Writing for Fun
July 2018
Catch Me If You Can - Maureen Rampersaud
Leonora let her hand run down the length of the silk scarf, so soft, it shimmered gold and green in the harsh light of the shop. A shiver went down her spine, she felt a connection. The assistant was tapping away on her ‘phone when Leonora let it slip easily into her bag. She was always attracted to beautiful, quality things, she was never caught. Her sleek, dark hair fell past her shoulders, perfect make-up and nails, well-groomed, she knew she was classily beautiful. Leonora reflected that she could never be like those desperate, grubby-looking individuals who had no finesse. They were shoplifters, they actually needed the things they stole. She was not in that category, she liberated objects that called to her. She cared for them, adding them to all the lovely things she had in her flat.
Daddy had looked after her when Mummy died. Leonora was four. She learned the ways that Daddy would give her everything she wanted. It became a sort of game inside her head. If he said no to her, she would work out how to make him say yes. Mummy dying had made her feel empty, but getting lots of treats from Daddy made her feel better. He said he’d do anything for her. He died last year when she was twenty-four. She felt betrayed and empty again . . . until she discovered what fun shopping could be.
Leonora wandered out of the shop, glancing at the assistant who was still occupied on her ‘phone. She meandered until she stopped abruptly at a gallery window. She gazed at the semi-abstract painting of a misty morning, it started to call to her. She had never liberated such a large object before, she estimated a metre square. She needed to think, so she went next door for a coffee. A handsome young man in a suit approached her.
‘Do you mind if I sit here? There’s no free tables.’
Leonora, with her perfect smile, gestured towards the chair, ‘Be my guest.’
She noticed that his eyes were very bright as they chatted. She knew the signs, he wanted her.
‘Graham, I wonder if you could help me with something?’ Leonora purred.
‘Anything . . . I mean . . . what do you need?’
Graham waited outside the gallery as instructed, not giving a second thought to why she had draped herself in a gold and green scarf which obscured her beautiful face. Leonora was inside, browsing, when she came over a little faint. While the assistant scuttled off to get her a glass of water, Leonora handed Graham the painting and they walked to his sports car. Up in her flat, she said, ‘Thank-you for helping me with that, they charge so much for delivery.’
Graham, entranced, replied, ‘I’d do anything for you!’
Leonora thought about this. Maybe she’d keep him.