The Birthday Card

by Pauline Barclay

  Laughing, Trisha cried out, ‘Anyone ever told you, you should be in a pantomime?’

  ‘Very funny,’ Doreen snapped. ‘It’s now stuck to my entire hand.’

  ‘Come here,’ Trisha said and grabbed a clean tissue from the little packet on the floor and carefully prised the gum from Doreen’s fingers. ‘So what have you got your sticky fingers on?’ Trisha asked, wincing as she tried to extract the chewing gum from the paper.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mother and daughter stared down at the tatty, sticky lottery ticket. Neither spoke or moved for several seconds.

  Doreen was the first to break the silence, ‘Give it here,’ she said barely above a whisper. Grasping the sticky ticket she stared at the numbers she had chosen, mentally reciting each one and still believed she had four. Her memory was terrible most of the time, but she could remember four of the numbers from the pink slip Mr Greedy had given her. Looking up at Trisha, ‘I was right, we’ve got four numbers,’ she said her voice catching in her throat as she let out a shaky breath.

  Trisha’s face paled at her mother’s words, ‘Does that mean, we’re going to be rich?’ she trilled.

  Silence descended on the room.

  ‘I don’t think so, but I think it means we’ve won a few hundred. I can’t believe this, Trish, I’ve never won anything and I’ve only ever bought one lottery ticket. Bleedin’ hell, how lucky is that?’

  Scepticism crossed Trisha’s face like a shadow. ‘You sure it’s four?’ she asked eyeing the ticket clenched in Doreen’s hand. ‘Let me have a look and check before we work out what we need to do.’

  Unfurling her fingers from the ticket, Doreen handed it over. Then picking up the slip from Mr Greedy, she gave it to Trisha. ‘Blimey, Trish, I don’t think I could get four numbers wrong,’ she said with a pained expression and held her breath. Focusing on her daughter, she watched as Trisha’s eyebrows arched and then fell, then arched again.

  Not able to stand the silence, Doreen yelled at Trisha. ‘Well,’ she gasped her patience close to snapping and her heart racing as if she was being chased by a pack of wild dogs.

  Shaking her head and in a modulated tone Trisha spoke, ‘You’ve got it wrong, Mama, we haven’t got four numbers…’

  ‘Yes we have, we have! Give ‘em here,’ Doreen protested cutting her daughter off mid-sentence. Mortified, Doreen leapt to her feet, ‘Surely I can’t have got it so wrong. You’re the one with the fancy education, for goodness sake, four numbers can’t be that difficult to spot.’ For the briefest of seconds she had been convinced her ticket was a winner and had even calculated the benefits it would bring. Crushed, she found herself pleading, ‘Tell me, Trish, I ain’t got it wrong, please.’ Unable to bare her disappointment any longer, the weariness and lack of sleep Doreen dissolved into floods of tears. Like a dam bursting, the salty tears streamed down her face. ‘It was all for nothing,’ she sobbed sinking to her knees on to the remnants of her bag.

  Ignoring her mother’s meltdown, Trisha focused on the numbers. ‘You see, Mama, we haven’t four numbers, we have all of them. Every single one,’ Trisha’s voice rang out. ‘See for yourself,’ her arm outstretched Trisha offered the ticket and numbers to her mother.

  Snot running down her nose, unable to take in what she had heard, Doreen mumbled, ‘What do you mean, we’ve got all of them?’

  Trisha sank down to her mother’s side and in a voice that trembled, explained. ‘What’s on this,’ she pointed to the pink slip, ‘is the same as your ticket. They all match.’

  How could they have all the numbers? Unable to think straight, Doreen wiped at her nose and face with her sleeve, not caring if her top was covered in snot all she could think of was she needed to put this lot back in her bag. Doreen scrambled around on the floor pushing all the stuff she had tipped out earlier back into her bag.

  ‘Mama, what are you doing?’ Trisha begged watching her mother grovelling around on the floor like an out of control robot. ‘Stop,’ she shouted and grabbed her mother’s arm. ‘Please take these and check again,’ Trisha urged.

  Stopping as if she had been struck, unsure what she would see, Doreen reached out her hand and cautiously took the paper and ticket. She held her breath and swept her gaze across the numbers on the slip and then the lottery ticket. To be absolutely certain, she read the numbers again, this time slowly and carefully. Trisha was right, she had all the numbers. Feeling she would pass out at the shock, she heard Trisha’s voice.

