Lifted (7 page)

Without their knowledge (of course), she had begun to steal to order for the charity shops. Whenever she donated something – and she had taken to visiting several different shops, so as not to arouse suspicion – she would chat to the grateful assistant to find out what items sold the best and what could get the highest price. Jewellery, they told her, was always a popular seller, as were books, scarves and cashmere jumpers. While these were all fairly
easy to steal, other charity shop favourites like jackets and coats were a no-go for Ruby, because they were virtually impossible to hide.

It amazed her how lax many shops were, forgetting to put tags on things, or putting them on so poorly that you could pull them off with barely any effort. It was almost as if they were asking you to shoplift. So convinced was Ruby of her own skill, and so confident was she of her growing experience, that she soon began to forget how much luck was involved too. And that, as she would discover one Saturday afternoon a few weeks into her new career, was dangerous.

She was in her local department store, Kelly’s, a favourite shoplifting haunt because it was big and well-stocked and the ratio of shop staff to customers was very low. Not to mention that it had everything a charity shop could possibly want. She had scoped it out, noticing on which points the security cameras were focused and what paths the two security guards took. They were like mice, she’d noticed, always following the same pattern. She had bided her time, browsing in the accessories department, picking things up, examining them and then putting them down again, as if she couldn’t quite decide on a gift for somebody. Today she was looking at silk scarves, which had just come in as part of the store’s new spring collection. They were the sort of thing her mother might like, or her aunt – soft and floaty, in muted beiges and greys. Today it would be easy: the store had given
her a helping hand. Stupidly, no doubt to protect the silk, the security tags had been attached not to the scarves but to the scarves’ labels, which were sewn on with only a few stitches. Ruby could see immediately that they would come away with a simple tug.

When she was as sure as she could be that nobody was watching her, she picked up two scarves in exactly the same colour and took them over to the full-length mirror nearby. She wrapped one around her neck and pirouetted around, as if she was admiring her reflection. As she did this, she tore the tagged label from the other scarf and let it drop to the floor, gently kicking it under the mirror with her foot. Perhaps her de-tagging was a little too violent, because it left a small hole, but that was fine for the purposes of the charity shop. It made the scarf look more authentically secondhand; she could even say it was moth-eaten. And then, in one brisk movement, as she unwrapped the first scarf from around her neck, she used her other hand to stuff the second, now tag-less scarf in her coat pocket. Slowly, diligently, she walked back over to the display table and replaced the first scarf in the pile, as though she’d decided it simply wasn’t to her taste. She might have looked calm, but she was breathless, her heart drilling into her chest wall and the blood pumping hot in her cheeks and ears. She loitered a while, pretending to examine a few other items, as she tried to bring her breathing back to normal, and then, with a determined stride, she made for the exit.

The doors were only a few metres away. Just a few more steps …

‘Stop!’

Someone had her arm. Ruby’s insides seized up, although somehow her legs kept walking of their own accord. It was a strange sensation, a bit like taking your feet off the pedals when you’re cycling downhill, she thought. So this was it.
This was it.
She had always imagined that if she got caught she’d feel a tight, vice-like grip around her wrist. She’d expected that it would hurt, like a handcuff or a Chinese burn. But the hand on her arm was far gentler than she had anticipated. She felt only the light brush of long fingers, a touch that felt almost affectionate. As she quickened her pace she could sense the figure of a man looming behind her, walking at exactly the same pace, his hand still grasping for her arm.

‘Ruby,’ he said. ‘Please stop.’

That was odd.

‘How do you know my name?’ she asked. She felt weirdly, unexpectedly calm. She turned her head round slowly to face the man.

It wasn’t a security guard. It wasn’t a man at all, just a very tall boy. It was Noah.

‘What the hell?’

‘Just stop please, OK?’ he said. If the voice hadn’t sounded familiar, it was because it was deeper than she recalled.

‘But I —’

‘Shush,’ whispered Noah. He was shaky and very red in the face. ‘Don’t say anything and don’t look behind you, but the security guy has clocked you and he’s been following you around for a couple of minutes.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked. She realised her legs had stopped walking, although she couldn’t remember telling them to. Now her feet were stuck fast to the floor, while everything around her seemed to be spinning faster and faster. How was it possible that she hadn’t noticed the brightness of the lights before? How had she been unaware of the music and the low purr of chatter that wove its way through it? It was as if she’d been brought suddenly out of a trance.

