The Tramp

Dr. Vernon Coleman tells the story of a tramp he knew who was killed, probably by kids "just for fun." Who was this man? What Dr. Coleman discovered is a lesson for all of us – never judge a book by its cover.

By Dr. Vernon Coleman

The following is taken from ' Bilbury Pie ' – book number 6 in Vernon Coleman's ` The Young Country Doctor book '. (There are 15 books in the series) Geoffrey the tramp had been a part of Barnstaple for several years. As much as a fixture as the Pannier Market or Butchers' Row. He lived rough; spending his days prowling the streets on the lookout for bits and pieces of useful debris and his nights curled up in a cardboard box. I never saw him begging but if people offered him money he would accept the gesture with a gentle graciousness. He had a long beard flecked with grey and wore a brown tweed overcoat. Even in summer, you could hear him wheezing like an out-of-condition water pump. Once, I chased away a few youths who had gathered around to make fun of him. Sometime last winter someone poured petrol onto his cardboard home and set fire to it. Geoffrey suffered severe bums and was lucky to survive. Where does such cruelty come from? A couple of weeks ago I realised that Geoffrey had not been around for a while. Concerned and curious I made a few enquiries. "We found him dead in a building society doorway," an unconcerned policeman told me. "He'd been beaten and kicked to death." I felt sadness, anger and despair in almost equal mixtures. "Who did it?" The policeman shrugged. "No idea. Kids probably." "Why?" I couldn't understand it. "He couldn't have had anything worth stealing." "Probably just for fun." "For fun?" No one seemed to care very much. In death, as in life, Geoffrey had passed by unnoticed. No one will mourn his passing. No one will seek revenge for his loss. There will be no recriminations. This is the twentieth century. Civilisation. I wondered what sort of man he was, how he had come to end his days sleeping in a cardboard box and what sorrows, despair, frustrations and unhappinesses had ruled his life. I have spent much of the week doing a little detective work. Geoffrey was born in Wolverhampton in 1942 and although his childhood seems to have been uneventful, the first half of his adult life was extremely successful. He loved motorcars and was a brilliant mechanic. He built up a very successful garage business. At the age of 27 he married and, at his wife's insistence, sold the garage and bought a fast-food franchise. His wife didn't like the motor car business. She thought it rather 'dirty' and 'low class'. All went well for ten years. Geoffrey got richer and his wife gave birth to two children. He bought a large house with two garages, a swimming pool and a tennis court and expanded his business. The dream finally soured when his wife took a fancy to a young solicitor whom she had met at her tennis club. She announced that she wanted a divorce. Although he was guiltless Geoffrey freely offered to give her the house. But it wasn't enough. She wanted money. Her young solicitor lover insisted that Geoffrey turn all his business interests into cash. It wasn't a good time to sell and the bank took most of Geoffrey's share of the proceeds. With the small sum that was left over, Geoffrey bought an old van and started again; living in a rented flat several miles from the smart home he'd had to sell. He couldn't afford the equipment he had needed to set up a restaurant, so he parked in a lay-by and sold hot dogs and hamburgers to lorry drivers. He was happy to have the work and his customers were satisfied. For a while, it looked as though he would survive. Then, one morning Geoffrey woke to find a letter from his wife's solicitor on his doormat. She had found out about his new business and she wanted her share of the income. Geoffrey left his rented flat, abandoned his van and headed south. Through some primeval instinct, he headed for North Devon where he had spent many happy childhood holidays. Ilfracombe. Combe Martin. Lynmouth. The names drew him to them as surely as a lamp will attract a fluttering moth. Geoffrey arrived in Devon with no possessions and no money. He had only sadness in his heart. He just wanted to get away. To hide. To forget and to be forgotten. And the rest is now history. Geoffrey was still a young man when he died. I wonder how many of the people who passed his cardboard home ever even wondered about the tragedy behind the man.

`The Tramp' is taken from `The Young Country Doctor Book 6: Bilbury Pie' by Vernon Coleman. To purchase a copy please.

About the Author Vernon Coleman MB ChB DSc practised medicine for ten years. He has been a full-time professional author for over 30 years . He is a novelist and campaigning writer and has written many non-fiction books. He has written over 100 books which have been translated into 22 languages. On his website, HERE , there are hundreds of s which are free to read.