The lateness anxiety was kicking in quite strongly now. She was five minutes’ walk from the station and the train was due in only fifteen minutes time. She had to buy her ticket and she urgently needed to get some cash from the cash point which was two minutes from the station. Her head told her that she had plenty of time but all she knew was that she didn’t want to be late. She couldn’t remember ever being late for work so goodness only knows what her boss would say if his P.A. was not there with his coffee and diary when he arrived. It didn’t bear thinking about. She had woken up in plenty of time, given her husband the customary peck on his cheek before wishing him a lovely day but for some reason she was still running late. Why hadn’t she got some cash out last night? What if there was a queue at the cash machine? What if there was a queue for tickets? What if the train was late? Even worse, what if the train left the station a minute early like it did last Wednesday? Finally, finally she turned a corner and – hurrah! – there was no queue at the cash machine! She could get £100 out and then there would be plenty of time to walk to the station. She started breathing more easily now. She retrieved her cash card from her purse whilst marching towards the machine. This would save precious seconds. She could never understand why most people waited until they were at the cash machine before burrowing in their bag or trying to extricate their wallet from their clothing in order to present their card. Had these people never heard of time optimisation? She held her card between her fingers and put it into the machine whilst coming to an abrupt halt. Now what? The card wouldn’t go in! Surely the machine wasn’t out of order? She tried again and looked at the display screen but there was no indication as to why the card would not go in properly. All it said was “Please Take Your Cash.” She paused, uncertain as to what to do but then she processed the message and looked to the dispenser. There was some money half out of the machine. She looked around to see whose money it was but there was nobody in sight. In the distance two teenagers were sauntering casually towards the station. She could just about hear an announcement on the platform. In a panic, she looked at her watch but there were still nine minutes until the train arrived. She looked around again but there were no obvious candidates for the money. She was reluctant to touch the money – there were several twenty pound notes visible – possibly there was as much as £200 there. She was completely nonplussed and had no idea what to do. She needed money for herself but knew that she could not possibly just help herself to someone else’s £200. The Building Society which housed the machine was closed – it would not be open for another hour and a half. She could take the money and post it through the letter box but she had no envelope and probably the first person through the door would pocket the money themselves. She could go to the police but she had no time. She didn’t even have time to phone the police. She looked at her watch again. Seven and a half minutes and she still had to buy a ticket. Time was running out. What could she do? What should she do? With acute lateness anxiety she made the decision to take the money out of the machine and phone the Building Society from work. Yes, that was the right thing to do. Who would be this stupid as to walk away from a cash point without taking the money? She pitied them for their carelessness. Maybe this is what happened as you got older. She still felt young herself, halfway through her working life but she supposed this is what she had to look forward to. She looked at her watch again. Why did she not simply get a season ticket? Stop dithering, she told herself. This is not like you. Get a move on. She decided that she had no time to get her own money and if she had to temporarily borrow from this unexpected bounty she could always repay. A quick glance around to check that nobody was watching her (but why she felt guilty she had no idea – she wasn’t doing anything wrong or immoral) and then she snatched the money from the machine and opened her purse whilst turning towards the station.
“OI!”
“YOU!!”
“YES YOU!!!”
Her heart nearly jumped out of her body and she turned around to see a large young man with a baseball cap, tattoos all down his forearms and a T-Shirt which proclaimed that he would “Cee U Next Tuesday.” He was running towards her at top speed.
“Have you got my money?”
She hesitated for a small second, she wasn’t sure why. She started to search for the right words but before she could start, he grabbed her hand so hard that the money fell onto the ground. He picked it up, punched her on the nose and ran off.
“And do you know, I still got to work on time although everyone wanted to know why my blouse was streaked with blood” Lucy told me. “I often wonder whether I really intended to give the money back or whether I would have kept it.”
She said this to me many years later from a prison cell in Whitechapel.
“OI!”
“YOU!!”
“YES YOU!!!”
Her heart nearly jumped out of her body and she turned around to see a large young man with a baseball cap, tattoos all down his forearms and a T-Shirt which proclaimed that he would “Cee U Next Tuesday.” He was running towards her at top speed.
“Have you got my money?”
She hesitated for a small second, she wasn’t sure why. She started to search for the right words but before she could start, he grabbed her hand so hard that the money fell onto the ground. He picked it up, punched her on the nose and ran off.
“And do you know, I still got to work on time although everyone wanted to know why my blouse was streaked with blood” Lucy told me. “I often wonder whether I really intended to give the money back or whether I would have kept it.”
She said this to me many years later from a prison cell in Whitechapel.
