I know I should have felt guilty

I know I should have felt guilty about stealing the money, but I really didn't know what else I could do.

When I was first diagnosed with cancer, all those months ago, everyone was very kind to me. The neighbours brought round extra portions of their dinners so I wouldn't have to worry about food. The people at work were sympathetic and offered me a shoulder to cry on when I felt I couldn't carry on. But as time had gone on, the sympathy ran out. I knew I was a pain to be around - the side effects of the chemo and my own depressive mood made me a miserable person to spend time with. I'd tried to carry on working when I could, but eventually my boss had called me into her office and told me I was no longer welcome there - I'd had one row too many, one rant too many, one falling out with a customer too many.

So there I'd been, on my own, out of work and penniless. My dad had helped out by offering me some money to tide me over till the benefits kicked in, but the money hadn't lasted long - especially when I was having to travel to the hospital two, sometimes three times a week for treatment. It was three buses away, across the county border, and the fares weren't cheap. Then there were the bills, which had been piling up with frightening speed. Eventually, of course, I managed to get some help towards the council tax, but it was a bitterly cold winter and the chemo had made me frail, so just keeping the house warm cost an arm and a leg. Some days I stayed in bed all day simply to keep warm. And while I didn't often feel hungry, I knew I needed to eat well to keep my strength up - but there's only so far the money could stretch. I'd had a couple of warnings from the credit cards companies, my bank overdraft was at its limit and the latest water rates bill had just arrived too. I didn't know what to do.

So when I saw the handbag lying on the ground by the bus stop I couldn't resist picking it up. I think it was out of curiosity at first. it was a smart bag - a Gucci, I think, though I'm not really clued up on such matters. I thought if I could find a name or address in it I could try to return it to the owner. Or take it to the police station - though that would involve another bus journey, and I wasn't sure I had the strength for that. But inside the bag was a purse, and in the purse was money - lots of money. Fifty pound notes, perhaps twenty or so. I quickly stuffed the wad of paper into my own bag, my hand shaking as I struggled to do up the zip. I wondered what else might be in the bag. Looking around me to check I wasn't being watched, I opened it again and stuck my hand in. I pulled out a diary, a phone, an umbrella and a notebook, which I put on the bench next to me. There was a small pocket with a zip at the back of the bag and I could feel something inside it. Keys, maybe? I wondered idly what kind of car this woman would drive - a Porsche, perhaps, or more likely a top of the range Range Rover. Quickly I unzipped the pocket and reached inside. There was something small and hard in there, stuck in the lining. Using my thumb nail I loosened it from the seam and pulled it out. I gasped. Between my fingers I was holding what looked like a perfect diamond. It twinkled as it caught the weak February sunlight. I turned it over in my hand and studied it more closely. About a centimetre across and beautifully cut, it was more beautiful than anything I'd ever seen before. I wondered why it was in the pocket. Perhaps it had fallen out of a ring and been put there for safety. You'd think the woman would have had such a beautiful thing fixed - but then again, perhaps she was too rich to care. maybe this was just one of a thousand diamond rings in her collection! I paused for a second before stashing the diamond in my own purse, in the section where I normally keep my stamps. I had no idea what I would do with it - but I knew I couldn't leave it.

The bus appeared from round the corner. Hastily I shoved the diary, the phone, the umbrella and the notebook back into the handbag, placed it on the ground, kicked it under the bench and took the bus home.