Chapter Twenty-One - Taking Stock

Tuesday 21st November

Paula Walker finished counting the tokens from lunchtime service at the Community Café but left her volunteer helpers to finish clearing up.  She had a Council meeting to attend a little later that afternoon, at which she planned to speak about the impact of so-called Welfare Reform on the town.  Her token tally was one indication that things were getting worse but she felt she needed extra evidence.  She went through to the storeroom at the back.

'Are you busy, Father?'

He clearly was, but said otherwise, putting down his battered clipboard and chewed biro.

'I could do with some hard evidence to hit the Council with today, on how our town has been affected by the benefit cuts,' she said.  'I couldn't persuade them to formally write to the Chancellor ahead of the Budget, supporting calls to make Universal Credit less harsh, even though plenty of other councils have done.  The Leader said they didn't have any evidence that reform was needed and that the case studies the guys at the Project gave me were only anecdotal.'

Father Cornelius gave an unusually cynical laugh. 

'I'd be more than happy to show any of your doubting councillors the state of our stockroom.  Look at the empty shelf-space, will you?  With Christmas little more than a month away and a cold snap forecast, there's every chance we could run out of supplies.'

'Really?'  Paula was shocked.  She had not realised things were that bad.

'We're usually blessed with a rise in donations around this time, as people start to think of others less fortunate than themselves,' Father Cornelius reminded her.  'So we may pull through.  I've started to notice a little pick-up, including the funds kindly raised by your dear lad and his fellow crooners but, for all that, it doesn't seem to be going as well as last year.'

'We still have collections to do at three of the big supermarkets,' Paula reminded him.

'That's true, although I'm not sure we're going to do desperately well there either.  The one this weekend was a little disappointing.'

'Dad-in-law said there didn't seem to be much going in the trolley while he was looking after it,' said Paula.  'What do you think's going on?  Is it compassion fatigue, perhaps?  We had a surge in support after Daniel Blake but I suppose if you have to keep asking, there's a risk people will get fed up.'

'It may be that,' said the priest.  'I'm inclined to be charitable to our fellow citizens and say not.  More likely, folks are struggling to afford what they need for themselves, with prices rising as they are.  It's not easy to put something aside for someone less fortunate when your own family is feeling the pinch.'

‘True enough…’

Father Cornelius agreed that Paula could photograph his bare shelves.

‘Is it all due to Universal Credit?’ she asked him.

The priest thought for a moment.   ‘It surely hasn’t helped,’ he said.  ‘I doubt if it’s the whole story, however.  The families we see here, they’ve been caught by other changes too.  If you think about Nicky Long and her kids, for instance…’

Paula knew the Longs.  They lived in her ward.  Nicky was a lone parent with five children, all by different dads, exactly the kind of character often singled out for demonization in the press but guilty only of being an eternal optimist, if not a very bright one, certain that each of the guys was going to be her man for life, if only they could make a nice little family together.  The latest boyfriend had worked, as had most of his predecessors; when he left, leaving Nicky holding the baby she dreamed would keep them together, she had come in for help to set up her new claim.  It had been for Income Support, however, not UC.  There was no six-week wait, no waiting days, no digital-by-default system for her to grapple with.  There was almost no Housing Benefit either; the Benefit Cap slashed her entitlement to help with the rent to just fifty pence a week.  

Paula had lobbied for a discretionary housing payment or ‘DHP’ from the Council to help bridge the gap and got half of Nicky’s rent covered - for six months.  That was all.  After that, they said Nicky needed to do more to help herself, ignoring the reality; she couldn’t afford to take a job because she couldn’t afford childcare.  The help available for minding the children through Tax Credits didn’t even come close to covering the real expense she would face.  When Paula pointed this out to the Housing Benefit Manager, she was treated to a series of platitudes about the dignity of work.  Coming from a well-paid senior local government officer, the observations sounded even more trite than usual, although Paula reminded herself, before biting back, that perhaps this arrogance was rooted in insecurity.  Universal Credit would ultimately sweep away Housing Benefit and this woman’s job with it.

Meanwhile, Nicky Long had found herself part of a working household again, having taken up with a delivery driver.  His wages waxed and waned but at least she – or rather, her landlord - got most of her Housing Benefit back.  She still dropped in for the occasional food parcel; a couple of the more self-righteous volunteers took a dim view, but the old priest’s charity never failed.

