Who Steals My Purse

New Zealand Listener, Volume 17, Issue 438, 14 November 1947, Page 29

Who Steals My Purse

Written

----------_-_--_ | for "The Listener"

by

A. P.

GASKELL

OW that the days were drawing in, ‘the street lights by six o'clock were already marching in single file up the hills. Roslyn and Maori Hill lay massive and dark against the sky, but down on the flat the smoky dusk* was. broken by lights and noise and movement. Cars swung their headlights around the curves of the Oval, and down by the shops and lights of Cargill’s Corner, a St. Kilda tram oe dipping along under the bridge. \ Inside the tram, young Mr. ‘Wilson heard nothing. He sat in his neat and proper grey suit and grey hat, holding

Himself carefully against the motion of the tram, and staring at the ticket he rolled and unrolled in his fingers. It was not his usual tram, so mercifully he did not need to converse. "But Vera," he was mentally explaining, "I did count it, again and again. I checked it a dozen times. The cash was three pounds short." He wondered how he should break the news to his wife. "Darling," he would say, "I know I’m very late, but something rotten has happened." He could picture the look of. quick concern coming’ into her eyes. "Oh, Les. What is it?" And he would sit in the warmth of the fire, telling her. "I counted it

over and over, I couldn’t believe it," he would say. The tram was now well out. He glanced through the window, shading the glass with his hand to make a tunnel through the reflections, and, recognising the shape of the houses, he pulled the bellcord, swung off, and began stepping smartly along the darkening street. VERA, sitting in the kitchen before . the enamel range, lowered the paper and glanced at the clock. Damn him, he was an hour late now. She opened the oven door; the bacon was dried to a crisp and the egg seemed stuck to the plate. What on earth had come over him all of a sudden? He'd never been as late as this before. I suppose this is the start, she thought, he’s met some cobbers and goné to the ub. After two years of marriage she ‘was becoming rather complacently knowing about masculine weaknesses, I suppose he’s gone to the pub, she thought. Men are all the same. You © rush round getting their meals ready and have the place looking nice for them and what thanks do you get. She . stole into the bedroom to look at the baby.. He was asleep, unknowing, — intent on his own small existence. Bless him, I wonder where his father is? Back in the kitchen, she stood before | ‘the range wondering whether to start her meal_or wait. This was so unlike |

Les; usually he was the soul of regularity. She could be getting quite worried. But I won’t, she thought, I'll ‘give him another 10 minutes. She heard Mrs. Henderson next door out at the shed shovelling coal. She had a momentary impulse to rush out and confide in her.’ Mrs. Henderson was large and comfortable and full of good advice, Vera sat down again, After all, it did sound trifling. Mrs. Henderson had been married 30 years. And just then she heard the click of the gate and steps along the path. She quickly Boys: up the paper and had just settled herself when Les came in. "Where on earth have you been? Look at the time."

Shifting her apron, which was hanging on his peg, he hung up his hat. "Darling, I know I’m late-" he began. "I'll say you're late. Baby’s been asleep for an hour and I’ve been waiting and waiting." "Something rotten has happened. , ." "Of course it has. Look at this.’ She threw open the oven door. "It was ready an hour ago and now look at it." She could fegl "her cheeks reddening as her indignation gained momentum. "I didn’t know whether to start mine or what to do." "But Vera..." He had been so full of his own troubles that he found it incredible she should want to discuss hers. She sat pink-cheeked looking up at his uncertainty. She mustn’t let him get away with it or he’d be doing it again. "I suppose you've been to the pub if the truth’s known," ‘she said bitterly. "I suppose this is the start," but he was looking at her so miserably that she couldn’t go on. "Darling, you haven’t kissed me yet. What's the matter, really?" With her cheek reassuringly against his chin he was muttering incoherently, "The money. I counted it over and over. I couldn’t believe it at first. I counted it a dozen times." She drew back. "Les, what on earth are you talking about?"

