The Runaway Woman

by Josephine Cox

  ‘Thank you.’ Lucy explained, ‘I don’t want her telling Martin or Paula any different. The less anyone knows where I am, the better … for now, anyway.’

  ‘So, do you think you will eventually tell them about Martin and Paula, and that it was the main reason you had to get away?’

  ‘I have no idea how it will all end.’ Lucy was deeply ashamed that this was the second time in as many days that she had not been altogether honest with her daughter. But it had to be done because the last thing she needed was Anne, or anyone else, coming after her and upsetting her plans. ‘I can’t let anyone know where I am, Kathleen, because I know they would chase after me, and just now I must be on my own … to think, and plan, and hopefully sort out my life one way or another.’

  ‘Don’t fret about it, Lucy,’ Kathleen advised.

  Lucy appreciated her understanding. ‘For your information only, Kathleen, I expect to book into a hotel at the seaside, and I’ll call you from there. I’ll just have to make up some story about where I’m phoning from if I talk to Anne. Remember, won’t you? Any calls I make to you or the family … will be from there.’

  The tearful goodbyes over, Lucy climbed into the taxi.

  ‘Morning, miss!’ The driver was a burly, jolly sort. ‘Railway station, is it?’

  ‘Yes, please, but could you make two quick detours first?’

  ‘Don’t see why not, my lovely. Especially as you asked so nicely.’ He gave her a wide, toothy smile. ‘Off on a holiday, are you?’

  ‘Sort of.’ Lucy was careful to give nothing away.

  ‘Right then … let’s be off.’ He dropped the engine into low gear and began easing the car away from the pavement. ‘So, where are we headed first?’

  ‘To the High Street. I’ll tell you where to stop when we get there. Thanks.’ She glanced anxiously up and down the street as they drove off.

  Thankfully, the street was clear, except for Katheen, who was still waving from the doorway. ‘Stay safe and keep in touch!’ she called out.

  Lucy wound down the window to remind her, ‘I’ll call you when I get there!’

  She stifled her emotion and turned her eyes to the front. ‘I’ll only be a minute on the High Street,’ she instructed the driver. ‘I’ll tell you the second detour afterwards … if that’s all right?’

  ‘Whatever you say, miss. You’re the boss.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Lucy enjoyed being called ‘miss’. It made her feel young again.

  Lucy now set her mind to the journey. If all went well at the High Street, she would go straight on to the second destination. From there, it would be the station. But if her first errand did not bear fruit, she would not even be going to the station. Instead, she would probably be heading back to Kathleen’s, which, after all the planning and worry while making up her mind, would be a huge disappointment.

  Taking a deep breath, she concentrated on what might just be the start of an amazing adventure.

  Ten minutes later, the taxi turned into the High Street.

  ‘Now then, let’s see if we can park.’ The driver knew from experience that it was never easy to find somewhere to park here, what with competition from cyclists and motorists.

  Luckily, as he cruised along, he noticed the driver of a grey Hillman Minx signalling that he was waiting to pull out.

  ‘Well, that was lucky! I was just about to drop you off and drive up and down, until you were ready to leave,’ he told Lucy.

  The moment he was safely parked, Lucy opened the door and got out. ‘I shouldn’t be too long,’ she said. ‘About fifteen minutes, or thereabouts.’

  ‘That’s all right.’ The driver leaned back and stretched his arms. ‘It’s your time and your money. The sooner you’re back, the smaller the bill.’

  His gentle warning spurred Lucy on. She could not afford to run up a huge fare because he was having to wait. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’ She set off at a run.

  At the lower end of the street, she stood outside the chosen shop, gazing in at the window and wondering whether she might regret doing what she had in mind. Come on, Lucy, move yourself! she silently chivvied herself. You heard what the driver said. It’s you that’s paying for his waiting time!

  She glanced at the haphazard display of merchandise in the window. There were numerous collections of what looked like expensive jewellery; a smattering of old leather-bound books; any number of pretty pieces of china and bric-a-brac.

  Right at the back of the display, hanging from the back partition, were some small oil paintings, and alongside these, framed photographs of old ships and handsome country houses.

