Morals

Morals

It was late winter, a crisp January when it happened. Just after all the rush and bustle of Christmas and New Year and everything was just ordinary.
He was walking his dog through his suburban close when he saw it. Nestled beneath a neatly trimmed privet hedge was a fold of brown material. The dog sniffed at the object nonchalantly, and on bending down to investigate he realised it was a backpack. Fairly clean, fairly large.
This was odd. The close he lived on was always normal, just normal. Everything in the same place, nothing unusual. But this? This was different, out of place, not normal. And interesting. So he pulled it out and had a look at it, there was nothing else to do really. No, just a normal backpack, but in an odd place. And unusually heavy.
He was torn in two, half his mind telling him to leave it and pretend he’d never seen it. But the other half was telling him he had to look. And now it was more than half his mind telling him to look and, transfixed, he reached down and unzipped the bag.
The dog was pulling at the lead, but he was oblivious. And all sound had faded from his head. He realised he had his jaw hanging open and snapped it shut. He realised he was far too obvious crouched down here and would soon be drawing unwanted attention to himself in this ordinary suburb. Quickly he zipped up the bag and slung it over his shoulder and walked.
Just walk normally, he thought to himself, act ordinarily, just like the rest of the close, normal. Don’t draw attention he said inside his head. Attention was the last thing he wanted now. Just act normally…
But how do you act normally when you are carrying … something like that? What was he carrying he thought. It hadn’t quite sunk in. All he’d seen was bundles upon bundles of bank notes. He’d seen tens and twenties, all in large bundles. And boy was there a lot of bundles he thought. He hadn’t had time to count but in that bag on his back he thought he must be carrying about £200,000.
It must be someone’s, but whose? Who would leave that huge sum of money under an ordinary privet hedge in an ordinary close? And why? Very unusual he thought.
And what should he do now? He realised now that he was still walking and it took him a little while to realise where he was walking to, on automatic.
The police station. He must take it to the police station. It was only a 15 minute walk from here.
£200,000. He wondered what the money was going to be used for before it was left under the hedge. He knew what he’d do with it…
But it’s not his. He has to take it to the police station.
…He was in a fair amount of debt right now and since his wife had left him his money problems had escalated. He could pay off all his debts with the money on his back and still have plenty left…
No. Don’t think of things like this half his mind told him, snapping him back to reality and tightening the straps of the bag so the money was held closer to him.
…I haven’t had a holiday for a while he told himself. He had always said that when he had enough money he would have a nice long holiday. A fortnight in Malaga? Three weeks in Brazil? Or both? With £200,000 he could afford it! Stay in five star hotels; eat fine food and drink fine wine. That’s what he needed…
But he didn’t have £200,000. Well obviously the money on his back but that wasn’t his. Well, not really his
…His car had been beginning to go wrong. Again. And it looked very old now. He had always dreamed of a nice Mercedes or a luxurious Bentley. ‘When I win the lottery…’ he used to joke. ‘When I find a million…’ he’d say…
How long to the police station now? Five minutes perhaps.
…And he’d never really had a house he really, really liked. He could invest the money, save it up, add to it a little, sell the house and he’d have enough to buy a nice property. He’d like that…
…If only he could have the £200,000 on his back. It’s not too late he thought. No. He must take it to the police station.
He was only 100 yards from the station now. ‘If only’ he thought to himself again. ‘Well this is it’ he told himself as he approached the station.
Jim felt strange now, out of the ordinary, dazed and confused, not normal, as if he’d just awoken from a dream. But it was definitely real. He knew that. But it didn’t feel right. And he shrugged and carried on down the plain, ordinary close, his dog on the other end of the lead ahead of him. He looked up at the sky, sighed, and touched the bundle in his pocket.