Made In Hull: Stories 1969 - 2005 Part 3 (2/4) By Rich Mills

(1/4), (2/4), (3/4), (4/4), Part 1, Part 2,

Following the edge of the wall as it rose into the air, lines met at a point and formed a corner that jutted forward slightly from this angle. Pointing the way ahead like the snub-nose prow of a powerful little Pilot Boat sat in the local dry-dock. Knowing the way forward, past all the hidden obstacles that are out there. However being landlocked meant it couldn't take you there, carry you all the way and deposit it you safely on the other-side. It couldn't even be a beacon of hope that would guide you safely home when lost at sea. No, all it could do was point. It would let you stay a while if you wanted, use it as a sanctuary to ride out the storm for a bit.

Eventually everyone either jumps or is pushed back overboard though, that's an absolute inevitability. Hopefully you will be rested and a little more able to swim against the constant tide of shit.

Pausing for a moment I viewed two paths leading up to the imposing main door. I took the nearest and shorter of the two, as was the usual route I would choose, but rarely end up taking. I examined the bells, intercoms and buzzers on the wall near to the door. Signs said things like Crisis Residential Housing, Crisis Support Line, and Crisis Supported Care. I picked one, lifted the hand-set and pressed the button. I heard a buzzer sound off in the distance, somewhere not too far away inside the building, and a phone ringing at the other end of my handset.

But as if they were waiting for my arrival (which they were), the door swung open welcomingly and Judi stood there before me in the doorway. "Hello Richard," she beamed a broad grin.

I didn't speak, I was a little stunned and instantaneously put at ease with this whole bizarre situation I found myself in. A familiar face, and not one I would have ever expected to see. "Alright!?" I spluttered out eventually. I'd been tripping over my words, stammering and stuttering a lot, I had noticed since things had got really bad. It annoyed me, I felt like a right jibbering idiot. "It's okay Rich! As I know you I won't be working with you while you're here," she said as she ushered me into the wide hallway, closing the heavy door behind me. "Sure, yeah, I understand," I said.

"I couldn't believe it when the fax came through from the hospital. I thought no way could this be the same Richard I knew," she smiled again to reassure me that now everything was going to be all right. Or that's what I hoped it meant. I have to stop reading so much into things. Into every gesture, every twitch, to such an extent that I stop hearing what people are saying to me. "Well here I am," I tried a smile, my lip trembled and tears began to well-up, I wasn't ready to smile just yet.

"What happened, I thought you were doing youth work?" She enquired. "I was but the bastards sacked me, just before my probation period was up. It's hit me hard, harder than I think I realised. I've lost a lot of confidence in myself. People who know better than me reckon I have a good case to take them to tribunal for Sex Discrimination." I paused to breathe, and calmed the anxiety bubbling up from inside before it reached the surface again. "I mean the shit's really gonna hit the fan when this one gets out.

Imagine someone bringing, particularly a heterosexual bloke, a Sex Discrimination case against somewhere like The Warren. That fucking stupid socialist twat, what a fucking lying bastard.

Continued ...next page(3/4),

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