He recognised with some kind’ of satisfaction the look of concern in her eyes. "The cash," he said. "Come and sit down." "But what .. ." she began fearfully. "The three pounds. I couldn’t find a mistake." "But what three pounds, Les? What are you talking about? Is it at the office?" "Of course," he said impatiently. "The cash box. The books. said

£84/16/2, and I. could only find £81/16/2 in the cash box. It was £3 short," She felt like laughing. "But somebody’s made a mistake, ‘They'll tell you to-morrow. Have you asked them all?" Men did make a fuss about business. ‘Darling, we , can’t make mistakes with our system," he explained carefully, controlling his voice. ‘"That’s why we have ‘this system. In such a big office we can’t afford to be careless. Everything is checked and double checked. If the-books say £84/16/2, there must be £84/16/2." "Are you sure you counted it right?" ‘I’m positive I

counted it right. I counted it again and again. I checked the damn thing a dozen times, I’ve been checking it for the last hour if you want to know." He glared at her, sitting there so unconcerned and asking such artless questions about this tremendous thing. Somehow, in the tram, he had imagined that once he told her everything would be solved. And he dreaded the effect of what he had to say next. "In the end," -he forced himself to say it, "I put it in out of my own pocket. The £3 for the insurance." He waited for the reaction. She looked at him in amazement. The enormity of it struck home. "Les! You put baby’s insurance money into that filthy cash-box!" "You know ‘as well as I do that the place is perfectly clean." What damn silly things she said at times. "Filthy or clean, you put our baby’s insurance money into that blasted box. Our baby’s .. ."~ He was tiring of it all, "I had to," He sank back in the chair. "The accountant banks to-morrow morning, It had to be there. I couldn’t think of any other way." "But couldn’t you tell him? Explain that it was short. You ‘should have done that to-night." "He was gone. I’m usually the last to leave, and there was no one else (continued on next page)

WHO STEALS MY PURSE

(continued from previous page) there. That’s what makes it look so. fishy. They’ll think I pinched it." | She was going to suggest that they have their meal, but the strangeness of this last sentence halted her. She had never thought of him as a thief. It was so ridiculous that she looked first to see if he was joking. "What a ridiculous idea," she said: while her mind played with this possibility. "They know you better than that, all the years you've been there. They would not suspect you at all. If I’ thought they suspected you, I'd... welll... it’s just too silly." The strange idea that she could have a criminal for a husband. If you could believe that, nothing could be secure.

"They'll have to suspect somebody," he was saying. "Why not me?" "But darling, of course they know you couldn’t have done it. They know you better than that." Did she herself, know him better than that? Could he have some strange secret life, apart from _ her? After all, in two years . . . "Of course they know you." "They know us all. We're all decent people on the surface. Why suspect one of the others

| and not me?" "But £3, Les. Only a miserable little thing like £3. What if they did lose it? £3 won’t break that firmwhy it’s one of the wealthiest firms in Dunedin.. They’ve got pots of money." ‘It’s a matter of principle. We don’t look at it your way." He was beginning to feel better now, explaining their theories. "I can imagine old Frosty Eyes coming in-‘Our mission is to protect the interests of our shareholders, Mr. Wilson. We cannot allow the slightest irregularity in dealing with our shareholders’ investments’." To hell with the investors, she thought. "Well, what about baby’s insurance? What about protecting the interests of your own son? Doesn’t ne count as much as your investors? I thought you were going to pay it et dinnertime." 2 "I was too busy." I'll do it to-mor-row." "But the money, Les. Don’t you see, it’s our money? You can’t use our baby’s money. to keep your big flash firm going. I won’t have it." She had to make him see where his first loyalty lay. "Why should we suffer because some dirty thief raids the cash-box? It’s not fair. We're hard enough up as it is what with the expense over baby and paying off the furniture and you know you need a new overcoat before winter and I haven’t had a new dress since baby was born. It’s not fair. You must tell them and get it back." What she said was unanswerably right in a way, but-if you looked at it in another way these personal feelings didn’t come into it at all. He had been in charge of the cash-box when the money disappeared, so he was responsible. Bringing up the question of his responsibility to his family didn’t heip at-all. It was on a different plane

altogether. Her remarks were irritating, too, because he hadn’t quite convinced himself that he had acted for the best, "How can I tell them now?" he asked, "It'll look so damned. silly. The accountant will say, ‘I see. You were the only one in the office when the £3 was found to be missing.’ Don’t you see it puts me in a hell of a situation? Anyway, £3 isn’t so much, I'll keep a damn good watch on that cash-box in the future. It won’t happen again." "They’ve got pots of money and it isn’t fair,’ she said wearily. "Come and get your tea now." They were uncertain with each other, AFTER the meal and the washing-up, Les, in his chair in the other room, with his pipe going and his feet" zs