  ‘See what I mean?’ Trisha said.

  Doreen couldn’t answer still unsure it could be true.

  ‘Best we find that gin you bought weeks ago. I think we need it for shock.’ On wobbly legs, Trisha struggled through to the kitchen. She pulled open the cupboard and took out the small bottle. She turned over two mugs from the draining board and she poured large slugs.

  ‘Drink this and then we’ll check the numbers again,’ Trisha said holding the mug under Doreen’s nose, unable to comprehend what was happening to them.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘What do we do now?’ Doreen asked, not taking her eyes off her winning ticket on the coffee table. She would never let it out of her sight again and secretly thanked the chewing gum for saving it. She was sure it would have been lost had it not been stuck to the gum. She rubbed at her temples. Her head was reeling from the gin and the shock. ‘It’s no good, Trisha, I’ve got to have another ciggie,’ she said and reached out for the open packet on the table.

  Sitting on the floor, leaning against the sofa, Trisha clutched her mug. Most of the gin was still in it. ‘Urgh! How can you drink this stuff,’ she cried.

  Doreen smirked. ‘You’ve had a sip or two so what’s wrong with it?’

  ‘I needed those drops to help settle my nerves after the shock of seeing all those numbers.

  Placing the mug at her side, Trisha pulled a face and watched her mother reach for her cigarettes. ‘Surely not another one, the room is already like a pea soup fog with all the tobacco sticks you are puffing on.’ She wafted her hand in front of her face to emphasis the state of the air in the room. ‘Carry on like this and you’ll end up looking like a streak of tobacco. You’ve smoked at least ten in the last hour.’

  Her words fell on deaf ears as Doreen lit up another cigarette.

  ‘Let me look at the ticket again and check we really are not going mad.’ Trisha said feeling the need to do something. Plucking the ticket from the table she stared at it. There was no doubt about the outcome. They were winners, how much they had won, she had no idea, but it would likely be more than the few hundred her mother kept hoping for.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ Doreen said as the smoke drifted around the room and ash fell on to the carpet. ‘If we get the money, I think we should have a little holiday. We’ve never had a proper one. Go to the coast. What do you think?’

  Trisha ignored her mother; she was too busy working out what they had to do to let someone know they had a winning ticket. ‘You simply can’t believe just how much they manage to print on these tiny pieces of paper. An encyclopaedia would have less information.’

  ‘You’re not listening to me, are you?’ Doreen said wondering what was so fascinating on the back of the ticket. ‘What’s on the front is more important,’ she said her words slurred after three gins.

  ‘Nope, I’m not listening, because I’m working on what we need to do and who we need to talk to.’

  ‘You don’t need to worry about any of that, I just have to go and see Mr Greedy. He sold the ticket and told me he would happily give me my winnings.’ Doreen’s hand shook as she spoke, her cigarette looking like a sparkler as she waved it around.

  Giving her mother a sideways look, ‘I think this might be out of his league,’ Trisha said. ‘Look, there’s a number on the back we have to call if we think we’ve won.’ She held the ticket up. ‘I’m going to call this number,’ she said confident.

  Rubbing her forehead, ‘Do you think we should, what if we’ve got i
t wrong and they make a fuss?’

  ‘I doubt we’ll be the first to get it wrong, but if we don’t talk to them, we’ll never know if we are right,’ Trisha argued getting to her feet to find the phone.

  Doreen, stunned and bewildered, tried to take in what Trisha was about to do. Part of her wanted to hear if they had won, yet a part of her cried out not to call in case she had got it wrong and would be disappointed. It was all too much, she felt sick, in fact, after downing that gin so quickly, she was sure she might be. Staggering to her feet, she headed to the bathroom.

  Unperturbed at her mother’s anxiety, Trisha punched the numbers into the phone from the details on the back of the ticket. Holding her breath she listened as the phone connected. Several rings rang out before an automated voice answered.

