Seeing Red
I have often heard the phase – losing your coat on a horse but I never expected to lose it at the hairdressers, so to speak. There it was, a red coat languishing leisurely on the chair.
But it wasn’t mine.
I stood for a minute holding it in my hand and debating with myself what to do.
Outside the rain was having a merry old time washing the face of the pavement. And there was I fancying it was summer wearing a light loud top, summer bottoms and no coat!
What to do? What to do? I pondered. There had obviously been a mix up.
Out there in the rain there was a woman walking about in my coat.
Should I put her coat on and go in search of her? Tentatively, I picked up the coat. Something rattled in the pocket – a set of keys.
My brain began to run a video. Images of someone breaking into the other woman’s house rose up before me. I saw the police rapping me on the shoulder as I search the rain drenched streets and accusingly saying I was the culprit. I watch the pointing fingers as they informed me there had been no sign of a break-in. I was the only key holder.
Hastily I dropped the coat back on to the chair and stepped coatless out into the pouring rain.
Feeling very conspicuous in my brightly coloured top I hurried down the street amongst the sea of bobbing umbrellas and raincoat clad shoppers ,trying hard to look as if I believed summer had arrived and this was the in’ look..
My thoughts jumped about trying to work out my options. Should I take a taxi home? Should I duck in for a coffee and pray the rain stopped? Or, should I buy myself a coat?
I disregarded the first option on the basis that I had just a short time before left home having spent time getting ready to look my best and then paid for a taxi to get me to the hairdressers!
The coffee and buying the coat sounded more reasonable options.. The coat first, I thought. In that way at least I’d blend in – not look as if I was advertising summertime.
Half an hour later, having hunted down a raincoat I approached the cash desk and searched in the bottom of my bag for my card. However, as soon as the smiling shop assistant said,” Enter your pin now.” My pin number took flight and no amount of face screwing and rummaging about in my brain produced the right combination.
“You should have gone with your first option and took a taxi home,” my inner voice hissed furiously with the spectacle I was making of myself..
Patiently, the cashier waited as a small queue forms behind me. Frantically I dug deep in my handbag once again in search of my purse.
By now my brain was in overdrive. Did I even have money in my purse? Should I step aside and let the shuffling customers behind me pay for their purchased?
I gave the sale’s girl an apologetic smile. I noticed the corners of her mouth were turned down and her nicely index manicured nail was tapping quietly impatiently on the digital till where she had already punched in the cost details of my new raincoat.
It lay between us on the counter –grey and black – like a limp rook.
To sighs of relief all around I mutely counted out enough money to pay for the coat. “Don’t bag it. I’ll wear it,” I said in a tiny voice.
Red faced and flustered I hurried in as dignified a fashion as I could out of the shop the tails of the new raincoat flapping behind me.
Out on the wet shiny pavement I stopped to draw breath and zip up the raincoat – hiding the gaily printed top.
Across the street beside the taxi-stand the delicious pungent smell of coffee wafted out invitingly.
My brain settled itself and my pin number clear as a bell miraculously came back to me.
I’d have a creamy cappuccino laced with extra chocolate sprinkling. Then I’d do a search of the streets in search of a woman wearing my red coat.
.
Gemma Hill Writeyou Writeme 