedics began to lift Dave’s frozen body onto a stretcher. William watched as they placed a blanket over him and realised he would never see Dave’s familiar face again.  The ambulance door slammed shut with a sense of fatal finality.

   “It’s a shame he’s gone. He was a nice chap.”

   William turned to see Tom standing beside him.   

   “What are you doing here?” asked William, utterly dumbfounded.   

   “I wanted to say goodbye to an old friend. Do you want to know what his last words were?”

    “You were with him when he died?” William asked, incredulously.

    The ambulance pulled away and William found himself staring at the empty bench.

   “Shall we sit?” asked Tom.

   William hesitated. “It doesn’t seem right.”

   “Don’t worry, Dave wouldn’t have minded. He always liked having company.”

   Tom sat on the bench and William reluctantly joined him.

   “Yes,” Tom began, “I was with him when he passed.”

   “Why didn’t you try and save him?” 

   “I’m not allowed to do that. Besides, I really don’t believe that he wanted anyone to save him. It would have defeated the entire purpose of his existence.”

   The initial shock wearing off, William felt himself gripped by a sense of anger. “Someone should have helped him.”

   “Who?”

   “Someone. Anyone. He shouldn’t have been allowed to freeze to death like that. It’s not right.”

   “Did you ever try to help him?” There was no sense of accusation in Tom’s voice, only sadness.

   “What could I have done?” William replied, regretting the question as soon as the words had left his lips. 

   Tom gazed up at the sky. “I have always been happy and that’s all that really matters.”   

   “What’s that supposed to mean?”

   “Those were Dave’s final words,” Tom explained.

   William stared sullenly at the ground in front of him. They sat in silence for several minutes, one looking down, the other up at the limitless sky.    At last, Tom broke the silence. “You’re going to be late for work.” His reverie broken; William looked at the world around him as though seeing it for the first time. “Was he the one?”

   “What do you mean?”

   “You know what I mean. Was he the one… that would have been saved?”

   “I told you. You will never know.”

   “But it could have been him?” William insisted.

   “Does it matter? Is any human life worth more than any other?”

   William slowly rose. He no longer worried about being late for work and he no longer cared if he ever went to work again. He stared up at his office building, just a few minutes away. Inside was warm comfort, familiarity, and everything he had ever wanted in life – security, status, a sense of belonging somewhere and of being where he was meant to be. He looked at the building as though he had never seen it before, as though it was suddenly transformed into something unfamiliar and threatening. 

    “Does the deal still stand?” he asked. “If I give away everything I own, God will save one human life?” 

   “Yes.”

   William turned back to Tom, but he was gone.

   He glanced back up at his office building. He had the sense that the building was staring back down at him in a disapproving manner. He felt as though he was back at school, in the headmaster’s office, being scolded for lateness. He stared at the building for some time and the sense that it was staring back at him gradually lessened. William started walking purposely back to his office. 

   He walked into reception. The receptionist smiled at him, “Not like you to be late, Mr. Gale.”

   William did not stop to chat. “No, not like me at all,” he agreed. 

   He got into the lift and pressed the button for the top floor.  He was surprised at how calm he felt. The lift door opened, and William walked into the Human Resources Department. Sally, the Department Head was sitting at her desk staring intently at her computer screen. Hearing William’s footsteps she looked up and smiled, “Hi, William. We don’t see you up here very often. What can we do for you today?”

   “I’m giving you my resignation.”

   “Excuse me?”

   “I’m giving you my resignation. I’m leaving.”

   The background conversation in the room quickly died and William was aware that everyone was keenly listening to their conversation. Sally seemed lost for words and merely gazed at William in disbelief.

   “I’m leaving.” William repeated.

   ‘’You’re giving us your month’s notice?” Sally asked, confused.

   “No. I’m leaving now. Today. This minute. Now. I thought I should tell you first in case you thought I had disappeared or something.” William recognised his own voice as he spoke but felt as though he were hearing the words from a distance or listening to them on the radio. 

   Sally attempted to regain control of the situation. ‘I’m afraid, you can’t just simply leave after more than thirty years of employment with the Company. You need to give a month’s notice and complete the necessary paperwork!”

