It wasn't a night for sleep. Too cold, too damp. My old bones would seize up, my body give up the fight. So I kept moving, with only the briefest of stops, marvelling at those who could snore away in cardboard and blankets, envying those who'd found a bit of warmth. When you've got this low you can only compare yourself with others at the same depth. The safety of four walls was an unimaginable fantasy.
Four thirty am. I walked down the hill, only one place showing lights. They knew me there, but would be too busy to see me, let alone give me anything. Gabbie's Bakers. Getting the orders ready for the morning deliveries. Rolls mostly, for the sandwich shops and cafes that fed the workers that fed me their spare change. I stopped, squinting while my eyes adjusted to the brightness from the big single window that, with a narrow doorway, was the whole frontage of the shop. Inside the shelves were empty, the cabinets unfilled. They'd be out the back, baking, bagging, bantering and laughing. Always a happy bunch. Gabriel, his son Tony, and Marj.
As I became accustomed to the light I saw a figure come out from the back of the shop, peer, recognise, and wave. Tony. Lovely lad, late twenties, a bit taller than me, but chubby featured, putting on the dough. Floury. Had given me the odd sandwich, or a bit of cake, or a mug of tea. He came to the door, opened up, called me in, stretching his aching muscles while he waited.
"You sure?" Pride survives, a hint of imposing brings shame to the cheeks. Some things don't change, right enough.
"Come in Albert, it's bitter out there and we've got a bit of warmth to spare. It's not like you're just anyone, eh?"
I walked in, ever wary of any welcome, even from the likes of this man. Too many experiences, too much history.
"Nowhere to sleep tonight?"
"Naw, out o luck, too raw to get down unless there's a chance of keeping goin."
"Aye well, good I saw you then. Can't offer you a bed, but there's plenty warmth and a bite to eat if you'll have it. Keep you going until the day comes. Come on through."
I'd never been in the back before, the place where the ovens, and the people, turned raw beige lumps into crisp outers and soft inners, awaiting their fillings. Even in my situation I could see this was a special moment.
"Look who I found" said Tony, making a show of my shape in the doorway. The others must have responded, must have said Hi, but I didn't hear. As soon as I walked in my senses went into overload, my mind had to convince me that I was still alive, and awake, and that this was real.
There had been scents in the shop that made me hungry, the fresh bread smells that please in every bakers shop. But this was an olfactory wall. Wheaty, yeasty, doughy, bready. Sweet from the sugared doughnuts, sharp from the caraway seeds, burny from the well fired rolls, summery from the vanilla tarts. And the heat? Not spring warmth, but full on summer roasting. It was a shock after so many hours in the icy weather outside.
I looked around. Beyond the three red and smiling faces above their white overalls, the big room was packed with ovens, and machines I knew nothing about, and cupboards and racks with tools and ingredients, and steel shelving being steadily filled with the morning produce, and steel work surfaces where making and finishing and packing all happened.
Gabby came up to me, hands wiping apron like a proper baker should. "Put your backpack and coat and stuff in that corner, or you'll melt in here. We'll get you properly warmed up before you go back out. There's a wee seat there so you plonk yourself down there. We're ahead of ourselves this morning so you're welcome in for a bit. What can we get you?"
Generosity makes me dumb. So he reels off the options and I say I'll have a cheese roll and Marj brings me that, and a doughnut, and a tea, and they get on with their work and I just sit there watching them and smelling those smells and feeling the love of baked goods.
"Don't forget to eat, Jimmy!" from Tony.
"Don't let your tea get cold" from Marj.
They smile, I take a bite from my roll, surprised because I really had forgotten it was in my hand, so transfixed have I been by the scene, by the sensual overwhelment of the moment, and I drink my tea there, in that hot, busy room, watching those hot busy people, I don't think that I will have to go back out soon, that life will be shit again, that I will have to figure out where to sleep safe, where the next meal is, who will hate me or pity me or tell me to get a job, because now, this moment, in here with these people and the sounds and smells and the roll and tea going down me, is a bookmark in my life, a page on which I was happy, content, at one with my bit of the world. A smile, a roll, a hot drink, and a full sensual experience too. And all I'll need to be back here is the smell of a loaf.