  In amongst the particular displays were numerous odd items, a scattering of fascinating curiosities, none of which Lucy could easily identify.

  Lucy was concerned to see so many items, most of them obviously valuable, and all no doubt previously owned by someone who had cherished them dearly. It made her wonder about the people who, like her, had found themselves in a situation where they had little choice but to pawn or sell their valuables.

  Shifting her sorry gaze away from the window display, she tried to think of another way of raising money, but it was a futile exercise. She suspected Kathleen, had she known, would have moved heaven and earth to help her financially, but Lucy thought her dear friend had done more than enough already, and swiftly dismissed the issue from her mind.

  Her thoughts brought her to the taxi waiting down the street. It’s make-your-mind-up time! she told herself. The taxi fare is climbing, and you haven’t even made a start.

  Her attention was then brought to the big sign above her head, which read in large black capitals:

  TOM FISHER’S PAWNSHOP

  We buy goods, and also lend money on items of interest

  With little choice, Lucy braced herself and pushed open the front door. ‘Hello!’ The shop appeared empty. ‘Is there anyone about?’ she called in a firm voice.

  She got a fright when a big man suddenly answered from behind her, ‘There’s no need to raise your voice, woman. I get enough o’ that from the missus!’

  Lucy swung round to face him. ‘I’m sorry … only …’ At the sight of him she was momentarily struck dumb. A huge, mountainous blob of a man, he wore a blue beret that sat in the middle of his head like a pimple on a haystack, and had a long, thin moustache sweeping down to a broad chest. His green eyes were unnervingly piercing.

  ‘What can I do for you?’ he demanded impatiently.

  Having never been inside a pawnshop before, Lucy was decidedly nervous.

  ‘Hurry up, woman!’ He gave a long sigh. ‘State yer business; we in’t got all day!’

  Before Lucy could explain her business, he gave an almighty sneeze, yanked a mucky handkerchief from his pocket, flicked it in the air, then caught it in his hammer-fist and wrapped it about his bulbous nose. That done, he gave another sneeze louder than any Lucy had ever heard before.

  ‘Got summat to pop, have yer?’ he sniffed. ‘Let’s ’ave a look at it then?’ He glanced at her bag. ‘In there, is it?’ Impatient and excited, he was almost jogging on the spot.

  Momentarily tongue-tied, Lucy was reminded of a pantomime character. ‘Yes, I have got something I’d like to pop … or pawn … if you please?’

  ‘Right, then! ’Ere’s the deal. If you’ve got summat worth a bob or two, I might buy it off you … if you’ve a mind to sell, that is. Or I might lend you money against it, bearing in mind that when you come to get it back you must return the sum of money that I lent you in the first place. And on top of that, I shall require another ten per cent over and above the sum of money that you borrowed.’ He waggled a fat finger at her. ‘We need to get that clear right now, before we go any further.’

  ‘Ten per cent? It seems a lot.’

  ‘Mebbe, but you won’t get better terms nowhere else. In fact, you’ll more than likely get a top-up of fifteen per cent. I in’t that greedy, but I do need to mek a living.’

  ‘Ten per cent really does seem
a lot, though.’ Lucy was feeling out of her depth.

  ‘Well, if yer want to do business, them’s my terms.’ He drew in a mighty long breath, then blew it out with such force that it sent the paperwork flying off the counter. ‘You either tek the offer or you leave it, meks no difference to me. If you tek it, you pays me back, plus the ten per cent interest, when you comes to collect the item. But this is all on condition that, having seen the goods, I agree to hold them for you. Got all that, ’ave you, woman?’

  Lucy gave it more thought. Never before had she met such an obnoxious, rude man, and now she wasn’t at all certain that she could trust him with the only valuable things she had in her possession.

  ‘Come on … mek up yer mind!’ The big man interrupted her thoughts. ‘Does them terms agree with you, or does they not? Because if they does not, then I’m not interested in doing business with you. So, what’s it to be?’

  He gave another almighty sneeze, causing Lucy to jump in fright. This time he pinched his nose with his bare fingers, then swivelled it about a bit before wiping it from side to side with the cuff of his sleeve.