   “No!” William was surprised at the power of his own voice. “No more paperwork.”

   Sally recoiled, but quickly composed herself. “Are you sure you don’t want some time to think this through?”

   William hesitated, aware that his actions did not seem normal or rational. Maybe it would be best if he thought about it first before taking such a big step. Maybe he should consult with his family, his managers, maybe even see a counsellor? He also knew that if he didn’t leave now then he never would.

   His mouth opened uselessly as he struggled to say something, but the words refused to come. He gave Sally a diffident smile, turned around and walked quickly out of the door without looking back.

   By the time he reached the lift he was shaking violently. He pressed the lift button, took a series of deep breaths, and fought to regain his self-control. When, after a few seconds, the lift had not arrived, he headed for the stairs and quickly ran down to the ground floor, through the foyer and into the street outside where he found himself gasping for breath.

   He quickly crossed into the park and sat down on the bench. He looked around desperately hoping to see Tom. Hoping that he would reassure him that he had done the right thing. But he was alone in the park, except for a few young mums pushing their babies along in buggies and enjoying the late summer sunshine.

   Once his breathing had returned to normal, William considered the enormity of what he had just done. He had walked out of his job of the past thirty years and given up financial security and any hope of the status he had previously enjoyed. He felt sick and dizzy. What have I done? he asked himself, what have I done? Again, he took deep breaths. He counted to one hundred. 

   The world did not end. 

   William considered what to do next. He imagined himself walking back into the office, apologising profusely and then allowing life to settle back to normality.

   No, he thought, there is no turning back from this. It has to be like ripping off a plaster – all done in one go, very painful, but very quick.

   He started to walk home, wondering what he was going to say to Helen.

______________________

 

William found Helen at the breakfast table in her dressing gown. She seemed annoyed when he walked in unannounced. “Why are you home?”    

   William hung his coat on the coat stand and sat next to her. “Is Mike here? I need to talk to you both.”

   “What is it? What’s wrong?” William flinched at the shrill panic in her voice. He realised this was going to be much more difficult than leaving his job.

   “Everything’s fine. Can you get Mike?”

   “He’s in bed still. I’ll give him a call.” She picked up the cordless phone from the table and dialled. “You need to come down; your father wants to tell us something.” William could hear the sounds of protest down the phone. “Get down here, now!” Helen shouted into the phone. William was sure that she was so loud that their son could easily have heard from his bedroom.

   They waited in agitated silence until Mike duly appeared. “What is it?” He turned his back on them and started making himself some cereal.

   “Do you mind sitting down at the table while we talk?” William asked.   “I can make breakfast and listen at the same time, you know!” Mike replied angrily.

   “Very well,” William began. He had rehearsed what he was going to say several times on the walk home, but now his carefully chosen words deserted him.

   “So, William,” his wife prompted him, “is this your way of trying to tell us that you don’t want to go to Marbella this summer? You know how much I’ve been looking forward to going there.”

   “You are more than welcome to go to Marbella, but I won’t be joining you,” William informed her, his voice sounding dull and lifeless.

   Helen considered this for a few seconds. “That’s okay. I can take Debbie instead.”

   “You don’t understand. I’ve left my job and I’m giving away everything I own.”

   There followed a few seconds silence broken only by his son’s sniggering. His wife glared at him. “Is this your idea of a joke? If it is, it’s not very funny.”

   “I’m serious,” William heard himself saying. 

   “You would completely destroy your family?” Helen asked in utter disbelief. “Why would you want to do such a thing? How will we survive?”

   “I’ll sign my half of the house over to you and transfer all the savings to your account. Everything I own will be yours.”

   “But it won’t be enough.” William could hear the fear in her voice now and he felt a powerful surge of guilt at abandoning his family.

   His wife could see the indecision in his face. “Will you do one thing for me?”

   “What is it?”

   “Talk to Doctor Yalden.”

   “Who is he?”

   “He’s Debbie’s therapist. He might be able to help you.”

   William was offended by the insinuation. “I don’t need any help. I’m fine.”    Helen gazed at her husband, and he was not sure if her gaze held an element of sympathy or one of calculation. “Debbie says he is really very good. It won’t do any harm to see him, will it?” William could feel his resolve wavering, “I don’t…”

   “Please? For me. For us.”

