Shirley started to clear away the breakfast things from the table. Peter was now on his way into London and the girls waiting for their bus to school. The house was silent. She picked up each plate in turn, sweeping the crumbs into the bin and then loading them into the dishwasher rack trying not to think too hard about the day that stretched before her.

Peter had been a bit quiet this morning. Come to think of it, he hadn’t really been chatty last night or the morning before. Ever since he’d had that late night stint at the office, so it must be work that’s putting him under a lot of stress lately. That company really didn’t appreciate him nearly enough, she realised. Over the last six months or so he’d been putting in some ridiculous hours and was being given more and more responsibility and work load but getting no acknowledgement for it at all. No wonder he was looking so demoralised, he was long overdue for a promotion or at the very least a pay rise.

The dishwasher loaded, she turned her attention on what to do next. Normally, she would create some chores for herself, pop into a friend’s house for a coffee or have a wander around town. Not for the first time she idly wished that she had a job to go to but Peter would never countenance it. He always took it as a slight on his ability to take care of his family, that she should be there for the girls, reminded her that they didn’t need the extra money. He never really appreciated that she might want to do something more to stretch herself other than PTA work and an endless array of coffee mornings.

It was a waste of time considering it, really. After all, as Peter had pointed out to her many times, her secretarial experience was over a decade and a half old now – not qualifications that would have prospective employers lining up at her door begging her to work for them. It was just that she had poured so much of her energies into her home and children, now most of the house was to her satisfaction and the girls were older and more independent she didn’t feel needed anymore. Filling in time attempting to discover an “interest” by serial attendance of evening classes and reading groups had left her feeling very empty and lonely indeed.

Shirley shook herself angrily; it was no good thinking like this, she would only get herself depressed. She would walk into town through the park, get a bit of fresh air and perspective along the way, then do a bit of window shopping. There was nothing she really needed in town, but it was November – she could justify starting to think about Christmas presents and get a few bits now to avoid the December rush, maybe drop into the library and attempt to find an uplifting novel she could get lost in. She went into the hallway to fetch her coat.

Ten minutes later she was strolling through colourful piles of autumn leaves in the bright crisp November sunshine watching squirrels dart between trees – their last desperate rush before winter sets in. There weren’t many people in the small park at this time of day – office workers were already behind their desks, mothers of small children were still trying to get their horde organised before making the great escape to the swings – this was one of the few places that Shirley appreciated solitude. On beautiful days like today, she could understand why Philip, her brother-in-law, fought so hard to stay working outdoors. It put so much in perspective, reminded her of how much she had to be thankful for.

She knew she was in a lucky position. She had spent many an hour browsing parenting message boards, had heard the tales of woe over again – violent and unfaithful husbands, teenagers in trouble, hundreds of women who really begrudged the time and energy an unenjoyable career took out of them. She had a husband who cared for her, even if the fireworks had long since gone, and her two girls may have their moments but they were good kids at heart.

She gave a little sigh as she reached the edge of the park, the increasing traffic noise bringing her back to the here and now. Still, the town had its own pleasures with its brightly coloured window displays, particularly prominent now the stores had decided Christmas was nearly upon us. She liked shopping away from the hustle bustle of weekends and lunchtimes, not having to worry about people pushing past, needing to get somewhere quickly. She soon lost herself in the displays, contemplating different present combinations or just ogling items she didn’t need and couldn’t afford.

Then she saw something that made her stop in her tracks: a travel agent Christmas special offers board. She was mentally transported to tropical destinations she could only dream of, exploring ancient monuments she’d only read about and dining on exotic food that despite some very diverse restaurants in the Capital were never quite the same. She gazed longingly at the offers for cheap cruises and historic coach tours but knew it just wasn’t practical. At these prices, it wouldn’t be the cost that would be prohibitive, but unless it was a beach on the Med the holiday would only degenerate into squabbles within minutes of arriving. Vacation time in the Marks family meant arguments and stress, not relaxation and recuperation. No, these were strictly to remain in the realms of fantasy.

Shirley had a flash of inspiration. Just because she wouldn’t be able to go on one of these holidays, didn’t prevent her from collecting up some brochures for daydream fodder, did it? It wasn’t as if she’d planned anything for this afternoon – she could sit with her feet up, browse through the glossy catalogues with a cup of tea and plan her perfect vacation experience without reality even showing an appearance.

