The Runaway Woman

When one of their colleagues threw a rolled-up newspaper to them, Kathleen caught it and quickly flicked through the pages.

‘Look at this!’ Holding the pages open, she showed Lucy the photograph of three young men. ‘Would you believe, killed in a car smash on the way to a mate’s wedding. They were so young … the families must have been devastated. But there you are … It just goes to show, you never know what’s round the corner, do you?’

Realising she and Lucy were the last two left outside, Kathleen leaped off the wall. ‘Hell’s bells, Lucy! Everybody’s gone. If we don’t get our backsides in there, we’ll know well enough what’s round the corner! It’ll be the length of the ol’ dragon’s tongue, so it will!’

With thoughts of those three young men in their minds, Lucy and Kathleen made their way back inside the factory.

‘I don’t know what I’d do if I got my walking orders from here,’ Lucy confided to Kathleen as they hurried to their machines. ‘If I lost my job, whatever would I tell Martin and the children?’

Kathleen wagged a finger at her. ‘There you go again!’ she chided. ‘More concerned about the family than you are about yourself! Put yourself first for a change, Lucy Lovejoy! Do that, and the chances of you losing your job will be less likely. OK?’ She gave Lucy a friendly wink.

Lucy smiled. ‘OK.’ In truth, she would not even know how to start putting herself first.

Eventually the loud screech of the works’ siren marked the end of another working day. The machines were switched off and an eerie silence fell across the vast open space of the factory floor.

Very soon, though, the silence was shattered by the march of many feet as the workers made their way out. And then the noise of hurrying feet was quickly overridden by shouts and laughter as everyone relaxed into ‘going home’ mode.

As always, Kathleen and Lucy merged with the other workers on their way out, but at the outer gates Lucy split away from Kathleen. ‘I’m walking home tonight,’ she explained.

Kathleen was surprised. ‘Even if you cut through the alleys, it’s a fair old walk to your street. But why walk when you can catch the bus as usual and be home that much earlier?’

Lucy shrugged. ‘No particular reason. I just need to think, that’s all.’

‘You’re not fretting about getting a warning, are you, Lucy? Because I’ve told you, if need be we can get the union onto it.’

But Lucy was adamant. ‘No, Kathleen, I don’t want that. Anyway, I won’t give her the chance to carpet me again … not if I can help it, anyway.’

‘All right, Lucy, no union,’ Kathleen conceded. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Mind how you go, eh?’

‘You too, and thanks, Kathleen.’

‘What for?’

‘Well … for siding with me, and listening to my troubles.’

‘You’re welcome. Ooh, there’s Barney!’ Kathleen spied the foreman, a handsome man some ten years older than Kathleen. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask him about my machine. It keeps playing up.’ She gave a naughty wink. ‘’Bye, Lucy … see you.’

Lucy had to chuckle. ‘Shame on you, Kathleen Riley, you brazen little hussy!’

She set off, leaving the effervescent Kathleen openly flirting with the foreman.

Turning the corner, Lucy crossed the street and headed for the park. A few quiet minutes there would be just lovely. She reminded herself of how often she used to walk home through that way, but she had not done so for some time, and anyway, the nights were only now drawing out after the harsh winter.

Lately, she seemed never to have the time to linger. Instead, she was forever chasing her tail, with no opportunity to relax.

Now, though, in spite of the teasing breeze, she was determined to follow her instinct. The closer she got to the park gates, the quicker she walked, and the lighter her weary heart felt. There was something magical about the park, with its secret, meandering pathways and majestic trees.

In spring, the park was a surprise and a delight, with its curving swathes of wild flowers, all mixed in with cultivated plants. The riot of colour and profusion could take one’s breath away.

Deep in thought, Lucy reflected on that meaningful little talk with Kathleen at lunchtime. It was right what Kathleen had said about never knowing what was round the corner.

Lucy recognised how her own world had become small and restricted. She suddenly recalled her mother’s prophetic words of many years ago, when she and Paula were schoolgirls. ‘I think Lucy will be the home-maker,’ their mother had remarked.

She also made a light-hearted prediction for her younger daughter. ‘As for our Paula, it wouldn’t surprise me if she turned out to be a home-breaker.’

