‘These are the two direct access ones: the Direct Access Centre and Peterloo. I’ve marked them with an asterisk. They take people straight off the street, always keep a few beds free, sort people out with Welfare Advice the next day, try and get them into a B & B. The rest are the general hostels, men’s and women’s; some are church-run. Most of them expect payment, unlike the direct access ones. What do you want them for?’
‘I’m on a case, missing person. He left home with no money, nowhere to go, as far as his mother knows. It’s possible he came to Manchester, stayed in a hostel. I can check these…
‘No chance,’ Chris interrupted. ‘They won’t tell you anything. It’s confidential.’
‘But if I explain…’
Chris shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter, they have to protect people. No-one’s given that information.’
‘But all I need to know is whether he’s stayed in any of the hostels, nothing else.’
‘They can’t tell you that, Sal. They won’t even tell family. It’s a strict rule. It has to be.’
‘Shit!’
‘C’mon,’ Chris remonstrated, ‘if they start giving out that sort of information, no-one would trust the hostels…’
‘I know, I know…I didn’t think. It’s just, how am I supposed to start looking? I don’t even know if he came to Manchester.’ I cleared away the mugs. ‘What about kids who don’t use the hostels? Are there any places they regularly sleep out?’
‘Well, we haven’t got a cardboard city or anything like that. There used to be quite a lot of people under the arches, round Ardwick and down Whitworth Street in town. The council have got heavier on people sleeping rough; they don’t like to admit it still goes on. There’s still a bit of squatting, too, mainly in the old buildings in town – warehouses, places that are waiting demolition or re-development.’
‘I suppose I’ll just have to ask around. Thanks anyway. At least I didn’t go making a fool of myself trying to get blood out of a stone.’
‘Be careful. Visitors aren’t exactly welcome. A lot of those kids have good reason for leaving home, but there’s no provision for them. They’re constantly hassled by the police; after all, a lot of them have to thieve or beg to get by. They might not take kindly to anyone snooping around.’
‘Point taken. I’ll be careful.’
Later, when Ray had put the kids to bed and we’d eaten, I wandered into the garden to clear up the toys. It was still light, though the cloudy sky threatened rain. I spent an hour staking up straggling carnations and gathering up mammoth brown slugs that had been munching their way through my bedding plants. I dropped them in the beer traps. The traps had been fairly successful but had begun to smell appalling. I’d have to clean them out and replenish them. Tomorrow. By the time I’d finished, a light rain had begun to fall along with darkness.