She pushed open the shop door, the bell giving a cheerful little ting-a-ling which matched her more upbeat mood. One of the travel reps looked up and gave her a beaming smile.

“Good morning! I saw you outside looking at our special’s board. Was there something specific you were interested in or are you just here to browse?”

Shirley returned the smile. “To be honest, I don’t really know. Just some initial research to get some ideas, really.”

“Oh in which case, just help yourself to any brochures that take your fancy! It’s certainly the right weather for planning a summer holiday, isn’t it?”

Shirley laughed.

“That shelf on the right is full of the winter sun and skiing brochures, which most of our special offers come from at the moment, but feel free to ignore those and browse the central shelf which has the summer brochures for next year. They’re the general tour operator ones. For something more specific, on the left are the more specialised catalogues – for example the cruise operators, historic tours, Orient Express.”

Shirley must have been looking a bit overwhelmed as the travel rep gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, just take one of everything. That’s what they’re there for, and if you have any queries just pop in and see us.”

Twenty minutes later, Shirley stepped back into the cold autumnal day clutching a huge pile of travel brochures. She felt faintly silly and more than a little guilty now, especially considering how helpful the staff had been. She wouldn’t be able to do her shopping now while carrying all these. She struggled to balance the brochures and keep hold of her handbag at the same time. The high street was busier now than when she first went in on a whim. Maybe she’d get the bus back home. She’d made some lemon cake the afternoon before; she could have a slice of that and a cup of tea and “plan” a tour of Mayan ruins or something.

Suddenly, someone knocked into her hard pushing her to the ground, brochures going flying. It wasn’t until she struggled wincing to her feet again that she realised her handbag was gone. She looked up panicked, but already the thief was nowhere in sight. Someone ran out of the nearby café.

“Shit, are you all right? I didn’t even get a good look at him it all happened so fast!”

Shirley felt a hand at her elbow and looked up straight into a pair of concerned chocolate-brown eyes. “I’m … I’m okay I think. Nothing broken…”

The stranger started to help her pick up all the brochures. “You look shaken. Understandably. Look, I’m the owner of this caf? here, come inside and sit down while I call the police and get you a drink.”

She found herself blushing inexplicably as she followed him into the shop and sat obediently in the corner while he told one of the waitresses to get her a drink of her choice and went to the back of the shop to make the telephone call. He came back a few minutes later.

“The police aren’t interested in coming out, useless lot,” he scowled. “They want you to go to the police station to make a report. Are you going to be okay getting there? Would you like me to call you a cab? I can get them to charge the fare to the café.”

“Oh no no… I’ll be fine. You’ve been so kind already. It’s only a couple of streets away, I can walk there easily,” she protested, blushing more which was starting to become a habit – what was wrong with her?

“As long as you’re sure? You’re welcome to use the phone to cancel any cards before you go.”

“Thank you, but I’d need the paperwork I have at home to do that.” She stood up and retrieved her coat from the back of the chair. “You’ve been so helpful…” she paused not even knowing his name.

He grinned at her obvious discomfort and stuck out a hand. “Daniel, pleased to meet you.”

She shook his hand awkwardly. “Shirley. Thanks again, Daniel.” She pulled her coat on quickly and hurried out of the door before she could become any more embarrassed.

The police station was busy when she arrived there and it was a long while before she could see anyone to take a statement. The young officer who took down the details eventually was bored and uninterested, just typed everything up and asked her to sign.

Using the pen he had given her, she added her scrawl to the bottom. “How likely am I to get my things returned?”

The policeman shrugged. “If we find any of it we’ll give you a telephone call, of course, but I wouldn’t hold out much hope love. Not without a decent description of the guy who attacked you. If you remember any more details, pop in and see us. You know to cancel your cards, don’t you?”

Shirley nodded, disheartened.

“Of course, if we had CCTV in the area then it would make life a lot easier. Most towns of this size have them now. We’ve been trying to get the council to install it for years but they always find something better to spend the money on, like fact finding missions to Barbados,” he sneered.

“Oh well,” she thought as she walked through the park on the way home, “at least all this mess has filled in a good part of my day. On the whole though, I’d rather have been bored.”

It wasn’t until she fitted her key in the lock of her front door (fortunately always kept in a pocket rather than her bag for convenience rather than safety) that she realised that the brochures will still resting on a table in a café…