‘He saw you take that scarf and he’s waiting for you to leave the store,’ Noah said. ‘I saw him talking into his radio about you.’

Ruby giggled, involuntarily. The weird, raspy noise that erupted from her didn’t even sound like her normal laugh. She thought of saying, ‘What scarf? I don’t know what you’re talking about’ or ‘It was an accident’ but she knew it would sound pathetic. ‘I, uh …’ she stuttered. She felt sick and wobbly. She tried again: ‘I, didn’t, uh …’ She stared straight ahead. Perhaps if she didn’t look at Noah she could pretend this wasn’t happening. For a moment, she wondered if being arrested might be preferable. At least a security guard or a policeman wouldn’t know her, or live in her street.

‘You’ve got to put the scarf back,’ Noah said, as
firmly as he could. ‘And, if there’s anything else you’ve taken, you’ve got to put that back too. He’s waiting for you to go outside so he can stop you and arrest you. That’s how they work.’

‘I … I … don’t know what to do,’ she stuttered. She felt she was on the brink of tears, but didn’t want to cry in front of Noah.

‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘Just go back over to the scarf table and take it out of your pocket and leave it there. If you go out the shop and you haven’t taken anything, it’s not shoplifting, is it?’

Ruby shook her head.

‘So I’ll wait here for you and then we’ll leave together, OK?’

Ruby nodded. ‘OK,’ she whispered. She wasn’t convinced that she could do it. Maybe, she thought, if I pray really hard, or click my heels three times, or say a magic word, I can make myself disappear instead.

Noah watched as Ruby walked back through the shop to the table on which the scarves were neatly piled. Her head was bowed, her steps an uneven shuffle. He hadn’t seen Ruby appear so fragile, or so lacking in confidence, at least not since they were little. She looked crestfallen, just like she always used to when they were about six and her dad told her off for lying or being cheeky. He couldn’t explain why, but if he tried not to think about the fact she was a thief, her vulnerability made her even more attractive. It made him feel stronger too, like he was in control for once, like he mattered to her. He felt he wanted to protect her.

Ruby had almost reached the table when he saw the security guard, heading straight for her, his radio to his ear. He realised with alarm that Ruby, her back to him, still had the scarf in her pocket. He had to do something. He had to
do something fast. ‘Think! Think!’ he repeated under his breath. He launched himself across the shop with such speed that he was able to double back on himself and block the security guard’s path to the table. ‘Excuse me,’ he said. ‘Can you tell me where the nearest cashpoint is?’

The guard stopped. ‘Um, uh, yeah, it’s across the road,’ he said, distracted, trying to peer past Noah. For once, Noah was glad of his height and the span of his arms.

‘Where exactly?’

The security guard sighed. ‘Come out of the shop, cross the road and turn left,’ he said. ‘It’s about fifty yards away. You can’t miss it.’ He started walking away.

‘Thanks,’ said Noah. He turned around to see Ruby coming towards him, looking nervous. Please Ruby, he thought, as she approached, please have put the scarf back. He stared directly at her, opening his eyes as wide as they would go. Comprehending, she nodded.

But before she could reach him, the guard stopped her. ‘Can I see your pockets please, miss?’

‘Sure,’ she said, forcing a smile. Noah wondered if the guard could tell how nervous she was. She emptied her coat pockets for him, showing him what looked like some chewing gum and an old receipt, and then turned the linings inside out so that it was clear she was concealing nothing.

He nodded. ‘Now please open your bag for me,’ he said.

Ruby did as she was asked. Noah could see that her
hands were shaking, even though she must have known he wouldn’t find anything there. Unless she’d taken something else, something he hadn’t seen? Had she?

The guard peered inside. ‘Thank you,’ he said, sounding disappointed. ‘You’re free to go.’ He glanced suspiciously at Ruby and then at Noah. Perhaps, Noah thought, he was beginning to wonder whether he had been duped. Noah stood still as the guard sized him up, evidently trying to work out if Ruby could have passed him whatever it was he’d seen her take. Were they in it together? Noah didn’t carry a bag and he was wearing just a fitted jumper and jeans; there was simply no way he could have hidden anything.

