I “kidnapped” a shopper’s wife in broad daylight

8 min read[.

At one time in the last month, the author was on the verge of suspending further posting of the humorous stories until the Covid-19 is eliminated. But, on second thought, changed the mind, because in many countries of the world millions of people are hunkered down in their homes for weeks, and there is dire need of cheering them up. Thus, here it is.]It was a Midsummer Sunday afternoon, and my wife and I went to the nearest superstore for our weekly shopping. It is about three miles from our house. Normally, we go after lunch and before shopping drink a cup of coffee in the precinct’s café.  Sometimes, we have lunch there as well. I reverse parked my car just near the store where the wife was going. I went to the next store to buy toiletries etc and I returned in about ten minutes. When I was in the store, someone had parallel parked his/her car, which was of the same colour and size but of a different make.As usual, I expected the wife to take longer. In superstores, where she buys clothes, she sometimes takes even longer – one day she buys the dress, the following week she would exchange it.Thus, after returning from the store, I sat in the car, switched on the classical music radio with low volume and closed my eyes to have a cat nap.About fifteen minutes later, the passenger door opened and shut. In a flash, I pressed the start button of the car, turned left, then right, and from the mini roundabout took a left turn.After a couple of minutes, I indicated to turn left to join the dual carriageway. At that juncture, instead of hearing my wife’s teacher’s commanding tone, I heard a mellifluous voice:“Where’re you going my dear?”“Going home,” I replied.Concurrently, I realised that unbeknown to me, the woman sitting next to me was not my wife. It was a different woman. She resembled the ex-wife of our Prime Minister Boris Johnson, the mother of his four children. Her household originally stems from Sarghoda (Pakistan) and after partition settled down in India.Naively, the woman had not realised the mistake, nor did I until we were on the dual carriageway.The woman had the giggles. She did not know that we could not return until three miles from there.She told me that her husband might be looking for her. When she gave me his description, I remembered that, while I was taking left turn from the mini roundabout, I could see in the mirror a man in his early sixties. He was wearing a blue jacket. He had stretched his right arm, pointing his index finger at my car. Probably, he had suspected that I was taking his wife away for clandestine reasons.Still, I was relaxed and knew that it was an honest mistake on our part, and we would return in about twenty minutes.We reached the stretch of the carriageway where there was the national speed limit. The woman was fascinated by the view. On both sides of the road there were multicoloured flowers and beyond the short hedge there were cattle grazing in the pastures.  She said:“It’s very beautiful here. We live on the other side of the town, but never ventured to this side in summer”.Suddenly, I heard a sound of a helicopter from afar, which was getting closer by seconds.I was startled. I guessed that the husband might have reported this to the police alleging that a stranger had kidnapped his wife. When I conveyed my fear to the woman, she cracked up, while I was sweating. My worry worsened when I heard, again from the distance, police car sirens.While my fellow passenger was enjoying the experience, my mind was reeling:“Her husband must have reported this to the police, who might be searching for us. They would find out my details in a matter of minutes. Soon, it would be on the national and North West news and radio, it would be a breaking news that a Barrister has kidnapped a shopper’s wife in broad daylight in a town in which he had been the mayor.  The police and the Crown Prosecution Service are pleased to arrest and prosecute celebrities. I’m not a celebrity, but my profession, in tandem with the fact that I had been the mayor of the town, would be enough to investigate the matter thoroughly. They do not spare even people who are dead or dying. In some cases, the accusers turned out to be malicious”.When I expressed my fear to the woman, she said:“It’s not your fault. They would not blame you”.She added:“Worse comes to worst, I would say that I eloped with you.”The words uttered by her, albeit in jest, tasted dust in my mouth.“Should we not ring your husband?” I meekly suggested.She told me that she didn’t bring her mobile phone.I had my phone, but it would not open unless it recognised my face. I did not remember my password. I explained to her the situation. She tried to bring it in front of my face but as the angle was not right, it would not open.When she was trying to focus the phone before my face, she touched me.I sweated more when I envisioned that, beside the charge of kidnapping, she might allege that I touched her inappropriately. She was not blaming me at that time but might change her mind at the behest of her husband. I thought I had, inadvertently, landed in deep waters.The helicopter missed us. I was relieved to some extent. But the relief was ephemeral – the police car siren was getting nearer. I felt relaxed and least pressured when, after a couple of minutes, the police car overtook us, and I was sure that they were not chasing us.We were reaching the traffic lights from where we could turn right. That road led to our village and to the next one.

I told her that in a few minutes, I would take an about turn from the mini roundabout.

Before we reached the mini roundabout, she gazed at the scenic view of the surroundings in rapt silence.

‘There is a deep slope. The road snakes through the spectacular village and the bridge on the river. During summer one can see the steam locomotive moving and whistling. The river looks small, passive and shallow, but the appearance is very deceptive. On the surface it is calm, but might have a fast under current, and that’s very dangerous. There’ve been incidents of people drowning in it, and the bodies are later found on the other side of the town. Also, if there is heavy rain, it bursts its banks.

‘After crossing the bridge, a few minutes later, you drive through a single lane with five passing places and join the A road to get onto the motorway’.When I briefed the lady, sitting next to me in my car, about the two villages and the river, she said that she would like to view it. I apologised saying:

I did not tell her the lurking fears in my mind.

From the mini roundabout we returned.

On our way back, we did not talk much. Just before we could enter the shopping centre’s car park, she said:

“I’m grateful to you for the ride. I feel, I’ve returned anew”.

Before I could say something, she advanced towards me and kissed me on the cheek.

As the previous parking space was not available anymore, I parked the car near the bench on which the husband was sitting with a bewildered gaze. His wife explained to him in an enthusiastic manner about the ride.  He looked askance at me giving scant attention to the matter. 

After their departure, hardly five minutes had passed, my wife emerged. She saw the car parked slightly away from the place where it was reverse parked before. She did not notice it. 

Had she arrived a little earlier and seen the woman in my car, she would have tutted:

“You took the woman with you wittingly”.

She might quip:

“Leopards don’t change their spots”.

Thereafter, she would maintain radio silence, which I would struggle to break it.

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