  After another loud, drawn-out cough, he was talking to her again.

  Lucy found it difficult to concentrate on what he was saying, being both disgusted and fascinated by the long, shivering dewdrop hanging by a thread from the end of his nose.

  ‘Come on then, missus. Like I said, I in’t got all day, so does the terms suit you, or does they not?’

  ‘It seems I don’t have a choice, so yes. But can you please be quick?’ she gabbled. ‘I’ve got a taxi waiting and the bill is getting bigger by the minute.’

  ‘What’s that you say?’ He gave a raucous chuckle. ‘A taxi, eh? Well, now, that’s a curious thing. There’s you in a pawnshop after borowing money, and there’s a taxi waiting outside, with your name on it. Seems to me you should not be arguing over a ten per cent charge for my help in taking good care of your valuables, when it seems you have money to throw about on taxis! Huh! I should be so lucky.’

  Lucy chose not to comment. Instead, she reluctantly produced the little red box from her pocket.

  Holding it tenderly in the palm of her hand, she raised the lid. She watched the pawnbroker’s eyes grow big and round as they latched onto the items lovingly cradled within the box. ‘Bugger me, woman! Where did yer get them?’

  When he reached out to take the box, Lucy held it from him. ‘These two rings are very precious to me and mine,’ she explained softly. ‘I would never have come here if I were not in desperate need of money to tide me over.’

  When the tears threatened, she took a deep breath to calm herself. Reluctantly, she reached out and placed the box very gently on the counter.

  ‘So, Mr Pawnbroker, how much can you lend me against these? And I assure you that I shall be back for them as soon as I can … with the money I borrowed, and your extra ten per cent on top. I know their worth so, please, don’t offer me a paltry amount because then I might have to try the pawnshop a few doors down.’

  Silently, the big man nervously lifted the two rings into the palm of his hand. After regarding them for the longest moment, he reached into his waistcoat pocket and drew out a small metal eyeglass. He took the eyeglass between finger and thumb and, carefully pressing it to his right eye, he closed his left eye so as to focus on the two rings. Both, he quickly ascertained, were fashioned out of the finest gold.

  One ring was deep-shouldered, and bore a small cluster of red rubies. In the centre of the rubies stood a small but attractively cut diamond.

  The second ring was indeed handsome, with a complete posy of exquisite, raised hearts, which encircled the entire band like a golden garland.

  The big man took great enjoyment in examining the pair. For a long time he spoke not one word, but occasionally gave a kind of sigh, and twice he threw his head back as though the beauty of the rings had truly dazzled his eyes.

  ‘Hmm! Average, I suppose,’ he concluded lazily. ‘Interesting designs, but not to my own personal taste … much too fancy.’

  When he looked up at Lucy, he was red in the face, with drops of sweat crawling over his eyebrows. ‘Nice enough, though, but nothing out of the ordinary,’ he remarked casually. ‘But because you seem to be in dire straits, and I don’t like to see a woman in difficulties, I might actually buy them for my wife. Yes! I’ll make you an offer, and take them off your hands for a sensible price, which will be agreed on both sides. What d’you say, woman?’

  ‘I say no!’ Lucy was emphatic. ‘Those rings belonged to my great-grandmother. They were passed down to my grandma and then to my own dear mother. Being the oldest girl, I now have the responsibility of being their guardian. So, they are not mine to sell. They are simply in my keeping. I have nothing else of any value, and if I was not so desperate to raise some money, I would walk out of your shop right now!’

  ‘What if I were to offer you an attractive price – would you sell?’

  ‘Never! Not even if you offered me ten times their worth. All I’m asking is that you lend me a tidy sum against them, in the sure knowledge that I will recover them as soon as possible.’

  ‘Hmm!’ The pawnbroker pushed the rings aside. ‘So, you won’t sell them … not even for a handsome price?’

  ‘No! As I’ve already explained, they are not mine to sell.’ Lucy felt threatened. ‘They are meant to continue down through the family from mother to daughter, as they have done for these past generations.’

