I started wearing the blue, white-edged jacket John gave me he probably stole. At the last writers group meeting John Elliott asked if a piece of paper was mine. It was one I put shopping notes on. During the session I noticed my wallet on the floor. It must’ve fallen out of the jacket’s shallow pocket.
I discovered the jacket had deep inside pockets and secured the wallet there when I went to the bank for £20 to buy John’s postal order. I bought the order, putting it in with the wallet, but on my way to the library noticed my wallet on the ground. It must’ve fallen out of even the deep pocket where the order still securely was. Had I leant deeply over? I pushed it in more securely.
When I returned home, I found I’d lost my wallet! I hadn’t been near enough anybody for it to have been picked. I retraced my steps, even asking in the post office, for the moment forgetting I’d had it afterwards. I checked again at home. On my way to the bank I discovered the inside pocket had a hole in it. I was no longer bothered about having lost the wallet because there was nothing I could’ve done to avoid its loss. Actually the pocket had two holes in it separated by where the flap was attached to the jacket. It was not obviously holed.
My actions to avoid loss, as were indicated by the presentiments, had brought about the wallet’s ineluctable fate, not that it put up much of a struggle; it hasn’t even been handed in to the police.
I blamed John. “I knew I’d get the blame.” In mitigation he said, “At least you know I never used that jacket for shop-lifting.”