The Birthday Card

by Pauline Barclay

  ‘It’s supposed to be chilled,’ Trisha cried taking the bottle from Doreen.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ Doreen chimed back, ‘we need to celebrate and that dilapidated fridge of ours will take a week to cool it, let alone chill it.’

  ‘If you say so,’ Trisha said, not wanting to burst the happy bubble they were wrapped in. Gripping the bottle she was unsure how to open it without spilling the contents. Remembering she had seen bottles of bubbly opened on the television using a cloth, she took hold of the tea towel from the side of the washing up bowl and placed it over the top. No sooner had she twisted the wire basket, the cork flew out of the bottle taking with it the cloth. The cloth dropped to the floor whilst the cork ricocheted off the ceiling.

  ‘Blimey, what a sound,’ Doreen squealed clapping her hands before picking up the two glasses.

  Trisha carefully poured the lively liquid into the flutes and watched as it spilled over the sides and down her hand. ‘I’ll need to practice my technique more,’ she laughed.

  With the bottle placed on the surface top, Doreen handed over a glass to her daughter. ‘Cheers, me dears, and to our wonderful new life and never going without again,’ Mother and daughter clicked glasses.

  Doreen took a sip and snorted as the bubbles rose up her nose, spluttering, she giggled, ‘Blimey I need to get used to this.’

  A knock on the front door resonated through the flat stopping Doreen and Trisha in their tracks, their glasses held half way to their lips.

  ‘Who the hell can that be?’ Doreen said. Still clutching her glass, she headed to the front door. With her champagne flute held in one hand, Doreen pulled open the door. She stepped back in surprise.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  As the door swung open, Jan’s jaw dropped. Standing in front of her was a rosy-cheeked Doreen dazzling in a sparkly purple dress clutching a glass of bubbly.

  ‘Good God, what are you up to?’ Jan cried, her voice almost a shriek at the scene that met her. ‘I thought you were sick, dashing to the bog every two minutes, but look at you…’ she stabbed her index finger towards Doreen. ‘Like a silly mare, I’ve been worried about you so much that I thought I’d better see what’s going on cos it’s not like you to take time off work.’ Jan’s voice rose with every syllable, ‘but here you are dressed to kill and drinking! Don’t tell me that’s champers. Bleeding hell, Dor.’

  Mesmerised, Doreen missed most of the diatribe that poured out of Jan’s mouth. Not sure who was the most shocked: her for seeing Jan darkening her door, or Jan for catching her out.

  Speechless, she giggled nervously and took a sip from her glass.

  ‘Blimey, you’re the last person I’d expect banging on my door right now. Let’s not keep the neighbours amused, come on in.’

  Without a word, Jan pushed past Doreen.

  Entering the lounge, Jan came to an abrupt halt and slapping her hands on her hips, she glared at Trisha.

  ‘This is a mad house. When did you take up drinking, eh?’ Not waiting for a response, Jan rounded on Doreen as she walked into the room. ‘Whatever it is that’s going on it had better be good, believe you me. I’ve been the mug covering at Grays’ for you these last few days, working my bleeding socks off to make sure you don’t lose your job, when all the time you’re having a sodding ball.’

  Ignoring Jan’s meltdown, Doreen sat down on the sofa and patted the seat next to her. ‘Sit your arse down and give your mouth a rest. If you’ll give me a chance, I’ll tell you.’ Doreen glanced over at Trisha, whose face was aglow and her eyes bright with the pantomime taking place in front of her. ‘Trish, get Jan some of this,’ Doreen nodded at her glass. Unable to hide her mirth, Trisha scurried into the kitchen. Rummaging in the one and only wall cupboard she plucked out a glass. ‘What a circus Jan turning up and her mother all dressed up and sparkling,’ she tittered under her breath whilst rubbing her hand over the glass top to remove any marks.

  Sitting down heavily, Jan plonked herself next to Doreen. ‘Champagne! Oh my God, surely not?’ Jan stared into the kitchen and then at Doreen. ‘So what’s the occasion, because something is going down.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Doreen asked, sucking her bottom lip in an attempt not to let the cat out of the bag just yet. Though she could see from Jan’s expression she was aware something serious was going on. It was hardly surprising, seeing as her old mate had caught her drinking champagne. Imagining Jan’s confusion, Doreen giggled.

