The Runaway Woman

by Josephine Cox

‘Stop nagging. I’ll be absolutely fine! Look, I’ll ring you when I get there. How’s that?’

  ‘OK … but don’t forget, will you? I could walk to the bus stop with you, but Luke’s asleep upstairs.’

  ‘Is it all right if I peep in at him before I go?’

  ‘Go on then, but try not to wake him. It took me ages to get him off.’

  While Anne cleared the cups away, Lucy crept upstairs and took a peek at her grandson. ‘Sleep tight, little fella.’ She leaned over to plant a gentle kiss on his forehead. ‘Your nanna loves you so very much.’

  Taking his tiny hand in her fingertips, she gazed down on him a moment before reluctantly turning away to hurry downstairs.

  ‘Don’t forget to call me when you get to Kathleen’s,’ Anne reminded her as she was leaving.

  Anne watched her walk away, and as Lucy turned the corner, she looked back and waved.

  ‘I’ll call you. Stop worrying,’ Lucy told her.

  Another wave, a smile, and in no time at all Lucy was on the bus, heading for Kathleen’s street.

  She would have chatted to the conductor had it been the lovely Johnny, but it was a sour-faced female, who spoke not a word to Lucy except: ‘Make sure you shove that case right under the steps. We don’t want folks falling over it, do we?’

  Lucy did as she was told, though as there was just the conductress, herself and the driver on the bus, she wondered who the ‘folks’ were that might be ‘falling over it’.

  Kathleen was just ironing the last garment in the weekly pile when she heard the tapping on the front door.

  ‘Hold on!’ Hastily replacing the iron, she switched it off at the wall. ‘I’m on my way!’

  As she hurried down the hallway, she muttered under her breath, ‘Who the devil can this be? I’m not expecting anybody.’

  On inching open the door, she was amazed to see Lucy standing there, suitcase in hand.

  ‘Lucy!’ She flung the door open wide. ‘Come in. Good grief!’ She remarked on her suitcase. ‘So where are you off to?’

  Lucy felt embarrassed. ‘I was hoping I could take you up on your offer of help, and stay with you for a couple of days. If not, it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry, Kathleen, I didn’t mean to impose myself on you.’ Now that she was actually here, Lucy felt embarrassed.

  ‘Hey!’ Kathleen ushered her in. ‘What the devil d’you mean by that? Impose yourself, indeed! We’ll have no more of that silly talk, thank you very much! I’m absolutely thrilled that you took me up on the offer.’

  She planted a kiss on Lucy’s cheek. ‘So now, Lucy girl, it’s just you and me. I’ve got a bottle of cheap plonk somewhere, and we can finish it together, while catching up on the latest gossip. What d’you think to that, eh?’

  Lucy hugged her. ‘Thank you, Kathleen. You really are a friend.’

  ‘You can bet on that, Lucy girl!’

  Ignoring Lucy’s protests, Kathleen collected the suitcase and shot up the stairs with it. ‘Come on then! You can use the posh bedroom. It’s been newly painted, oh, and I’ve made some new stripy curtains … not because I wanted to but because the old ones were hanging in rags.’

  As always, Lucy felt warm and comfortable in Kathleen’s presence. ‘Don’t make a fuss over me,’ she said. But the truth was, she enjoyed being pampered. It was a new experience for her. Normally, it was she doing the pampering, for her children, her husband, even her sister, and her greatest pleasure had been pampering her beloved parents.

  ‘Hey!’ Kathleen wagged a finger. ‘You’re my best friend and my welcome guest. So don’t tell me not to “make a fuss”!’

  Aside from all the light-hearted joshing, though, Kathleen was concerned.

  She could see that Lucy was unhappy … that she might even have been crying. Also, judging by the weight of the suitcase, she suspected Lucy’s luggage catered for more than just a couple of days. This was all right by her – Lucy was a dear friend, and she was welcome to stay here for as long as she needed.

  Lucy loved what Kathleen had done to the spare room. ‘It’s so pretty!’ She ran her hand down the new curtains. ‘I didn’t realise you could make curtains.’

  Kathleen laughed. ‘I’ve never done it before, but I was determined to have a go. I bought the material and stretched it out on the floor, then I laid the old curtains over the top, and cut out the size.’ She grimaced. ‘The hard bit was the sewing.’

