One Spare Coffee (3/7)
Title: One Spare Coffee ("Wednesday")
Category: Original fic
Characters: Alfie, Bernard the Street Dog, and others.
Word Count: 1,211
Summary: The friends discuss companionship. Part 3.
(Part 1; Part 2)
One Spare Coffee
-- Wednesday --
“Why d’you keep him?”
It was lunch time again - Wednesday - and neither Bernard nor Alfie could quite believe their luck. An extra blanket and a hot meal for each of them, both man and dog were feeling utterly spoilt. Alfie eventually registered that Pete had spoken and looked up from his steaming hot baked potato, polystyrene container shaking minutely in his gloved hands.
“Hm?”
“Bernard,” Pete said, finishing off a mouthful of chicken sandwich. “I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but why do you keep feeding him when you can’t really afford to?”
Alfie considered this. He knew exactly why, and there was more than one reason, but he wanted to explain as well as he could.
“Your sister - does she live with anyone? A flatmate, maybe?”
Pete shook his head.
“But she has a dog,” Alfie said, and piled up a forkful of melted cheese, beans and potato.
“Yeah,” Pete confirmed: “Gromit. You know, from Wallace and Gromit?”
Alfie smiled faintly. “Ah, yes. The dog with the eyebrows.”
“He’s nothing like the character,” Pete informed him. “He’s a border collie, I think. Hyper as anything, anyway.”
Alfie swallowed his mouthful and chuckled. “Ar, I bet. Working dogs tend to be, unlike this lazy lump.” He nudged Bernard in the shoulder, but the mutt was too engrossed in his food to pay the slightest bit of attention. “So you think of your sister, and tell me why she keeps ole Gromit.”
“Company?” Pete paused to consider his own response. “No, I suppose that’s not quite the right word, is it?” Another pause, filled with thoughtful chewing. “Companionship,” he concluded eventually, “that’s what it is.”
“That’s the one,” Alfie agreed, smiling in satisfaction. “And I tell you, if it’s lonely in a house by yourself it’s even worse out here. Besides, sometimes you just need someone to mutter to so you can alarm passers-by.” He barked a laugh.
Pete grinned. “One of the perks of street life, eh?”
“Too right,” Alfie beamed, sticking out his chin to scratch his unkempt beard. “And if you’re still around come winter solstice, you’ll see another use for this shaggy mutt, too. Warm as toast, he is.”
“I can believe that,” Pete smiled, ruffling Bernard’s fur. The dog had settled between them, apparently wanting to make the most of the company of his two human benefactors. He raised his head, butcher’s tray now empty, and grinned at them with bright eyes and perked-up ears.
“So why did you call him Bernard?” Pete asked, rubbing the velvety fur on the dog’s muzzle. Bernard’s tail was wagging so vigorously it was in danger of causing minor injury.
Alfie thought for a moment. “Not sure, t’ tell you the truth. Must’ve just looked like a Bernard to me.” His fingers worked their way through the fur at the scruff of Bernard’s neck. “Don’t ’spose you know what it means, by any chance?”
Pete, who was half way through another bite of sandwich, gave him a confused look.
Alfie replied: “Names. They’re s’posed to have meanings.”
“Don’t know - sorry.”
“Never mind,” said Alfie, clearly unsurprised by his friend’s response. “It’s just an interest of mine. Helps me imagine what people might be like, even when I haven’t met them.”
Pete smiled. “Do you do that kind of thing a lot?”
“All day, every day!” Alfie enthused cheerfully. “A people-watcher, that’s me. I reckon if I’d had the mind for it - an idea or two, that is - I could’ve been a writer. A bad one, maybe, but people’s what it’s all about, and I know a bit about them.”
“Of course you do,” agreed Pete, and finished his coffee. “Are you done with that carton?”
“I am indeed. Ta very much, young sir!”
Pete laughed and took the empty container, also snatching Bernard’s tray from under his nose as he got to his feet. Ignoring the looks he was attracting from the passers by who had suddenly noticed that there was a man on a street corner in a suit, he crossed the pedestrianised road to deposit the remnants of their lunch. The nearest bin was the one beside the bench with which he was fairly familiar, and he smiled pleasantly at the elderly couple who were currently occupying it.
“Excuse me, young man,” said the husband, his old eyes murky but kind. “Are you one of those charity types?”
“Sorry?” Pete asked, bemused.
“Do you work for some kind of charity? Only we noticed you over there with...”
“Alfie,” Pete smiled, nodding. “No, I work in an office, I’m afraid. I just come out here at lunch times.”
“But why, dear?”
