Stanley had found his new shoes on a shopping street, behind St Paul’s Cathedral. Was it a blessing from God or a piece of luck? It didn’t matter: they were meant for him. Almost perfect, just the right size. Although, truth be told, the left one was slightly too small. It felt tight and hurt his toes. Not that it surprised him. Stanley’s left foot was prone to swelling when it came to walking. Hopefully, with these new shoes, he would be able to walk all day. And he did. 

From St Paul’s, he reached the riverbank and followed the Thames until Blackfriars. There were hardly any tourists in this area. So, he pushed on to Embankment. In the gardens, more people were strolling, even if it was a chilly autumn day. He spent some time there, working. Then, he crossed Waterloo Bridge and hung around the South Bank, where the Royal Festival Hall and the National Theatre are always heaving with prospective clients. 

All the time, Stanley thought how good his new shoes were. They must be made of real leather. He could step into puddles, crush dead leaves on the pavement, and not for a single moment did his feet get wet or feel the cold. Unfortunately, by the end of the day, they had swollen. Especially the left one. It felt sore and Stanley limped all the way back to Blackfriars Bridge. There, he sat down under the cast-iron arch and made himself comfortable. He knew he shouldn’t take off his shoes, but he did it anyway.

On waking up the following morning, he realised that they were gone. It wasn’t a surprise to him. They come while you’re asleep, and nick everything that sticks out of your blanket. Today, he would have to walk barefoot through puddles and dead leaves, and go back to that street, behind St Paul’s Cathedral. He was hoping for another piece of luck, or a blessing from God. It didn’t matter which, as long as he could find one or two shoes.

---

A story from the collection