The Busker - 1. The Busker

The Busker

Deansgate was predictably busy, the shop and office workers, except for the occasional latecomer, were all in the warmth busy preparing for a day's work. Shoppers were increasing in number with only one thing on their minds as they pushed through the crowds.

The weather was cold, dull, damp and miserable. The only thing to brighten the day was the multi-coloured lights and decorations draped high above the roads between the street lights.

The young man hoped that today would be a good day, he relied on his musical talents to help make ends meet and this was usually a good time of the year. Checking the strap to his guitar case was secure on his shoulder, he turned right onto Market Street toward The Arndale Centre and passed the street vendors setting up stalls, they were hoping for a profitable day too.

Scoping out the area as he usually did, he approached one of the street vendors. “Good morning Mary. Is the coffee brewed yet?”

Mary looked up and smiled. “It is sweetheart. Do you want your usual?”

“Yes, please.” He answered as he passed over a small flask.

After a short wait and some small talk, his flask was returned to him, along with a bacon and egg barm to which he added brown sauce and an extra cup of coffee.

“Mary, your breakfast barm's are the best, thank you.” Always polite and respectful, he reached into his pocket to pay for his breakfast.

“Put your money away. I don't want it. Just make sure you get your slot over there at one o'clock.” Mary pointed at the space between the trees twenty yards away, “I always do better trade when you're around. I'll take that as payment from you any day.”

Exchanging smiles and a wave, they parted company. The young man made his way to Piccadilly Gardens.

Sitting on one of the benches near Cafe Nero, he drank his coffee and ate his food. Feeling satisfied and more comfortable after breakfast, he checked the time, it was 9:39 am, and he removed his guitar from its case. It was his most prized possession, a Lindo cut-away acoustic with a blue fractal design, it wasn't an expensive guitar, but it looked good and gave good sound as long as he kept it tuned and in good condition. When he was satisfied with the tuning, he checked the time again. It was 9:57 am, there are no licensing requirements for buskers in Manchester but there is a strict 'Code of Conduct' to which buskers must adhere.

Setting himself up on the grass by the bench, he stood behind the open guitar case, scattered a few coins in it and started gently strumming. When passersby noticed him, he played a few chords and sang. The songs may be classed as oldies, but his Beatles set always went down well. Let It Be, followed by Penny Lane, and Strawberry Fields Forever were just some of the songs he performed before he ended with Yesterday. When the crowd wanted him to stay, he performed Hey Jude as an encore and received a round of applause and many words of appreciation and encouragement.

After the crowd had left, he collected up the cash that had been dropped in his guitar case, carefully concealing the few notes that were left, and then packed up his guitar. The allowed ninety minutes had been more profitable than he expected. Now he needed to move before setting up again. He could return tomorrow but not before.

Across on the other side of Piccadilly Gardens, he set up against the wall opposite The Yorkshire Building Society. Here he decided on a short set of Elvis Presley songs. After an hour of performing, he decided to wind up by singing Blue Christmas and again was asked by the crowd to continue. Not wanting to disappoint an appreciative audience, he wrapped up with Here Comes Santa Claus.

Again he packed up his guitar and collected the donated cash. He was surprised to see a few more notes which he carefully concealed. Feeling good, he drank the coffee from his flask and then made his way to Market Street and the spot near Mary's stall. When he arrived, there was a street performer and a small crowd there. They acknowledged each other with a nod of the head. Five minutes later, she wrapped up, and the few people there went about their business.

When the space between the two sets of small trees was clear, he staked his claim and started setting up. Then he noticed the previous performer being served by Mary at her food stall. He smiled, knowing Mary had set this up to make sure he got the spot.

Standing behind his case, facing Mary with T K Maxx behind him, he started a well-practised set of Christmas hits by different artists, spacing them out with Christmas carols. He began with a lively performance of Wizard's 'I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day' to get everyone's attention, and people started gathering. As he played on, the crowd grew, two children aged about eight or ten started to dance, they were good. He encouraged them to place their hats upside down on the pavement and laughed with them when cash was tossed into their hats.

After about fifteen minutes, the children's mother insisted they had to go. She also encouraged them to put at least half of the money from their hats in the man's guitar case. Knowing he was having a good day, the young man refused it and asked they be allowed to keep it or give it to a children's charity.

