He’s
tired, his shoulders are slouched. One gloved hand carries his still
stiff tool belt. A well-used hammer Tubs gave him hangs from one of
the side loops and bumps against his leg. The repetitive slap in the
only noise except for the distant clanging of the Fairfield Shipyards
which go all night. The other holds the front of his coat tight at
the neck. A well-used canvas lunch bag is slung over one shoulder. He
was up at 6 this morning and helping Duff in his shop. The security
men that pick up the repairs come every Thursday at noon delivering
the jewellery to be fixed and pick up the completed jobs. Dominic
spent the morning polishing chains that Duff had repaired. There was
a silver one he really liked and hoped to own one day. While thinking
of how much he needs to put aside when he turns onto Drive Road that
will take him by Elder Park, he encounters three boys roughly his
age.
Two
of them are pushing and shoving a smaller boy that is doing his best
to hold his own pushing and shoving when he can. The larger of the
aggressors gets in close enough to grab the smaller one by his jacket
collar and shove him against the wrought iron fence that surrounds
the park. His companion steps closer and hits the smaller boy in the
stomach. When the injured youngster falls to the ground Dominic is
close enough to hear them. They don’t know he is near. Not liking
what he sees, the fallen boy much smaller, he sets his tool belt down
gently and creeps closer.
“We
told you before Pestov, you stay in the Gorbals. You Russian scum
need to stay in the tenements where you belong. We don’t want you
‘Pests” around…”
Tall
boy is interrupted by a blow to his left ear that causes him to
stagger and cartwheel his arms before careening into his helper
knocking them both down, the bigger one on top. Dominic steps up to
them, his gloved fists in the fighter’s pose his father taught him,
taught all his boys. His left foot back for balance, both feet on
their toes.
“Try
someone your own size ya bullies.”
Dominic
is a scary figure, only his silhouette is visible to the downed
ruffians, the partial moon shines over his left shoulder exposing his
upraised defensive fists. The downed boy is surprised by the
aggressive act of the stranger and sits up trying to catch his breath
and watch. The two on the roadway are scrambling backwards. The
bolder one shouts while rubbing his ear.
“What’s
it to you…and ya shouldn’t sneak up on people.”
They’re
standing now and maybe street tough but they’re leery of this
stranger who is not an adult. They strike their own poses, the
shorter one a step behind and bobbing his head back and forth from
Dominic and his companion not sure what to do.
“Ya
shouldn’t be picking on people smaller than you and you’re
obviously not brave enough to do it on your own, takes two of yas.”
Dominic
starts to bob lightly like a trained boxer.
“Step
up now you cowards and let’s finish this…or bugger off!”
Tall
boy and Uncertain give each other a glance before deciding that
buggering off is probably the best option, turn and scamper away
behind one of the apartment buildings on the other side of the
street. Dominic relaxes and turns to face a bedraggled figure sitting
with legs flat, holding his stomach and taking short breaths. The
head is uncapped and hanging down. Even in the low light, Dominic can
see the jacket is light and tattered. Gathering his tool belt he
wonders at the boy’s silence.
“Ya
could at least say thank you.”
The
voice is deep for someone so young and heavily accented from a
foreign language.
“I
didn’t need any help.”
“That’s
not what I saw.”
No
response. He reaches down with his free hand.
“C’mon,
I’ll give you a hand up.”
Hesitant
at first, the younger fellow offers an uncovered hand, small and
delicate like a girl’s. Dominic is startled by the uncovered limb.
Grasping the hand, Dominic helps him to stand.
“Don’t
you have any mitts?”
Tucking
his hands in his jacket side pockets belies the next statement.
“No,
I don’t, but I don’t need any.”
Stepping
back Dominic tries to see his face but the low light only casts
shadows. He can see that it is wide, lots of stray hair. The chin is
up. He stands at least five or six inches taller.
“So,
what was that all about? And do you really live in Gorbals?”
“They
just think that all Russians are like the Ivanov gang and all we want
to do is steal everything. And yes I do live in the Gorbals and I do
live in a tenement before you ask.”
Dominic
heard about the squalid buildings that housed immigrants in crowded
quarters, often four to five in one or two rooms, lured by work in
the yards. Always a shortage of homes drove the rents upward.
Sanitation is a problem. Many do not eat properly. He didn’t
believe it at first. He knew his family was poor but they always had
a roof that didn’t leak, clean beds and food.
“What
are you doing here? And at night?”
“I…I
just need to get away from all that noise and dirty smells and…”
Dominic
senses discouragement in the voice, a lower tone. The pitch changes,
bolder.
“It’s
not your business. I should be going, my brothers will be home later
and I need to be there.”
Without
any further comment, he sets off towards the other side of the park.
Dominic can see the figure shaking from the cold and stares at his
gloves. He has an older pair at home, not as new but just as warm.
Removing his gloves, he chases after the boy.
“Here,
take these.”
Surprised
by the command, the boy stops and faces Dominic, seeing the gloves in
the outstretched hand. He is affected by the offer.
“You’d
give me your gloves?”
“Well
it’s two or three miles to Gorbals and I have another pair.”
He
can’t say no. He can hardly grasp the gloves properly from chilled
fingers. He stares at Dominic while twisting them on.
“Why
are you doing this? You don’t know me.”
“Not
so long ago I didn’t always have mitts either and I know what it is
like. Now I’m working and can buy my own.”
There’s
a moment of silence. Dominic puts his own hands in his coat pocket.
“What’s
your name?”
“Ivan.”
It
comes out in Russian, eeVAHN. Not I-van like Scots call him.
“Ivan
Pestov and what’s yours?”
“Dominic
Alexander, but most people call me Dom. You can if you like.”
“Why
would I like, I’ll probably never see you again. I doubt you hang
around the Gorbals and I’m not welcome here.”
“Sure
ya are, ya can come home and have a bite with me and Uncle if ya
like?”
Dominic
is worried about his spontaneous suggestion not sure how Duff will
react to an uninvited guest but he needn’t be. Surprised by the
stranger’s generosity, Ivan waves him off and starts towards the
Gorbals.
“Thanks
for the gloves and for getting those jerks off my back.”
Watching
until the retreating figure is in darkness, Dominic hitches his lunch
bag straighter on his shoulder and heads home wondering what the
surprise is that Duff said would be there.
I
met Andy many years ago when we both worked for a jewellery
manufacturing company. He was doing the jewellery designs which were
quite amazing. Now he works on portraits of superheroes, famous people
and animals. His work is scattered all over North America and as far
as Europe with buyers wanting to own his life-like drawings. He has
agreed to participate in a 4Q Interview and allow us to show his
work.
