The Runaway Woman

by Josephine Cox

  While Lucy took off her coat and went to hang it up, Kathleen observed her. Kathleen appreciated how losing her parents had been a huge blow to Lucy – it showed in her sad eyes and the way in which she found it hard to talk about them – but she was convinced that something else was troubling Lucy. Something of a private nature.

  Kathleen knew Lucy like she might know her own sister, if she had one, and her every instinct told her that Lucy was in some kind of personal trouble.

  Just now and then, she seemed to be miles away, lost so deep in her troubled thoughts that Kathleen was almost afraid to speak.

  Kathleen knew that Lucy rarely shared her troubles with anyone. This time, though, Kathleen hoped Lucy might find the strength to confide in her.

  Across the kitchen, Lucy had a sneaking feeling that Kathleen was watching her, that she might have guessed how she was nursing another concern, one so crippling that she did not want to talk about it; not even to her one and only friend.

  A short time later, the two of them were seated at the kitchen table, enjoying Kathleen’s cottage pie.

  ‘Kathleen, this is really tasty.’ Lucy had not realised how hungry she was. ‘I’d even go so far as to say it’s much better than mine.’

  Kathleen laughed. ‘You little liar!’ she teased. ‘Nobody’s cottage pie is better than yours.’

  They ate and chatted, enjoying being together, but such was the atmosphere, it seemed almost as though a third person was in the room with them.

  After a while, Kathleen dared to ask, ‘What’s wrong, Lucy?’

  Taken off guard by Kathleen’s direct question, Lucy said the first thing that came to mind. ‘That’s a strange thing to ask. What’s wrong is that I’ve just lost both my parents.’

  ‘I’m sorry, and I’m well aware of that, Lucy, and I can only imagine how hard it must be to cope with.’ Kathleen went on gently, ‘Look, Lucy, I’ve long seen you as the sister I never had, and right now, I might be out of order in saying what’s on my mind. And if I am then I hope you’ll forgive me. It’s just that … while I’m aware of the loss of your parents, I’m worried that there’s something else troubling you. Something bad … of a personal nature, maybe. I just want to help, that’s all. Please, Lucy … let me help.’

  Lucy remained silent, which only fuelled Kathleen’s suspicions.

  ‘Lucy, I know you well enough to say what I think, and I feel there is something definitely playing on your mind. Something you obviously don’t want to talk about, but you must know, you can talk to me … about anything. I want to help. If you’re ill, or short of money, or anything at all … I want to help you … as a friend.’

  Lucy remained silent, her gaze fixed on the table. She wanted to confide in her friend, but she was too ashamed, and besides, no one could help. Not even Kathleen.

  Kathleen, though, was gently insistent. ‘I know you really need to tell me, Lucy, and if you do, I promise, hand on heart, it will never go beyond this room. Talking about it will ease your mind and, who knows, I might even be able to help in some way; whether it’s money, or health. And if you’re worried about losing your job for whatever reason, I can tell you now, the boss is well aware of how hard you work. She really does value you.’

  Lucy glanced up, her heart heavy with the reality of what Martin and Paula had done. ‘There is something,’ she confessed quietly. ‘Like you said, it’s a personal matter, and one which I have to somehow resolve myself. It’s not that I don’t trust you, because I do, and if I wanted to talk about it to anyone I would turn to you. But I can’t bring myself to talk about it. Not with you … not with anyone!’

  Kathleen had never seen her so resolute. Nor had she ever seen those honest brown eyes so very sad. ‘All right, Lucy, but will you make me a promise, please? I know you place great value on a promise, and you would never break it. So, will you make a promise … for me?’

  ‘If I can, yes.’

  ‘Thank you for that. So, if you do ever get to the point where you feel you need to confide in someone, will you let me help? You have my word, it will go no further, and I’ll do my utmost to help you.’

  ‘Yes, yes I will. Thank you, Kathleen. You’re a good friend. So now, can we let it go?’

  Kathleen reached out and covered Lucy’s hand with hers. ‘What do you mean?’ she smiled knowingly. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about!’

