She looked at the young man curled up in the doorway. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, at least. She would try her best not to wake him. She must get inside though. This meeting was really important.
It was getting worse. It showed up more at this time of day anyway. They got lost in the crowds as the day wore on. Somebody should do something.
This one looked about the same age as she was then. Goodness, something like this - or worse – could have so easily happened to her.
It wasn’t as bad, now, as it had been then. Not yet. It was similar enough though. It was as if it was all starting over again. Nobody had really believed it back then either.
Could she do this? Well, she’d have to try. Gingerly she stepped over him. This sort of thing wasn’t so easy any more. She cursed. Why did people have to get old?
He stirred slightly. The smell was awful. Then, to add to the bad body odour, he farted. It was a bad one and suggested an upset stomach.
No wonder with the sort of food he probably has to eat.
She fumbled in her handbag and found her purse. She slipped out a large note, looked over her shoulder to see that no one was watching and posted it into his begging tin.
Don’t you dare spend it on drugs or alcohol, young man.
She knew she shouldn’t do it, really. There were systems in place to deal with these people but they just weren’t working fast enough. She’d always preferred a more direct method. Wait for the authorities and you’d wait forever. Sometimes you need to stop them anyway. The authorities aren’t always right.
She pushed open the door. In seconds the world of the young man was left behind. Now she was in the plush foyer of the five star hotel where she was to meet the reporter. She recognised the soft notes of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons – wasn’t that Spring playing? Nice.
She sat down on one of the overstuffed armchairs. Goodness, the carpet was so thick here and the parquet area round the reception desk so polished.
She watched some of the guests going up to the reception desk. All furs and smart shoes. Not her scene really. She smiled to herself. Actually, though, no less than she deserved after all of that.
A waiter, all in black and white, made his way over to her. “May I help you madam?”
“Can you bring me a pot of black coffee, please?”
“Certainly, madam.”
She was getting into her stride now. Yes, she would be able to tackle that reporter, she was sure.
The coffee arrived. She took a sip. It was very good. This was the life most certainly. Now then, what should she tell the reporter when he arrived?
About the author.
Gill James writes novels for and short fiction for children, adults and young adults. Face to Face with the Führer is the fourth novel in her Schellberg cycle of novels that are set mainly in Nazi Germany. She has also written a science fiction series for young adults as well as occasional short stories and flash fiction series.
She is published by Chapeltown Books, Tabby Cat Press, The Red Telephone and Butterfly. She is a part-time Lecturer in Creative Writing and she formerly worked as a senior lecturer. She has published several academic papers.
Hers stories published on Litro, CafeLit, Alfie Dog, Ether Books and in several anthologies.
She offers workshops on creative writing, book-building, creative writing in other languages and the Holocaust and life in Nazi Germany.
Reviews by Gill can be found in Armadillo Magazine, IBBY, Troubador and on her own web site.
Member of the Society of Authors, the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators and the National Society of Writers in Education, Gill has an MA in Writing for Children and PhD in Creative and Critical Writing, thesis title: Peace Child, Towards a Global Definition of the Young Adult Novel.
She edits for Bridge House Publishing, CaféLit, Chapeltown Books and The Red Telephone.
Before becoming a writer and an academic she taught modern languages for 23 years in various schools and has continued to make school visits as a writer of fiction for children and young adults.
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