Keys

 

Keys

                               Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

When I was five years old, my parents bought a small shop which sold newspapers and magazines, tobacco, confectionery and stationery. We lived in the flat above the shop and it was quite a contrast to the large house from which we had moved. The only way to access the flat was through the shop.

In those days, the police had regular foot patrols around the streets throughout the night. They checked all the locks on business premises and were tasked to enter unlocked doors and investigate.

One night, my parents were awoken from a deep sleep by a beat copper standing at the foot of their bed. He had found the shop door unlocked and walked through the shop and up two flights of stairs before finding them. Thereafter, we were all very aware that doors must be checked and double-checked before we could relax.

Eventually, I reached an age when I was allowed out on my own and I wandered far and wide out of the town and into the countryside, always on my own. Although I was not permitted to stay out late, there were occasions when I reached home after the shop had shut. My parents decided that I should have a key, and I was told that I must guard it very carefully. It had a long shaft and one day, to my horror, it snapped as I unlocked the door. Expecting to find myself in hot water, I said nothing, but took it to the local hardware store to see if it could be mended. Of course, it couldn’t, and I had to have a replacement made, which took a few days.

This happened during the summer holidays, when I spent most of my days at the local outdoor swimming pool, where I met my friends. I returned home only when the pool closed, by which time the shop was also closed. While I anxiously waited for my replacement key, I made sure I reached home before the door was locked. It was unusual behaviour but was not commented on. 

Much later on, I realised that my parents must have known all along what had happened. All the traders knew each other very well and were customers in our shop, so it’s more than likely that my ‘secret’ was relayed to my parents long before the new key was safely in my hands. It was never mentioned – very wise, my parents.

It was comforting then, at least to the law-abiding citizens, to see police officers walking the streets and to know that they would deal with any problems. It’s rare to see police foot patrols now, at least in my reasonably civilised part of the world. Maybe there would be less yobbish behaviour if they were reintroduced, for, despite the generally pleasant surroundings, there is a rowdy element in the community that sometimes causes problems.