‘Let’s go,’ Noah whispered to Ruby. ‘Now!’

They walked briskly to the exit, side by side, neither talking nor looking at one other. Once outside, Ruby grabbed Noah’s arm. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘God, that was close.’ She seemed stronger now, exhilarated even. Unselfconsciously, she put her hand to her chest as if she was checking her heart. It must have been racing. Had she enjoyed nearly getting caught, he wondered?

‘It was close,’ he said, flatly. He wasn’t excited at all, just relieved it was over and she was safe. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Yes, I think so. And hey, thank you. I think you just saved my life.’

Noah blushed. ‘Nah, it was nothing.’ He grinned awkwardly. ‘Don’t mention it.’ He took a deep breath. It was now or never. ‘Fancy a milkshake?’ he asked.

Ruby didn’t really want a milkshake but she didn’t have the energy to refuse, or, she realised, the inclination. If Noah was her guardian angel, she owed him. Probably a lot more than letting him buy her a milkshake, but it was a start.

She let him take her to the burger bar at the other end of the high street. There was one directly opposite the department store, but she figured he was worried that the security guard might see them in there and have second thoughts about letting Ruby go. He was thoughtful like that, always had been. He found them a table and told Ruby to sit down while he went to fetch the milkshakes. He seemed surprised when she asked for vanilla; maybe it was because when she was little she always used to drink strawberry. Or was it chocolate? She could barely
remember. Her insides were still churned up and she knew that whatever flavour she chose, it would be too sweet and too cold. She was starting to get a headache, and the brain freeze from the ice wouldn’t help, but she didn’t want to seem ungrateful. While she waited for Noah to come back, she went back over everything that had happened, retracing her steps in her head. She’d been certain nobody had seen her take the scarf. How could she have come so close to getting caught without realising it? Thank God Noah had been there. But why
was
he there? How did he know she was in the shop? Had he been following her? Was he really stalking her? The idea made her shiver.

Best to come straight out with it. ‘Thanks,’ she said, when he arrived back with the milkshakes. ‘Look, I don’t mean to be a bitch, but I need to ask you something. How did you know I was in Kelly’s? Were you following me?

‘Not exactly,’ he said, unfazed, as if he’d been expecting her to ask. ‘I was on the high street buying a computer game and I saw you go into Kelly’s. I was going to come in and say hello, but then I twigged what you were going to do, so I stood there for a few minutes and kept a look-out for you, and then I saw the security guard and I thought I should warn you.’

‘Oh,’ she said, relieved. ‘That’s OK. I mean, that’s nice of you. I don’t get how I didn’t notice you standing there at all.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I guess you were concentrating pretty hard.’

‘How come you said you knew what I was going to do?’ she asked, as it occurred to her. ‘Have you followed me before?’

‘Not exactly. Not like you think. I’ve not actually followed you in real life. But I have been reading your blog.’

Ruby flushed. ‘Really? You’ve been reading it?’ She felt embarrassed and then annoyed and finally foolish, when she remembered that blogs were designed to be read by other people, even people who knew you. ‘How did you know it was mine?’

‘I helped set it up for you, remember?’

‘Oh yeah.’ She giggled. ‘But I said it was for a friend. How did you know it was me?’

‘I could just tell,’ he said. ‘It sounded like you. It’s a good blog. I’ve looked at thousands and most are pretty boring. At least you’ve got something to write about.’

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘My stupid, pathetic life.’

‘Don’t say that.’

She shrugged.

‘I wanted to tell you the other day, but I wasn’t sure how to. Didn’t you notice you had a follower? At the end of your blog page there’s a bit for comments and followers. You’ve got just one: me.’

Ruby hadn’t noticed. Once she’d written a blog entry she didn’t go back and look at it again. She didn’t like reading her own words. ‘No, I didn’t realise.’ She hesitated. ‘God, Noah, you won’t tell anyone, will you?
You won’t tell my mum?’

‘Of course not. Why would I?’

‘I don’t know. You must think I’m a terrible person.’