  Bringing Lucy’s notice to the crooked hem around one of the curtains, she told her, ‘That was the first curtain … a bit of a mess.’ She then pointed to the second curtain, where the hem was tight and straight. ‘By the time I got to this side, I had just about got the hang of it.’

  Lucy was impressed. ‘You’ve not done so bad, Kathleen. If you hadn’t shown me the crooked hem I would never have noticed.’

  Kathleen was pleased at the compliment. ‘Right then! You unpack, and I’ll find that bottle of plonk.’ She gestured to the far wardrobe. ‘That’s yours. The other one is filled with rubbish that I still haven’t got round to sorting out.’

  Going out the door, she told Lucy with a wink, ‘You might find a few manly things dotted about. They belonged to the last boyfriend. He was a real loser, I can tell you! Vain and pretty, he spent all his spare time building his body and looking in the mirror. Muscle-bound with no brains, that was him! He was good in bed, but he couldn’t hold a decent conversation. After a couple of weeks he really got on my nerves, so I chucked him out.’

  She went away muttering, leaving Lucy trying not to laugh.

  A minute later Kathleen was shouting up the stairs, ‘Get a move on, Lucy! I’ve got the wine and glasses at the ready. All I need is a friend to share it with.’

  ‘I won’t be long!’ Lucy promised.

  Throwing open the suitcase, she stole a quiet moment to look at what she had packed. Not much to show for a woman of forty, is it? she thought.

  There were two dresses, one black with white spots, and sleeves that were too long, which Lucy always wore rolled up. The other dress was plain blue. Also a dark skirt and a pink blouse.

  There were five pairs of knickers, nothing fancy or frilly; just sensible, white, ordinary knickers. They’re not likely to set a man’s passion on fire, that’s for sure! she thought, which brought Paula to mind. I dare say my cheating sister would never be seen dead in anything so plain.

  She laid all her garments out on the bed: the dresses, the knickers, and her nightwear: two ankle-length nighties, and a pair of baggy, pink-striped pyjamas.

  At this point she sat on the edge of the bed, her gaze fixed on the tired old garments. She tried to see herself through Martin’s eyes, and what she saw was a dowdy woman, old before her time. Who could blame him for turning to Paula? Paula was bright, and pretty, and unlike Lucy, not afraid of anything.

  Going across to the dressing table, she examined her reflection in the mirror, and what looked back at her was a face that was tired and weary; that told its own sorry story. A face that convinced Lucy that no man would ever look at her twice.

  But with that sobering thought came another, slightly more pleasant, one. ‘The stranger at the bus shelter noticed me,’ she recalled. ‘I must have made some kind of impression because the second time he saw me, it was like he could hardly keep his eyes off me.’ She smiled at the memory.

  Somewhat reassured, she threw off her coat and cast a critical gaze over her figure. She thought it was more the figure of a woman nearing fifty instead of someone of forty. There was no definite waist, no curves to speak of, and nothing to please the eye. Instead, the oblong shape went straight down, from shoulder to buttocks, with barely a curve between.

  Feeling dejected, Lucy turned away to sit on the edge of the bed. What happened to you, Lucy girl? she asked herself. Where did that young, bright-eyed girl go? Didn’t she capture the best-looking boy, despite her shyness?

  She cast her mind back to the day she and Martin got married. Even with a baby-bump starting to show, she did look pretty
that day. Everyone said so … even Martin.

  Thinking back, remembering how it had been, she began to regret so much of her life. ‘Paula was right,’ she whispered. ‘I am old before my time! But then I’ve had to be. At just sixteen, I had a baby and a husband, and family responsibilities.’

  ‘But why did you let yourself go?’ she continued to chastise herself. ‘Look at yourself in the mirror, Lucy. What you see there is what Martin sees every time he looks at you.’

  She drew little comfort from that thought. ‘You really are a sorry-looking article. You don’t know how to dress, or how to make up your face, your hair is always the same: lank and dull, just like you. It’s no wonder your husband turned to Paula! It’s no wonder he wants to be rid of you! Can you blame him? What man would willingly be lumbered with a plain old sop like you?’

