The Otto Bin Empire by Judy Nunn Page B

never discovered his surname. He never offered it so she never asked. When she’d inquired how he came to know so much about plants, he’d simply said that he’d once had a gardening business, and then he’d changed the subject. She’d decided the pursuit of any further information might be risky. She had no wish to deprive herself of his company.
    Clive had been selling himself short. The ‘gardening business’ to which he’d referred had been, and still was, a highly successful enterprise. Barnett Creative Landscape Design & Maintenance was now managed by his wife (soon to be ‘ex’) and their accountant, who’d been running the business side of things for years. In fact, Clive rather doubted his skills were being missed at all. Rosemary was an expert landscape designer and the company, which the two of them had created close to twenty-five years ago, employed any number of skilled gardeners. Barnett Landscaping was indeed well-known in many circles, and during the months since his fall from grace Clive had assiduously avoided those properties whose lavish gardens had been the result of his personal labours.
    Florence McPherson was not the only one intrigued by the mystery of Clive. Madge often wondered about her new friend’s background. Intelligent bloke , she thought, good-looking, clean-shaven, keeps himself presentable, obviously visits publictoilet blocks for his daily ablutions . What’s he doing on the streets? But she didn’t ask of course. She never did. Some of those who gathered at The Corner liked telling their story to any who would listen, but for the most part a person’s past life was their own business, and this was respected. Besides, she’d known others like Clive. Men, women too for that matter, from respectable middle-class backgrounds who, for reasons financial or personal, were forced to a life on the streets. Some even led a homeless existence by choice. Funny that. She had the faintest suspicion Clive might be one of those. Oh well , she thought wryly, every member of the Otto Bin Empire has a story. We’re a diverse set. You’ve got to give us that.
    Madge actually wasn’t homeless, but she considered herself one of the Otto Bin Empire nonetheless, and no-one would have contested the fact. Approaching sixty, a tough, burly, good-hearted woman and mother-figure to many, she lived in one of the tiny bed-sitters nearby that were rented out to people on the poverty line. Many a cold winter’s night had seen Madge’s floor space on offer to someone in need, but for those new to the art of survival on the streets, of even greater importance was Madge’s advice.
    Madge knew the location of every soup kitchen and emergency shelter in the city, and she had contacts everywhere. There was DOCS for the runaway abused kids, the Red Cross and St Vincent de Paul for clothing and supplies, the Wesley Mission, The Big Issue and many other charitable organisations that could, in their varying ways, be of assistance. Everyone knew, or they were quickly told, that Madge could point them in the right direction, but no-one knew a thing about Madge’s personal background. Theywould have been surprised if they had, for it included a stint in prison where she’d served three years of a seven-year manslaughter sentence. But that was another story, one which, like Clive, Madge was not prepared to share.
    Once Clive had accepted the fact that he was homeless, he fitted in rather well at The Corner. Madge was without doubt the principal attraction; they never seemed to run out of conversation. Occasionally he’d arrive with a book he’d bought for her during his regular forays around the second-hand bookshops, or he’d accept her offer of a hearty lunchtime soup from the latest batch she’d cooked. But as time passed Clive discovered others at The Corner whose company he enjoyed. There was Oskar, propped at the end