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

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

"Bottom-up democracy... young people lead... bullshit! It's a fucking dictatorship in that place, and it's time everyone knew. It's just that I'm not quite ready for that fight just yet." My almost breathless rant was interrupted. "Hello Richard, I'm Jan!" Another jolly larger-than-life face appeared, grinning broadly from behind Judi. "Okay Rich, I'll see you later," Judi backed off and returned to the office that I could see through the open doorway to my right. "Follow me Richard, and I'll take you to one of the counselling rooms." Jan led me down the hallway and round a little dog-leg corner to the left.

The corridor that I followed Jan down ran parallel with the hallway, hidden behind a false dividing wall, heading back towards the front of the building. At regular intervals open doors revealed quite small cramped rooms, each containing two comfy armchairs, and an occasional table containing mental health literature and old copies of Heat magazine, Cosmo and TV Quick. Jan motioned me into the room at the end, whilst sliding the sign on the door from reading Vacant to read Engaged. I walked into the room and across to the furthest armchair, so that I faced the door rather than have my back to it.

This room was well lit with natural light streaming in from the large bay window. Unlike the others which had no windows, and had been dingily illuminated by dim and depressing light bulbs.

The warm summer sun sat low in the sky, breaking through the tree branches, casting dappled shadows across the pastel-shaded-abstract-leaf-patterned wallpaper. "Laura will be here in a minute, she'll do your initial assessment and be your Support Worker while you settle in tonight. Is that okay Richard?" Jan raised her eyebrows eager for a response, anything to indicate that I was there and with what was going on around me. "Yeah sure," I replied. Jan disappeared back down the little corridor and out of sight.

I was alone again, but no longer afraid. I knew that here I would be safe, that people wanted to help me, wanted to listen, wanted to understand, wanted the best for me.

Sat in the window overlooking the park on that late June evening. The distant warming rays of the low slung sun streaming in through the large bay window and warming the room to a pleasant but not uncomfortable temperature. In that moment I finally realised how drained I felt, how weary I had become. Sick of talking, although I found it easier each time I'd had to do it. No more tears, I'd cried myself dry. "We've got a choice of two rooms for you if you want Rich," Laura said scribbling down the last comment I had made, which I had already forgotten myself.

I was bored of questions about self-harm. Yes, I had those kind of thoughts. No, I wouldn't do anything about it. How would I do it if I did happen to decide, I'd been asked a few times that day.

My exit of choice that day I had thought would be a leap off the Humber Bridge, just has many had done before. Just as an old friend had done so many years before. I often wondered what had driven him to do such a thing, now I had a rough idea of what he may have been going through. Why the Humber Bridge? Well, I thought that on a day like today the views from the bridge would have been spectacular. And a full-on swan dive, briefly borne by the air before swooping rapidly downwards would have been a sight to die for. So to speak. Also it would have been quick, instantly fatal, and following what was becoming a traditional suicide hot-spot in these parts.

"Cool! Okay then," I said after a short pause and in my best trying-to-be-positive-about-being-a-fuck-up voice. It was time I made an effort to use this voice instead of the whinging voice of gloom and doom that had been coming out of my mouth recently.

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

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