  For the remainder of Lucy’s stay, there was no more talk of Lucy’s problem, or the promise she had made. It was as though that particular conversation never even happened.

  The unspoken subject, however, continued to weigh heavily on both their minds.

  The evening was already creeping in, when Lucy decided to make her way home.

  ‘Martin and Sam are bound to be home by now,’ she explained. ‘Anne’s organised their dinner, but I’d best get back or they’ll start to worry.’

  At least, Sam might be worried, she thought bitterly.

  At the door, Kathleen gave her a big hug. ‘Mind how you go, and I’ll see you next week at work …’ she deliberately made no mention of what had been said, ‘… unless you’ve decided to take a few more days off?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ Lucy replied. ‘I’ll be better off at work – less time to dwell on things – and besides, I don’t want to upset the boss.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure she’ll understand in the circumstances.’

  ‘Maybe, but if I’m at home, I’ll be on my own, and that’s the last thing I need.’

  At the top of the street she turned and waved to Kathleen before quickening her steps and heading for the bus stop.

  Thankfully, when the bus drew up, she noticed it was a different conductor from the bossy woman of earlier, this one pleasant and round-faced, with a floppy belly that hung over his trouser-belt.

  Lucy climbed to the upper deck and sat herself right at the front. When the bus set off, she was mesmerised as the rows of streetlights came on one after the other, creating a kind of landing strip.

  With the bus gathering speed, she settled into her seat, thankful to be the only passenger upstairs. The privacy suited her troubled mind, and soothed the ache in her heart.

  It was a strange thing, but up here she felt as though she was at the top of the world, safe, hidden away where no one and nothing could hurt her.

  Relaxing into the seat, she leaned back and closed her eyes, concentrating on the rhythmic throb of the engine.

  She might have fallen asleep if it hadn’t been for the fat conductor puffing and panting up the narrow, winding staircase. ‘Dearie me!’ He paused to catch his breath. ‘You’ve not only made me climb the stairs,’ he complained to Lucy, ‘but you’ve parked yourself right up front, mekkin’ me travel the length o’ the bus!’

  Snatching a hankie from his pocket, he wiped the beads of sweat from his pink, chubby face. ‘Trying to give me an ’eart attack, are you?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think,’ Lucy said.

  ‘Aw! Don’t you lose any sleep over it. Risking life and limb is what I get paid for.’

  He took her fare, then huffed and puffed back down the stairs. ‘I’ll shout when it’s your stop,’ he called back.

  Lucy was worried he might be in the wrong job.

  When a few minutes later the bus began to slow down, Lucy heard the conductor calling, and she quickly made her way down the steps.

  On reaching the bottom of the steps she grasped hold of the pole to keep herself steady while the bus pulled up.

  As the bus slowly approached the stop, she noticed a man – tall, well-built, and wearing a long dark overcoat – emerging from the entrance of a nearby restaurant. She thought she recognised him as the man who had found her hiding in the bus shelter, but because he was facing the other way, obviously waiting for someone, she could not be certain.

  Intrigued, she continued to peek at him. Then suddenly he turned and, to Lucy’s horror, looked straight at her. She was left in no doubt. It was him. The man from the bus she
lter.

  Ashamed and embarrassed, she wanted to run, but there was no place to go.

  Like a rabbit caught in the headlights, she was momentarily unable to shift her gaze. When he gave a long, slow smile of recognition, she took two steps back on the bus platform, to where she was certain he could not see her.

  That night in the bus shelter, she had deliberately remained in the shadows, so how could he have remembered her? And yet, she had recognised him.

  Trapped on the bus, she was desperate to get off and make her getaway.

  When, a moment later, the bus shuddered to a halt, she feared the man might approach her. Instinctively, she hung back, until the conductor said loudly, ‘Hey! Wake up, lady! Are you getting off, or do you want to be locked in the depot all night?’

  Apologising, Lucy immediately got off. She did not look in the man’s direction. Impatient to get away, she set off at a quick pace, in the opposite direction to where the man was standing.

