The paper chariot was boldly decorated at its edges with unmistakeable red and blue diagonal stripes which immediately confirmed its origin.
The physically fading, yet mentally sharp old lady summoned up the courage to open the uninvited, unexpected envelope that had just landed unceremoniously on her doormat.
She gripped the paper knife with the Scarborough insignia and then used her least painful arthritic hand to carefully slice open the international messenger.
A trio of passengers fell out.
Two cheques and a letter bounced onto the table.
She panicked.
The first cheque was for £300 and the second for £50,000.
Both were made payable to the personal account of Clementine Hobson.
“It doesn’t make any sense; it was all so long ago!”
The retired headmistress nervously adjusted her varifocal-lensed spectacles and examined the letter more closely; the handwriting was unmistakeable.
She panicked again.
