The Rag and Bone Man.

The Rag and Bone Man (A short story)

The Rag and Bone Man.
Ivan had once had it all. At the height of the Celtic Tiger he had been ensconced in a nice five bedroom detached house on the outskirts of Waterford City. It helped that he had married into money, but he had also contributed hugely through the success and profits of his car dealership business.
He was now in his late forties, and he had to wonder where it had all gone wrong? Nobody had been expecting the crash that happened of course. Pundits on television who predicted that things might go south were quickly shot down by smooth talking politicians who ought to have known better. The downfall seemed to have started in America with the fall of Lehman Brothers - a banking giant that had invested too heavily into subprime mortgages.
They said that when America sneezed, the rest of the world caught a cold, but in this case it wasn't a simple cold, but a full blown flu that quickly developed into a serious virus that went on and on.
Ireland hadn't been immune. The whole banking system had nearly gone belly up, and had been bailed out big time by the Irish taxpayer and by European money. Then the Troika and the World Bank had stepped in, and imposed harsh budgetary measures on the Irish people and the supply of credit had stopped as though somebody had suddenly switched off a water tap.
Ivan suddenly found himself in a business that was foundering. It was a sinking feeling, and he found it increasingly harder to keep his head above water. Where once he had lank black hair, his hair was now tinged with flecks of grey, and even the ruddy complexion of his face had been replaced with a tight, angular watchfulness and dark shades under his green eyes. He was no longer as clean shaven as he had once appeared, and more worryingly, he didn't seem to care.
His wife, Ciara, was the first to notice these small changes, and what had once been a happy relationship began to degenerate. Rows were more frequent. The children weren't immune from all this either, and eventually Ciara had enough and told him he had to move out.
Things really began to degenerate from that moment on. He was forced to rent substandard accommodation that despite the turndown in the economy, still cost an arm and a leg. He had also begun hitting the bottle a bit, trying to drown out the misery of his new existence.
His business was fast going down the tubes. He found that for his customers, the supply of credit or lack thereof, was affecting their spending patterns in an alarming manner. They all wanted deals, and in the cut throat world of cars, they either got what they wanted or they brought their business elsewhere. Loyalty was gone out the window, and so were the good times.
The first thing to go, besides his wife and children and home, was his diet. Fast food became a staple, and as his weight ballooned he found he could no longer fit into his slim suits. He didn't replace them. Out went the nicely pressed shirts and ties, and in came the worn jumpers and fleeces. A fair bit of stubble had appeared on his jaw, and he seemed disinclined to shave it. To save on the shillings, he began purchasing all his clothes from charity shops.
He recalled the last conversation he had had with Ciara.
She had been angry with him. "Get a grip, Ivan," she had said. "Take a good look at yourself in the mirror."
To give him his due, he had stared at himself in a mirror, but he hadn't seen anything amiss. What was that woman talking about? So what if there was a bit of a beard? Didn't it give him a distinguished look like all those university professors he was always seeing on television. "Hell, yes," he muttered to himself.
The lowest point came when the courts had appointed a receiver to take over his business. Things had degenerated too far, and he found himself being chased by debtors, and more worryingly, by the Revenue. Debtors could be stalled, but not the Revenue. They had conducted an extensive audit of his affairs, and had been forced to take court proceedings. Privately they had to admit that the likelihood of recoveries were slim.
Things had gone downhill fast from there. The crunch came when he could no longer afford his private rent and he suddenly found himself sleeping rough. First in Waterford, and then later in Dublin. Even in the homeless world there was a hierarchy and protocol that needed to be obeyed, and he found he just couldn't muscle in on a patch that somebody else perceived as theirs. A few black eyes taught him that lesson.
He began picking up street lessons. The best places to beg for money, and the best places to eat. He knew all about the soup run every night in Dublin with their free tea and coffee and sandwiches. And soup, of course. He was conversant with the free breakfasts and dinners provided by the Capuchin friars in their day care centre. It had quickly become the highlight of his days and he liked the fact that nobody made judgments or asked too many intrusive questions.
He had to endure the cruel taunts of children who would tug at their parents' sleeves and shout out: "Look...it's the rag and bone man. Johnny Fortycoats!"
Dublin street lingo had a cruelty all on its own.
He learnt too how to keep his body warm at night. On the coldest of nights he had the option of hostels, but they could be dangerous, a magnet for street junkies and lunatics. He learnt how to keep warm using cardboard, and whatever shelter was to hand. Certain buildings like churches had overhanging arches that could keep the rain away; and under railway bridges.
He liked the Capuchin meals every day. It was a place to meet people, and to catch up with gossip. It helped give a certain structure to the day. The meals were always wholesome and nourishing. He liked too the fact that he could be left alone, if he didn't wish to talk and that nobody asked too many probing questions.
The Capuchins themselves had an interesting history in Ireland. During the Rising of 1916, they had assisted with all manner of things. They had arrived in Ireland in 1615, and the fact that they were still around, meant they were doing something right.
They were a lifeline.
It was what he needed himself.