The Runaway Woman. Josephine Cox
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Promise me you won’t interfere!’
Mary gave a smile and a kind of nod. ‘All right, I hear you! Now stop worrying. Finish your breakfast and go for your newspapers. Oh, and you’d best take Rascal with you.’ She glanced at the little brown terrier stretched out on the rug. ‘He’s been waiting patiently. Don’t wear him out, though. I might take him to the park later, when you’re meeting up with your old cronies.’
‘I won’t wear him out.’
‘Good!’ She discreetly looked her husband up and down, noting the droop of his once-broad shoulders and the grey whiskers in his long, curly beard. She glanced at the little terrier and saw the grey whiskers on his chin also; it made her smile to see the resemblance between man and dog. ‘Take it easy, you two,’ she instructed. ‘Neither of you is as young as you used to be.’
‘Hey! Enough of that. You know what they say: you’re only as old as you feel.’
‘Oh, so you feel young and sprightly, do you?’ Edging towards him, she gave a cheeky wink. ‘Come on then, let’s see what you’re made of.’
‘Don’t be daft, woman. What’s wrong with you?’ He scrambled out of the chair to grab his coat, and she burst out laughing. ‘You’re a wicked woman!’ he chided her.
‘Not as wicked as her down the street!’ Mary retorted. ‘What woman with any decency would bed her own sister’s husband? Not to mention breaking her own marriage by flirting and carrying on with the lodger. Shameful, that’s what it is. I’m not surprised her poor husband fled to the hills.’
‘Behave yourself!’ Peter was never a man to gossip. ‘And anyway, you don’t know she’s “bedding” her sister’s husband.’
‘Take it from me, Peter,’ tapping the side of her nose, she gave a little smile, ‘a woman knows these things.’
‘Right, well, I’m off. Come on, Rascal!’ The little dog was already at the door, chasing backwards and forwards with his tongue hanging out.
When Peter opened the door, the dog set off at a run, clambering at the garden gate, impatient to be away.
Deep in thought, Mary resumed her chores at the sink, one eye on her husband as he went down the garden path. ‘Huh! Don’t tell me that little slut is not bedding Martin Lovejoy, because I would bet my life on it,’ she muttered.
Less than two miles away, Martin drew up at the old barn he was renovating. He yanked on the brake, then switched off the van engine.
He began whistling merrily, happy in the knowledge that Paula wanted the same things he did, but fell silent a moment later when Lucy crept into his mind.
For a few painful minutes he continued to think about Lucy, and how she would react if he ever had the courage to tell her about him and Paula. It’s sure to be a messy, hurtful business if I break with Lucy, he thought, leaning back in his seat. Lucy and me, though … he slowly shook his head … there’s just nothing there, and hasn’t been for a long time. At least not on my side.
He was truly sorry about Lucy, but he was determined to grab his happiness as soon as he could. It wasn’t her fault … they had been just kids learning about life. Too young to realise the consequences of what they did.
Looking back, he believed he was more to blame than Lucy. Me … the big man in the school ground … I had to have her, and I’ve paid the price ever since. Serves me bloody right! Thumping the dashboard, he softly cursed, thinking back, hating himself, hating Lucy, then loving her. I just can’t spend the rest of my life with her … not now I know that Paula wants me, he decided.
He tried to visualise what Lucy might say when he told her he and Paula were planning to live together. Lucy would get over it … she would! She was a sensible woman. She took things in her stride, always had.
Assuring himself that Lucy would cope, he thought of the wonderful times he’d enjoyed with Paula. He and Paula belonged together, and to hell with anyone who didn’t like the idea!
He couldn’t wait to start a new life with his sister-in-law. But before that could happen, there was much to be done. He thought of his children, Anne and Sam. They, too, would be hurt, he knew, but as far as he was concerned there was no alternative.
Taking a deep breath, he blew it back out in a long sigh. His decision was made. Sorry, Lucy, love, but life is too short for regrets. I can’t live with someone I don’t love … not any more.
Before he announced his decision, though, he had to be absolutely certain that Paula really meant what she said. They must have another serious conversation.
After he’d spoken with Paula, he would know which way to go.
Settled on his plan of action, Martin scrambled out of the van, grabbed his tools and headed off to work with a determined stride. He had so much to think about, his head was spinning. His troubled thoughts kept coming back to Lucy, that gentle, good woman who had given him two much-loved children. She was one of Nature’s mothers: always there when needed.
The truth was that just to be with Paula fired Martin with excitement, while Lucy was just there; like a shadow in the corner, like an ornament you might bring out and polish now and then. She had little to say and even fewer opinions to share. There was no spirit, no naughtiness, or humour of any kind. She was just Lucy, content in her own little world. Happiest when she had family about her.
But though she brought no excitement to his life, she was the mother of his children, and grandmother of his daughter’s child.
Other than that, Lucy was simply a sad relic of his wasted youth.
And yet, for all that, he was loath to hurt her.
KATHLEEN RILEY AND Lucy Lovejoy had worked together at the plastics factory for almost two years. It was a busy, happy firm, turning out all manner of plastic goods, including watering cans, children’s tea sets, and see-through plastic macs, which were one of the company’s best sellers.
Lucy made the belts for the macs, and Kathleen made the collars. Other workers joined all the pieces together and when finished, the macs were attractive, very fashionable and easy to wear.
Sitting at the machines all day was physically demanding work, especially on the legs, which were required to push back and forth with the swing of the metal welder which dropped down rhythmically to seal the pieces together.
At the end of the week, the size of the wage packet depended on how many pieces each worker had produced, which was an incentive for everyone to work hard.
Having started on the same day and followed the training programme together, Lucy and Kathleen had quickly become the best of workmates, though because of Lucy’s family commitments, they only very occasionally met up outside of work.
Today Kathleen was worried about Lucy, who had hardly spoken a word since being summoned to the manager’s office earlier. In the end Kathleen just had to ask outright.
‘Hey, Lucy, is everything OK? Has the ol’ dragon had a go at you?’
Short and curvy, with chocolate-coloured eyes, and red curly hair, Kathleen had her hair pinned back so tightly she looked like she’d been in a wind tunnel.
When Lucy seemed not to have heard, Kathleen left her machine to hurry across to her. ‘Has she given you a dressing-down because you had the day off yesterday?’ Aware of the others watching, she quickly lowered her voice. ‘Don’t let her get you down. Sometimes her bark is worse