Truth or Dare

can you see me?

The chicken sandwich looked just as unappealing as it had done when the lady in the black-and-grey chequered coat had given it to him in front of the bus stop. The lettuce had that wilted 'I've seen better days' appearance, and Alex didn't much like raw tomatoes - all they did was sabotage the sandwich by making the bread soggy. A prawn one with lots of mayonnaise would be nice for a change - or even better, a tasty roast-beef sandwich with a dollop of mustard. What he wouldn't do for a hot meal right now! Sadly, wishes didn't fill bellies.

Not that he wasn't grateful for the food people gave him; it was just that they always seemed to opt for variations of chicken sandwiches. Was there some unwritten code out there that said being homeless meant you loved chicken?

The sandwich was rejected for the apple juice she had given him. He opened the bottle and took a long gulp. It had come as a meal deal with a packet of salt-and-vinegar crisps which he was saving for later. He wished he hadn't opened the sandwich, as he could have eaten it when he was really hungry. He hoped it would keep till then.

At this time of night the bridge was usually quiet, and he liked sitting and gazing out on to the water. It was peaceful. There was something mesmerising about the London skyline reflected on the Thames - the lights shimmering like fallen stars. It took his mind off having to worry about when he was going to get his next meal or where he was going to end up sleeping.

Two men stumbled past him, talking and laughing loudly. He could hear them swearing at each other as they walked past. They barely looked at him. But he was used to that. His mate Jack, who had lived on the streets for more than a decade, liked to joke that they were invisible - it was their superpower. Unlike Alex, Jack was prone to sudden fits of anger, and sometimes, as if to prove a point, he would shout, 'Can you see me?' at passers-by when they refused to make eye contact with him. More often than not it had the opposite of the desired effect.

Click, click, click - the familiar sound of heels on the pavement. He turned his head to get a better look, and saw a woman walking towards him. Maybe he could scrounge some money off her for a cup of tea.

The woman stopped a little further down the bridge and stood perfectly still. The moon was almost full, and it bathed her in its pale silvery light, rendering her as a slender, ghostlike figure gazing across the river. It was strange for someone to stop and take in the sights, especially this late - usually people hurried by with their heads down, tapping away on their mobiles. A few moments later, she started walking again. She didn't appear to have noticed him sitting a few metres away.

Alex surveyed her with curiosity as she stopped once again and stared out on to the water, immersed in her own thoughts. He watched, open-mouthed, as she put her bag on the ground and bent down to take her shoes off - there was no accounting for people's eccentricities. When she stood up her face was visible, and the light from the lamp made her appear ghoulish. It didn't help that she had black smudges around her eyes. She looked as if she had been crying.

It was only when she climbed on to the railing that Alex realised with growing dismay and a sense of panic what she was about to do - enjoying the view was definitely not her intention. For a moment he thought of slipping away and disappearing into the night. She probably wouldn't have realised he'd been sitting there in the first place. But instead he got up, the chicken sandwich falling to the ground. He tried to be as quiet as possible and slowly made his way up to her.

He wasn't sure what he was going to do once he reached her. He looked around hopefully, but there was nobody else on the bridge. The two men had disappeared into the night. Where were the nine million Londoners when you needed them? He really wasn't equipped to deal with this.

'Hey, lady, I wouldn't do that if I were you!' he called. His voice sounded high-pitched, and he winced at its shrillness. His heart was pounding.

The woman turned her head sharply at Alex's sudden appearance and her foot slipped, throwing her off balance. His hand shot out instinctively, but she grabbed on to the lamp post. The last thing he wanted was for her to fall in because of him. He cleared his throat.

'I really wouldn't do that if I were you,' he repeated. He sounded more like himself this time.

The woman frowned as she peered down at him. She reminded him of a sad panda. Her eyes were sunken, and there was a lost look in them - a look which was familiar to Alex.

'It's filthy down there,' he said, pointing at the murky water. 'Full of piss and shit.'

Her frown deepened.

'I'd know, cos I've pissed in it - a couple of times,' he said, trailing off. He wasn't sure why he had felt the need to fabricate this additional piece of information.

'Please leave me alone,' she said, her voice barely audible.

Alex shrugged. 'I can't do that.'

'Just go away!' She looked out on to the water, as if willing him to disappear.

'I'm not goin' anywhere. I was here before you, so you should leave,' he said, blurting out whatever came into his mind. He noticed she was still holding on to the lamp post.

'Listen, lady, if you were to go and jump,' he gestured to the river, 'I'd have to try and save you. And I can't swim. Well, I can, but I'm a bit rubbish. I'd probably drown and. and the water's really cold, too.' His voice sounded pleading at this point. For a moment he contemplated whether he would actually jump in after her if she did decide to throw herself in. He hoped he wouldn't have to find out.

She didn't say anything. She just stood there, balanced precariously, staring into the water.

'I'll have to report it to the police, and then they're gonna think I had something to do with it, and they'll haul me in and question me and God knows what else. that's not right, is it?' he rambled, hoping that if he kept talking someone else might pass by and help. No such luck. There was the option of running to the main road and asking a passer-by for help, but in the mean time he was worried she might jump.

Suddenly her face crumpled and she started crying. Alex was at a loss as to what to do. They stayed where they were for what felt like a long time. Her tears rolled down her face and on to her clothes. He stood there trying not to make any sudden movements.

'Come on down,' he said. 'Maybe you can call someone to come and get you?'

The crying turned into great big sobs. Alex wished he'd walked away when he had the chance.

'Wha'ever it is, it's not worth it. Please, just get off there.'

Another few minutes went by. She remained stationary, standing on the railing, holding on to the lamp post.

'Please!' Alex held out his hand. He was sweating despite the cold. Living on the streets wasn't easy, but at least he only had to look out for himself. Right now, someone else's life was in his hands. It was an overwhelming responsibility.

He couldn't say whether it was a few seconds or minutes that they both stood staring at each other, and he realised he had never been so scared in his life.

Then she reached out, took his hand and clambered off the railing. Alex's shoulders sagged with relief, and he wiped his sweaty hands on his oversized jacket. Everything looked oversized on him.

The woman slumped on to the ground and wiped her face with the sleeve of her coat. It left a black mark on the tan-coloured fabric. He wondered whether he should pat her shoulder, but was worried about how she might react. He seated himself on the ground beside her, but not close enough to frighten her.

They sat quietly for a while. All she did was stare at the pavement and twirl the ring on her finger. Round and round. It was almost hypnotic watching her. She wasn't sobbing any more, but the tears were trickling down her cheeks in black rivulets and she kept biting her lower lip.

Alex suddenly felt an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach and wondered whether it was hunger or relief. 'I've got a chicken sandwich if you're hungry.?' he said, remembering too late that it had fallen on the ground.

She glanced at him and shook her head, which was a relief, as he had a vision of himself saying, 'Hey, here ya go - it's freshly scraped off the ground!'

He reached into his pocket and fetched out a small bottle of whisky. He had found it on a wall near a pub, and had kept it for when things got a bit rough. This was unquestionably the time for a swig or two or...