The Runaway Woman (25 page)

He thought she was not a bad-looking woman. In her forties, maybe; a bit worn and tired, and seeming to lack confidence in herself. Moreover, there
was such an air of sadness and loneliness about her that he concluded she might well be putting herself through an ordeal of sorts; possibly to help her escape a deeply unhappy period in her life.

‘We’ll be there in five minutes,’ he promised. ‘And then, unless your plans have changed, it’s on to the station.’

‘That’s right,’ Lucy confirmed it. ‘Thank you.’

In truth, Lucy was so low in spirit,
it would not have taken much for her to ask if he would please take her straight home.

As they neared the churchyard, Lucy grew increasingly anxious, and when the car was stopped and the driver came to open the door for her, Lucy remained in her seat for a long, uncomfortable moment.

The taxi driver, though, was incredibly patient. He stood silent, his hand on the door, and
his thoughts going back to when he had lost his dear wife some ten years ago. He had never got over that, and somehow he knew instinctively that here, in this pretty churchyard, lay someone who at one time or another had been a special part of this unhappy woman’s life.

‘Well, you’re either getting out or staying in, so which is it to be?’ he addressed Lucy in a jovial fashion.

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
Lucy was lost in poignant memories. ‘I won’t take too long.’

‘You take as long as you like, my dear,’ he advised. ‘When you’re ready to leave I’ll be waiting here.’ Because of her troubled manner he began to wonder if later he might be taking her to the railway station, as planned, or to somewhere completely different.

Without a look back, Lucy hesitantly made her way to the corner of the churchyard
where lay her darling parents.

When she arrived at the gently shaded spot, she thought, as before, how beautiful it was here. Tucked away in this pretty corner, their grave would be blessed by the rising sun in the morning, and cradled by moonlit skies at night. Comfortingly, this little area was constantly sheltered by the wide, strong arms of a handsome cherry tree.

Unable to hold back the
tears, Lucy fell to her knees and after tenderly brushing her hand over the two names etched onto the temporary wooden cross among the still-fresh flowers, she whispered of her love and sorrow, telling them that she would never forget them.

‘Oh, but I do miss you both … so very, very much,’ she whispered tearfully. ‘There are times when I feel I can’t bear it any more, but I don’t let the others
see me sad, because that would be cruel. I need to be strong for them, because they too are hurting, just as I am.’

She gave a wobbly little smile. ‘What are we like, eh? We hide the pain away, and nobody knows the truth of it. What makes us do that, especially when it might be easier to admit how much you’re hurting? We should help each other … talk about it and not be weak or ashamed.’

Lucy
had something important playing on her mind, and now was the time to confess it. ‘I don’t know if you can see what’s happening down here, Mum and Dad, but it’s been so very hard lately, and to tell the truth, I’m out of my depth. I can’t seem to deal with it.’

Taking a deep breath, she explained gently, ‘I don’t want to say any more, except to tell you that I’ve decided to go away and think about
things … see if I can make any sense of why I’m still here, and you’re not. Don’t be ashamed of me, but I would change places with you both right here and now.’

Suddenly, the tears broke like a dam giving way inside her and she was helpless to stop them. As the tears rolled down her cheeks, she sobbed bitterly. ‘I feel so alone,’ she whispered brokenly. ‘I don’t know who I am. Sometimes I really
believe that I don’t have a place in this life. I feel as though people look at me, and they don’t even see me … not the real me! They don’t see the guilty child who was forced to marry. Or the frightened child who gave birth before she was even a woman herself. And they never see the girl who went on to spend her adult life with a man who it now seems she hardly knew.’

She glanced about the
churchyard, her sorry gaze falling on the many headstones there. ‘What is it really all about, Mum and Dad? Is life a gift, or is it a punishment for our sins? Oh, I would give anything to have you here with me, to advise me what I should do.’

Her thoughts drifted back to Martin. From child to adult, he had been a huge part of her life … but now he was no part of her life at all. She had to ask
herself: throughout those long years together, while living as man and wife and raising two beautiful children, had she ever really known him … Martin the schoolboy, Martin the husband, Martin the father?

