jaunty version of ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’.
‘You haven’t got nothing.’ Dulcie had to raise her voice to make herself heard over the sound of the brass instruments oompa-ing away with gusto. ‘You’ve had a fiver from me and you’re not getting any more, so just leave me alone, okay?’
The facade of friendliness had gone now. His eyes were cold as he jeered at her.
‘Oh help, I’m sooo scared.’
Damned if she was going to be the one to get up and leave, Dulcie stared back. If he’d been one of the yuppie types at the Cat and Mouse, she would have told him exactly what she thought of him by now. But because he was hungry and homeless, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Which was weird, because he could.
‘Go on, you can afford it. Don’t be such a selfish bitch,’ he snarled. ‘Give me a tenner and I’ll go.’
‘There are two policemen over there,’ Dulcie lied coolly. ‘Shall I tell them you’re harassing me, demanding money with menaces?’
He snorted with laughter.
‘Menaces! I’ll deny it. I’ll tell them you were harassing me.’
‘Oh right. And who do you think they’ll believe?’ Dulcie retaliated. ‘The woman with everything, or a repulsive little creep like you?’
‘You can’t call me that,’ said the boy, stunned by the derision in her voice. ‘I’m homeless.’
‘I can call you anything 1 like,’ Dulcie snapped back, ‘because you’re a git.’
He went, loping off with his Tennant’s Export in one hand and the wriggling puppy in the other.
As he made his way across the precinct to the off-licence he turned and winked at Dulcie, and mouthed, ‘Worth a try.’
Dulcie stayed where she was. The encounter had depressed her; she wasn’t proud of the way she’d reacted to the beggar’s taunts. I’m just a horrible person, she thought wearily. No wonder Patrick prefers Claire.
The Salvation Army band played on, and when a young girl came round shaking a tin, Dulcie slid a tenner in. Anyone who wore one of those unflattering bonnets, she decided, deserved all the help they could get.
‘That’s really kind of you,’ whispered the girl in the bonnet, and all of a sudden Dulcie wanted to cry. She shook her head. ‘No it’s not.’
The girl moved on. Dulcie took another swig of Coke. What had the beggar called her, a selfish bitch?
Well, that was true enough.
His bitter, accusing voice rang again in her head: ‘You’ve got everything,’ and Dulcie felt a lump expand in her throat.
‘I don’t, she thought, feeling horribly sorry for herself. ‘I used to have everything, but I don’t any more.
A mother with two young children came and sat on the bench. Dulcie shifted her bags to make room for them.
‘Mum. Mum, I’m thirsty, can I have a Coke?’ clamoured the boy.
‘Me too, Mum, I’m thirsty too,’ his younger sister chimed in.
The woman, who had just eased off her shoes with a groan of relief, closed her eyes and groaned again.
‘Robbie, we’ve just sat down. Can you wait five minutes?’ Dulcie wasn’t a mother but even she knew this was a request doomed to failure.
‘N000! Mum, I’m thirsty now.’
‘So am I, so am I, Mum, so am I-I-I!’
‘Oh God,’ croaked their mother, wearily fumbling around for her shoes. ‘Okay, okay.’
‘Here, they can have this one.’ Dulcie leaned across and offered the woman her second can. ‘I bought two but I’m not thirsty any more.’
‘Are you sure?’ The woman’s gratitude was overwhelming. ‘Oh, thank you so much. You’ve saved my life! That’s really kind of you.’
Another really kind. Two really kinds, thought Dulcie, and one selfish bitch.
The children fought over the Coke and guzzled it down, while the woman waggled her pop-socked feet, making the most of five minutes’ rest.
Dulcie watched the brass players shake spit out of their trumpets and ready themselves for the next carol.
‘I know this one,’ exclaimed the girl next to her on the seat, swinging her legs in excitement.
‘It’s 'Silent Night'. We sing it at playgroup. I’m nearly four,’ she informed Dulcie proudly.
‘We’re having a navitivy play next week and I’m an angel.’
‘Really?’ said Dulcie. ‘That’s brilliant. I’ve always wanted to be an angel.’
The girl jumped off her seat and stood in front of Dulcie. ‘I’ll sing it for you,’ she announced, eyes shining. ‘Si- lent night, Ho-ly night, All is calm, All is bright ...’
Not to be outdone, her brother joined in, his clear, true soprano ringing out in the cold night as he guided his young sister’s reedy warble through the second and third verses.
Dulcie had to swallow hard as he soared into the descant; she’d always had a weakness for descants. She