  Raising her hands to her face, she wiped away the inevitable tears. ‘Feeling sorry for yourself won’t change anything either.’

  A wave of anger swept through her. ‘It’s your own fault! Somewhere along the way, you failed to be a proper wife to Martin, and now you’ve got what you deserve!’

  The shame of losing Martin to her sister was all-consuming.

  While she took stock of herself, Lucy had no idea that Kathleen was at the top of the stairs, from where she heard Lucy’s every word.

  Deeply concerned, Kathleen quietly waited until Lucy busied herself emptying her clothes into the drawer. On softest tiptoe she then made her way downstairs to the living room.

  A few minutes later, she returned to the bottom of the stairs, and yelled up, ‘Lucy … Come on! What the devil are you doing up there? I hope you haven’t gone to bed … leaving me to drink all this wine by myself?’

  Lucy appeared on the landing. ‘Sorry, Kathleen, I was just unpacking, but it’s all done now.’ She made her way down.

  ‘Good! Come on through.’ Kathleen betrayed no signs of having witnessed Lucy’s unhappy rantings.

  A few minutes later the two of them were seated before the cheery fire, each with a glass of red wine.

  ‘I’m glad you came here tonight,’ Kathleen started. ‘To tell you the truth, I wasn’t really looking forward to my own company, but apart from that, Lucy, I’ve been really concerned about you, wondering how you might be coping, what with losing your parents so suddenly. I’m always here if you need me … you do know that, don’t you?’

  Lucy thanked her. ‘I’m really glad to be here with you,’ she confessed. ‘I’ve been so down lately. It’s very difficult to cope with having lost Mum and Dad, especially with them going so close to each other I still can’t believe it’s happened. It’s like some kind of nightmare.’

  When the emotions rushed in, she paused to take a breath. ‘I’ve been so worried for Anne and young Sam, but thankfully they seem to be handling it … probably better than I am.’

  Kathleen understood. ‘The younger ones do seem more able to handle such things much better than we expect them to. They take it in their stride, probably because, unlike us, they’re always looking forward to some new, exciting event, and who can blame them? They have their whole lives in front of them. I suppose it’s because they don’t see death as ever happening to them. But when you’re older, the death of someone you love hits hard. It makes you realise that no one is immortal … not even ourselves.’

  Lucy agreed. ‘You’re right; but it doesn’t mean that the children don’t feel the loss as hard as we do,’ she replied.

  ‘Oh, I’m not saying that.’ Kathleen felt the need to explain. ‘All I’m saying is, thankfully, the younger ones are just beginning to build their lives and so have far more to think about. They spend most of their time looking forward, while the rest of us seem to constantly look back. D’you see what I’m gettng at?’

  Collecting the wine bottle from the table, she tipped a good measure into Lucy’s glass.

  Lucy absent-mindedly took a sip, and then another, before admitting, ‘Yes, I do, and you’re right. When we’re just starting out, we think the future will be rosy and that everything exciting will come our way. We believe the family will always be there.’

  Kathleen nodded. ‘That’s exactly what I mean. In the end, we all come to learn that the ones we love will not be around for ever.’ She raised her glass. ‘So … here’s to the loved ones who have gone before!’

  Lucy clinked glasses with her. ‘To our loved ones … wherever they are.’

  They each took another healthy sip of wine, and then another, and Lucy remarked sadly, ‘Do you know, Kathleen, I was forty not long ago?’

  ‘Well, I thought you might be, but I wasn’t altogether certain. And did you know that I am five years older than you?’ she groaned.

  ‘No! I thought you might be forty-one … or thereabouts. But not forty-five. Well, all I can say is, you look good for your age.’

  ‘Oh, thank you very much … and so do you.’ Kathleen raised her glass again, and they toasted each other.

  ‘Kathleen? Do you honestly think I look good for my age?’ Lucy asked then.

  ‘I said so, didn’t I?’

  ‘Yes, but did you mean it?’

  ‘What’s the matter with you? Of course I meant it, or I would not have said it.’

  ‘Swear on my life!’

  ‘No! That’s tempting providence.’

  ‘So, you were lying, weren’t you? You only said it to make me feel better about myself?’

  There was a short span of silence, before Kathleen replied, ‘Look, Lucy, you really are a good-looking woman, only …’

  ‘Only what?’