  ‘Look! I can see you’re a tough customer – what if I give you twenty pounds for each one, forty pounds in all? A more than generous offer, if I say so myself.’

  Lucy’s patience was growing thin, and now she was starting to panic. ‘I’ve already told you, I just need to borrow against them. If you are not able, or willing to do that, then I’m in the wrong pawnbroker’s. I’m sorry, it seems I’ve wasted your time, so I’ll take the rings and go elsewhere.’ She was now in a desperate hurry, being highly conscious of the taxi outside, which was running up a bill she may not be able to pay. ‘Thank you for your time.’ Lucy instinctively grabbed the box, and scooping up the rings, she hurried towards the door.

  From the kitchen doorway, the small dark-haired woman had heard the exchange between Lucy and her husband, and she shook her head in disbelief. When she hurried into the shop, Lucy had already gone out of the door.

  ‘You damned idiot, Tom. What have you done now?’ she angrily confronted the big man.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean, woman! All I did was to make her a good offer for two handsome rings, but for some sentimental reason she were having none of it. Well, it’s her loss, not ours. If she wants to go elsewhere, that’s her choice, and good shuts to her!’ He was not best pleased at having lost the game.

  ‘So, because you thought to make a quick killing, you’ve now managed to turn away what might have been a regular customer. Is that what you’re telling me?’

  When he remained silent, she screeched at him, ‘You stupid gormless bugger! When will you ever learn? This is a pawnbroker’s shop … a place where folks borrow money. If they don’t want to sell, they don’t need to! Have you got that?’

  When he continued to sulk, she asked again, this time in a lower, more menacing tone, ‘Tom! Have you got that?’

  Mumbling an answer, he slunk off into the back room, desperate to locate the bottle of whisky she kept hidden from him.

  Away down the street and heading for the taxi, Lucy was finding it hard to hold back the tears. She was beginning to believe that her plan to get away was already falling apart at the seams.

  ‘Hey, lady!’ A shrill voice halted Lucy in her tracks. ‘Lady, hang on a minute, please!’

  Turning to see a woman running towards her, Lucy was puzzled and somewhat alarmed. ‘Now what?’ she muttered under her breath. Convinced that she must be in some sort of trouble, Lucy walked back to the little woman. ‘I’m sorry, were you calling me?’ she asked worriedly.

  ‘Yes … I just want
to say, I’m very angry about my husband. I heard him bullying you … just now in the pawnbroker’s.’ She did not give Lucy a chance to talk, being eager to know if Lucy was still of a mind to pawn the rings, and if so, she would be assured that they would loan her the handsome sum of forty pounds against the pair, with a recovery payment of just five per cent, instead of the normal ten.

  Lucy was flabbergasted. ‘That’s what he offered me to sell them,’ she recalled, ‘but I already told him, I’m not selling them. I don’t have the right.’

  ‘No! I’m not talking about you selling. I’m talking about you pawning them, with a view to collecting them at a later date.’

  ‘But why would you do that?’ Lucy was immensely relieved, though she had reservations about the pawnbroker himself.

  The little woman explained, ‘I’m afraid my husband sometimes feels that he can badger customers into selling, even when they don’t want to. His bullying treatment of them has caused too many customers to take their business elsewhere, and as my late father started the business, and I am now a partner with my husband, I have made it clear to him that his bad behaviour has to stop!’

  Conscious of passing onlookers, she lowered her voice. ‘I heard your conversation with him just now, and I got the feeling that you might have been through tough times lately; otherwise you would not be pawning what I believe are family heirlooms. So I suspect that, apart from anything else, it must have been very difficult for you to walk into a pawnbroker’s shop in the first place. Am I right?’

  ‘Yes, it was difficult,’ Lucy had to admit. ‘And now I’m not certain what I should do. I had plans, but now I don’t know who I can trust any more.’

  ‘You can trust me,’ the woman assured her. ‘You can talk to anyone who knows me and they will tell you I am a decent, fair-minded woman, trying to make an honest living, and I would never ask you or anyone else to do anything you did not feel comfortable with.’