  ‘Glad you find it funny,’ Jan said, looking round the room at the untidiness. ‘This just ain’t adding up. For a starters, what you doing dressed up to the nines and looking like something out of a glittering pantomime, and if that’s not crazy enough, it looks like you’re guzzling champagne?’ Jan squawked, her voice loud enough to be heard next door. ‘I’m assuming it’s champers, and her,’ she waved her hand towards Trisha holding a large tumbler filled to the top, ‘drinking and looking very smug. Whatever it is, it’s a few bob more than old Jack left you... right?’

  Doreen nodded at her daughter, ‘Hang on a minute, love, I don’t want her spilling it all over the place.’ Turning she took in Jan’s anxious look, ‘You’ve caught us in an awkward position. I wasn’t expecting anyone to miss me enough to turn up banging on the door.’

  ‘Behave, Dor, of course you’re missed. I missed you as I’ve been doing two jobs on my own.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but it’s been crazy here…’

  ‘I can see, but a damned sight better crazy than my week, I can tell you. Anyway, hand over that glass, Trisha,’ Jan said beckoning Trisha over.

  Doreen nodded assent.

  ‘Now, if you’ll let me get a word in edgeways, I’ll tell you, but you’ll have to keep these zipped,’ Doreen ran her index finger across her lips. ‘I’m not supposed to say nothing at this stage, but I gotta tell you now you’re here.’ She took a gulp of her drink to give her courage and, glancing over the top of her glass, noticed Jan glaring at her. ‘Don’t look at me like that…’ she trailed off.

  How was she going to break such news? They had worked together long enough to understand that no matter how many hours they worked, they would never have enough money, but they would always have a laugh. Now here she was with more money than she could spend in her life. ‘You’re right about one thing, it’s more than Jack left, quite a bit more.’

  ‘It must be to be drinking this,’ Jan snorted before sipping on her drink. She pulled a face, ‘Blimey, it’s got a funny taste,’ she spluttered, the bubbles catching in her throat and up her nose. ‘Bleeding hell, Dor, you haven’t have you?’

  Doreen emptied her glass in one go, then burping loudly, ‘Oops, sorry about that, but you weren’t supposed to guess.’

  Ignoring Doreen’s manners, ‘No, no no!’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Dor, do you mean…?’

  Doreen nodded.

  ‘Bloody hell, dare I ask how much?’ Jan asked, her voice almost inaudible.

  Doreen, unable to take her eyes off of her friend, ‘I’ve only gone and won the bleedin’ lottery.’

  ‘Never!’ Jan paled. Swooning, she leaned on Doreen, her drink sloshing over the top the glass.

  Righting Jan’s glass, Doreen slipped an arm around her friend, ‘It’s a shock, I can tell you. Even with all the gallivanting we’ve had to do to sort things out, I can’t get me head round it all.’

  Jan did not move she just stared up at Trisha. ‘Bloody hell…’ she looked down at her glass, ‘Lordy, lordy, Dor. No wonder we ain’t seen you.’ Moving away from Doreen, Jan sagged against the back of the sofa.

  ‘It’s all true and tomorrow we’ll be splashing the cash, won’t we, Mama?’ Trisha said. Then muttered, ‘I wonder how I’m going to cope with all the dramatics that will unfold once the news spread.’ She raised her glass to her lips and about to take a sip of the warm champagne, she pulled a face. There was only so much she could handle and she needed to leave these two weirdos to enjoy preparing for
an Oscar. Oldies, she thought. ‘It seems you two have some catching up to do, so I’m leaving you both to chill and spill, it’s just too much for me.’

  Doreen stared at the daughter, more convinced than ever, that she spoke in a different language these days. ‘Whatever it is you want to do, I don’t want you going out, not tonight, and not until we’ve got everything sorted,’ Doreen said trying to move herself from Jan’s weight which was leaning on her again.

  ‘I’m going nowhere, just my room for now. Tomorrow we will be doing so much stepping out. Pippa toodles,’ Trisha called, drifting out of the room. ‘I just hoped I’ll not be like them when I’m their age,’ she said under her breath.

  As Doreen’s gaze followed her daughter out of the room, a surge of emotion filled her. She could never have got through everything so far without her being at her side. Tomorrow they would most certainly go wild and spend. Trisha could have whatever she wanted, she deserved it. Turning to Jan, ‘You know she’s been fantastic helping with all the questions we’ve had to answer. You’ll never know the rigmarole we’ve needed to go through over the last few days and I’m going to treat her big time.’ Doreen said interspersed with hiccups.