It was no secret that while Lucy was her father’s favourite, Paula was close to their mother. However wayward Paula had been when growing up, and however much anguish she had brought her parents, that bond between mother and daughter had not changed over the years.

It was not in Lucy’s character to be jealous, for she loved all her family in equal measure. Knowing her sister’s penchant for trouble, Lucy was given the responsibility of looking out for Paula. As instructed by both her concerned parents, Lucy would walk her younger sister to and from school.

She was also expected to make sure that Paula actually went into her designated classroom because, being something of a rebel, Paula would not think twice about playing truant, but even though Lucy carried out her given responsibilities with much diligence, the truant officer was forever out and about, searching for Paula.

He once caught Paula playing in the park, and throwing stones at the ducks as they strutted about. Another time he found her playing football in one of the local backstreets with two boys truanting from a different school.

When the truant officer marched all three back to their schools, they giggled and sniggered as though it was all a great adventure.

Shepherded into the headmaster’s office, the boys each suffered the slicing heat of a wicker cane on their buttocks. The pain was such that it reduced them to tears, but not so great as to stop them from truanting again.

Paula suffered a severe lecture from her head teacher, who warned her of her wanton ways. She also received two strokes of the best on the palm of each hand, which she endured without even a flinch.

At his wits’ end, her father banned her from leaving the house after school for a period of two weeks.

To his younger, more defiant daughter, that was the worst punishment of all.

Having taken her little dog for a long walk around the far reaches of the park, Mary Taylor walked him back through the spinney, where she was immensely thankful to sit on a bench and get her breath back.

‘You’re a demanding little thing!’ She tickled Rascal’s hairy neck. ‘I would never part with you, though, because, hard work or not, I love the bones of you.’

Taking a moment to stretch her aching back, she took a deep, invigorating breath, while chatting to herself as she often did. ‘Well, Mary, you’ve enjoyed the fresh air, you’ve been dragged round the park by this bag of fur,’ she glanced at the dog, ‘and you’ve stretched your legs to breaking point, so now it’s time for home.’

When the dog yapped at her as though in disagreement, she told him firmly, ‘We’ve had enough excitement for one day. You might be ready for another round, but I’m well and truly done in!’ She wagged a bony finger at him. ‘I’m sure I don’t know whose bones must ache the most, yours or mine!’

Tightening the scarf round her neck and shoulders, she addressed the little dog as though he understood every word. ‘I never meant to stay out this long. What’s more, I’m thoroughly ashamed of you, chasing that poor moggy up a tree. I’ve a good mind to ban you from the park for a week. That should teach you some manners!’

Looking up, she was surprised to see Lucy making her way along the bottom pathway. ‘Lucy!’ Mary called out to her. ‘Lucy Lovejoy!’

Pleased to see her sister’s kindly neighbour, Lucy hurried towards her. ‘Hello, Mary. How are you?’

‘Hmm! You might well ask.’ Mary gave a little groan. ‘I should have been at home by now, sitting at the fire with a cup of soup to warm my bones. As it is, I’m late getting back, and all because this little devil has a thing for chasing cats up trees.’

She went on to describe the adventure in great detail. ‘The poor moggy was terrified, but your lordship here,’ she pointed to Rascal, ‘he thought it was great fun, yapping at her to come down. And when I did manage to persuade the poor thing down it swiped at me with its claws fully drawn before taking off. Like a bat out of hell, it was!’

Lucy wagged a finger at the scowling dog. ‘That wasn’t very nice, was it, trapping the poor thing up a tree?’

‘The cat wasn’t altogether innocent,’ Mary explained. ‘The moggy started it by chasing the birds round and round. When Rascal went after her, she fought back and Rascal got the worst of it. After licking his wounds, he went after the cat again, but she shot up to the highest branch, leaving him in a right frenzy.’

She slumped back on the bench. ‘We must have walked ten miles; round and round we went. We came back the longest way, past the gardens and on through the spinney. To tell you the truth, Lucy, I’m about done in!’

Lucy could see how tired Mary was. ‘You shouldn’t be rushing and chasing about. You’ll do yourself an injury.’