  ‘For goodness sake,’ Trisha cried, ‘it’s not a real person and I’ve got to press one or two or wait. What do I do?’ Trisha’s confidence slowly evaporating at the dilemma she was faced with. Unsure what to do her finger hovered over numbers one and two when she heard a voice. ‘Oh Lordy, lordy they’re giving out a list of winning numbers….’ She listened further, ‘Yes! Oh my God, yes, they’ve rattled off our numbers! Mama, they have mentioned our numbers come in here… quick!’ Trisha held the phone away from her mouth as she screamed at her mother. Placing the phone back to her ear, it was silent, ‘Hello, hello,’ Trisha squealed. ‘Now what do I do?’ Perplexed at whether to end the call or wait when the automatic voice spoke. ‘Mama,’ Trisha called banging on the bathroom door before marching in. Seeing her mother on the toilet, Trisha thrust the phone to her ear ‘Listen, Mama, please listen the lady’s talking again.’

  ‘We’re sorry if your numbers were not winning numbers… but if you have a winning set of numbers please hold the line…’ Sitting on the toilet, the colour drained from Doreen’s face. ‘Blimey, is that us?’

  Ignoring her mother, Trisha gripped the phone. A lengthy silence ensued. Unsure what was happening, she held her breath.

  ‘Hello, could you read out the winning numbers please and the ticket number which you will find at the bottom,’ a real person now asked. Trisha, taken aback that a real person was talking to her she reeled off the numbers.

  Doreen, not wanting to hear what was being said, clamped her hands over her ears.

  ‘Did you buy this ticket?’ the lady asked.

  ‘No, my Mama did.’

  ‘Thank you. Please may I speak to her?’

  Trisha glared at her mother still seated on the toilet, her hands over her ears. Pulling her hands down, Trisha handed over the phone. ‘You’ve got to speak to the lady.’

  ‘Me?’ Doreen said in a whisper and took the phone.

  ‘Hello?’ she said, her voice catching in her throat. Doreen listened. ‘Yeah that’s right, I bought it. My name you ask? It’s Doreen… Doreen Wilkinson and we live at Wentworth House…’ She gave the information like a robot, even to her own ears her voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. Clutching the phone she could not believe this was real, here she was sitting on the bog talking about winning numbers. You couldn’t make this up, she thought. ‘What? Sorry, what was that?’ Blimey, she needed to listen, not let her mind turn itself in knots, ‘Where did I buy the ticket you say? Well, it was down the road, Mister Greedy’s shop.’ Crikey why was she saying this? ‘Sorry, that ain’t right, that’s what I call him. It’s Mister Patel… Yes, yes that’s right…. Oh, that’s it then. Well, thank you. Yes, I understand. So you’re telling me, I’ll hear from you soon, OK.’ Almost too afraid to breath Doreen wondered if she had answered the questions correctly. Gawd, I’ll never sleep again. ‘Sorry... I missed that?’ Yes, yes I do have a question, I hope you don’t mind,’ Doreen’s mouth felt like it had lost all its saliva, she sucked on her tongue in desperation to moisten her mouth. ‘Sorry to ask, but do you think you could tell me how many people are sharing the prize?’ Listening Doreen licked her lips, ‘I don’t suppose you can give me some idea of what I might have won?’

  She felt cheeky asking, but it would be nice to know if it was in the hundreds. It would also confirm that it was real and they had won some money. Holding her breath, she waited and listened as someone tapped at a keyboard. It seemed to take forever and she was beginning to think she had over stepped the mark asking about what she might have won when she heard the lady speak.

  Her mouth fell open. ‘Blimey, it can’t be, surely not… Right, if you say so. Goodness, thank you.’ She felt herself sway and with her free hand gripped the side of the toilet bowl to steady herself.

  The voice on the other end of the line continued, ‘I will be in contact very soon,’ the lady said. ‘Good bye for now,’ she added.

  ‘Right, yes I’ll wait for your next call. Thank you. Thank you… thank you,’ she repeated as the call ended.

  Unable to move she handed the phone back to Trisha, ‘I ain’t feeling well, Trish, I need to get off of here, but importantly, I need something and we’ve got nothing cos we’ve guzzled the gin. Please nip down to Mr Greedy’s and get a big bottle of brandy, say nothing, just stick it on my slate, and make it snappy cos I can’t breathe. And, get me a couple of packets of my fags whilst you’re at it. I’m gonna need them.’

