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| Image courtesy of John Kasawa / FreeDigitalPhotos.net |
Three weeks prior to
the eventful, possibly life-changing day, Jack returned to his family
village having completed two years of his latest prison sentence.
During the last twenty years of his life fifteen of them have been
spent incarcerated at 'Her Majesty's' pleasure: punishment for his
regular straying from the 'strait and narrow'.
His
parents, Ted and Mary, still live in the ancestral two bedroom
terraced cottage. At forty- two years old he has no option but to
live at home. As a result of his extensive criminal record, full-time
employment is not an option available to him so he doesn't have a
regular wage income, just minimal social benefits. He needs to accept
their offer of free accommodation.
Apart
from when he has to leave the village for the pointless visit to the
job centre; he spends the majority of his days sitting on one of the
benches on the village green breathing the free, fresh country air.
The claustrophobia he's developed in prison means he needs to be
outside rather than spending his time sitting indoors in the small
cottage. He has spent too much 'time' in small rooms.
He
knows the majority of the villagers consider him bone-idle and not to
be trusted. There are some who use him occasionally as a cheap,
cash-in-hand, dogsbody for the unpleasant jobs they consider below
their status. Mrs Prendacast and the members of her social circle are
vociferous in their public condemnation of Jack's life style: his
sponging off his parents and society.
During
his most recent prison term Jack decided he needs to change before
the cell walls crush him for ever. The physical fitness routine and
the education programme he undertook had the goal of producing a new
Jack. But could he change? Was he fooling himself?
Last
Monday morning started the same as the previous three since his
release. Jack was sitting at his usual place watching the villagers
going about their normal routines. He noted the older folks going
into the combination village shop and post office. He assumed they
were cashing some of their pension to buy a few bits and bobs. He saw
Mrs Prendacast go in. He doubted if she really needed the money given
the large house she lives in and the expensive car her husband
drives.
When
she came out, he saw her checking her money again in her purse to
make sure it was safely tucked away. She then put the purse in her
handbag which in turn she hung on her left shoulder. The shoulder
nearest to the road as she walked away from the shop.
Jack
noticed a cyclist, who he recognised from his prison days, travelling
down the road behind, and going in the same direction as the walking
Mrs Prendacast. She did not seem aware of the fast moving cyclist,
that she was his target, and that the gap between them was rapidly
reducing.
Jack
knew what he had to do.
He
leapt to his feet and started his dash towards Mrs Prendacast. He
knew his new level of physical fitness would get him to the right
position and at the right time for his plan to be successful.
As
Jack's feet left the soft, slippery grass of the village green; still
on the opposite side of the road to them; the cyclist drew level with
Mrs Prendacast. Jack knew what was going to happen next. As his feet
came in contact with the firm, abrasive tarmac he accelerated his
sprinting speed to ensure he reached the far side of the road in
time. He had to successfully complete his part in the action.
Jack
heard Mrs Prendacast scream out: 'Help! Help me someone! He's stolen
my bag! Thief! Stop that thief!'
The
cyclist had violently grabbed the handbag from Mrs Prendacast's
shoulder as he passed her. He pushed hard on the pedals of the bike
to get away as fast as he could.
He'd
been concentrating on his prey and obviously hadn't noticed Jack
coming at speed from his left. He clearly didn't see the flying
tackle coming. He would suddenly have felt the full strength and
weight of Jack as the body-check crashed into his upper torso. A pair
of arms wrapped around his chest as he was forcibly grabbed from his
bike and dumped on the pavement.
The
crash onto the paving slabs appeared to knock all the air from his
lungs, and the weight of Jack's body bearing down on him, meant there
was no struggle to escape or movement of any kind by the cyclist. Two
workmen who had seen and heard the mêlée of the attempted mugging
ran to help Jack restrain the failed robber.
Once
they had control of the mugger Jack removed Mrs Prendacast's handbag
from his grasp and handed it back to her, with the sarcastic comment:
'Best to keep a firmer hold of it in future. You never know if there
are thieves and spongers about!'
'Thank
you. . . Thank you . . . for your help,' she stammered, 'I never
expected that of you!'
Mrs
Prendacast, the members of her social circle, and other villagers are
no doubt now wondering; has Jack changed from poacher to gamekeeper?
Or is it part of another of his con tricks?
But
they'll have to wait and see – won't they?
© Elliot Sampford 2013
Edited: 12.07.13
I am pleased to say that this story has also been published on the CafeLit website and weblog:
http://cafelit.co.uk/MrsPrendacastsHandbag.html
http://cafelitcreativecafe.blogspot.co.uk/2013/07/mrs-prendacasts-handbag.html
© Elliot Sampford 2013
Edited: 12.07.13
I am pleased to say that this story has also been published on the CafeLit website and weblog:
http://cafelit.co.uk/MrsPrendacastsHandbag.html
http://cafelitcreativecafe.blogspot.co.uk/2013/07/mrs-prendacasts-handbag.html