towards the fire, felt restored and confident. He was almost ready to admit that his action over the theft may have been rather weak and hasty. After all, yeu- had to stand up for your own rights, it was no good letting other people make a doormat of you. At the same time, of course, there was the firm’s reputation to be considered, but the manager was only human and should understand a man-to-man approach. His satisfied eye took in his wife sitting opposite, knitting something for the baby. The fire was burning nicely. Beside him, his bookcase was within reach. He noticed that one of his H. V. Mortons was among the L’s. He leaned over and put it where it should be. "Been dusting again?" he asked. "Try to put them back in the right place." "Yes, dear," she smiled. She was wondering whether the time was ripe for re-opening the discussion. "Mrs, Henderson’s daughter is going to have another baby. It’s her third and’ her teeth are giving her a lot of trouble. Her husband wants her to have them out, but she thinks the gas might affect. the baby." "Oh," he said. "What’s he do? The~ husband?" " ‘He’s oiiintlitns on the wharf." n "Oh." He = stirred in his chair. "There’s a right way and a wrong way to do everything. It seems to me that the wharfies always choose the wrong way." "Yes dear." , He’s all right now, she thought. The wharfies and the coalminers mean that he’s all right again. "Are you going to tell them about the £3 to-morrow and see if you can get it back?" "Well . . ." he looked at her rather cautiously. He was feeling somewhat

ashamed of his earlier panic, but he still hardly liked to commit himself so definitely. "I'll see how things go: If a suitable chance arises .. ." "You should go and see him first thing. Go a little early." "See who? The manager?" "Yes, or the boss, or whoever it is." "The manager is the boss, unless you mean the chairman of directors. Or the chief accountant is my immediate boss. The manager never gets there until about 10." "You could go and see him then." "Not then. That’s when he goes through the correspondence. Besides, at 10 I’m always helping the shipping clerk. We run things to a system." Goodness knows how many times he had explained all this. Well, I don’t care"~when you go as Fong as you g5 quickly and get our £3 back. Anyone would think he was going to get his head chopped off. He didn’t like her airy way of cutting across all their arrangements. After all, there was a certain business etiquette. And it was so damnably easy for her to be right and wise about the money. She didn’t have to do the job. "T'll go if the opportunity arises," he said. He saw she was going to speak again. "It should arise,’ he added. "All right, dear." She bent over her knitting. She hoped the baby would grow into a big, strong man. A§® it happened, however, the next morning the manager went down to the store, where an accident had occurred to one of the workmen, and in the afternoon, of course, he was busy on his monthly statement for the direc- | tors. Les cursed himself for forgetting about that. It would be a bad time to | disturb the boss. He looked round at the others in the office, trying to identify the thief. As he scrutinised them he became aware of their teeming private interests that developed and grew, apart from the firm. He noticed other things, too-the office-boy had a new pair of slacks, and one of the typists had had her hair permed. He remembered that the shipping clerk was Paying off a baby car, that the wife of another spent a good deal of time in hospital. Every one of them could use an extra £3, but which was the thief? They all knew the office system, they kmew he had charge of the cash. He watched them as he worked, but none seemed to be taking a yuilty interest in him. It was baffling and rather unreal. ' After a worrying lunch-hour, he screwed up his courage and went in to see the accountant. "Oh, there you are Wilson." The accountant raised his seamed, dry face. "This is what I wanted to see you about." He began turning over some papers. «His heart bumped. "You wanted to tee me?" ! "Yes, didn’t the boy tell you? Never mind. Look. Here you have £105/13/3, and here you have £109/13/3. Luckily the books balance. It looks like an error in dictation. The £4 is not missing, but you must be very careful. We had a case of that once before, a few months ago. We must remember that it’s not our own money we are administering." Les swallowed. "Yes, Mr. Donald." This was not what he had been preparing himself for; ~ he couldn’t think straight. He found himself back at his desk. (continued on riext page)