‘I know, but I do enjoy it, though I’m not sure whose feet ache the most, his or mine.’

Lucy changed the subject. ‘How’s Peter? I haven’t seen either of you, not since I paid my sister a visit. That must be, what, over a week back.’ She tutted. ‘Goodness! How time flies.’

‘Yes, and yes again. We’re both fine, thank you, Lucy.’

Mary was reminded of the bad fall Lucy’s mother had suffered at the market some time back. ‘How’s your mum, by the way, since she tumbled down the market steps?’

‘Oh, she’s getting there bit by bit. Her wounds are healed, but she’s really nervous of going out. Dad coaxed her back to the market the other day, to build her confidence. He walked her gently up and down the stairway where she fell and hurt herself.’

‘He did right, but it can’t have been easy for your mum,’ Mary sympathised.

‘That’s true. Dad said she was a bag of nerves, that he lost count of how many times she wanted to go home. We’re all so worried about her. She frets a lot more than she used to. She’s got a habit of pacing up and down all the time. It’s as if she can’t rest,’ Lucy confided. ‘And she’s got really forgetful of late. It’s not like her at all.’

‘Give her time, Lucy. She’s had a shock to the system, and that can often be worse than a physical injury.’

‘She’s started forgetting things, like putting food in the cooker and leaving it to burn. Last week she ran a bath and came downstairs, leaving the taps running. It was only when Dad saw the water dripping from the kitchen ceiling that he realised what she’d done. He phoned us, and Martin went round to check for any damage, but thankfully it wasn’t too bad once he’d dried it all out.’ Lucy went on, ‘I’m trying to persuade Mum to see the doctor, but she’s being difficult about it.’

‘You’re a good daughter,’ Mary told her, ‘and you’re right in persuading her to see a doctor. I’m sure it can be all sorted out.’

Lucy hoped so. ‘I don’t know what’s happening, Mary. Just lately, it’s one thing after another.’

In that moment, Mary thought of how things were worse than Lucy could possibly imagine, with her two-timing husband and her own sister having a full-blown affair. It was a wicked and shocking betrayal. After what she had witnessed the previous morning, the knowledge that those two were cheating on Lucy had been gnawing at her ever since.

She was on the verge of telling Lucy what was going on behind her back, but then she remembered how Peter had been dead set against either of them getting involved.

Mary, however, did not agree with sweeping it all under the table, and besides, she believed that Lucy deserved to know the truth. One way or another, she must make Lucy aware of what was going on. She had been agonising over it, but how could she tell Lucy without actually getting herself and Peter involved?

While she thought of it now, a sudden, sneaky idea came to her. Yes! The answer was right there all the time.

Lucy’s quiet voice jolted Mary out of her thoughts. ‘Mary, are you all right?’

Startled, Mary looked up. ‘Oh, Lucy, I am sorry. Yes, I’m fine … I was just thinking.’

Lucy understood. ‘I expect you’re tired, what with Rascal’s adventure and everything.’

‘You’re right. I was close to nodding off.’

Mary bitterly regretted having to deceive Lucy, but it was the best way if she and Peter were not to be drawn in. But she had to do it now, in case it was a while before she saw Lucy again. ‘Lucy?’

Lucy looked up from stroking the little dog. ‘Yes, Mary?’ When the older woman hesitated, Lucy sensed her nervousness. ‘What is it?’

‘Oh, I don’t suppose it’s anything really, only what with you saying you haven’t seen Paula for over a week, I was just wondering … is she all right?’

‘Well, yes … I think so, but what makes you ask?’

‘I’m sorry, Lucy, I really shouldn’t worry you … you’ve got enough to think about, what with your mother and such …’

‘Has Paula been a nuisance?’ Lucy asked. ‘I know how rude she can be if the mood takes her. Come on, Mary, out with it. What’s she done to upset you?’

Mary was beginning to regret having started this conversation, but she held her resolve and continued with the deception. ‘Oh, no! She hasn’t upset me. In fact, we’re the best of neighbours at the minute; as long as my cat doesn’t get in her back garden and leave his mark.’ She went on, ‘Look, I don’t want to worry you, Lucy. It’s just that I had not seen her for a couple of days, but this morning as I passed her house she was talking to the postman and, to be honest, she looked so tired and pale … all kind of huddled up … not at all like the Paula we know.’