‘Do you think we should take a leaf out of the Trussell Trust’s book and say three visits per crisis or something similar?’ asked Paula. 

‘I’d be reluctant to do that, as you well know,’ Father Cornelius replied.  'If the Government doesn't see fit to limit a family's troubles to nine days, but makes them wait six weeks for their entitlement and imposes three-year sanctions, how can we set a clock on our response?  Things aren't inclined to miraculously sort themselves out after a week or so - indeed, wouldn't you say a family with a chronic crisis need us more than someone waiting for a payment they know will come soon?' 

There had been a somewhat tetchy discussion about a possible rationing system when the stockroom hit a low point during the summer.  The priest had fought his corner tenaciously but the arguments against him had also been persuasive.   Paula knew there were professionals who routinely used foodbank referrals as a quick fix, rather than haggling for their clients' rights with the DWP or Council.

'If I tell the Full Council we're short of supplies, they might even step in with some funding,' Paula suggested.  'They're starting to plan out the budget for next year.'

'If I thought they would divert money to us that would otherwise be spent frivolously, I would say amen to that!' Father Cornelius answered.  'The trouble is, what can you cut without potentially increasing the need for our work?  If it's the social services, more families will find themselves in crisis.  If it's services for addicts and the homeless, we will have more callers at the café.  If they cut staff, that's fewer fairly-paid, secure jobs for our townspeople.'  He sighed.  'They must see to their duties, although if any of the councillors or senior officers wish to put their hands in their own pockets, or put in a shift when we open the night shelter, I would welcome that.'

'I'll tell them.'

Paula left the stockroom feeling low and anxious.  They couldn't run on empty.  There was a case for asking the Council for support.  The priest had made a telling point; if she did that and won the argument, they would simply be taking funds from statutory services and, very probably, create a greater demand for their own.

Back in the café, there seemed to be a minor crisis developing.  Barbara, a foodbank volunteer who Paula found rather judgmental, was standing by the front door.  She was arguing with a young man who seemed to want to come in, despite it being closing time.

'The foodbank... is closed... for today.'  Barbara spoke loudly and slowly.  'You... will have to... come again... tomorrow morning.'

'I have food!' the man called, in a pronounced Eastern European accent .

'Not today.   You have food tomorrow.'

'No.  I have food.'

'We're closed.'

Paula thought she recognised their would-be visitor.  She went to assist.

'He doesn't want to take "no" for an answer,' Barbara grumbled.  'He’ll cause a scene outside at this rate.  I'm sure he can understand me.'

'I'm sure he can, but perhaps you can't understand him,' Paula said impatiently.  'It's Pawel, the boss from the Polish supermarket.'  He was an intermittent, if often generous, donor.  Paula opened the door.  'Alright, mate?'

'I have food for Father, but am parked on lines,' he said, glancing anxiously over his shoulder at his van, parked a little further down the street.  'We unload before I get ticket?'

‘We sure do!’  Paula said.  ‘Nip back to your van and watch for wardens – I’ll round up a posse.’

She rallied Martin and Deepak from the advice office, where both were working a little late, and tipped off Father Cornelius that they had incoming.  There was a surprising amount to unload, both fresh produce for the café and tins, jars and packet foods for the stores.  

Father Cornelius was delighted.  'Our guests will have the opportunity to sample some international cuisine over the festive season,' he chuckled, eying a crate of Polish pickles and preserves.

'I don't know what they'll make of these,' Barbara answered, scowling at the box of shrink-wrapped smoked meats and sausages.  'It's not my cup of tea.  Still, beggars can't be choosers, can they.'

'Indeed we can't,' replied the priest pointedly.

Paula had to leave the unloading to Barbara, Father Cornelius and Martin from the Advice Project, and dash off to her meeting.   The new council offices were a drive away.  Paula had to dodge through slow-moving gaggles of shoppers to get to the car park, mostly older people either admiring the Christmas displays now gracing the windows or complaining that it started earlier every year.  The lights, the same bulbs and sparkles as used for the last five years, were due to be switched on by the mayor and a minor celebrity at the weekend.  At the moment, they were still dark.  It didn't seem much like Christmas.

If you had made a claim for Universal Credit at the start of this story - congratulations, you're half way to your first payment date!