WHO STEALS MY PURSE

(continued from previous page) "Hey, Les, sack for you," said the office-boy. "The accountant wants to see you. Get your wages and get out." "Go to hell,’ said Les sourly. At home, Vera bustled round to get done early, and in the afternoon took the baby out in his pram. Mrs. Henderson had remarked over the fence that her Ella had had another bad night. Her-teeth gave her what-oh. Other people have their troubles; too, thought Vera. And here I am worrying Les over a measly £3. I wonder what I would do’ if he were taken ill and couldn’t work. "What would we do, you wee pet?" she asked the baby. He looked at her and went on blowing bubbles. That evening, when she heard of Les’s failure she was not so sympathetic.

As she went about her work the next day, she thought it over again. Of course it wasn’t fair. Here we are, she’d say, addressing the manager or the accountant, or one of those very important names Les was always mentioning, here we are with a baby. who cost us a lot of money. We're still paying off the furniture. Les needs

anew overcoat, and I want a new dress. Somebody pinches £3 out of the cashbox and Les has to put it back out of the baby’s insurance money. Now you can’t call that fair, can you? Of course not, Mrs. Wilson, he would say-she saw him as a nice elderly gentleman with a white moustache-of course not. Your husband should have come to me and explained~the whole position. Why didn’t he do that? ‘Ah, that was the question. Why on eatth. hadn’t. Les explained to someone? ‘She had been thinking a lot about Les, really standing back and trying to see him. For a time after they were matried, he had been like a part of her, the other half of her existence, but now she discovered that she had the* power of drawing back far enough to see him as a separate human being. It was rather frightening. Of course, she knew him like her own hand-he took sugar in his tea, wore woollen underwear in winter, liked travel books and had a habit of rumpling his hair while reading, he liked to have everything in order, there were dozens of facts like that she knew about him, yet in spite of it all there was still something separate about him, something remote and not predictable, Perhaps it was because he rushed off each day to this mysterious world at the office where queer standards of conduct were observed and money came into everything. And now, of course, the baby made a difference. In a way it helped her to detach herself and really look at’ Les. "And he shouldn’t have taken our £3, should he, precious?" she asked the child, as she fed it

After a few days they drew closer together again, helped by a lovely Sunday afternoon walk round to St. Clair, where the surf thrashed on the beach and the cliffs and headlands butted out on the skyline, and a merry evening spent at a friend’s place, but each had the £3 incident tucked away for reference, Les as a warning against someone unknown, and Vera as a kind of warning also, but against someone very well known. FORTNIGHT later, under similar circumstances, Less discovered that the cash-box was £2 short. His first thought was that he would not tell Vera, but he finally did. i "It’s just the same," he kept saying, "Tt’s just the same. They'll think I’m the’ thief. And if I tell them about the other one now, they’ll say why didn’t

you mention it at the time. It'll look more suspicious because I didn’t mention it." "Well, why didn’t you mention it?" she asked. "You said you were going to. Why _=_- didn’t you?" "Because I damn well didn’t choose to," he shouted. Her lip curled. "What are you, a man or a mouse?"

He had never heard her speak s0 scornfully. He was afraid he might strike her. He went outside to take his guilt along the dark streets and didn’t return until late. She was in bed and didn’t open her eyes when he put the light on. In spite of all she could say, he took his bank book in the next morning and made up the loss, He passed the day in a whirl, thinking one thing and doing another all day long. He locked the cash-box every time he had to leave it. He would be staring speculatively at one of the clerks or typists, and when the person looked up and met his eye, he would smile or blush guiltily and pretend to» ‘ busy himself. He couldn’t understand ~- it-the system was fool-proof. He liked > things to be definite and orderly, and it was the efficiency and neatness of the system that had attracted him from the start. Yet something had gone wrong. And the way Vera was behaving was astounding. Who would have thought she had that steely core, that made her keep springing back at you, all hard and glittering. She had practically accused him of being a coward, driven him out of the house with her tongue-"+ A fine helpmeet for a man’ to have in his troubles. She used to be so soft and sympathetic, too. You didn’t know where you were with her now-like that business over breakfast, icily polite, calling him "Mr. Wilson" as though they were strangers. "Open Sesame!" : "Eh?" He looked up and blinked. ~ "Open Sesame." Fred, the shipping clerk was grinning at him. "You've been locking that box, then opening it and staring at the cash, then locking it . again for the last five minutes. Why » NS