‘Oh dear.’ Lucy felt guilty. ‘She’s had a rough time of it lately, but I really thought she was dealing with her marriage break-up. The trouble is, our Paula hardly ever confides in anyone. She likes to think she’s invincible.’

Lucy went back over the past few months in her mind. While Paula’s husband, Ray, had tried his hardest to keep the marriage together, Paula seemed to be hankering after a life without him and, as ever, she was her own worst enemy.

‘Paula was the one at fault in the marriage, but she wouldn’t listen,’ Lucy admitted. ‘She obviously thought that Ray would forgive her, however she behaved. When he walked away from it all, she was shocked to her roots, and it’s such a shame, because he idolised her. And deep down I know she truly loved him. But now you’ve got me worried, Mary. I must find time to go and see her … make sure she’s all right. The thing is, I planned to check on Mum tonight. You know she’s been upset and ill since the fall, and I thought me going over to see them might give Dad a little break. And tonight was ideal, what with Martin working late, and Sam off out with his mates.’

The decision was made. ‘I’d best go and see Paula tonight, though. I mean, she’s the only one of us who doesn’t have anyone at home to talk things through with … not since Ray walked out. I can ring Dad from there. I’m sure he’ll understand.’

Mary was curious. ‘Is Paula’s marriage well and truly over then?’

‘Well, yes. From what I understand, she’s been served with the divorce papers, but she’s taking her time to sign them. The trouble is, ever since Ray left, she was certain he would never serve the papers. She was convinced that the two of them would get back together. Receiving the papers knocked her back a bit, though, being Paula, she would never admit it.’

A few minutes later, anxious to make sure her sister was coping, Lucy bade Mary cheerio and set off at a fast pace towards the bus stop, thinking that it wasn’t wise for Paula to show a brave face to the world when inside she must be devastated. No one could help her if she didn’t let them in. Lucy realised that her younger sister was still reeling from the end of her marriage. It was a huge, painful milestone in her life.

Knowing her sister’s unpredictable character, Lucy quickened her steps.

Having carefully manoeuvred his van into the narrow alcove, Martin went at the run down the alley, skipped up the two steps into Paula’s back garden, and let himself in through the back door.

Having seen his approach through the back window, Paula hid behind the kitchen door and waited to surprise him. She was wearing only a short, slinky slip; and a disappointed frown.

Entering the kitchen, Martin kicked out with his heel to shut the door. He then grabbed Paula and pressed her hard against the wall.

‘Ready for me, are you?’ His roving hands reached inside her slip.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ She pushed him away. ‘You should have been here ten minutes ago.’

Surprised at the vehemence of her tone, he gathered her to him. ‘Hey! It couldn’t be helped,’ he explained softly. ‘I had a last-minute complication with the electrics. It won’t happen again, I promise.’

‘It had better not, because if you ever keep me waiting again, I’ll bolt the door so you can’t get in.’

‘You wouldn’t dare!’

‘Huh! Don’t bet on it!’ Squirming from his grasp, Paula fled up the stairs, laughing and teasing as he chased her into the bedroom.

Anxious to speak with her younger sister, Lucy hurried down the street, her heels beating against the pavement as she neared the house. She thought of how Mary Taylor had described Paula as looking sad. Paula had best come and stay with me for a while, Lucy decided as she hurried along. It’s a pity she’s not full time at the petrol station because now it will give her more time to fret. I can’t leave her alone in that house, wittering and worrying, and making herself ill. But who can blame her for feeling miserable? What with the endless rows between her and Ray, then the difficult marriage break-up, and then getting sacked and having to find a new job.

When Lucy took a moment to compare her own life against her sister’s, she truly believed that Paula was worse off. While she, Lucy, had a husband and children, and a full-time job, even if it was hanging by a thread, Paula had none of these blessings.

She’s been through the mill, Lucy acknowledged, but she must know that I will always be here for her.

On arriving at the back door of Paula’s house, she stood on the step a moment, wondering what she might say. She reminded herself not to say that Mary had been talking to her. It would only cause trouble.