  ‘So how much is a jackpot?’ Jan asked and finished off her drink in one long gulp.

  ‘It’s just over eleven...’

  ‘Eleven thousand,’ Jan interrupted, ‘no wonder you ain’t been to work and looking like the cat with the cream.’

  ‘Eleven million,’ Doreen corrected.

  Jan dropped her glass. It fell on to her knee before rolling across the floor. ‘Eleven million, you mean eleven million pounds?’

  ‘Yep,’ Doreen said, her eyes glazing over as she uttered the word. ‘I won’t get it until tomorrow and then I can’t touch it until I’ve gone through all the palaver of talking to an advisor and some other bods.’

  Jan, pale faced, stared at Doreen. ‘Bleeding hell, do you realise just how much your life is about to change?’

  ‘I know. It hasn’t sunk in yet, but, Jan, you mustn’t tell a soul.’ Doreen giggled at her friend’s dumfounded expression. She had better get used to seeing faces like that, she thought, as people find out. She silently giggled at being able to take the wind out of a few people, people who would have stamped on her sooner than help her. ‘There’s going to be a big splash in the papers in a couple of days and until then I’m supposed to keep my trap shut.’

  ‘Crikey, Dor. It won’t be easy, but I’ll do my best. Blimey, when everybody hears about it they’ll be banging on your door for a handout.’

  ‘Then they’ll be bleedin’ out of luck!’ Doreen retorted. She did not want to think about what might happen once her news was broadcast. Instead, she took hold of Jan’s hand. ‘Once I can touch the money I want to help you. OK? I ain’t helping anyone else, very few have given me the time of day, but we’ve helped each other out when we had to and now it’s payback time.’

  Tears pooled in Jan’s eyes before spilling down her pale face. ‘It’s the shock,’ Jan sobbed.

  Doreen had never seen her mate cry. In fact, she had never seen Jan show any emotion apart from when she lost her temper. ‘Let me get us a top up and a ciggie,’ Doreen said patting Jan’s knee.

  Stumbling to her feet, she ignored the glass on the floor and wobbled to the kitchen. Taking hold of Trisha’s glass she topped it up along with her own and was sharply aware nothing was ever going to be the same again after today.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  ‘Oh no,’ Doreen moaned. Her head was banging and her mouth felt like the bottom of a budgie cage. She lifted her arm out from under the duvet and with as much strength as she could muster, pushed herself up on to one elbow. With blurry vision, she tried to make out the time on the bedside clock. Blinking rapidly, she managed to see it had turned eight o’clock. ‘Hell’s bells,’ she moaned, ‘surely not,’ she had an appointment with Stephanie Rawlinson that morning. Never could she see anyone in this state. She flopped down on to her pillow.

  Slowly it came back to her. She and Jan had finished the magnum of champagne and then finished off the last drops that was left in the half bottle of brandy. She grimaced. The last time she had felt this sick was after Jack’s birthday party. God knows what he would have made of last night’s carry on. Yes, she did know, he would have had a good laugh and she smiled at his memory. Her head complained and she wished she hadn’t moved her lips.

  ‘Phew, it stinks in here,’ Trisha said, standing at the door and wafting her hand in front of her face. ‘Mama, you need to be up. We have such a day ahead of us and I for one intend to make the very most of it.’ Trisha advanced towards the bed, hand over her nose, ‘Come on, out of your pit and to help you get moving, I’ve made coffee and toast,’ Trisha gazed at her mother.

  Rubbing her temples, Doreen pulled herself up. She stared at Trisha over the duvet, ‘Turn the electric heater on so we can have a drop of hot water and then could you run your mum a bath, it might get me going? Also, in the bathroom cabinet there’s some Aspirin, be a pet and get me a couple,’ she said adding a forced smile. She didn’t think for one minute a bath would make a difference, but she had to try.

  ‘What a state to be in,’ Trisha said sitting on the edge of the bed and taking in Doreen’s condition. ‘I’ll bring the coffee and toast. You can soak up the alcohol whilst I run the bath. And, as it’s a special day, I’ll squeeze in some washing up liquid for bubbles. After today you can have the real thing, whoa,’ Trisha carolled and leapt off the bed causing the mattress to sag. Doreen winced and, with envy at the energy and enthusiasm of the young, she watched her daughter sashay out of the room.

