THE SPRING OUTFIT

THE SPRING OUTFIT
Mandy closed the front door gently, Dad was on nights and needed his
sleep.
Another futile trip to the Job Centre, she reflected bitterly. Another
lot of cards to mull over. She was sick of going for interviews - she
must have been for a trillion-and-one - "We`ll let you know, Miss
Price."
Mandy was sixteen and had left school six months earlier. But so far
she had been unable to find work.
She stepped out along the street, the light breeze tangling her long
hair. She felt the sun warm on her back. It`s going to be a fine day,
she decided.
She walked through the park. Buds were swelling on the trees, and in
flower beds, daffodils, more green than yellow, swayed like ballet
dancers. Whilst, on a bench, reminding her of a butterfly discarding
its chrysalis, a woman shrugged off her heavy winter coat.
Of course it was all a waste of time.
Emerging from the Job Centre, Mandy noticed her reflection in the
window and winced. Hair like straw - she`d used too much `Sun-In` - if
only she could afford a spiral perm. And her clothes, well, ripped
jeans might be fashionable, but weren`t right for job interviews.
In the boutique next door, she spotted an eye-catching skirt and
jacket. A card beside it said, `SPRING GREEN. THIS SEASON`S
SHADE.`
She sighed, thinking of her empty pocket.
Passing a telephone box on her way home, her glance fell onto a fat
leather purse beside the phone.
Someone`s left it behind. her hand closed over the purse. Feels like
quite a wad. She wondered whether the owner`s address might be
inside?
There was a wad of notes all right. Even without counting them, she
reckoned there must be at least two hundred pounds. She found a brooch
too, its twisted silver letters spelling a name, `Alice`. But no sign
of any address.
Mandy snapped-to the purse. She`d take it to the Police Station. That
way, the owner might stand a chance of getting it back. She popped it
into her shoulder bag.
Nearing the Police Station a vision of the boutique`s window flashed
before her eyes. A little voice spoke to her. Your`re daft if you hand
this in. You could buy yourself that outfit. Get your hair done, and
have some over. Other people wouldn`t think twice.
Uncertain of how to proceed she stood stockstill.
Should she use the money for herself?
Her head whirled like a chairoplane...
She shouldn`t....should she?
Well, why not?
Succumbing to temptation, she retraced her steps.
* * *
Mandy admired herself in the cheval-mirror - the outfit was just
right.
She gave a little twirl and the pleated skirt whirled out. It might
have been a fashion model looking back at her, she reflected. "I`ll
take it," she said to the assistant.
The girl smiled. "It`s certainly your colour."
* * *
The outfit was folded and placed in a plastic carrier.
"You`re got a bargain at seventy pounds, Madam," confided the
assistant, "last week this was retailing at ninety-five."
Fishing in her bag for the purse, Mandy nodded - just as the owner of
the boutique came through from the back of the shop.
Mandy`s stomach lurched.... Mum!...it settled again. How silly she
was. Her mother had been dead two years. But for a moment, she`d
thought the woman was Mum.
She seemed to hear her voice. "No, Mandy - it`s wrong. It`s not
yours."
"Yes, Mum," she whispered. "Sorry, I`ve changed my mind," she said to
the assistant.
The girl shurgged and hung the clothing back on the rail - her tight
lips and jerky hand revealing that she`d imagined she`d the sale
sewn-up and had been banking on the commission.
* * *
A couple of days later, Mandy was just pressing an old dress to wear to
an interview that afternoon at British Home Stores, when the bell
rang.
At the door was a smart middle-aged woman. "Mandy Price?"
"Yes." Her brow furrowed.
"I`m the owner of the purse you handed in."
"You are? You`d best come inside."
In the living room she hastily shifted clothes off a chair for her
visitor.
"I want to thank you for being so honest. It wasn`t just the money,
you know, it was my mother`s brooch....if I`d lost that..."
Mandy nodded. She felt the same about a necklace Mum had always
worn.
"I`d like to give you a reward - what would you like?"
Suddenly, Mandy recognised the woman, she was the owner of that
expensive boutique near the Job Centre.
Of course Mandy got her new outfit. And to her delight, she was also
taken on at British Home Stores as well.
--------