About an hour later, he intended to wrap up with a rendition of White Christmas. As he started to sing, he heard the sweet angelic voices of children join in with his singing. When he looked to his side, the children from earlier had returned and were singing with him. Their mother was nearby and smiled at him. The crowd would not let them go without at least one more song. When asked, the children said their favourite Christmas song was Silent Night. They agreed to sing, but it would be the final song as time was running out.

They sang the first line unaccompanied. “Silent night, Holy night.”

They sang the second line accompanied by the man and his guitar. “All is calm, all is bright.”

When they started the third line, they were flanked by the local Salvation Army Band. They had come to play carols during the afternoon. “Round yon virgin mother and child.”

Then all of the crowd watching joined in. The children and many of the crowd knew all three verses and sang them. When the music ended after the third verse, the children repeated the first verse, unaccompanied.

The young man was overwhelmed by the crowd's response. He quietly packed away his guitar and collected the cash in his guitar case. A large number of coins filled his pockets. He counted six five-pound notes and four ten-pound notes. There was even a twenty-pound note.

His hands were shaking as he quietly slipped away unnoticed, or so he thought.

Like hunters, the two youths had watched him all day. He was their prey they stalked him by keeping him in view but keeping themselves out of sight. They were attracted by the amount of money he made by busking. That was all they wanted, the cash. They had a habit to feed, and needed money for their next 'fix'.

Because of the time of the year, the shelters opened their doors early, The New Boot was no exception, but he had some time to kill before he could go there. He did not know how much money he had made, but he guessed it was a lot, possibly approaching £300. There was more than £100 in notes. He had never had such a good day, but he was not going to start counting it yet. He wanted to wait until he got to The New Boot. He knew he could trust the staff there, they were the closest he had to friends, and they would help him. He had got to know Andy first. Trusting Andy, he told him his story.

He was waiting for an opening at The Old Shoe Factory or for one of the housing associations to come up with something. Then he could start building a future. He enjoyed singing and loved music in general. He taught himself to play the guitar and the piano, and he dreamed of studying music and becoming a professional musician. One night, Christian heard him sing while playing an old guitar that had been left by a previous guest. He was so impressed that he wanted to encourage his dreams and bought the guitar that he now played. He treasured it, polishing it every night and keeping it perfectly tuned.

Mitchell John Roberts, or Mitch as he was used to being called, did not have the best start in life. He was known as a 'loner', meaning he had no friends and kept himself to himself. The middle child of three, all of whom had different fathers, he lived his early years on the rundown Kirkholt Estate in Rochdale. His mother did not even know who their fathers were. As long as they paid her enough, she would open her legs for any man. Being drunk for most of her waking hours, she probably would not remember them anyway.

A few days before his eighteenth birthday Mitch was confronted by his older brother and mother about rumours they had heard on the estate. Admitting that he was gay, he was beaten, and thrown out of his home with nothing more than a coat and what he wore at the time. His birthday was spent silently crying, curled up behind a large bin in the corner of a school playground. The following night he was picked up by the police as he wandered the streets in Ardwick, trying to find somewhere to sleep. The police officer soon realised that the only problem was that Mitch was homeless, destitute and in need of a nourishing meal. After speaking with his Sergeant he did the only thing that he could do, Mitch, was taken to The New Boot, where he was welcomed and fed by Andy.

Time passed, and it became dark. Mitch checked his watch and noted that The New Boot would be opening its doors in little more than five minutes. His mind wandered as he made his way through the streets, trying to ignore that Christmas was only days away, but that was impossible. Even The New Boot was busy making plans. It would be their first Christmas since opening.

Mitch only had one last corner to turn and a few hundred yards to walk when he felt himself being dragged off his feet and into a dark corner. Something or someone had hold of his guitar case, pulling it off his shoulders as he was thrown to the ground.

The young-sounding voice was harsh and menacingly quiet. “Hand over the cash fag.”

Mitch's head was swimming, his heart beat fast, and he couldn't speak words choked him.

“I said, hand over the cash.”

Mitch felt a punch to his head then his head hit something else hard. A wall? A fence? He didn't know. He just felt the pain. He didn't feel the blood that ran down his neck as the back of his head split open.

