The Wanderlust Lady and the Door to Door Salesman - 19

Stockport Times

Thursday, September 13, 2012

 

Hit and Run Victim Identified

 

The police have finally been able to identity the body of the elderly woman who was the victim of a hit and run driver on Friday the 31st of August. She was Miss Wilhelmina Jones of 16 Oak Lane, Marple. She lived alone, although a nephew of hers has been staying in her house over the past week or so. If anyone knows anything about Miss Jones please would they contact P.C. Reilly at Marple Station. It has been reported that she was intending to visit friends when she left, but no luggage or handbag was found on the scene. If someone picked up the missing items from the area, the police would like to know about it. Her nephew has no idea who the friends were that she was planning on visiting, so if you were expecting a visit from her which didn't happen, please contact the police with this information.

The police have been making inquiries regarding the white van and think they have discovered the vehicle in question.

 

I went to the library and upstairs to turn on my favourite computer. It was lucky that so few people use this service. I'd never had any trouble with being asked to finish after only an hour of work.

I searched for ancestry.co.uk. Lots of the services you could only access if you were a member, which I of course wasn't. Maybe the library was, but on asking the librarian on duty, I found that wasn't the case. So what I could find out would have to be sketchy at the best. I was assuming that Minnie's father was born about 1890, and that he lived in Marple - but not where I was now living – as that wouldn't have been built by then. In fact that whole area would probably have been farming land at the time.

I didn't manage to get much information – there were loads of John Jones in Cheshire in 1901, one of them called John William Jones, but that was all I could find out. I tried out the free 1881 census. I found a William Jones, born in Derbyshire, who was a porter at the train station in Marple in 1881 – and how lucky it was that his name was William. That made a good reason for Minnie to be called Wilhelmina. It might have been her father's second name and her grandfather's first name.

They'll want to know about my Grandmother too, no doubt. Her name was Jane and my granddad was James Stanley Barber. They both came from Hyde – but no doubt there will have been occasions when they came to Marple. It was supposed to be quite a popular place for people to come on holidays in those days – especially the Roman Lakes. I'd done my research on the internet as well as I could, and I knew that I was good at spinning yarns, so I hoped it would suit the situation when it arrived, which it no doubt would.

Friday I didn't know what to do with myself. I knew it was too soon for the post to deliver my cheque. I knew that now that Minnie's death was common knowledge, her bank account and all others would be frozen so I couldn't use either the library or the bank.

I kept expecting the police to come – and when they didn't I was hopeful again – but knew in my heart that it was only a matter of time. So rather than sit at home and wait for my fate, I decided to go for a long walk. I thought I'd take a trip up to see where that pub was that I might have got a job at – had things worked out differently.

On Saturday, I woke early, and stayed close to home. I expected the police to come again, but mostly I was hoping that the post would arrive with my money. I'd need to pay that into my bank account as soon as possible. Oh, no, I thought. The police would check my bank account, and wonder where this huge extra payment had come from. I'd have to open a new account with it. But I couldn't do that without identification of where I lived. Maybe I could just take the cash and hide it somewhere, like I'd done the keys – but I might need it sooner than I could easily come back and dig it up.

Wake up Stan, I told myself. The money for the coins would come as a cheque – not in cash. I was just puzzling out what I could possibly do when there was a knock on the door. “Oh, not the police already,” I thought. But it was the postman, with a registered letter for me, and I had to sign for it. After the postman had left, I opened the envelope. A cheque made out to cash for £4000. It was way less than I thought the coins were worth – but I wasn't about to argue. And made out to cash meant I could just go to a bank and cash it. I'd better do that quickly before the police arrived. I took the cheque with its envelope, and the covering letter I'd had from the gold company the other day and walked into Marple. It sure was nice I didn't have to mess around with changing clothes any more. I chose not to go to the NatWest bank. They might be getting enquiries from the police about my account and I didn't want them to be able to remember this transaction. Just on the opposite corner was Barclays Bank. I went up to the counter and presented my cheque.

“Hi,” I said to the lady, “I sold some gold things like they tell you to on the TV adverts, and got this cheque back from them. Can I cash it here?”

“Do you bank with us?”

“No, I'm afraid not. I'm visiting at the moment, and I'm worried about losing this if I don't pay it in somewhere. Can I open an account with you?”

“Have you got identification and a household bill?”

“No. Can I get the money in cash then?”

“You'd be much more likely to lose the cash,” she said.

