A bit of a mystery!

Yesterday when we went off for our walk along the banks of the Tyne, we got off a bus near the start of the walk and at that point it began to rain. Fortunately we quickly spotted a landing protected by a perspex roof/awning, at the top of a flight of steps. So up the steps we went, together with a pair of tourists, possibly Japanese, equipped with maps and rucksacks and such like equipment.

As we stood and chatted about an art installation that used to be on the grassy bank opposite, but which had been removed to make way for the building of a Hilton Hotel, we spotted a young woman walking, or rather shuffling down the slope. I was struck by her clothing. At first I thought she was wearing one of those long, open-front cardigans that are in fashion at present, the ones that look like dressing gowns. On closer inspection, it was clear that this was, in fact, a lightweight terry dressing gown, over a long t-shirt style nightdress. On her feet she wore slippers, hence the shuffling walk. What was a young woman doing shuffling down the road in her nightwear in the pouring rain on a Sunday lunchtime?

As she prepared to cross the road, a sleek black car drove up to the crossroads. She seemed to be making ready to cross behind it but changed her mind at the last minute and sidled up towards the front of that car. At that moment a hand appeared from the driver's window and gave her a mobile phone. The car drove away, the girl started to make calls and, to our frustration, disappeared out of view around the corner.

Five of us, we three and the tourist couple, looked at each other, raised our eyebrows and got on with watching the rain.

Some five or ten minutes later another car drove up, turned the corner, turned round and came back, eventually stopping at the foot of our flight of steps. The driver switched on his hazard lights, got out and walked around the corner. Had he come to collect the girl in her nightwear?

Apparently, yes! For he reappeared, followed by the girl, frail and tearful. They seemed not to be speaking to each other. With little sign of emotion of any kind, he ushered her into the car and set off. What was all that about? Was she a sleep walker? Was this the result of a domestic argument of some kind? Was there some soliciting or people trafficking going on?

We shall probably never know, unless something appears in Newcastle or Gateshead newspapers. In which case, our friend, who made a note of the second car's registration number, Miss Marple fashion, will be able to offer her witness statement.

 A novel, or at the very least a short story, hides behind these events. Our nosey instincts were alerted. These are things you get up to on wet Sunday lunchtimes.

And then the rain cleared and we got on with the rest of our day.