Delving Deep

Sticky sloppy sludge squelched between my toes as I trudged through the narrow passage. Grazing my fingertips along the dampened brick wall to keep my balance as I tried to focus on the light ahead. I clutched my skirt up to avoid the droplets of backsplash as my mind wandered; I began questioning myself:

Was I really in the right place?

What would I do if I wasn't?

My mind ventured back.

It was just two weeks earlier that I had been stood at the till of my local corner store when an old dishevelled looking man plunked his rucksack and what I presumed to be the exact change for his items onto the counter. He began hurriedly cramming in his purchases, matching the speed at which I scanned the barcodes, as if he were a fugitive on the run. Clumsily dropping a few of his items he ducked down and by the time the receipt rolled out he was gone.

I didn't think much of it at the time as I was equally in a rush to maintain the flow of the queue, so I proceeded to serve the next customers. It was only at the end of my shift whilst clearing up that a glint of a silver coiled binder caught my eye. It was jammed underneath the counter. I knelt down and managed to pull out what looked like a little black note book.

Now it was not unusual for customers to leave the occasional set of keys or glasses on the counter. We even have a tray for missing items so people usually come back once they've noticed something is missing and thank us for keeping whatever was left, aside.

This note book however, took my interest. At first glance I thought that a customer had left their shopping list behind, so I brushed off the dust it had accumulated from under the counter and chucked it in the missing items tray. As I did so, a small flicker of paper stuck out from between the pages. I went to tuck the paper back in but was in shock to see that it wasn't just a slip of paper...

It was a cheque for $20,000!

Facing it up towards the light, observing the markings; I confirmed it was real. My hands trembled; I didn't know what to do. My instinct was to search the notebook to perhaps find an address of whom the cheque belonged to. A quick browse through the book and I found nothing. Not even a name. A muse of greed delved into my thoughts, contemplating what I would do if I had this lump sum in my possession.

Hesitantly I resumed to my rational thinking. It was a Monday so I knew most of the customers that had come in that day, however the only one I couldn't put a name to was that of the old man. I knew that it must've been his.

I left the book in the box and hoped that the man would return the next day. The following day I was back, with anxious anticipation, waiting and waiting, staring at the clock like a child glued to the television hoping not to miss a second of the program. I was tapping my nails nervously on the counter the entire shift, expecting he would come in any second to relieve my racing mind.

Nothing.

My overwhelming sense of curiosity urged me to take another look at the book. The edges were scuffed and there was a depression of music notes etched into the bottom left corner of the charred cover. I started flicking through the pages hoping I had overlooked something when I realized that the dates of entry were not chronological. I could now say in certainty that this was no ordinary book for shopping lists.

The handwriting was closer to scribbles than something that was legible and not even inline with the lined paper. The entries were also short and concise, not like one you would find in a diary.

"Why would someone leave such a massive cheque in a tatty notebook?" I pondered.

My inner sleuth came out.

The oldest entry from the month prior was a hand drawn picture which seemed to depict a map of the town we were in. On it were circles and crosses but thankfully easy enough to guess the orientation from our location.

The next entry I found came with some jumbled numbers which I concluded later were coordinates.

"Nice, this is easier than I thought!" I exclaimed to myself.

The following pages included sketches of some sort of mechanical parts so I decided to just stick to the written entries.

I spent the next week trying my best to read and understand what was meant by each entry until eventually my final understanding of the decryption read something along the lines of;

My big boy is home! I am so ecstatic, It has been years since he's been on home turf. Sadly grandad won't be able to see the day but he will be proud. Staying at bridge street 45, till he gets better as he no longer runs. Saved the money so there's no need to sell home.

This message, though short pulled a chord. I needed to act fast if I were to return the money to its rightful owner.

Since I had a rough idea of the location, I decided my best course of action was to hop onto my bicycle and head straight over. Pedalling frantically until I reached the bridges bypass. Catching my breath, I stood my bike at the entrance peering in. This was a strange place to live I thought when I realized that I would need to make my way through a disused rail passage. There was a waft of smoke scented air coming from the other side as I looked at the bog ahead. I had just bought new shoes for work and couldn't risk them getting dirty so I reluctantly slipped them off and proceeded through barefoot.

My nerves dissipated as I reached the end placing my arm above my eyes to ease the sunlight streaming down. A large silhouette stood before me. Adjusting my eyes slowly a 1940's steam engine came into view.

"Hey!" An old rusty voice cried.

I glanced back to see an old man waving his arm at me as he appeared through a cloud of smoke. I instantly recognised him from the store; I was in the right place.

"Isn't this big boy a beauty?" he said with a tone of joy as a smile widened across his face.

I nodded in agreement watching in awe. I had never seen an engine with such elegance or rapture before.

He proceeded to tell me how his grandfather had helped build this big boy and was once a train driver himself. The old man had such a desire to fix the engine and see it run again that he bought it back. His tone then lowered as a solemn sadness overpowered his demeanour and he explained that the train was going to be put on auction the next day because he had lost the cheque on the way to the bank.

I shook my head in disarray. It all made sense now. Big boy wasn't his injured son home from war like what I had inferred. It was a train! This man had saved $20,000 to buy back a piece of his family history and was currently living in it whilst it was being restored.

I immediately grabbed the notebook from my coat pocket and placed it in his palms. I told him I had found it at the store. He paused, looking at me intently as if his whole fate had changed by my actions. He opened the page where the $20,000 cheque lay and bowed to kiss the paper. Fate had in fact returned to him.

His face beamed as he hugged me in pure delight. Thanking me with complete gratitude. It was the most heart warming embrace I had ever felt. Watching back at him with glee, I left him dancing with joy as I processed what had just happened.

"Thank goodness I didn't have to find out what I would've done if I wasn't in the right place." I murmured, smirking at my mud spattered feet.