Pete shifted his gaze to the elderly gentleman’s wife, for it was she who had spoken this time. “I don’t know, really,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “But I suppose everyone deserves to have a friend. Even boring office workers like me.”
He wished them a nice afternoon and then returned to sit back down in his place beside Bernard. The rug they had been sharing was still nice and warm, heat conserved by Bernard’s influence. He had spread out in Pete’s absence, and presently found himself nudged back into line. He gave Pete a look as if to say he was only trying to keep his seat warm.
“Talking of people,” said Alfie, resuming their conversation after a sip of his tea, “who was it you were waiting for on Monday? Who have Bernard and I got to thank for coffee?”
“Oh,” Pete sighed: “Caroline.”
“It’s like that is it?” Alfie chuckled.
“Yes,” replied Pete. “It is a bit.”
In the silence that followed, Alfie began to whistle a bouyant tune. Pete looked at him.
“Old pirate radio tune,” Alfie explained happily. “Before your time.”
“What’s it called?” Pete asked.
“Caroline.”
“Oh.”
At the look on Pete’s face, Alfie laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Chin up! Can’t be that bad.”
“It is!” Pete defended. “She stood me up!”
“P’raps she was busy?”
“That’s what she said,” Pete moped. “Important meeting or something. She’s on the Development team so it could be true, I suppose.”
“Of course it were true. She’d be daft to neglect a nice young lad like you. Same age, is she?”
“Yeah,” Pete smiled. A far-away look had entered his eyes. “Beautiful; intelligent, too. She only joined the company in September but she’s already putting forward loads of good ideas. I wish I had a mind like hers.”
“Maybe you should ask her to lunch again,” Alfie suggested. “Sounds like she’s worth a second try.”
Pete’s smile faded. “What if there’s a repeat of last time and she doesn’t turn up?”
“Then you’ll know she’s not for you,” Alfie told him with a sage nod. “’Sides, if you find yourself in need of some company, I’ll still be here.”
“What about your lunch?”
“Don’t worry about that, Peter. I’ve been surviving here for longer than most, and without kind-hearted folk like you, I hasten to add. Take a chance. You don’t want to be regretting it later on.”
He was talking sense, and Pete was clever enough to realise it. “Thanks, Alfie,” he said.
“Not a problem. Now, you head off back to work - else you’ll be late.”
End of Part 3.
[mood|
accomplished]
[music| The Royle Family]
Category: Original fic
Characters: Alfie, Bernard the Street Dog, and others.
Word Count: 1,211
Summary: The friends discuss companionship. Part 3.
(Part 1; Part 2)
One Spare Coffee
-- Wednesday --
“Why d’you keep him?”
It was lunch time again - Wednesday - and neither Bernard nor Alfie could quite believe their luck. An extra blanket and a hot meal for each of them, both man and dog were feeling utterly spoilt. Alfie eventually registered that Pete had spoken and looked up from his steaming hot baked potato, polystyrene container shaking minutely in his gloved hands.
“Hm?”
“Bernard,” Pete said, finishing off a mouthful of chicken sandwich. “I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but why do you keep feeding him when you can’t really afford to?”
Alfie considered this. He knew exactly why, and there was more than one reason, but he wanted to explain as well as he could.
“Your sister - does she live with anyone? A flatmate, maybe?”
Pete shook his head.
“But she has a dog,” Alfie said, and piled up a forkful of melted cheese, beans and potato.
“Yeah,” Pete confirmed: “Gromit. You know, from Wallace and Gromit?”
Alfie smiled faintly. “Ah, yes. The dog with the eyebrows.”
“He’s nothing like the character,” Pete informed him. “He’s a border collie, I think. Hyper as anything, anyway.”
Alfie swallowed his mouthful and chuckled. “Ar, I bet. Working dogs tend to be, unlike this lazy lump.” He nudged Bernard in the shoulder, but the mutt was too engrossed in his food to pay the slightest bit of attention. “So you think of your sister, and tell me why she keeps ole Gromit.”
“Company?” Pete paused to consider his own response. “No, I suppose that’s not quite the right word, is it?” Another pause, filled with thoughtful chewing. “Companionship,” he concluded eventually, “that’s what it is.”
“That’s the one,” Alfie agreed, smiling in satisfaction. “And I tell you, if it’s lonely in a house by yourself it’s even worse out here. Besides, sometimes you just need someone to mutter to so you can alarm passers-by.” He barked a laugh.
Pete grinned. “One of the perks of street life, eh?”
“Too right,” Alfie beamed, sticking out his chin to scratch his unkempt beard. “And if you’re still around come winter solstice, you’ll see another use for this shaggy mutt, too. Warm as toast, he is.”