  ‘Here you are,’ Trisha declared a few minutes later, placing a plate on to the duvet with two slices of toast slathered with margarine. On the side were two Aspirins. Holding the mug of coffee out, ‘Take those pain busters, eat that toast and drink this and then your bath will be ready. Winning the lottery has turned me into your slave.’ Doreen grasped the mug, Trisha not waiting for a response, strode out of the room.

  Doreen looked down at the offerings and knew she had to do as she was told and pull herself together, not only for the meeting with Stephanie, but for her daughter. She deserved the best day out on a crazy spending spree. With these thoughts, Doreen picked up the tablets, popped them into her mouth and swigged at the black coffee. Swallowing them down, she hoped they wouldn’t return. In an attempt to ensure they didn’t, she bit into a slice of toast. She was about to have millions of pounds to spend and here she was feeling sorry for herself in a manky flat eating marg and toast. Pull yourself together, Dor, this is your dream, not your nightmare, her inner voice chastised her.

  Hearing the bath filling and the familiar fragrance of cheap washing up liquid wafting through the flat, she finished the toast and coffee. Swinging her legs out of bed, she headed for the bathroom. It would take more than a skin full of expensive champagne to ruin her day.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The smartest thing she had to wear was the dress with the purple sequins. Doreen didn’t think that was the best thing to put on for a meeting with Stephanie Rawlinson. She had spoken with her on the phone and she sounded classy, though nice, but wouldn’t she be having a client who had millions? She giggled at the thought of millions and then wished she had not, her head was not in the mood for giggling. The quick soak in the bath and the pain killers were working, but it would need a gentle approach on her behaviour to ensure her head eventually cleared.

  Looking at the dress, she smiled. It was simply fabulous and no matter what she bought in the future, this dress would always be special. She chuckled, recalling the face of the charity shop woman, Mrs Jordan, when she had plucked the dress off the rail; both were priceless, the dress and Mrs Jordan’s face.

  Fingering the dress, she thought she might go back and drop a big donation to the shop, after all it had made a fabulous day a glittering one and her donation would be for a good cause. She could now relate to the need fo
r research to help people with heart problems. Her own heart had been tested these last few days. The more she thought about it, the more she warmed to the idea of barrelling into the shop with her purse bursting at the seams and slapping a wad of notes down in front of Mrs Jordan. She could already see the shocked expression on the prim charity worker’s face.

  She attempted a giggle then decided better of it, her head needed peace for now. What she needed to do was concentrate on finding something comfortable to wear because she would be traipsing round shop after shop. Taking in her meagre wardrobe, she was left with no choice but to wear her best pair of jeans. Pulling them on, she spied the pink rugby shirt with the red sequin motif, more sparkle, she thought. It would do nicely and slipped it over her head. She pushed her feet into the trainers and with a final touch traced around her lips with bright red lippie. ‘Dor’s back,’ she called at her reflection in the door mirror then headed towards the lounge.

  ‘Bleedin’ hell,’ she cried stopping in her tracks at the sight of Jan snoring on her sofa. She had forgotten Jan had stayed the night after their little celebration. Between the drinking and smoking, they’d had a good laugh and a good cry. Trisha had gone out and brought back fish and chips. They had never tasted so good. Noticing the overflowing ashtray, it reminded her just how much they had puffed away. What a night, she thought, but it had been the perfect tonic. Now taking in her mate, she gently poked Jan, ‘Wakey, wakey!’

  Jan continued to snore under the thin blanket.

  ‘You’ve got to get up. Come on, Jan.’

  Jan stirred, ‘Dor, what are you doing here?’ she said in a croaky voice.

  ‘You silly fool, you’re still in my flat on my sofa,’ Doreen said wondering where Trisha was.

  The banging of the front door closing startled Doreen as Trisha walked into the lounge. ‘Got these, but Mr Greedy’s getting seriously bent out of shape at not seeing you,’ Trisha said, throwing a packet of cigarettes down on the coffee table. ‘He needs the slate cleared. I told him you would deal with it this week. Right?’ Pointing at the packet of cigarettes, Trisha continued, ‘I so hate you smoking, but I hate him moaning more, but as I will be so spoilt today it was worth the earache from Mr Greedy,’ she smirked. ‘There’s nothing more satisfying than seeing the old man in worry mode.’