It must be quite late in the evening but I am almost entirely unaware, I have spent the day walking around the city. I briefly called into the squat in Jermyn Street, where Tanya and her baby are currently living. I can do little to convince her to get the little mite into the system, she herself a prostitute and illegal immigrant knows that if she were to try and get her child, Allegra, registered the child would probably be taken from her. Besides as she tells me, what could the NHS do for her and the baby that I couldn't? She offers me food and cash, which I gladly accept, ensuring that she and Allegra have what they need before I leave.
My strange rounds are always like this, I visit the old and the sick and the dying, those who need help or company, and they in return ensure I have food and some money in my pocket. It is not a living, not a real living I am aware, but free food, and some clothing keep me healthy, a couple of quid for booze or a cup of tea in the all night café, dulls the senses somewhat. I can keep myself clean and fed, and what else does anyone need. I sometimes look at my reflection and wonder, someone must know who I am, where I came from, and imagine I must belong somewhere else. Sometimes when one of my 'patients' is sick, and I seem to know exactly how to care for them, I imagine that maybe I am a real Doctor, and have a life somewhere else. Then I see a 14 year old rent boy, bleeding to death in a back alley, his pupils blown with amphetamine abuse, and I think maybe this is what my real purpose is.
Exhausted I sit on my rucksack and watch the emptying street for a while. My eyes are starting to close, and I think I must find some shelter for the night; it is fatal to sleep out on these streets all night. I am about to get up, when the man tumbles out of the side street, he looks behind him, and grabbing his stomach stumbles across the road towards me. I don't recognise him, but that's no matter he's heading for me and he's hurt. I stand up and reach my arms out to him, he looks up into my face, and I see a handsome but drawn face of a young man, his pupils are blown white, and his lips are drawn a cyanotic. He's an addict, but his clothes although dirty are expensive and well cared for, a recent runaway then. His cheeks are black and bruised, and he's wheezing the physician's eye roams over him; someone has given him a good kicking.
As I support this young man, I hear shouting from the alleyway opposite; whoever attacked this man is coming for him. I roughly push him down onto my rucksack, and stand in front of him. There are few who will threaten me, I fear little on these streets. The three young men, come running and stumbling forwards, one has a bloody nose, one has a black eye, and I briefly gaze at the shuddering youth behind me, he clearly gave as good as he got. As they run towards me, I step forward, setting my jaw against them.
"Alright lads, give it a rest" I shout
"Leave it out Doc, the posh-o is ours"
"Not tonight, lads, he's had enough leave him be"
"Get out the way Doc, this is nothing to do with you" The tallest lad comes up to me, several inches taller than me, he towers above me threatening. His name is Dall, he's a dealer and a murderer, but he doesn't scare me.
"No Dall, piss off" I say, he swings towards me and I kick him in the nuts, he goes down quickly and as his head pitches forward I punch him hard behind the ear, knocking him unconscious. I look into the eyes of his friends, and they quietly back off. "Take him away boys; put him to bed, he'll be fine in the morning".
As the lads drag away their fallen leader in silence, I turn towards the addict.
"Afghanistan or Iraq?" he asks.
"Huh?"
"You've seen active service, fairly recently, was it Afghanistan or Iraq?"
"I don't know?" I answer honestly, kneeling in front of him and looking him over. "Come on" I say dragging him to his feet.
"Where are we going?"
"All night café, I need to see you in the light."