“I have plans of how I want to spend it, and it's far simpler if I use cash instead of a cheque,” I said.

“Can you prove that this cheque is yours?” she asked. “Do you have any identification with you?”

“Well, I can prove that I am who it says on the envelope.” I got out my various cards from my wallet. “And here's the letter from the gold company I got a few days ago. It shows that it was sent to me here in Marple.”

“Whose address is this on the envelope?”

“That's where I've been staying lately, but I expect to be moving on soon, so I don't want to open an account at that address. I'm getting a new job and it involves me leaving the area. That's what I want the money for – a car that I've seen. I can buy it from the current owner but they want cash.”

“Well, I don't know. I shouldn't really, but I can understand why you're anxious to get the cash now. Where's your new job going to be?”

“Sheffield,” I said, the first thing that came into my head.

“What sort of car are you getting?”

“A 2006 Nissan Micra,” I said, “one careful female owner, so its hardly done any miles.”

“I think that's a lot of money for a car that old,” she put in to make conversation. She was busy counting out the bills.

“I'll talk her down a bit. She's keen to sell it, and I could use the extra cash for when I get there before I get my first pay cheque.”

“Here it is then,” she said, counting out 80 £50 notes. “Do you mind having £50's?”

“Could I have £100 in 10's,” I said.

So she took back two of the 50's and gave me 10 ten pound notes.”

“Thanks for your help,” I said.

“Good luck with your new car,” she put in. “Drive carefully. Look out for old ladies crossing the road.”

“I will,” I said with a smile.

I had no intention of buying a car, but I knew from hearing my stepdad say that lots of people would only accept cash for a car, especially second hand ones in private sales – so I was glad I'd thought up that story, and how lucky it was that she bought it.

But the idea of buying stuff with the money was maybe not such a stupid one. I wanted all sorts of things – a computer, a telephone, a TV, although without a car I couldn't transport any of the bigger items.

What could I buy with £4000 cash? I thought. It needs to be something I can carry – that I can say belongs to me, and nobody will question it. If I'd been a girl, I could have bought a diamond ring. And with that on my finger, it would be a very good way of transporting that money, although you might not get the full value back when you sold it. So with that thought in mind, I made my way to the jewellery shop in Marple. There was a sign outside on the pavement, “Gold, Silver and Platinum bought for cash.” Now why hadn't I seen that sign before? It would have saved me one hell of a lot of worrying. But what was done, was done. I had to ring the bell to be let inside.

“I'd like to see some men's jewellery,” I said. “I want to invest in jewellery and have quite a lot of money in cash with me now.”

“You're very lucky,” said the man. “I've been asked to get in a stock of men's jewellery for a very rich man from Bahrain. Middle Eastern men do wear much more jewellery than the typical Britisher. Now would you like to look at rings, cuff-links, chains or bracelets?”

“Rings, I think,” I said.

So the man brought out a selection of rings – all very thick with jewels in various colours encrusted in them.

“No, that's too flashy for me,” I said. “I need something that won't say 'come and steal me,' and no cuff links.”

The man laughed. “How about a gold bracelet then. Just a plain one, but the thicker it is, the more 22 ct gold is used, so the more expensive it is. What are you hoping to spend?”

“About £4000,” I said.

So the man went out and came back with a selection of men's bracelets – no jewels attached. I liked one that was about an inch thick in width, with a sort of woven pattern.

“How much for that?” I asked. The man got out a little calculator and did some sums.

“I need to convert it from US dollars, as most of the Middle Eastern people prefer to deal in US dollars. I can let you have this one for £4000.”

“I'll give you £3500 for it,” I said.

“I don't haggle,” said the man. “This isn't Bargain Hunt.”

“Well, what's your best price then?” I asked.

“I could offer it to you for £3950,” said the man.

“Done,” I said and I got out the crisp new £50 notes that I had just a few minutes ago taken from the bank. I counted out the exact amount, and the man gave me the bracelet, and my receipt.

“I'll put it on right now,”I said. “Save you the box.”

“I hope you'll wear it with pleasure,” he said.

“Yes, I'm sure I will,” I said as I walked out of the shop with my new bracelet proudly on display.

But I was very aware of how new and shiny and expensive it looked, so as soon as I got back to the house, I found Minnie's shoe polish, and covered it over. Now it looks tatty and cheap – and only I knew how valuable it is. I decided to splash the rest of my cash and went out to the pub and really laid one on.