  When a voice called out to her, she knew it was him. ‘Wait … please! Hey! Hang on a minute …’

  Lucy broke into a run. Then, dodging down the nearest alley, she flattened herself against the wall, her heart pounding when a long shadow fell across the mouth of the alley. In the flickering light from the streetlamp, she saw him peering down the alley, looking for her. She pressed back in the shadows, hardly daring to breathe.

  When he took a stride towards where she was hiding, Lucy was panic-stricken. Why was he after her? What did he want? Her instinct told her he would not hurt her, but the fact that he had caught her crying in the bus shelter was overwhelmingly embarrassing.

  She desperately needed to put that particular incident behind her and didn’t want to revisit it now, with this stranger.

  Suddenly, a woman’s voice cut the air. ‘Dave!’ Then again, ‘Dave, what the devil are you doing?’

  To Lucy’s great relief, the man turned and walked away.

  Remaining hidden, Lucy could hear the two voices, the man and the woman, soft and friendly, with the occasional burst of laughter from the woman. And then they were gone, and it was silent again.

  Lucy dared to take a nervous little peek round the corner. The two of them were dawdling, arm in arm, along the street, still talking together.

  She watched as they climbed the few steps into the entrance of a hotel just along from the restaurant. It was then that she recognised the woman. She was the one Lucy remembered as being with the kindly man on that fateful day.

  At the door, the man stepped back, allowing the woman to go first. As he followed, he quickly turned his head and looked down the street, as though searching for Lucy.

  Lucy, though, was already fleeing through the darkened streets, eager to get away from there.

  A short time later, having put a considerable distance between herself and the couple, she paused to take a breath.

  After a while, with a measure of reluctance, she set off again. She did not want to go home. But what real choice did she have? Besides, over these many years she had helped to build the house into a home and, until recently, she had been happy there.

  Thinking of home now, though, was painful. Who are you, Lucy? she asked herself. Deeply saddened, she slowed her steps. Where do you belong?

  Thoughts of her parents loomed large in her mind. She missed them desperately. It was like the heart had been torn out of her.

  When images of Martin and her sister together began to darken her thoughts, she deliberately pushed them to the back of her mind. Even then, the shocking reality of what she had seen continued to haunt her.

  How could she live with it? What was she supposed to do?

  Could she forgive what they had done, and so keep her marriage and her and Martin’s lives together as best she could? Or should she leave the marriage, and turn her back on both of them?

  Perhaps the kind and proper thing for her to do would be to let Martin go his own way, if that was what he truly wanted.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SCRAMBLING UP FROM the carpet, Martin took another peek through the lounge window.

  ‘Stop worrying!’ Paula tugged at him. ‘I expect she’s decided to stop over at Kathleen’s after all.’

  ‘I hope you’re right, but I’m not sure of Lucy’s intention.’ In a lower voice he added regretfully, ‘She hardly talks to me these days.’

  ‘So do you want me to go?’

  ‘You know I don’t.’ He grabbed her into his arms. ‘You little witch! I’m sorry I ever let you in. I should have sent you packing.’ Grabbing her to him, he kissed her long and hard. ‘Truth is, I can’t seem to get enough of you.’

  ‘Is that a bad thing?’

  ‘For us, no. For Lucy, not so good.’ Not for the first time, he felt a pang of conscience.

  Paula wrapped herself about him. ‘Do you want to end it?’

  ‘You know I don’t.’

  ‘So … do you want us to make a life together?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not easy, is it?’

  ‘Just tell her!’

  Martin thought he would find it hard to be that cruel, and evaded her suggestion. Running his two hands over her bare skin, he said, ‘Look, I have to be up and away at six tomorrow. Watch out for me later on.’

  ‘I could stay here with you tonight.’

  Martin was adamant. ‘No, Paula. We have to be careful until it’s all out in the open. Think about it: Sam might suddenly decide to come home from Anne’s, and for all we know, Lucy could be on her way as we speak. You know what a homing pigeon she is.’

  Paula laughed. ‘Homing pigeon? OK, tomorrow then.’ Getting up off the carpet, she collected her dress from the arm of the chair, slid it over her head and shoulders and wriggled into it. ‘Do me up, will you?’

