December 2013
'Come on, Dad, we will soon be there. I'm certain you will like it. You'll be top of the world. We have moved your furniture into your flat, so it's already for you. Your freezer is stocked up so you won't have to go out for a while. I've arranged with Social services to look after you,' said his daughter.
'This lift smells of Pee! what do these postcards of women advertise? I don't want to be here!' said her father.
'You'll like it once you have settled and you have a fantastic view of the city, you'll soon meet the neighbours,' replied his daughter trying to cheer up her father.
'Your mother and me saw these buildings as hell on earth only fit for the down and out and the scum and you have put me with them.'
'Here we are it's the fifteenth floor, your flat is on the left as we get out of the lift,' said the daughter.
The door of the flat was a deep Council house blue; someone had painted graffiti on it. 'You can get a Smack here' it said. The daughter took her father into the flat.
'Come in, dad, I'll make you a cup of tea and we can settle you in. This is your bedroom, this is your lounge, this is your shower room. I thought you would prefer a shower rather than a bath and you have a nice balcony,' said his daughter as she showed him round his flat.
'I liked my bath; when I was a boy we had a tin bath in front of the fire. I was the youngest so I went in last,' replied her father.
'Well showers are so much easier to get in and out,' replied his daughter.
'I miss your mother. Annie wouldn't have let us come into a place like this. She had standards she did. Still it won't be for long,' he replied.
'Don't say that, Dad, you're still young,' she answered.
'I've got to go now as my train goes soon and I have to get home for the children. I'll see you soon,' said his daughter as she gave him a kiss and left.
Jim walked round his flat trying to think where everything had been put. He tried the TV; at least that worked. He tried the 'phone . . . nothing. He thought, I'll have to use my mobile until I'm connected. He then sat down in his arm chair and looked around at the four walls. In the corner he could see that the damp had come through and the wallpaper had some traces of mildew on it. The flat was a bit cold and he put his fan heater on to warm the room. On the TV one of his favourite programmes was about to start. The staccato beat of the clock on Countdown finished its time and the programme started.
Just then a very loud thump of meaningless beat music that seemed to crash though the paper thin walls. Thump, thump, thump smashed into his space so loud that despite his TV being on full volume he couldn't hear what they were saying. He eased himself out of his chair, his joints feeling the pain of being disturbed and made his way to the front door and to the next door flat, he knocked several times on the door eventually it was opened..
Jim said, 'Can you lower your music as I can't hear myself think'
'Kutomba Mbali wewe zamani mwanaharamu,' said his neighbour and with that the door was slammed in his face.
He returned to his flat and he did think that the volume had been reduced a little. He sat in his chair and thought, what have I come to, all alone stuck on the 15th floor, my wife gone, my daughter lives miles away. I have to rely on people who don't really care; to them it's just a job. The tears then began to trickle down his cheeks as he thought, is this all there is?
There was a knock at his front door; he heaved himself out of the chair and, picking up his stick, went to the door. Looking through the peephole he saw that there was a middle aged man standing there. He seemed safe enough so Jim opened the door.
'Who are you?' enquired the man at the door. 'Where is Goldie? I always come and see Goldie on a Monday for one of our sessions. Miss Whiplash just knows how I like it.'
'I live here now; there is no Miss Whiplash or any other woman living here,' replied Jim.
'You don't know where she has gone do you?' asked his visitor.
'No I don't. I'm not her ponce or pimp, so push off!' shouted Jim.
'You haven't got any smack? Only she used to have some around the place and I've had to walk up ten flights of stairs as the kids have jammed a dustbin in the lift doors,' replied the man.
'No, sod off!' replied Jim once more and slammed the door.
A few minutes later the man returned and shouted through the letter box, 'It's alright she has left her card in the lift, sorry to have disturbed you. If any of her other clients come you can tell them where to go. It was the kids' fault they had jammed the lift otherwise I would have seen her card sooner.'
A few days later one of his carers came to see him.
'Sorry I couldn't see you sooner as your papers have only just come through. I'm here to do an initial estimation of your needs,' said the Carer Supervisor.
The supervisor did her survey and a programme of care visits was put forward for Jim's approval. He was to have a visit every day to check on him and someone to do his shopping once a week.
Jim didn't like the idea of being stuck in this flat 24/7 just looking at the four walls. On this day as the weather seemed bright and the sun was shining Jim decided he would try to go to the shops. He carefully dressed himself; made a list of the things he wanted to buy from the shops. He locked up and made his way to the lift. As he did so he met his neighbour on the other side to loud music merchant.
'Good Morning,' said Jim with a small smile on his face.
'Pazust,' replied the neighbour.
Jim just nodded, not knowing what was said. He thought, what can you expect in a Capital city where the indigenous population were now in the minority.
The lift came to his floor and Jim pressed the button to take him to the ground floor. The lift still smelt of Pee and it looked like someone had defecated in the corner. What a way to end one's days, but he thought to himself what did I do to try to prevent this happening? Nothing. I just sat there and watched the TV when all these strangers were coming into my country. Then again what could I have done; the Government is in charge; now we are threatened with the law if we express our opinions. For us Plebs it's getting more like the 'New Speak' in 1984. The lift reached the ground floor and the doors opened and before he could get out a group of kids pushed their way into the lift.
'What you got grand-dad,' said one of the group and pushed him into the corner and looking straight in the face so close that Jim could smell his bad breath.
'Come on what you got? Give us your dosh! you oldens always have got some money. Give it over or do you want a bit of a slap, this is our territory not yours; you don't belong here,' said another of the gang.
'Leave me alone. I'll call the police,' said Jim.
'He'll call the filth. You stupid old git, the police don't come to places like this unless they are tooled up. Now give us your money,' said their leader giving Jim slap in his face.
They pushed Jim into the corner where someone had earlier relieved themselves so that Jim got it over his clothes. The gang roughed him up and went through his pockets and took his money and his phone.
'Oh please don't take my watch that was bought for me by my wife, Annie,' said Jim.
'Shut up old man, you are lucky we don't take your life,' said their leader as he gave Jim a kick.
They left Jim on the floor of the lift; he tried to pull himself together. After a few minutes he felt well enough to press the button of the lift to take him back to the 15th floor.
Jim went back into his flat, changed his clothes and tried to phone the police but the phone still hadn't been connected and without his mobile phone Jim felt so isolated stuck on the 15th floor surrounded by foreigners on either side.
'I've got to get out of this place,' he said out loud, although he knew that there was no one to hear his cry of despair.
He took out some paper and started to write a letter to his daughter. When he had finished he went to his balcony and looked over the city in which he now felt such an outcast and stranger. He then started to climb over the balcony's railings as he was doing so he heard a knock at his front door. He thought, shall I answer it?
Outside the door two social workers were talking.
'I'm so pleased, we can tell Jim that as the building is to be demolished we can move him to a flat on the ground floor for old people, very close to his daughter,' said one of the social workers.
'His daughter has worked very hard to bring that about,' replied the other.
With that they knocked again a little harder than before.
Jim took the knock almost as the report of a starting pistol and with that he launched himself into space. It's nearly all over, only a few more seconds. He thought, I can see my Annie and Mum and Dad down there waiting for me.
'Hello Jim, we are all together again,' called Annie as he fell.
'Oh, Annie, I missed you so much. I had enough, it was my time,' replied Jim as he took her hand and embraced her and they all faded into history.