A Gradual Warming

 

The two men stood on the sidewalk at the southern edge of Hampstead discussing the wisdom of purchasing a home in one of London’s most prestigious neighborhoods. The two men, brothers and successful hedge fund managers had more than enough money to buy this property. They had grown tired of the long commute, the noisy neighborhood, and the constant threat of robbery in their current home.

While technically the home was located in Hampstead, they could see the lower income neighborhood on the opposite side of the Belsize Wood. They were both slightly concerned that living this close to potential crime was certainly grounds for placing a lower offer on the property, but they didn’t want to lose the opportunity of living among likeminded others.

“Let’s walk through one more time,” Archibald suggested. “I would like to take another look at the library. I think it’s large enough to accommodate our combined collections, but I want to confirm.” Reginald nodded in agreement and they both approached the real estate agent who patiently waited for them on the front steps. The three men stepped through the front door and bathed in the glory of the polished hardwood and granite that surrounded them.

Confirming their intention to buy the property, the agent invited them to follow him to his office to sign the paperwork and transfer the funds for immediate possession of the home. “I have to say gentlemen that eighteen million pounds for this home is an exceptional price,” he said. “I can process the paperwork today and you can pick up the keys tomorrow morning when our office opens at nine.”

Archibald and Reginald Harrington signed the documents, transferred the funds and met at their new home the next morning after Reginald retrieved the keys from the real estate office. By weeks end, all of their possessions had been packed, moved and established in their new home. Archibald stood in front of a relatively empty pantry, weighing the pros and cons of making a trip to the market or placing an order online to have everything delivered. Reginald convinced him of the latter, suggesting that the two of them make a quick stop to pick out several bottles of their favorite Malbec to cover their wine needs for the following week.

The two men navigated through the map to choose the nearest quality wine shop, finally agreeing on a quick trip to Jeroboams on Heath St. but only after the groceries were delivered. The groceries arrived and were quickly followed by the arrival of their dinner from a pleasant young man wearing a Deliveroo jacket. Braised duck, a beautiful assortment of vegetables, and a bottle of Merlot tickled their palettes for the next thirty minutes. They finished their dinner, stood together at the massive bay window in the library upstairs, looking down upon the park, while enjoying a small ensemble performance of Vivaldi.

They could see occasional movement in and out of the park, some of the patrons appearing clean and reasonable until a small child darted from the corner of a home on the opposite side of the street. Reginald pointed her out, commenting that she was cradling her arm in the most protective manner. “I tell you, Archibald, if someone hurt that child, I will gladly make short work of a beating upon him. No one has any excuse for the abuse of a child, who is only looking to be protected and loved.”

“Calm yourself, brother,” Archibald answered. “The last thing we need is ruffians imposing their violence and filth upon our new home. But I agree. Children should be protected. I say we go rescue the child and call the authorities after the child is calmed and safe.” Reginald wrapped the last few vegetables and a medium sized piece of duck from the table and hurried out the side door to hopefully find and protect the child.

Archibald watched his brother cross the street, enter the park, and he then placed a call to the authorities, explaining their situation, to be assured that two officers would be at their address within the hour. Archibald, Reginald, and their new friend, Claire, sat together at the dinner table within five minutes and waited for the police to arrive. The two brothers marveled at how kind and well-mannered the little girl behaved, enjoying what seemed to be her first meal in a long time.

The police arrived as had been promised to document all that had taken place, to then leave with the child, promising that she would be safe in a foster home that would protect and provide for her.

Several months passed and Reginald, standing in his library, called out for Archibald to hurry up and join him. A second time, sickened and angry they watched Claire hurry from the same distant corner, once again holding her arm and run into the park. Frustrated and disappointed at the failure of the authorities to protect this small child, they knew their hands were tied at this point, assuming that her parents or caretakers or whoever they were somehow exercised their parental rights and brought her home.

The two men continued to grow older in their spacious, comfortable, and beautiful home, to watch young Claire turn into a young woman, no longer carrying a sweet innocent air about her. They watched her turn from cute little girl into street urchin and finally into what seemed to be a prostitute. They watched her climb into one car after another, on most nights of the week and weekends, wishing they could intervene and bring her back from the edge of the destructive path she seemed to have chosen.

One evening, Reginald could no longer contain himself, so he left his home through the side door, called out Claire’s name and invited her in for dinner and relaxation. She told him that her company would cost them several hundred pounds, but she would be happy to reconnect after so many years. Archibald had prepared a pork roast that evening with homemade bread and the three of them sat together to enjoy their meal and one another’s company.

The two brothers could feel their hearts sink lower and lower as Claire described the path she had been forced to tread, being forced into this street work by her father, who demanded that she help provide for the family. The sweet, bright-eyed Claire they remembered from so many years before was now completely gone. She had grown hard, cold, bitter, and hateful of everyone, men especially, but she exposed glimmers of happiness as they interacted.

As the evening grew late, Claire stood from the floral print sofa in the library, thanked them for dinner and a beautiful evening, assuring them that everything was fine, and she appreciated them treating her like a decent human being. Reginald walked her to the door, gave her five hundred pounds, his business card, and plead with her to contact him as soon as possible, as he could find a position for her in his office. Trusting that love, compassion, and kindness would be able to pull her back from a horrible future of life on the street with complete strangers.

Three days passed and Reginald’s secretary rang him on his desk phone, informing him that a young lady was in the waiting room asking for him. He asked for a description to learn that Claire had actually taken him up on the offer, so he invited her into his office. A new position was created for her, allowing her to start the next day as a greeter and executive assistant.

Reginald sent a text to Archibald, imploring him to rent a small and relatively close apartment for Claire, knowing that she needed to get away from her destructive homelife and start new. Weeks and months passed, and the two brothers watched Claire slowly transform from a cold and bitter young woman into someone who slowly began to glow with gratitude and love for others. “I knew we could do it, brother,” Reginald said. “Sometimes those who need the most help sometimes know nothing other than their own miserable existence. It is glorious to see the change that has come over Claire.”

They watched her as her clothing became more traditional and modest, her makeup became more subtle, and Reginald offered to pay for laser treatment for the removal of her tattoos. Over time she become more friendly with everyone at the office, slowly learning how to interact in a non-sexual manner with both men and women.

“Clair has certainly blossomed into a completely different person,” Archibald said. “I know this will be a long difficult journey for her, but our meagre efforts have definitely made a remarkable impact upon the little girl we met so many years ago. This really is what life is all about. We can pray that her memories from that former, wretched existence will fade and ultimately disappear.”