  Alarm filling Trisha’s face, she squealed, ‘Mama, what did they say, have we won and if so how much is it? Tell me. Tell meeee…’

  ‘Just do as I say, please, Trish,’ Doreen pleaded looking up at her daughter. Her entire body shook.

  Seeing tears pool in her mother’s eyes. ‘We can’t have got it wrong, we can’t have,’ Trisha sobbed and hugged the phone. ‘We can’t have?’ Swearing under her breath she ran out of the flat.

  Hearing the receding footstep of Trisha fleeing, Doreen pulled herself up from the toilet and on legs that had as much strength as a thin elastic band, reached over to the basin. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, she looked the same. She was still Doreen. How can that be after such a phone call?

  ‘I’m back,’ Trisha called, slamming the front door, the letter box rattling with the impact.

  Doreen was taken aback at how quick her daughter had been, she had never known Trisha move so fast. Without answering, she turned, a feeling of numbness enveloping her and, as if floating above the tatty stained carpet, she made her way back to the lounge and dropped down on the sofa.

  ‘Got it,’ Trisha gasped, holding the bottle up as if it was a trophy. Doreen stared with unblinking eyes as Trisha unscrewed the top and poured the brandy straight into the gin mug. Thrusted it into Doreen’s hand, ‘OK, Mama, now tell me what is going on and what have we won?’

  ‘You ain’t never gonna believe it.’

  ‘Try me… please!’

  ‘It don’t make sense… she said it was eleven million and a few thousand,’ she said very quietly, ‘Eleven million,’ she repeated then poured the brandy down in one gulp.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The promised phone call from the lottery came through a few hours later and Doreen found herself answering more questions.

  ‘Blimey, I thought I’d told you all this last time,’ she said, and wondered why she needed to repeat herself so much. The lady said something about a security check. ‘Sorry, but I don’t understand: what would I do with security?’ she asked and instantly regretted when told, in a clipped tone, that it was to ensure she was the rightful person to win and everything she had told them was correct. ‘Oh, right,’ she muttered, feeling she had been scolded like a naughty girl. Did they think for one minute she would make all this up and go through all the fuss for a laugh?

  She chuckled, but it was not a sound of mirth, it was the accumulation of nerves and trepidation. Blimey, she didn’t have the energy or mind for fairy stories or fraud. She could never face Mr Greedy when she was unable to settle her slate, how would she manage if she was to swindle the lottery? She scoffed at such a ludicrous thought and listened to further instructions.

  ‘A car you say? Right, yes of course we’ll be
ready and waiting. Thank you. Goodbye.’

  Still hanging on to the phone, a few seconds passed before Doreen realised the call had ended. What a performance, she thought, having only understood half of what had been said. Dropping the phone on to the coffee table, she wondered why no one warned you how complicated it would be if you won anything. She let out a giggle and at the same time pulled a cigarette from a new packet and lit it from the tab end of the one she had just finished. ‘I’m turning into a chain smoker,’ she gasped blowing a plume of smoke into the room.

  ‘The fog’s getting thicker in here,’ Trisha spluttered, waving a hand in the air in an attempt to rid the room of the fug.

  Pulling hard on her cigarette, Doreen ignored her daughter.

  ‘So in between filling your lungs with deadly nicotine, why are you giggling?’ Trisha asked stretched out on the sofa, her cheeks aglow with the brandy she had imbibed and her hand still fanning the air.

  ‘I was just thinking about all the questions. God, what it must be like to be arrested, we’re supposed to have won something not committed a crime.’

  ‘They’re only checking we’re legit,’ Trisha said sitting up. ‘I think I’ve got a headache,’ she added rubbing at her temples. ‘It’s all the smoke.’

  ‘Really, we’ll have more than a headache if we’ve got our numbers wrong,’ Doreen said, pacing the room, her cigarette smoke spiralling above her head.

  ‘We haven’t got them wrong so please sit down, Mama, you’ll wear out what’s left of the carpet,’ Trisha said, counting under breath, as her mother walked seven steps, turned and walked back.

  Doreen ignored Trisha, ‘By the way, we’ve not to tell anyone about our win, apart from immediate family.’

  Sniggering, ‘Well, that won’t be a problem,’ Trisha batted back, ‘mainly because we haven’t got any.’ She huffed as she spoke.