Newton’s Third Law of Motion

For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

It was quarter to five by time I got finished at work and about five-ish when I’d got onto my metro home.  I knew it was going to take eighteen minutes to travel the seven stops to Howdon from Monument and about ten minutes to walk from there to my mams so I was looking at about half five by time I got there.  We’d arranged to have a bit of a family meal – a Mexican feast; fajitas, quesadillas, nachos, the works.   I told them I’d be along not long after four but we’d been ripped apart by health and safety at work so Joyce, the gaffer, made us all stay behind to deep clean the kitchen.

I took a seat next to someone and opposite another two, it’s always a bit of a squeeze at that time of day but I was glad to get off my feet.  Rather than trying to awkwardly avoid looking directly into a stranger’s eyes I checked Facebook and Twitter on my phone.  The news broadcasters were tweeting stories about a bailout package for Greece and a local sports journalist posted a link to ‘NUFC v Villa: full match report’.  The bloke sitting in front of me got off at Chillingham Road so I had a scan of the carriage whilst I had the chance.  That was the first time I noticed him – the Eldon Square tramp.  He had the same coat on that he was wearing about fifteen years earlier when my brother, who was about six at the time, walked face first into him outside Boots.  My dad went scatty with Michael that day.  I’m sure the tramp’s name is Jimmy.  He’s a bit of a cult hero around town, everyone seems to know of him.  He’s a big, old unit of a man, a few inches over six foot I reckon.  Bald on top, long on the back and sides, shoulder length maybe, but I think everyone knows him for his beard.  It’s dark, like his hair, full but wiry and matted in places.  If you can imagine Santa Claus drained of all his colour and cheer and sketched using charcoal that’s kind of what Jimmy looked like.  He sat a couple of seats down the carriage from where I was with a spare seat next to him and two spare in front.  I watched him coughing into his hands; a hacking cough, chesty, barking almost.

At Walkergate two girls and a boy got on, the girls were around twelve years old; the boy might have been a year or two younger.  The girls wore matching Nike Air Max trainers and grey jogging bottoms, the lad had what looked to be school uniform pants on.  The three of them sat in the seats next to Jimmy and it didn’t take long until they began to smirk at each other.  The girls zipped their jackets to the top and pulled them right up over their noses.  The boy blatantly laughed and then one of the girls jumped up and scarpered further down the carriage to let out her laughter, the other two followed and done the same. I knew Jimmy knew what was going on.  He knew they were taking the piss – loads of people on that carriage did, but we all pretended to be oblivious.  The two Nike Air Max girls and the lad got off at Wallsend and as the metro pulled away from the station they looked through the window and pointed and laughed as Jimmy went past.
“You fuckin’ tramp!” One of the girls shouted.
I told myself that he’d be used to it and have a thick skin but I knew he was human.   As I tried to gauge the other commuters’ reactions to the little shits who’d got off I noticed four black lads – barely school leaving age; two hoods and two caps, leaning in towards each other, speaking in hushed voices and glancing towards Jimmy.  One of them nudged another and nodded his head in Jimmy’s direction.  I didn’t want to put up with another round of torment or bullying but I wanted somebody else to kick up a fuss first.  One of the group got up from his seat and headed towards where Jimmy sat coughing.  He stopped next to Jimmy but didn’t catch his eye.

“Excuse me, this is for you”.

The lad held out a clenched fist and when Jimmy raised his palm the lad dropped a handful of change into it and went back to his seat.

John Baker is co-founder and editor of Material creative writing magazine in Newcastle.  He has had work published in The Edge, Platforms and online at The Pygmy Giant and is currently writing a collection of short stories based on scientific laws and principles.  www.facebook.com/material.newcastle