   William knew all he had to do was say one simple word – “No.”

   Instead, he found himself giving a reluctant nod and asking, “When?”   

   Helen smiled, convinced she had now won the decisive battle and that William would soon be made to understand the error of his ways. She was convinced that he was suffering some form of mid-life crisis and all he needed was her firm hand to guide him back to normality. “I’m sure we can get an appointment within the week.”

   William recoiled at the thought of this. He knew that if he did not go through with this today, then he never would. His resolve would quickly be eroded, and he would have been shown the folly of his decision – the sheer madness of it! And he had to admit that from anyone else’s perspective, what he had decided to do was an act of lunacy. “It has to be today – the sooner the better.”

   “I’ll ring him now.” Resolutely grabbing the cordless phone, Helen marched out of the room.

   William turned to his son. “I’m sorry this is happening. I know it must be hard for you.”

   Mike glared at him. “I always knew you were a complete loser.” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

   William stood staring blankly out of the window where the unknown waited for him. He tried to silence the thoughts and doubts that whirled through his mind. He could hear Helen’s muffled voice as she spoke on the phone. He heard the words “mental breakdown” and “potentially dangerous.” The sense of desperate urgency was obvious in his wife’s hushed tones.

   As he gazed through the window into the garden, he saw a small, red-breasted robin perch on the hedge. That robin doesn’t care what happens to me, he thought. If I live or die or spend the rest of my life working in an office, or living on the streets, it makes no difference the robin’s life.

  He turned around to see Helen standing in the doorway, brimming with indignation and purposefulness. “Doctor Yalden is on his way.” Without another word, she closed the door on him.    

   Not really knowing what to do with himself while he waited, William sat down at the dining table, and continued to watch the robin as it hopped from bush to bush, looking around inquisitively as it did so.

    William tried extremely hard not to think about his current situation. Now that he was alone, the reality of what he had done began to sink in. He suddenly felt very tired – more exhausted than he could ever remember feeling. 

   He awoke a short time later, still sitting upright at the dining table, his head weighing heavily in his hands. He could hear whispered voices coming from the hallway. He glanced hopefully through the window, but the robin was no longer to be seen.

   The door opened and his wife walked in followed by a small middle-aged man in a grey suit. William thought he looked more like an accountant than a psychiatrist. “This is Doctor Yalden,” his wife announced simply and left the room.  

   Doctor Yalden held out his hand and William automatically shook it. “I hope you don’t mind us having a little chat, do you? Your wife is really quite worried about you, you know.” His voice was very reassuring, very reasonable. William felt himself warm to Doctor Yalden despite the circumstances. 

   William gestured to one of the chairs. “Please, have a seat.”

   “Thank you.” Doctor Yalden smiled at him in a sympathetic manner. “So, you’ve decided, out of the blue, to leave your family and everything you know?” From Doctor Yalden it seemed more like a friendly question rather than an accusation, as though he were simply doing his best to fully understand the situation.

   “Yes, but it isn’t out of the blue.”

   Doctor Yalden nodded. “You know, it’s much more common than you think for people to get these urges – to want to be free from the pressures and burdens of their lives. To be able to start life again. To feel like they did when they were young.”

    “It’s really not like that. I’m not having a mid-life crisis. I was actually perfectly happy before…” William hesitated, unsure as to how he could finish the sentence without making himself sound completely mad.

   “Before…?” prompted Doctor Yalden, leaning forward earnestly.

   “I’m not sure it would make sense to anyone else.”

   “Trust me. It’s my job to make sense of things that other people may find odd or unusual.” His voice was calmly emphatic.

   William did not feel as though he trusted the doctor, but nonetheless, felt a strong compulsion to at least tell one other person about his strange experience. “A man came to my office a couple of months ago and told me that if I gave away everything I own, then God would save one human life.”

   Doctor Yalden’s reaction to this revelation was extremely subtle. He inclined his head very slightly, as though processing what he had just heard, categorising and analysing the statement, and coming to a definitive conclusion about the state of William’s mental health.   

   William felt immensely relieved to have confided in someone. He shrugged and smiled. “I know how mad that must sound.”

