The sound of breaking glass: my Tunbridge Wells winter #2

Previous installment: Wealth, fear and nimbyism: my Tunbridge Wells winter #1

---

As I wrote in the last post, my first few weeks as Manager of Tunbridge Wells’ first ever winter shelter was dominated by dealing with disgruntled neighbours.  

But with the permission to open, we cracked on with recruiting the staff and volunteers who would make up our team.

As we were part-funded by the homeless charity Crisis, I went to a shelter manager’s training weekend they ran somewhere in the Midlands. The culture in homelessness services was less professional back then, with fewer boundaries between those running services and those using them. Once the evening socialising got underway, things got quite wild.  As another manager told me over a pint:

‘Most of my work is with people with medium-to-high support needs…and that’s just my staff team.’

It was a fun weekend but I don’t think I learnt much. I returned to Kent and by early December we were ready to open. 

First night

To both pacify the neighbours and to widen access across West Kent, we were given a minibus and every evening we did a round trip to pick up rough sleepers, starting at Sevenoaks, onto Tonbridge and then to Tunbridge Wells town centre.

On the first night, my deputy manager, a great bloke called Colin (who was even younger than me), went on the bus and I waited back at the shelter.

On the first night, 5 people were picked up and were warmly welcomed into the shelter. But Colin pulled me aside and nodding towards a young man in a camouflage jacket, said

‘I think we might have a problem with that one, he’s trouble. He’s got some kind of cannister up his arm’

Sure enough, the man was incredibly agitated and edgy and kept inhaling something from his coat sleeve. His demeanour made everyone nervous, especially the young woman he turned up with, who he said was his girlfriend.

Kicked off

But before we had any time to talk to him about it, everything kicked off. 

Something triggered the man’s anger. He yelled abuse at the young woman and punched her full in the face, knocking her flat out.

He then stormed into the lounge area which was a wooden-framed conservatory at the rear of the house (see photo above). It was a genteel kind of room you could imagine old people drinking tea in. Without pause, he picked up one of the large armchairs and threw it through the back window of the conservatory, smashing the glass panes and multiple window frames.

It was a genuinely shocking few seconds. Some of my team were literally less than an hour into their careers in homelessness. And my thoughts immediately went to what the neighbours were going to say…

Emergency call

I left the room and dialed 999 on my Nokia.  In Hackney, I had got used to calling the emergency services almost every shift so that was nothing new but this felt a lot worse. I asked for Police, explained what happened and gave the address. Just before hanging up I added:

‘Could you please ask them not to use flashing lights or sirens?’

It seemed like ages but after a few minutes two police cars arrived.  One of my colleagues had done a good distraction job and the man was calmer. But when he saw the police, he kicked off again and had to be handcuffed by the officers. As he was escorted out right past me, he spat out in my face:

‘You f***ing grass’

It was about 8.00pm. The shelter was less than half an hour old and we had already had our first eviction.

Relief

The rest of the evening passed peacefully. Everyone was relieved, especially the young woman who opened up and nervously explained the abusive situation she was trapped in.  A few days later, we would move her to a women’s refuge.

Around 11.00pm, I walked back to my accommodation at the local YMCA who had kindly lent me their staff flat for the winter.  As I sat in my room, I tried to process what had happened and what it would all mean. The neighbours would definitely have heard the smashing glass or seen the police arriving and taking away one of our residents.

I thought that it likely that I would be the manager of the shortest-running winter shelter ever.  I imagined returning to the hostel in Hackney and my colleagues finding it hilarious.

Fear

One reason why I can recall all this quite vividly is because I kept a diary that winter. In the last article, I wrote about the fear the neighbours felt. But now it was my turn to be scared. On Monday 2^nd December, 1996, at 11.10pm, I wrote this:

‘Tonight has been a night I will never forget because all our fears have been realised and we had a terrible incident with one bloke called ______ punching his girlfriend and throwing a chair through the windows in the lounge…It was a nightmare because of all the noise and the hassle. I am dreading tomorrow as we are really going to cop it and all hell will break loose.

Tonight, frankly I am scared and I need strength and courage. I fear the feeling of being scared more than actual pain, although he shouted ‘grass’ in my face and I know that he’ll be after me when he is released which will probably be soon.

PS: the other 4 residents were fine, no problem, and after he was arrested it was a really pleasant night. That’s the tragedy of it all really, it’s a bloody shame.’

---

The final installment will share what happened the next day…

Read: Reconciliation & Resettlement: my Tunbridge Wells winter #3