  When Martin grabbed her by the waist, she started squealing and laughing, and then they were fooling about, he trying to zip up her dress and she wriggling away.

  Having secured the zip, Martin then grabbed his trousers and pulled them on, Paula doing everything she could to stop him from securing his belt. ‘Aw, come on … we’ve got time.’ She was all over him.

  Martin pushed her off. ‘Like I said, I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘When exactly?’

  ‘I’m not altogether sure. I’ve got that big roofing job on, and I can’t leave it unsafe. It’ll probably take me up to midday before I secure it. So, let’s say I’ll be with you around one o’ clock. That’ll give us a good hour together before I need to get back.’

  ‘Suits me. But we need to talk, Martin,’ Paula reminded him. ‘You never did give me an answer about making a life together.’

  ‘OK. Like I said … tomorrow. We’ll talk then.’

  Paula was not ready to leave. ‘Are you really throwing me out?’ she whined.

  ‘Yes, I am!’ he told her, though he was enjoying the attention.

  Sensing his weakness, she clung onto him.

  ‘Paula … no!’ Each time he pushed her away, she came back at him, playfully teasing and laughing, until Martin threw himself into the fun.

  Lost in the moment, neither of them heard Lucy let herself in through the front door.

  Entering the front room, Lucy was shocked to see them rolling about on the carpet. For one moment she stood in horrified silence. Then filled with an uncontrollable rage, she ran across the room. She grabbed Paula by the arm and yanked her upright, forcing her out of the room and down the hallway to the front door.

  She screamed at her, ‘Shame on the pair of you … carrying on like wild animals – and in my house! You’re disgusting!’

  ‘Get your hands off me!’ Paula fought like a wildcat. ‘It’s not my fault if you can’t keep hold of him. The truth is you’ll never be able to keep him. You’re not right for him and never were. If he hadn’t been forced into it, he never would have married you!’

  Lucy gave as good as she got. ‘You’re no better than a woman of the streets. No, I take that back … because even a woman of the streets would
have more decency than to break up her sister’s marriage.’

  ‘Huh!’ Kicking and struggling, Paula laughed in Lucy’s face. ‘If your marriage is broken, all I can say is, it couldn’t have been very strong in the first place!’

  Ignoring her spiteful remarks, Lucy continued, ‘I’m ashamed to have you as a sister and, as much as I desperately miss Mum and Dad, I’m thankful they’re not here to see what a shameless tramp you are!’

  Struggling to break free from Lucy’s iron grip, Paula yelled at her, ‘At least I’ve got the guts to go after what I want. You, though … you’re too timid to strike out. You’re too scared and worried … and while you’re hiding away, life is passing you by. One day soon you’ll turn round and you’ll be old. Do you hear me? You’ll be old before your time!’

  She laughed in Lucy’s face. ‘You think I’ve stolen your man, do you? Well, trust me, he didn’t need stealing. You see, it was him who came after me the first time.’

  She yelled out, ‘Tell her, Martin! Tell her what you told me – that you’ve never loved her … that you always wanted me. Tell her, Martin!’

  Never before had Lucy been in such a rage. Her heart was beating so fast, she could hardly breathe. She felt like a different woman; capable of anything.

  In a clear, decisive voice she informed Paula, ‘From now on, you are not welcome in this house.’

  ‘Huh! That’s not what Martin told me.’

  ‘Well, I’m telling you now. What the two of you have been up to is bad enough, but how could you so easily forget that we’ve only just buried our mum and dad?’ She fought to keep back the tears. ‘From now on I don’t have a sister. Do you hear me? I don’t know who you are any more.’

  Breaking away, Paula ran off, cursing as she went. Seeing Lucy in such a temper had shaken her. Now, though, she took pleasure in hurting her. ‘You’re mad! You can’t even see what’s right in front of you. Martin doesn’t love you. He loves me. We love each other. But you wouldn’t understand, would you … because you’re unlovable … and cold. Those are Martin’s words, by the way, not mine.’