Forward and chapter 1

A new concept, the book opens introducing the course tutor, his helper and the groundwork needed, then the fun starts.....

The Greatest Story Never Told:

Tide and Time:

At

The Rock

By Lenny Banks

Foreword from Lenny

What follows is an account of young people taking part in a challenging personal development course in a deprived, post-industrial town. With help from positive role models and some valuable lessons in life, they grow and learn to survive in a new, sometimes dangerous world.

The world they were to inherit, wasn't what the young people were promised. As the author and someone who worked in the field, I don’t judge their choices. I share some of their experiences, in the hope that individuals don’t have to make similar mistakes, and others will see some of the positive experiences, and want them for themselves. Don’t be surprised if you read a passage and think, ‘Something like that happened to me,’ or ‘That character sounds just like me,’ there’s bits of all of them, in each of us.

A mistake or a good experience, we learn the most when we experiment with something new and challenging. I’ll leave it to you to decide how much is fact, fiction and how much is training fodder. If you gain something positive from this book, I’d ask you to pass it on to someone else, so they can.

© Lenny Banks, 2012 All Rights Reserved

All names and organisations in this book are fictitious,

and have no bearing on real people or organizations with similar names.

Chapter 1: Introduction

It was a cold, miserable day, a light drizzle hung in the air and there was a smell of rotten cabbage. Rich had recruitment appointments later, but was catching up on some errands. After withdrawing money from the cash point, he looked along the High Street. There wasn't much activity, the town had seen more affluent times, but poverty and despair were now the masters. Most of the High Street names had moved out with the gradual introduction of internet shopping, an out of town shopping complex, and the ill-conceived pedestrianisation of the main road. The charity shops, gambling establishments, cafés, ethnic restaurants and a mobility shop for the disabled were scattered between the boarded-up vacant units.

Rich worked as a freelance trainer, specialising in youth courses. They were designed to give young people qualifications and life experiences they didn't necessarily get from mainstream education or home life. After working for a national provider, he took a job with a charity 'The Rock,' which worked in partnership with the local college. He disliked the College pressures, and despised their farming attitude to teaching, but he loved the difference he could make in young people's lives.

Rich crossed the street and made his way through the back-streets in the direction of the library. The drizzle became more intense, so he walked closer to the shop fronts to keep dry. As he walked past a Jeweler shop with a poor reputation, he was surprised by a scruffy blond-haired young man emerging from some discarded boxes, which appeared to have been built into a barricade across the shop entrance. At thirty-three, Rich was a healthy athletic man, but he stepped back in surprise, and drew a sharp intake of breath. Rich and the young man made eye contact. Rich expected to be mugged, and was trying to establish what his next move would be. To his astonishment, the young man looked away and dipped his head back behind the cardboard appearing to gather up a few meager belongings. Rich intuitively knew this young man needed his kind of help, he just needed to find out how he could help.

“Hello, is this where you live?” asked Rich breaking the ice. The young man looked back at him not sure if he was going to be abusive, understanding or helpful. He preferred it when people just passed by. “Sorry if I startled you, I was just walking past...” Rich added, moving closer.

“I'm okay!” The groggy youth hadn't had much sleep. Rich squatted so he was the same height as the young man, making eye contact easier.

“I'm Rich, I work for The Rock, it's a charity that helps people find their feet, get some skills and gain some qualifications.” He waited for a response, sometimes he was told to 'Get lost!' but the young man stopped what he was doing, and looked across, interested in what Rich had to say.

“I'm Juan,” replied the young man, running his fingers through his blond unkempt hair. “What do you have to do?”

“Can I join you?” Rich motioned to the door step, so they could both be seated. They both sat on the jewelers step. It was an unusual place for an interview, but sometimes Rich had to react to situations as they presented themselves.

“How did you come to be here?” inquired Rich. Juan starred at him for a moment, rubbed his eyes, looked around and glanced at the bottom of the door.

“There's a gap at the bottom of the door, they leave the heating on to keep away the frost, these cardboard boxes stop the drafts,” explained Juan. “The jeweler knows I'm here, he sometimes gives me doughnuts. He said I'm his alarm system, they haven't had a robbery since I come here,” Rich felt Juan had become defensive, he wasn't sure if it was because he was groggy, or if he was always like that.

“I'm not the Police,” responded Rich reassuringly. He could see Juan wasn't sure if he should trust him. “I meant how did you find yourself sleeping on the street?”

“Sometimes I can sofa-surf... you know staying with friends or family, but you can't do that all the time, people nag you to 'sort yourself out'.” He hung his head as he spoke, and appeared to be disappointed with himself. “Tell me about your course, can you help me get my own place?”

“Well that's a tough one, no one's gonna give you the keys to your own flat, but I can help you by referring you to a hostel if you want me to do that... but you have to be on my course.”

“So, you can't help me then,” Juan abruptly interrupted.