   Doctor Yalden returned the smile. “We don’t really think in terms of madness anymore; human behaviour and experience is more of a spectrum, and in your case, I think some of your underlying emotional issues are manifesting themselves in your current…” he paused, considering the correct phrase to use, “…your current experience.”   

   “So, you think I am making it all up – or that, at least, my subconscious is?”

    Doctor Yalden smiled at him agreeably. “It would seem more likely than the possibility that God is talking to you, wouldn’t you agree?”

   “I didn’t say it was God. It was a man who said he was a messenger from God.”

   “So, you believe you spoke to an angel?”

   William shrugged. “I suppose you could call him that.”

   Doctor Yalden nodded as though everything William had just told him was perfectly reasonable and believable. “Okay, so let’s just assume for a moment that an angel did actually come to see you. How likely do you think it is that God, supposing that He does exist, would try and make such an absurd deal? Surely, if He is omnipotent, He could just save whoever it was without your having to give away everything you own? You see, the whole scenario lacks logic.”

   “I don’t know why God wants to make this deal. I just know that it’s true.”

   “Are you religious?” Doctor Yalden asked.

   William considered and shook his head. “No, not really. I used to go to Church at Christmas with my parents, but that was a long time ago.”   

   “But you consider yourself to be a spiritual person?” Doctor Yalden persisted.

   William shook his head again. “Not in the least. I’m not even sure what being a ‘spiritual person’ means.”

   “It means a person who has spiritual interests – who believes in something beyond material reality.”

   “It’s not something I’ve ever really stopped to think about. I’m a very simple person.”

   Doctor Yalden took a few moments to consider. He had expected to encounter a religious fanatic, but instead, William appeared to be displaying an entirely different type of delusional psychosis. He decided to change tact slightly. “There are approximately four billion religious people in the world. You have to admit it’s a bit unlikely that out of all of them, God would select you for this mission.”  

    “It’s not a mission. It’s a deal.”

   “If it’s a deal, it’s not a very good one, is it? You lose everything and gain nothing,” Doctor Yalden observed.

   “A life is saved,” William stated defensively.    

   “Whose life?”

   “I will never know. That’s part of the deal.”

   Doctor Yalden briefly and lightly rested his hand on William’s shoulder.

“William, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Can you do that?”    William nodded, somewhat reluctantly.

   Doctor Yalden smiled his little smile. “You see, William, we are all storytellers. We create stories and myths because they help us make sense of the world and because they give us purpose and meaning in our lives. The different religions that exist are very obvious examples of these myths, but in reality, everything we do is justified by whichever story we believe is real. Millions of people every day go to jobs they don’t enjoy because they get paid, but you have to realise that money itself isn’t real – it’s just a story we have made up. Money itself has no value – it’s merely pieces of paper or numbers on a computer screen, but it’s one of those collective myths that binds us together as a group and as a species. Do you understand what I am saying? Does this make sense to you?”

   William was aware that the sound of Doctor Yalden’s voice was becoming increasingly hypnotic as though the soft nuances of its texture was putting a spell on him – as though he was lulling him into a deep sleep, or maybe he had been asleep and dreaming all this time and the good doctor was gently bringing him back to full wakefulness? “Yes,” he replied to Doctor Yalden’s question, “Yes. I understand.”

   “That’s good, because I’m going to explain what I believe is happening to you. You see, it’s very common for people to begin to question the collective myths, especially if they have reached a stage in their lives where they feel discontent or feel that they aren’t really moving forward. Their subconscious starts to create a new myth – a new story – one that will allow them to confront the doubts and issues they have been trying to ignore.”

   “Are you saying that I have created the angel and the whole deal with God because of some secret wish-fulfilment?”

   Doctor Yalden nodded encouragingly. “Something like that, yes.”

   “But that would be madness.”

   “As I said, it is a very broad spectrum. It’s not madness, it’s just that when the mind is stressed, and it can’t find any conventional means of relieving itself, it can create these new…”

   William quickly finished the sentence for him. “Stories. So, you are telling me the whole thing is in my head?”