Bunching her knuckles to knock on the door, she was surprised to find it slightly open. Honestly! she thought. What have I told her about leaving the back door open? Anyone could walk in!

She gently pushed the door open, and was about to shout for Paula, when she heard the sound of voices from upstairs. One of them sounded like that of a man.

A smile crept over her homely face. Maybe Ray had decided to come home after all.

Though nervous about intruding, she made her way to the foot of the stairs, where she was shocked to her roots to recognise the man’s voice as belonging to her own husband.

She wondered if Paula had arranged for him to call round because of a problem in the house, but he had not said anything about that at breakfast; she would have remembered.

Think, Lucy! she told herself. Martin doesn’t always discuss the details of his work schedule. But if he was working at Paula’s house, surely he would have mentioned that?

Confused and a little apprehensive, she sensed that something was not right. Yet still she chided herself for allowing her imagination to run away with her. She told herself that it could not be Martin upstairs – she would have seen his van outside – and the voices were softly intimate, with the occasional childish titter of suggestive laughter. And yet …

Ashamed, Lucy tried to blank out the bad thoughts. She told herself that it could not be Martin up in the bedroom; and more shame on her for allowing herself even to think it.

It must be Ray, come home to talk things through, with the hope of repairing the marriage. Lucy’s heart lifted at the thought of a reunion between Paula and her estranged husband.

And yet that small, nagging voice in her head was warning her that something was not right here.

Having allowed suspicion to creep into her mind, she wondered whether she ought to make herself known. She was about to call up to them when there came a burst of familiar manly laughter. Lucy’s heart stood still.

There was no doubt in her mind now. The voice, the laughter … it was Martin, her husband.

For what seemed an age, Lucy stood transfixed, her ears assailed with a burst of intimate groans and excited cries, the kind only lovers might make.

As the stark realisation took hold, she could barely breathe. Although she promised herself that she was wrong, and this was not happening, she knew it was. As the lovers continued to laugh and whisper together, the truth was undeniable. It really was Martin and her sister, upstairs in each other’s arms.

Devastated, she turned to leave, wiping away her tears, but then a swell of rage flooded through her and shock turned to anger. No! She had to see them together. She needed each of them to look up and see her standing there. Only then would she be completely certain.

Lucy knew that if she ran away from the truth now, she would live to regret it.

Her mind was set. Whatever shocking images she might discover, and however painful it might prove, she would rather know the truth than be forever wondering.

And so, on nervous legs she continued on up the stairs, and along the landing. The bawdy laughter drowned out the sound of her approach.

In that first, hesitant moment when she entered the bedroom, Lucy was sickened by what she saw.

They lay in the bed, exhausted … coupled together. The sheet was crumpled part-way down, their naked bodies entwined. Paula had her hand on the back of Martin’s head, her fingers caressing his hair, and Martin was lying over her, his face nuzzling her breasts.

For the longest moment, they remained blissfully unaware that she was in the room, watching them, unable to move forward, or flee from the room. Lucy saw her husband and her sister, as close and together as any man and woman could be, and she realised that as long as she lived, the image would stay with her.

A wave of coldness folded over her, and she began to sob, silently at first; then, as the pain intensified, the sobs became uncontrollable.

Martin looked up, his eyes wide with shock. ‘Oh my God … Lucy!’ Tearing at the sheet, he covered his nakedness and ran across the room towards her. ‘Lucy … I’m sorry … I’m so sorry!’ he screamed after her as she ran down the stairs. ‘Lucy … please … wait!’

Behind him, Paula was nervously giggling; though tears were not far behind.

As Lucy ran out of the front door and down the street, Martin ran back into the bedroom. ‘I need to go after her!’ he gasped, snatching up his clothes and quickly dressing. A moment later, he was fleeing down the street after Lucy.

Even now, he was arrogant enough to expect her forgiveness.

Lucy, though, was long gone. Bitter tears clouded her vision as she fled, half running, half stumbling, her mind filled with what she had seen. ‘How could they?’ she kept asking herself. Even though she had seen them together with her own eyes, Lucy found it difficult to believe they could both betray her so cruelly.