Writing for Fun
January 2017
Invisible - Sue Barker
Everyone knows that life on benefits is a doddle, it must be true it's in the news every week.
If only someone had told Kate that, she could have had a happier, easier life, but that wasn't how her life was, she didn't know why or what she had done to deserve such a dismal, paltry existence, but she couldn't find any way out.
Christmas had come and gone in its usual manner. Kate had managed to get to the Salvation Army for her lunch, at least that month she'd had a hot meal and some warmth; she hadn't spoken to anyone. They even offered her a shower if she wanted it and some new clothes, she refused both.
Kate realised she was pretty much invisible to the world. She seemed to fly just below every radar; Social services weren't aware of her now, why would they be? She had never asked for any help, she didn't know what they could do for her anyway; they hadn't been much help when she was younger.
Apart from her Christmas lunch she refused any handouts. If they didn't know about you they couldn't take you away; this was her mantra to keep safe.
She worked right up until she was 60, cleaning toilets which didn't provide a pension, but did provide a tiny room to sleep in at night. She had managed, and was reliant on no-one but herself.
When she finished work she only claimed her State Pension, no other benefits, she didn't want their charity. But it was so hard to keep warm and safe once she retired; and finding somewhere to sleep was proving harder and harder. Most of the time she was okay, it's just the winter months.
She had been approached by someone purporting to be a minister, who was he kidding? He only looked fifteen, if he had tried anything on she had a little knife, she would use it if need be. He was babbling on about the Bible and providing shelter. Kate bared her teeth and growled at him and he quickly retreated. She almost laughed but really there wasn't anything to laugh about.
She curled up tight to try and keep some heat around her; but she couldn't shut out the memories. Even as a little girl she had never fitted in, whether it was being in care until she was 17, she didn't know, she just never trusted anyone and kept herself away from 'normal society'. She was just glad when the abuse stopped, she never told anyone, who would have believed her anyway?
So now aged 61 and looking ten years older she is what is commonly known as a rough sleeper. She didn't know how long she would survive on the streets and she didn't much care. She remembered when she was very little and still living with Mum; how cold the rooms were, the net curtains stuck to the windows with ice. If it was a good week, and Mum had entertained an uncle or two there would be coal on the fire, if not they had no heating. Well that was nothing to the cold which was permeating her bones today; there was ice clogging up her veins, a tear silently leaked from her eye and froze on her cheek; this was not an existence this was purgatory.
Suddenly she had to get out of her clothes, she just had to; the compulsion was overwhelming her. She stripped down to her filthy vest and knickers, nothing more than rags really. She must sleep, she pulled the newspaper over herself and drifted off, she felt the cold claim her body, the shivering had stopped ages ago; and slowly acceptance took its place. Kate couldn't open her eyes anymore.
10.30 that night the young street preacher returned, he warily approached the bundle of rags and newspaper. He knelt down beside her and gently spoke, he received no reply. He tenderly touched the shoulder of the old lady but there was no response. She'd gone; he offered up a prayer and then phoned the ambulance service. The cold had claimed another victim; and hypothermia had won the battle, it nearly always does.