   “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

   Doctor Yalden watched William as he processed this idea. He was relieved that he displayed normal functioning behaviour and standard social responses. He did not appear to be a danger to himself or to others, which was promising – just another case of delusion brought on by stress or overwork, which could be successfully remedied by the appropriate therapy and medication. Doctor Yalden was already writing out the prescription in his head when William answered.

   “What would happen if I still believed that God wants to make a deal with me?”

   Doctor Yalden had not expected this response. It was possible that the delusion was deeper rooted than at he had at first assumed. “Then, that could prove problematic,” he cautiously replied.    “So, you wouldn’t allow me to go ahead with my plan?”

   “It would be highly unprofessional to do so. In such a state you would constitute a threat to yourself and to others.”

   “What would you do?”

   “I would have to have you temporarily sectioned for your own wellbeing.”

   “You mean you would have me put in a mental asylum?” asked William, the panic and fear evident in his voice.

   “Well, we don’t use the term ‘asylum’ anymore – the term is ‘Mental Health Facility. The system has radically changed since the days of asylums – these facilities are more like a retreat where you can relax and recover from the stresses of everyday life.”

   “So, you think I might be a schizophrenic?

   “Again, that is a term we don’t use anymore. But you have experienced a sustained audio-visual hallucination, so we consider that to be of a major concern.”

   John seemed deeply disappointed. “You’re convinced it’s a hallucination?”

   “Yes, and I am guessing that you are as well. You seem to be a very rational and sensible person. Surely you must see the truth of what I am saying?”

   Doctor Yalden watched William, attempting to judge his reaction. He could see the man was in turmoil and was consumed with doubt. The psychiatrist had witnessed this many times before and recognised William’s suffering. He disliked having to destroy his beliefs and cause more pain, but he knew that it was the only way William would ever be normal again. He needed to face up to reality.

   After almost a minute’s contemplation, William very slowly nodded. “I’ve been a complete fool, haven’t I?”

   Doctor Yalden smiled. “No, you’re not a fool. You’re just a person who has experienced something very difficult. Fortunately, you have a strong support group to help you through this.”

   “But supposing I keep experiencing the hallucinations?”

   “Then we will deal with it. There have been huge advances in medication and treatment to help you with this condition. The most important thing is that you realise that you are unwell.”

   William nodded thoughtfully. “So, what happens next?”

   “I suggest you sit down with your wife, have a good long talk and explain to her how you have been feeling. I know she is very worried about you and you both really need to be there for each other. Then we can book a session and we can discuss your treatment plan. Don’t worry, William, we will get through this.”

   “Thank you, Doctor. It’s such a relief to hear you say that.”

   “I’ll go and speak to your wife. I’m sure she’ll be very happy to hear that you’re beginning to feel better.”

   As he rose, Doctor Yalden rested his hand on William’s shoulder again and gave it a reassuring squeeze. William smiled at him as he left the room. 

   He relaxed back into the chair and thought about the conversation and what Doctor Yalden had just told him. He had to admit that it made sense. On some level he was deeply dissatisfied with his life – maybe his subconscious desire for change was really so overwhelming that he had dreamt up the entire bizarre scenario? It indeed seemed like some kind of madness. He had been dreaming for so long that maybe it really was time to wake up before it was too late.

   There was a gentle knock on the door. “William?” Helen’s voice was quiet and unusually hesitant. The door opened and she entered the room. Doctor Yalden followed directly behind her.

The two of them stared in disbelief at the empty room. Helen quickly crossed to the open window and looked out. The world beyond the window seemed devoid of life apart from the robin that had flown onto a tree branch and now stood watching her with its quizzical gaze.

______________________

 

William walked aimlessly, unable to focus on any particular direction or destination. He tried to ignore the words that looped endlessly in his mind like a negative mantra – This is madness – I don’t know what I’m doing – I have to go back – this is madness… On and on the words seemed to echo endlessly in his head. He found it hard to breathe. He was sweating, and his head was spinning.

   He stopped walking. He found himself standing in a street he did not recognise. Breathless, he sat down on a bench by a bus stop and tried to collect his thoughts.

   He slowly counted backwards from a hundred, meticulously enunciating every number. His panic began to subside. He counted down from a hundred again and the terrible voice in his head slowly dwindled to a distant whisper.

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