He felt hands going in his pockets as they grabbed the coins. He hoped they would be happy with the money they had and leave him alone.

“Get his trainers off. He put the notes in his socks.”

His head hit the tarmac hard as they pulled his feet in the air. His trainers and socks were yanked off. He knew he was going to lose all of his money. At this point, he didn't care, he just wanted them to go and for the pain to go away. As long as he had his guitar, he would be okay. That was all he cared about at this point. He tried to get up and retrieve his guitar.

“Don't even think about it, you queer bastard.”

He felt the pain as something hard hit the back of his head. He didn't know it was his own guitar case. He did not feel any pain when the hard, dull, sharp blade slid easily through his coat into the right side of his chest he just felt winded. He did not feel it the second time when the now bloody blade slid into the left side of his chest. He just felt weak and fell to the ground. He probably did not remember trying to drag himself to safety, only managing to get to the street before his body gave up.

The Major unlocked the front doors unaware of what had happened round the corner. He had barely turned away from the doors when someone was shouting and banging hard on the doors as they ran in, knocking him over.

Andy heard the commotion and came running out of the office. “Whoa, what the hell's going on.” He saw The Major on the floor and went to help him. “Alex, are you okay?”

“I'm sorry Major. Andy call an ambulance quick, it's, it's, the guitar man, he's round the corner covered in blood, you need to hurry and get the police.” Vinny, the man who had run in spoke frantically, as he bent over double with his hands on his legs to catch his breath.

The Major jumped up, “What!”

“Hurry, he needs help.” Gasped Vinny as he ran back out of the door, Andy was right behind him.

When they reached Mitch, a security guard was bent over him feeling for a pulse. It was weak, and the pool of blood was growing. Mitch's breathing was short and shallow, sounding more like gurgling. The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, getting louder as they grew closer.

The security guard looked up at Andy and Vinny as they approached, tears were in his eyes, and his face was ashen. “I saw it all on the CCTV in the control room, I got here as quick as I could, but they were already running off when I got here. I've called the police and ambulance. I hope they get here quick he's not looking good.”

Andy was kneeling at Mitch's side, trying to comfort him and stop the bleeding when the police and ambulance arrived. A police officer pulled Andy away so the paramedic could take over. Another police officer was listening to what the security guard told him and relayed it over his radio.

Fifteen minutes later, the ambulance drove away slowly with Mitch inside. There were no flashing lights, no sirens.

As the police officer approached, Andy asked, “How is Mitch? He will be okay, won't he?”

In a quiet voice, the police officer said. “I'm sorry...”

That was all Andy heard. He turned and bent over vomiting into the nearby flowerbed. He didn't want, or need, need to hear any more, he knew.

It was a long quiet night at The New Boot. Everyone was subdued hearing the news about Mitch. Andy gave the police a statement informing them what he knew of Mitch. Understandably he was shaken and upset. Every time he stopped crying, the tears would come again.

Christian and Jeff came as soon as The Major called them. Jeff stayed for the shift relieving Andy, who was taken home by Christian.

The New Boot's first Christmas was marred by the events. Nobody felt like celebrating after the violence that took one of their own. There was no solace in the knowledge that both youths were arrested Christmas Eve trying to sell Mitch's guitar to the second-hand store in Oldham Street near Piccadilly Gardens. They had spent all of Mitch's money and needed another 'fix'.

Mitch's 'family' were not interested in what had happened and did not claim his body. Christian took it upon himself to arrange a small funeral to take place after the New Year. Christian's namesake, and boyhood crush, did Mitch proud at his funeral. Mitch's guitar was placed in the coffin with him.

The 'small' funeral was not so small. All of the guests, staff and volunteers from The New Boot were in attendance. Some staff, volunteers and guests from other shelters came to pay their respects too.

As they left the chapel Andy and Christian's attention was drawn to several members of The Salvation Army who were comforting two children and their mother and another lady named Mary. When they approached the group The Salvation Army Captain explained how they met Mitch on the afternoon of his last day, and how he left a lasting mark in their memories.

After the minister said his last words and Mitch was lowered into his grave the two children started to sing for Mitch. Soon everyone joined in singing Silent Night.