“I can believe that,” Pete smiled, ruffling Bernard’s fur. The dog had settled between them, apparently wanting to make the most of the company of his two human benefactors. He raised his head, butcher’s tray now empty, and grinned at them with bright eyes and perked-up ears.
“So why did you call him Bernard?” Pete asked, rubbing the velvety fur on the dog’s muzzle. Bernard’s tail was wagging so vigorously it was in danger of causing minor injury.
Alfie thought for a moment. “Not sure, t’ tell you the truth. Must’ve just looked like a Bernard to me.” His fingers worked their way through the fur at the scruff of Bernard’s neck. “Don’t ’spose you know what it means, by any chance?”
Pete, who was half way through another bite of sandwich, gave him a confused look.
Alfie replied: “Names. They’re s’posed to have meanings.”
“Don’t know - sorry.”
“Never mind,” said Alfie, clearly unsurprised by his friend’s response. “It’s just an interest of mine. Helps me imagine what people might be like, even when I haven’t met them.”
Pete smiled. “Do you do that kind of thing a lot?”
“All day, every day!” Alfie enthused cheerfully. “A people-watcher, that’s me. I reckon if I’d had the mind for it - an idea or two, that is - I could’ve been a writer. A bad one, maybe, but people’s what it’s all about, and I know a bit about them.”
“Of course you do,” agreed Pete, and finished his coffee. “Are you done with that carton?”
“I am indeed. Ta very much, young sir!”
Pete laughed and took the empty container, also snatching Bernard’s tray from under his nose as he got to his feet. Ignoring the looks he was attracting from the passers by who had suddenly noticed that there was a man on a street corner in a suit, he crossed the pedestrianised road to deposit the remnants of their lunch. The nearest bin was the one beside the bench with which he was fairly familiar, and he smiled pleasantly at the elderly couple who were currently occupying it.
“Excuse me, young man,” said the husband, his old eyes murky but kind. “Are you one of those charity types?”
“Sorry?” Pete asked, bemused.
“Do you work for some kind of charity? Only we noticed you over there with...”
“Alfie,” Pete smiled, nodding. “No, I work in an office, I’m afraid. I just come out here at lunch times.”
“But why, dear?”
Pete shifted his gaze to the elderly gentleman’s wife, for it was she who had spoken this time. “I don’t know, really,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “But I suppose everyone deserves to have a friend. Even boring office workers like me.”
He wished them a nice afternoon and then returned to sit back down in his place beside Bernard. The rug they had been sharing was still nice and warm, heat conserved by Bernard’s influence. He had spread out in Pete’s absence, and presently found himself nudged back into line. He gave Pete a look as if to say he was only trying to keep his seat warm.
“Talking of people,” said Alfie, resuming their conversation after a sip of his tea, “who was it you were waiting for on Monday? Who have Bernard and I got to thank for coffee?”
“Oh,” Pete sighed: “Caroline.”
“It’s like that is it?” Alfie chuckled.
“Yes,” replied Pete. “It is a bit.”
In the silence that followed, Alfie began to whistle a bouyant tune. Pete looked at him.
“Old pirate radio tune,” Alfie explained happily. “Before your time.”
“What’s it called?” Pete asked.
“Caroline.”
“Oh.”
At the look on Pete’s face, Alfie laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Chin up! Can’t be that bad.”
“It is!” Pete defended. “She stood me up!”
“P’raps she was busy?”
“That’s what she said,” Pete moped. “Important meeting or something. She’s on the Development team so it could be true, I suppose.”
“Of course it were true. She’d be daft to neglect a nice young lad like you. Same age, is she?”
“Yeah,” Pete smiled. A far-away look had entered his eyes. “Beautiful; intelligent, too. She only joined the company in September but she’s already putting forward loads of good ideas. I wish I had a mind like hers.”
“Maybe you should ask her to lunch again,” Alfie suggested. “Sounds like she’s worth a second try.”
Pete’s smile faded. “What if there’s a repeat of last time and she doesn’t turn up?”
“Then you’ll know she’s not for you,” Alfie told him with a sage nod. “’Sides, if you find yourself in need of some company, I’ll still be here.”
“What about your lunch?”
“Don’t worry about that, Peter. I’ve been surviving here for longer than most, and without kind-hearted folk like you, I hasten to add. Take a chance. You don’t want to be regretting it later on.”
He was talking sense, and Pete was clever enough to realise it. “Thanks, Alfie,” he said.
“Not a problem. Now, you head off back to work - else you’ll be late.”
End of Part 3.
[mood|
accomplished]
[music| The Royle Family]