The Runaway Woman. Josephine Cox

satisfy himself that there was no one about, before clambering out and running across the alley and into the back garden of one of the terraced houses.

      From the back bedroom window, a woman watched him approach. She smiled. ‘Naughty man!’ she murmured lovingly.

      Finding the back door open, Martin slithered inside, then turned the key in the lock.

      Before he could even look round, she was all over him. ‘You’re late!’ she whispered in his ear. ‘I’ve been waiting ages for you.’

      She opened her flimsy dressing gown to reveal a slim naked body, and when he reached out for her, she laughed and broke away to run up the stairs.

      Martin kicked off his boots and went after her. All thoughts of Lucy had long since vanished from his mind.

      ‘Look, he’s there again. Disgraceful, that’s what it is!’

      Mary and Peter Taylor, retired from work these many months, lived in one of the adjoining houses. Having spotted Martin creeping in and out of next door, Mary was now on a mission to keep an eye out for all the unsavoury developments.

      Peter, too, peeked out the window. ‘Hmm! No wonder her husband cleared off after he caught her in bed with an ex-boyfriend.’ Although he would never admit it, Peter was the teeniest bit jealous. ‘Some folks never learn. Here she is, at it again with another man, and without an ounce of shame between ’em!’

      For weeks now, the old couple had regularly seen Martin hide his car and sneak into Paula’s house.

      ‘They should be tarred and feathered!’ Mary was up in arms. ‘I’ve a good mind to tell Lucy Lovejoy what’s going on right under her nose. How could they?’

      ‘You mustn’t get involved, Mary,’ Peter quietly warned her. ‘It’s not our business. I’m sure you would not want to be responsible for breaking up Lucy’s marriage, rickety though it might be. Besides, her sister will probably get fed up before long, and move on to some other gullible bloke.’

      Reluctantly, Mary had to agree. ‘All right then. But Lucy Lovejoy is such a likeable, honest person, and she really doesn’t deserve this.’

      ‘I know, but it’s not our place to interfere, and if we did, then the two of us would be the baddies, caught up in the middle. But don’t you worry, the truth will out. It always does, one way or another.’

      Glancing at the clock again, Lucy quickly finished her cup of tea and began clearing the table. ‘I’ll be late for work myself if I’m not careful, and that will never do.’ She prided herself on being a good timekeeper at the factory.

      She put a flat tin dish over the top of the plate of eggs and bacon, then after turning the grill on low, she slid the plate underneath. That should keep it good and hot. Martin was right: good food should not be wasted, and anyway, Sam would appreciate a hot breakfast before he left.

      Lucy glanced at the wall clock. It was high time he was up and ready.

      A moment later she was at the foot of the stairs, calling up to her son. When after two calls there was no answer, she raised her voice. ‘Sam, are you still in bed? It’s gone seven. Hurry up or you’ll be late.’

      She was about to go up and wake him when his tired, lazy voice called back, ‘OK, stop yelling! I’ll be down in a minute!’

      Satisfied, Lucy resumed her clearing away, but it wasn’t long before she was interrupted.

      ‘Mum!’ Sam yelled down the stairway. ‘I can’t find any clean socks!’

      ‘Look in the top drawer of your cupboard!’ Lucy called back. When there came no reply, she was satisfied that he must have found them. Of course there were clean socks. When had there ever not been? Surely he didn’t actually need his clothes laying out ready for him the night before?

      A few minutes later, Sam sloped into the kitchen, his shoulders drooping and his eyes still sleepy. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any breakfast, is there?’ Dropping his tall, gawky figure into the nearest chair, he glanced at the clock. ‘Oh, Mum! You should have called me earlier.’

      ‘Well, you’ve still got time for some breakfast before you set off.’

      Grabbing a tea towel, she covered her hands before collecting the plate of eggs and bacon from under the grill. ‘There!’ She set it before him. ‘Be careful, the plate’s hot.’

      Sam began tucking in, while Lucy proudly took stock of him.

      Sam was just twenty-one years of age – lanky, defiant and often argumentative, like many young men of his age. With his attractive fair hair and light brown eyes, and his outgoing personality, he had enjoyed more than his fair share of girlfriends over the last few years.

      ‘Are you enjoying your new job at the newsagent’s?’ Lucy asked.

      He hunched his shoulders. ‘Yeah, I suppose.’ Digging the fork into the bacon he remarked sullenly, ‘This was Dad’s breakfast, wasn’t it?’

      ‘Yes, it was, but he was late for work and didn’t have time to eat it.’

      ‘I know that.’ He gave her a sorry look. ‘I heard the two of you arguing.’

      ‘We weren’t arguing. It was more of a misunderstanding. The thing is, your father needed to start work early,’ Lucy explained, ‘and there was a mix-up about the alarm, that’s all.’

      ‘Yeah … because you forgot to set it, like he asked.’ Sam gave a little chuckle. ‘I dunno, Mum. You’ve got a memory like a sieve.’

      Pretending not to have heard this remark, Lucy hurriedly set about collecting up the used teacups. ‘So, do you think this job might be offered to you on a permanent basis?’

      ‘Dunno.’

      ‘But if you were offered it as permanent, you would take it, wouldn’t you? Or perhaps think about going to college, learn a new skill?’

      Getting up from the table, Sam made his way to the front door, where he put on his jacket. ‘Dunno.’ He gave a lolloping shrug. ‘You might as well know right now, I don’t plan on working in a newsagent’s for ever. I suppose it depends on what comes my way. We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?’

      Then he was out the door and running down to the bus stop, leaving Lucy wondering why she even bothered to open a conversation.

      Beginning to panic, she glanced at the wall clock. She was due at work for eight thirty, which left her just fifteen minutes to be on her way.

      Quickly now, she went to the telephone, where she picked up the receiver and dialled her parents’ number. After just two rings, her father answered. ‘I were just walking past the phone,’ he explained breathlessly. ‘It frightened the life outta me. Who is it wants me?’

      ‘It’s me, Dad. I meant to call earlier but it’s always manic in this house, and now I’m rushing about. How’s Mum … is she any better?’

      ‘She’s not too bad. I must say, that cough seems to be on its way out. She slept much better last night.’

      ‘Oh, that’s good. Look, Dad, I’m late for work, so will you just give her my love and tell her I’ll be round tomorrow evening?’

      ‘Aw, don’t you worry, she’ll be fine. But thanks anyway, Lucy. You’re a good girl.’ And before she could answer, he replaced the receiver.

      Lucy smiled. It’s a long time since I was a girl, Dad, she thought. Then, reassured about her poorly mother, she replaced the receiver.