The Good Samaritan

It was deceptively cold, cold that made your nose run and your fingers numb.  The sunset bled across the sky and I sniffed for the umpteenth time, knowing I needed to blow, but too cold to stop and put the bags down to free up my hands. I was only two minutes from home, 3 more sniffs and I’d be in the warmth. My nose could wait.

As I walked up the hill I noticed the man in the grey coat standing across the street from my front door. He’d been there when I went out earlier. Had he been standing there for 2 hours in this weather? He must be frozen to the spot. He was a tall man, with a slight stoop, greying hair but a big, bushy, black beard.  I was in half a mind to ask him if he wanted a cup of tea but he looked none too friendly and my nose was nigh on dripping, so I decided to play the Levite and keep walking.

‘Archie McDonald!’ I froze to the spot. It had been years since anyone had called me that, years.  I fumbled with the key desperate to get it into the lock. All I wanted was to be in the warm, safe out of danger and I really needed to blow my nose.  I could hear the man approaching me, coming for me.  The door swung open and I thought I’d managed to slam it behind me, but the stranger’s size 11’s had managed to wedge it open.

‘Archie McDonald’ he repeated. I noticed there was no question in his voice, he knew he had found his man but what did he want with me?

I turned to look at him. I put my bags down and took a tissue from my pocket. I blew my nose still keeping my eyes on the stranger.

I searched my memory banks and tried to peer through his beard but I didn’t recognised the face in front of me. I stood in the foyer waiting for his next move.

He stared at me, was there half a smile on his face?

‘What do you want?’ I said.

He moved his hand across his chest into his inside pocket. I tensed, was he going to produce a weapon? He didn’t, instead he pulled out an ID card and flipped it open. It was the type I’d seen hundreds of times before, one like I used to own back when I was Archie McDonald. I relaxed a little; the stranger was friend not foe.

‘You’d better come in,’ I said, picking up my bags and heading towards my flat. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ It looked like I was going to play the Good Samaritan after all.

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