  ‘Well …’ Kathleen took another sip of her wine.

  ‘Kathleen! Go on … what were you about to say?’

  ‘All right! But if I say what I think, will you promise not to fall out with me, because I couldn’t bear that?’

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘Good! But first, we’ll drink on it.’ Kathleen clinked her glass with Lucy’s. ‘Here’s to us!’ And she took a good swig of wine.

  ‘To us!’ Lucy also took a generous sip of wine, although she was not at all used to it.

  Kathleen wondered how she might tell Lucy what she thought without upsetting her. ‘Well, what I was thinking was that I’ve always thought you could make a lot better of yourself if you tried. I mean … your hair, for instance – and I’m not being critical – it’s just that you could do so many things with it.’

  ‘Go on, then. What exactly are you saying?’

  ‘Well, it’s a nice length and it always has a shine, but you never change the style. You could curl it, or plait it, or maybe tie it up in a bright ribbon. You could try a loose fringe, or something a little bit different now and then. You asked me what I thought, and I’m just being honest because that’s what friends do.’

  Lucy understood. She had often thought about changing her hairstyle, which had been the same since her schooldays but with no sense of style, she had no idea what to do.

  ‘You’re right, Kathleen, I know you are, but when I’ve asked Martin if I should try a new hairstyle, he’s always told me not to bother. He said it would be a waste of money, because it would only grow back exactly the way it is. I’ve tried different things before. For instance, I once changed the colour of my lipstick. I’d worn it for years, so I thought it was time for a change, but I soon went back to my old colour. For some stupid reason, it doesn’t matter what I try, I always go back to my old ways.’

  ‘Sounds like you’re stuck in a rut, Lucy girl!’

  Lucy had another question. ‘Kathleen … do you think I’m fat?’

  ‘No, I do not! After having had two children, you can expect to be a bit out of shape, but you’re certainly not fat! All right, if I’m being honest, you might be a bit lumpy here and there, like the rest of us, but that’s life. We can’t all be perfect, can we?’ Kathleen shrugged. ‘Besides, it sounds to me as if you’re not happy with change, so if that’s the case, maybe you should just leave things as they are, like Mart
in said.’

  ‘Maybe that’s really the way he wants me,’ Lucy remarked quietly. ‘Dull, and always available, to help bring in the wages, to look after the house, do the cooking, iron his shirts and pander to his every need, but when it comes to sex, cuddles and fun, he chooses my sister over me.’ She had not meant to say that out loud, but it just tumbled out.

  ‘Your sister? I don’t believe it!’ Kathleen was visibly shocked.

  ‘It’s true. I found them together. Twice.’

  ‘The hussy! Your own sister … Unbelievable!’

  ‘Somehow, I’ve obviously let him down in the bedroom. The way things are, he hardly notices me, except to ask for a clean shirt, or to tell me not to bother waiting up, because he won’t be back till late. Then when he does come home, I’m still wide awake wondering where he is and what he’s doing. Then, he’ll come upstairs, undress and climb into bed without so much as “How are you?” He’ll undress quickly, and within minutes he’ll be fast asleep with his back to me, snoring his head off. I ask you, Kathleen, is that the actions of a man who truly loves his wife?’

  Kathleen was careful in her answer. ‘If it was me, I would put that question to him!’

  Lucy appeared not to have heard what Kathleen said. Instead she was muttering to herself, ‘Sometimes, it’s like I’m not even in the same room with him. I’ve tried talking with him about our marriage and the way he feels about me, but he just makes fun of me, saying I’m being silly, and that I’m imagining things. The trouble is, Kathleen, we were just kids when we got married. I often wonder, if he hadn’t got me pregnant, would we have got married? Oh, I’m not fooling myself; Martin has never been a full-on lover. Nor does he say pretty things or compliment me.’

  ‘Some men are like that, Lucy.’

  ‘It’s my fault, isn’t it?’ Lucy was convinced of that. ‘I must be doing something wrong, or he would never have cheated on me like he did … and with my own sister! What did I do that was so bad he would shame me in that way?’

  ‘Lucy, stop punishing yourself. You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re a fine woman, a good mother, a loyal wife, and you work hard. And if he can’t value you for that alone, he doesn’t deserve you!’