don’t you go and bury it in the garden?" He handed over a note. "Got change of a fiver?" . Once again, habit and convenience brought a return of affection but Vera could not feel secure. The £5 so faz was not very much, but would it stop at £5? And how long was Les going to let himself be imposed.upon? She had been absolutely disgusted with him that second time, shouting and raving at her and slamming out of the house when he knew he was in the wrong ail the time. It was such a simple matter to remedy, she had suggested going in herself to see the manager, but he, of course, would not hear of it. She knew it was other people’s money they were dealing with, but was that any more sacred than their own money? That was what she couldn’t see. All this tommayrot about their wonderful system their position of trust. And. Les lookimg at her all the time like a small boy who has been smacked and wants to be forgiven. "Isn’t there anyone you suspect?" she asked him. *T don’t know." He passed his hand wearily across his eyes. Every day Il think it could be someone else. Some of them are beginning to laugh at me for locking the box so often." "Have you told any of them about it?" "T can’t. The very one I tell might be the thief."

"I wish it was," she said viciously. "It might give him some of our worries." |? came at last, what they had both been awaiting with a kind of fearful eagerness, the reality was less terrifying than the uncertainty of waiting. Les found that £17 was missing. Without any hesitation, he took a taxi up the hill through the trees to the manager’s home. "You realise this is a most serious matter, Wilson." The manager, deep in his armchair, looked up, thoughtfully stroking his chin. He was a finelooking old man with thick white hair and keen pale eyes. Everything about him was fastidiously clean and well cared for. "You are practically making an accusation against one of the office staff, against one of your own colleagues, shall I say. And it’s happened beforé?" "Yes, sir. Twice." "Ours is a very great responsibility, Wilson. We are dealing with the investments of people who have an absolute trust in us, a trust which, I may say, we have been at great pains to establish. We cannot falter.’ "No, sir.’ Before the old chap, and in these surroundings, Les felt that the £17 had become more than a mere sum of money. The theft was something inconoclastic, something to regard with awe, certainly not a petty action to haggle about with Vera.

The manager stood up. "I'll discuss this matter with the directors and we’l inform you in due course of any steps we have decided to take. A very serious matter." ; "T’m sorry, sir. "I did the best I..." "Quite. Quite." The manager was holding the door open for him. "And, er, Wilson, I wouldn’t let this go any further. It’s not a matter for the police. Any publicity would be most distastect Ma "They’re not even going to get the police in," echoed Vera, when he told her. "Then how are they going to find the thief?" "Oh, the manager will have his own way of dealing with that. He’s a very clever man." Les was feeling elated now that the responsibility was no longer his. A great weight had lifted. He had taken a decisive step. He had done what Vera was always asking him to do, and yet he felt that he had not let the firm down. The matter was now in the hands‘of a higher authority, who would be effective and yet discreet. His worries were almost over. "And what about our £5?" asked Vera. She noticed his surprised look. "What about our £5," she repeated. Les had at last done something, but not enough yet. Justice, had still to be done in her own small personal world. And even if she got the £5 back, there

were other things she would never get back. She steadily returned his gaze. "Well, I suppose if they find the thief . . ." he began. "You see I was responsible for the money ..." He avoided her eye. "Well he didn’t exactly say about that," "Did you ask him?" "No, I didn’t." He got up and went to the other room. "I had other things to think of." He was back again. "I'll try, Vera, honestly, I'll ask them, and when we get it you shall have that new dress." The baby was crying in the bedroom. She detached his arms and got up from her chair. HE directors didn’t take long over their decision. Two days later, Les came home with the news. "And after hearing all my explanations," he said, "after all I said about being worried and putting the money in myself and so on, the chairman looks at me and says, ‘We were expecting great things of you, Mr. Wilson, but we feel that you have disappointed us. In the circumstances we feel that the best solution would be to transfer you to our Invercargill branch for a time’." "To Invercargill? Oh, Les." Vera looked at him, at his abject, defeated air, at his misery. She looked at this stranger, who was now irrevocably her husband and provider. "Oh, Les, you beast. You beast."