“I don't know if I can help you. It depends what you want. I've helped people to get into colleges, get jobs and even join the army. A lot of 'em have moved on to get their own place, but I can't make empty promises. This town's seen enough of those when the pit and the steelworks closed.” As Rich spoke, Juan struggled at first with the faint brogue in his voice which was left over from his childhood in Glasgow. As he spoke some more, Juan started to understand him easier. Juan studied Rich's face, his near-black wavy hair, slightly swept into a gelled style, would suit any budding film actor. By most standards good-looking, he dressed casually and had a small stud in his ear. Rich felt Juan's demeanor and interest indicated that the unfortunate youth had started to drop his barriers, and was starting to see Rich as someone he could trust.

Juan looked back at his cardboard and looked around at the street he called home. People were starting to move around and open shops, one café owner was putting out his chairs and tables. It was too cold to sit in the street, but it was the best cheapest advertising the owner could think of.

“Okay, I wanna know more, but I have to hide these boxes or someone will steal them. I have a secret place, cos I can't carry them around all day.” Juan started to collapse his boxes flat, Rich stood up and watched him gather his belongings. Juan started heading toward the rear of the catalogue shop, but stalled and looked at Rich. It seemed he wasn't sure if he should expose his hiding place to anyone.

“I don't want your cardboard,” Rich replied. “You can trust me.” Juan then pushed a steel cage close to a covered outbuilding and used it as a step to hide the cardboard on top of the flat-roof. This was under a flimsy lean-to, the perfect place as it was close, sheltered and fairly inaccessible.

“Let me buy you a coffee and a sausage sandwich,” offered Rich. Juan accepted his offer.

They went to the supermarket café, it was warm and the food and coffee appeared to be fresh. Juan told Rich about his life, he'd known hunger, discrimination and unfortunately crime. The twenty year old had also suffered violent abuse. He'd been neglected and thrown out from the home he shared, with what he described as his 'alcoholic' mum and 'obnoxious' step-father. He occasionally returned when things died down, he'd apologise to keep the peace, and for a while his mum would be the shield that quietly absorbed the violence. This kind of lifestyle wasn't unusual in this part of the world. Sadly, the government had no real plans for replacing the vital livelihoods or self pride that people of towns like this so desperately needed. Nonetheless, responsibility for the deterioration of his family relationships rested with his alienated guardians, like other parents they had no idea how to manage wayward teenagers.

***************************************************

A year had passed since Juan took part in the course, he always told people he’d been rescued that day he first met Rich. Introduced to The Rock's life changing development course, he'd successfully completed it, settled into new accommodation, secured a respectful, if only temporary job and had applied for several others. He jumped at the invitation to come back to help others who needed to take part in the course. In a year he'd become good-natured, confident, caring and he’d always take time to hear anything you wanted to tell him, Rich knew he'd be ideal for the challenges that lay ahead.

Looking up from his crib sheet, Rich glanced across his small office at Juan who was excitedly ticking names on a hand written register. The blue-eyed young man was overflowing with excitement like a child on a cold, crisp Christmas morning. They worked well together and had spent that last few weeks at interviews, meetings and planning the course. Because he’d been a student, Juan best understood all the aspirations of the young people who’d signed up for the course. The fears, forebodings, and not to mention some of the problems that lay ahead. Mostly, he understood the rejection that some of the disaffected and in some cases... sad individuals had suffered in their short, troubled lives. The next six weeks would be filled with getting everyone into the classroom and through the program. Breaking the silence, Rich put down his empty mug, they both glanced at the door that led to the classroom, and then at the clock, it was nearly time to move as all the students were quietly assembled on the other side.

Rich rose to his feet. “Let battle commence!” he uttered as Juan opened the door. They walked into the lair, where the students sat in daunted silence. Strangers, they were watching each other like scorpions guarding their domain, ready to pounce if someone invaded their territory. The room was big enough to accommodate the twelve assembled, but not enough to spread out for some of the activities Rich had planned. It was now early March and the mornings were still relatively dark. Juan had turned on the strip-lights, and natural daylight also crept in through a badly maintained skylight and the grubby time-stained windows, illuminating the fear and trepidation in the faces of those assembled. There was a single bunched up redundant curtain in the corner of the room that had seen better days, several missing ceiling tiles exposed the artificial canopy above their heads and miss-matched tables and chairs, tired and abused with the graffiti of previous students were assembled in a horse shoe arrangement. Rich led the way, and found a space at the front of the room, Juan sat on a chair next to Rich's desk and double checked his register.

“Good morning everyone... thanks for coming here today.” Before him were twelve forsaken faces, each acknowledged his welcome in their different ways. Rich wondered how Juan and he had gathered such an unlikely group of people over the last couple of weeks. He glanced across at his helper, then at the students, he wryly smiled at the challenge that lay ahead and said,

“Let’s make some history.”

Author's Note

Spelling errors UK /USA