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| By Sunil060902 |
Silver linings
I was walking towards Great Portland tube station,
thinking about work. That day I had quarrelled with Gill about something
trivial, the disappearance of her Snoopy mug. I had seen our boss take it, but
I was too angry at having been accused to tell her. Besides, I don't like Gill
because she doesn’t pull her weight and always makes a point of leaving on time
even when we are very busy. There is a rumour going round that she has an
affair with the head of personnel so, unless their relationship turns sour,
we'll never get rid of her.
Anyway, I was walking down a quiet alley to avoid the
bustle of Oxford Street when a teenager wearing a grey hoodie stopped me to ask
the time. I glanced at my watch and next thing I know I was on my knees on the
pavement, while the boy was running away with my bag.
My spirits sank further down at the police station. My
story had been told before and the policeman looked at me disapprovingly as
though it was foolish to give anybody the time.
"It's a tactic, they weigh people up that way,"
he explained.
"How?" I asked, bewildered.
"The way you speak, the watch, the cut of your
clothes," he said looking bored.
"So if I had a working class accent, cheap clothes
and a scruffy appearance he would haven't bothered."
My sarcasm was lost on him. He advised me to go home, sit
down and have a cup of tea. Exactly like in one of those Carry On films.
Sitting on my sofa, I tried to remember the contents of my
bag. I was drinking a glass of red wine out of spite, even if a cup of tea was
probably what I really needed. I had lost my keys. Luckily, my neighbour has a
spare set and I could get in without too much fuss. Then, the wallet with my
credit card, cheque book, supermarket card, video rental membership and other
plastic. Cash? Twenty pounds, not too bad. There were some photographs,
including one of an ex-boyfriend. We split up two months before and I had not
thrown his photo away. An old picture of my mum that I liked - that was a loss.
Some other photos I didn't remember, maybe holiday snaps. My Liberty address
book: its loss, combined with that of the keys, meant a change of locks. A
make-up sponge bag, an umbrella, a very nice pen, a gift from my sister, and my
travelcard. That was it. I didn't recall anything else. I don't probe my bag's
depths very often.
I tried to remember the face of the mugger. A policeman
was coming to interview me again; apparently, shock makes people forget things.
My mind was clear enough, it was my body that shook like jelly.
I’m at home, off sick. Gill will have to do her job and mine
too. It's not a charitable thought, but it gives me some satisfaction. There is
an expensive lock on my front door, emergency locksmiths are dead pricey in
London. Today's emotion is anger: why me? Not that I wish the experience on somebody
else, but, like everybody, I believed bad things only happen to others.
They say that some good can come out of a bad experience.
My bag was not found, the thief was not punished, but I have met two wonderful
people: Grace and Tony.
Grace is a volunteer from Victims Support. She came to see
me two days after I had been mugged and we had a good chat. Talking to her I
realised that I lost something more precious than my bag and its content: my
confidence. Would I ever be able to walk down a quiet street without feeling
threatened?
We ended up talking about office politics and how
stressful my job is and she advised me to try yoga. I have followed her advice
and I feel much better, less anxious and more positive about things. Grace has
even made me see Gill in a new light. I am not sharp with her anymore and our
relationship has improved. The irony is that by changing my attitude, I have
changed hers. She is more helpful and has volunteered to stay late with me a
few times.
And
what about Tony? He teaches self-defence for women. He runs classes not far
from the spot where I was mugged. We went out for a coffee after the third
class and we spent hours talking. It’s early days but things are moving fast.
I
looked up the meaning of silver lining in a book at my local library. The
expression comes from thunder clouds, which are dark and menacing but have a
silver gleam of sunlight along one edge. I’m doubly blessed as I’ve found two
silver linings in my cloud.
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