The Old Lady

I was just wandering around. Well, there wasn’t much else to do. It was one of those afternoons when you didn’t want to be stuck inside.

As I kept walking, wondering where I should go, I headed to the beach to buy ice cream. It sounded like a good idea to me, but as I was making my way, I saw a man grab an elderly lady’s shopping trolley and then make a run for it. I took off after him, but he was too quick for me. When I returned to the elderly lady, she was sitting on a wall.

‘Come on, love,’ I said to her ‘the hospital is just around the corner.

‘Oh, I’m OK, dear,’ she replied to me. ‘I’m more worried about my trolley. I had quite a bit of money inside it.’

So we took a walk to the nearest police station instead, where we spent a long time looking at photos of middle-aged men who seemed to fit the attacker's description.

Looking at one photo, he seemed familiar to me. Where had I seen that face before? It would come to me eventually. I was sure of that.

I took the old lady home. She only lived a few streets away. Her house, when we arrived, was run-down. The garden looked as though it hadn’t been touched in years. The gate to the driveway was falling off its hinges. How could someone of her age live in a place like this? That’s what I was thinking.

Once inside, things seemed worse. She had a cat as well. He was asleep in his basket. The room itself was covered in old newspapers and the kitchen looked like it needed a good clean. I daren’t wonder what condition the rest of the house was in.

‘Would you like a cup of tea, dear?’ she asked me as she went to place an ancient kettle on the stove.

I didn’t like to refuse, so I said yes. When it arrived, the mug was chipped. I felt so sorry for this woman who was living in these conditions. If I could just get my hands on the person who took her trolley. How could anyone be so cruel to the elderly was beyond me.

I said goodbye to her, saying I would be back in a cople of days to fix the rickety gate that stood at the entrance to her drive.

Making my way home, I was trying my best to think where I had seen the mugger before. He was so familiar, but he just wouldn’t come into my mind.

The Saturday came - my day off work, so I got up pretty late, which I often did on a Saturday, then had a late breakfast before looking for my tool bag. Then off I set to the lady’s house, but when I got there, I couldn’t get an answer, then I heard someone shout:

‘You looking for Mrs Simkins, love?’

I turned and saw who was doing the shouting - one of her neighbours.

‘Yes, I am,’ I answered. You don’t happen to know where she is, by any chance?’

‘She’s in hospital, love. I think it was caused by that terrible thing that had happened to her yesterday. Apparently, she had over six hundred pounds in that shopping trolley of hers. What on earth was she doing carrying that amount of money?’

That was a good question. Someone must have seen her draw the money out, then watched her put it in her shopping trolley, before following her outside.

The neighbour informed me which hospital she had been taken to, so off I went - to visit her. But on the way, something happened to amaze me. I saw a man getting off a bus. I used to work with him years before. This was my chance. Just as he was about to enter a pub, I managed to grab hold of him by his collar.

‘What’s your game?’ he asked as her tried to get out of my grasp.

‘Forgotten who I am?’

‘Jimmy, isn’t it? What’s your problem? I’ve done nothing to you? Let me go or I’ll get the police on you.’

‘Be a bit difficult to get the police while I’ve got hold of you. Anyway, I want a favour from you.’

‘What?’

‘You’ve got a shopping trolley you robbed off an old dear. It contains six hundred quid. If it isn’t returned soon, you are in big trouble. You were scum when I worked with you and you are scum now. I know I few people who would like to get their hands on your grubby neck,’ I lied.

I let him go, leaving him to flee as quick as he could.

I had it in my mind that the old lady would never see that money again, so I had an idea which would help her out.

Days later, I had a call from the hospital saying that the lady was fit to go home and that would I go and pick her up. She didn’t want to go home by ambulance.

So the next day I arrived at the hospital and went to the ward to pick her up. I managed to get her into my car and off we went.

Once back at her house, I stayed for a cup of tea.

‘I can’t thank you enough,’ she said to me. ‘You have been ever so kind. I wish I could repay you in some way?’

‘I don’t want anything in return,’ I said to her. ‘But I’ll be back the next day to repair the gate and put a stronger lock and a chain on your front door.’

The next day came and I was going to put my idea to work. Firstly, I went to the bank to draw out some money. I had been left quite a lot by an old aunt, so six hundred pounds was small change.

When I got to the lady’s house, there she sat, looking so peaceful with the cat sitting on her lap.

‘I’ve got something for you,’ I said to her, putting a large envelope in her hands.

‘What’s this, dear?’ she asked as her hands trembled while holding the envelope.

‘The money that was taken. It’s in the envelope. The police managed to get it back.'

She looked at me puzzled for a while. What had I done wrong? Did she believe what I had just told her? Then she said:

Sorry, I’m a bit confused. Yesterday, after you left, somebody knocked on my door and when I answered, nobody was there, but standing in the porchway was my trolley. All the money was there, plus the documents I used to draw the money out.’

Days later. I ran into the mugger again.

‘At least you did the right thing and returned the old lady’s trolley with the money in.’ I said to him in an abrupt manner.

‘Ain’t got a clue what you are on about, mate.’

‘Course you haven’t,’ I replied before I carried on walking.