She gave a wry little smile. ‘Martin the cheat. Martin the stranger. Martin the man who does not want or need me any more; and probably never did.’

Saying it out loud cut deep into Lucy’s soul.
‘It’s over now,’ she whispered. ‘All over.’

She had to ask herself how she could have been so naïve. So blind to the fact that while she was wondering if she had ever loved him, it was now painfully obvious that he must have been having the same doubts about her. Otherwise why would he have turned to her sister? And now, for the first time, she was actually asking: why did Paula not resist him?
She felt doubly wounded, wondering if what had happened between those two was somehow her own fault.

All her bitterness poured out in a rush of pain. No! It was not my fault! I’ve been a good wife, and a good mother. And all the time, there was no room in his heart for me. Maybe it was always Paula, and maybe he was just waiting for her marriage to break down so he could muscle in. I don’t know!
I don’t know the truth of it now, and I don’t suppose I ever will.

‘I need to be me for a while, Mum and Dad,’ she confessed aloud now. ‘I don’t know who I am any more, or what I’ve been doing wrong. Why don’t my family love me in the same way I love them – unconditionally, and without measure? What’s wrong with me? Am I incapable of being loved? Am I too easy … too giving, and while I give,
they keep taking? Now I feel like an outcast. In fact, yes, that’s exactly what I am: an outcast. And I don’t know why. All I keep thinking is that one way or another it must be my own fault.’

Ashamed at her unexpected outburst, she went on softly, ‘I’m sorry. I just wanted to come and tell you what I’m doing and why, and to ask you, please don’t judge me too harshly.’ She smiled. ‘There I go
again, apologising like I always do. But I don’t want you to be sad because of me. I’ll be all right, really I will. I’m just tired, and worn, and sometimes I feel so alone. Now, though, I’m going away for a while. I need to do that because if I don’t, how will I ever know who I really am? Or where I truly belong?’

She now glanced towards the gate, where the taxi driver was waiting patiently,
a pipe in his mouth, and a twirl of smoke rising up to the heavens.

Lucy wiped her face, straightened her hair and took a deep, invigorating breath, before stretching her two arms across the flower-heaped grave. ‘Look after each other, you two, and know that I’m always thinking of you. Oh, and don’t take any notice of my complaining. I’ll be all right, I promise.’

She began to feel that her
mum and dad were actually listening, and she felt a lot calmer.

‘The children do miss you, though,’ she said, ‘but they’re fine. I’m grateful for Anne’s concern over me – she’s a good girl – and as for your grandson, he’s doing all right too. He’s following his dream and doing what his granddad suggested. He’ll be heading for college before long to follow his chosen career. He doesn’t say too
much to me, but that’s all right, because he and Anne are very close and they talk together about their plans. I get to know eventually, though, and that’s fair enough, because all I ever want is for them to be content.’

She now had a confession to make, and it made her uncomfortable. ‘I’ve done a bad thing, Mum,’ she began softly. ‘The thing is, going away costs money, and that is something
I don’t have much of … so …’ she hesitated, ‘… forgive me, Mum, but I’m here to tell you, I’ve pawned your beautiful rings. I’m sorry, I really am. But I will get them back. Whatever it takes, I will get them back!’

She felt small and guilty, and yet strangely defiant. ‘I had to let you know but, hand on heart, I will get them back as soon as I can. Meantime, I’m going on a kind of holiday, but
I’ll be back soon, and besides, how could I ever leave you two, for any length of time, eh?’

For long, aching moments, she settled her sorry gaze onto the little cross and the names of her beloved parents written there. ‘You must know how much I love you both,’ she whispered brokenly. ‘It’s not the same without you in my life. It’s like some great fist has torn the heart out of me, and I don’t
know what to do any more.’

When the rising emotion threatened to swamp her, she took a deep, calming breath. For a while she just stood there, like a lost soul.

