Southend U3A

From riches to rags - Ann Southwood

February 2012

Freddie lifted the edge of the tarpaulin and peered out into the early morning gloom, 'Well, Spot, at least it's not raining yet. Come on lets go find breakfast.' Spot his faithful Jack Russell dog stretched and wagged his tail. Freddie struggled into his tatty raincoat and they left the confines of their makeshift shelter under an arch of the main line railway into London. Freddie had been living there for four months now having been moved on by police from his previous abode, a dilapidated shed at the bottom of the garden belonging to a rundown house, which the council were now going to renovate for social housing. Freddie would have liked to live in a house again, obviously not in the style or grandeur of the one he had been brought up in, but that was in a different life; a life he had thrown away.

Rupert Miles Beddington had been born to parents Brian and Elizabeth who lived on the edge of the village in a huge Manor house bought by Brian from the proceeds of his dealings in the diamond trade, mostly illegal transactions with nefarious dealers in Amsterdam. On his return from South Africa he looked for a wife, one with good connections and preferably easy on the eye; Elizabeth fitted the bill. Brian and Elizabeth had fallen in love with the Manor house, furnished it in dubious taste, gave riotous parties, and seemed to be the perfect couple. When Rupert arrived they were envied for their apparent happiness. Rupert grew up coddled by his mother and ignored on the most part by his father. Brian tried to make up for his lack of attention by buying Rupert anything and everything he asked for and Rupert made bigger and sillier demands, never playing with any of the toys delivered to him, leaving them unopened in the room next to his bedroom. Rupert went to the best schools and at seventeen managed to scrape into Kings College Cambridge to study medicine. Brian was delighted and bought the BMW Rupert had hankered after.

Rupert was in his 3rd year when he got the news that his parents had died in a collision with their Bentley and a lorry. Brian died outright and Elizabeth on arrival at the hospital. Being the sole heir and now the owner of the Manor house, Rupert left Cambridge, knowing he had a not inconsiderable fortune to live on. Although at first the friends he had made at Kings were frequent visitors, it soon became apparent to him that they enjoyed their drunken sojourns more than he did and he got bored with their company.

He decided to travel and took off in his car to explore Europe. He stayed in the best hotels, met a few influential people, invested in a couple of ventures which failed, got bored and decided America was the way to go. Not liking New York in winter he flew to Los Angeles and on the plane met Suzie a stewardess. She lived in L.A. an hour's drive from the airport and, as she had three days before her next flight, invited him to stay with her and her flat mate. Rupert was in 7th heaven as Suzie took him to the finest restaurants, the liveliest clubs and introduced him to drugs. That was his downfall as he became addicted to heroin, not only feeding his habit but hers as well. Money flew out of his fingers like a budgerigar on speed; he became irritable, lost weight and, realising he had spent a fortune, was reliant on Suzie to supply their needs. Then Suzie kicked him out, giving him a parting gift of a ticket back to England.

Rupert managed to get to the Manor house, finding it boarded up and a letter saying the bank had foreclosed on the house, his father having re-mortgaged twice to fund the lifestyle they had all become accustomed to. He was allowed to take some personal belongings, so packed a bag with clothes too big now for his slender frame. He found a belt in his father's closet to hold his trousers up and walked out without looking back. He hitched a lift, a lorry driver stopping to pick him up, thinking it would be nice to have someone to talk to. 'What's yer name mate?'

Rupert, caught off guard, said, 'Freddie, Freddie English.' After two hours of desultory conversation, the driver said, 'Well, Freddie, I'm nearing my depot so will drop you off in Stevenage, that ok?'

'Yes." said Freddie, 'Do you know where I might get a cheap room for the night?'

'There is a homeless shelter, mate, where you can get a meal and a bed.' The driver gave him an address. Freddie was by now feeling shaky and his stomach ached, so he arrived at the hostel sweating and doubled over. As soon as he entered the hostel the managers and staff knew the signs and phoned the on-call doctor who gave him some Methadone, which calmed him down, but the next morning he was on his own. Freddie wandered the streets and in a back street came across a rundown house which looked like a squat, so he entered the battered door hanging off its hinges and found three other occupants who made him welcome and told him where he could go to get benefits and explained the rules of the homeless. They shared their drugs and food with him that first night but expected him to repay them as soon as he had collected his dole money.

After a few weeks Freddie got used to the squat and the way they lived, but the people he was bored with, and decided to set up home in the shed. He lived quite happily on his own, swapping heroin for cheap lager and cider, buying the odd block of cannabis to smoke when he could get it. Then one day Spot wandered into the garden and stayed. Even when they were moved on Spot made himself indispensable to Freddie, barking if someone came near and keeping him warm on the cold nights. On the way to get breakfast Freddie felt unwell. Pain enveloped his whole body; he clutched at his chest but couldn't breathe and he collapsed, Spot barking and nosing him, willing him to get up; but Freddie didn't get up. A passerby called the police and by chance the officer knew Freddie and called an ambulance.

Two weeks later that police officer was out on patrol with a partner, 'Jim do you remember Freddie English?' Jim nodded, 'Well when he was taken to the path lab, they removed his belt and 16 diamonds fell out.'

Spot was taken to the kennels and re-homed in two days.