And then she was saying her goodbyes. She stood awhile, lovingly gazing down, admiring the pretty flowers laid across her parents’ resting place. ‘God bless,’ she whispered, then she kissed both hands, before momentarily pressing them
over their names on the cross, as though to transfer the kisses to them.

As she walked away, Lucy felt an uplifting sense of calm. In her heart she felt that she had been cut loose, and that from this moment, whatever the consequences, the road she walked would be chosen by her, and no one else. More importantly, she felt stronger in herself than she ever had done before.

This is my time, she
thought. Maybe this really is my only chance to stride out into the big bad world, on my own. Without anyone else making decisions for me.

She began to realise the enormity of what she was about to do. Every day of her life since she was a schoolgirl had been planned right down to the last detail, and now here she was, off on a little adventure to find out who she was, and what she wanted out
of life. She was actually doing it: she had pawned her mother’s rings and was about to buy a ticket to somewhere she had loved long ago, in what now seemed to be in another life altogether.

Suddenly the whole idea was unimaginable. Woa, Lucy Lovejoy! What have you done? she thought.

Giving an odd little skip, she could not deny a bubbling of excitement. ‘Lucy, I’ll tell you what you’ve done!’
she told herself. ‘You have started to take charge of your own life. For the first time, in over twenty years!’

Excited and a little nervous, she hurried back to the taxi, feeling like a naughty child let loose.

‘R
IGHT THEN. HERE
we are!’

Harry Parker pulled up the handbrake and switched off the engine.

He then climbed out to collect Lucy’s suitcase from the boot. ‘There you go!’ He set the case down beside her. ‘Will you be all right carrying that, or would you like me to take it in for you?’

‘No, thank you all the same, but I think I’ve messed you about enough today.’ Lucy opened her
purse. ‘How much do I owe you?’

He clocked up the bill in his head. ‘Er … what say we call it one pound two shillings?’

Lucy realised that was not enough. ‘At first it was just a straightforward, short trip to the pawnbroker,’ she promptly reminded him, ‘and then a second stop at the churchyard … where, by the way, you were made to wait for a long time, for which I can only apologise.’

‘Like
I say, the fare is one pound two shillings,’ he insisted. ‘It’s not a charity gesture, nor is it because I suspect you might need the money more than I do, it is my thanks to you because I feel I owe you … on two counts.’

‘And how’s that then?’ Lucy was curious.

‘First of all, I feel bad because you got a tongue-wagging from Maggie’s idiot of a husband, and it seems you didn’t deserve that,’
Harry said.

‘But that wasn’t your fault,’ Lucy replied.

‘And secondly,’ he continued, ‘while you were in the churchyard, no doubt tending to someone close, who obviously meant a lot to you, I actually took advantage of the time we were there to pay a visit to my own dear wife, who was laid to her rest some long time back. Truth is, I never seem to have enough time to visit, so waiting for you
was an unexpected opportunity to make my peace with a very lovely lady who, because of pressure of work, I’m ashamed to say I have sadly neglected of late.’

In the light of his explanation, and because he was adamant that the fare was still one pound two shillings, Lucy paid what he asked and was very glad to do so.

When he kindly offered to carry her case to the platform, Lucy thanked him again,
and this time she won the argument. ‘I’ll be fine with the suitcase,’ she said firmly. ‘You’ve been very kind, but I do need to be on my own now. I have to get a ticket, find the platform, locate the train and quickly get on board … or I might change my mind and ask you to take me home.’

For the first time since starting out she was beginning to panic, being close to the stage where turning back
might seem the easier option.

The taxi driver saw how anxious she was. ‘Here, take this. You never know, you might need it.’ Dipping into his top pocket he drew out a small white card, which he handed to Lucy. ‘My number is written there.’ He pointed to it. ‘Remember, if you need a taxi, ring me. It won’t matter how far away you are, or what time of day or night it might be. I’m used to turning
out at all hours. So, like I say, if you’re in need of transport, just call me.’