Stories by Louis Urbanowski

I’m a good friend. 

I bought the fancy biscuits, £2.60 a pack at Tesco! 

That is outrageous isn’t it? The ones that look like chocolate business cards with the funny European name. 

Decent for sure, but you’re paying for the culture aren’t you?  If it were just me, I’d plump for good old Custard Creams, they’re 60p a packet. So basically I’m better than good, I’m a premium friend, I add £2 of value to our relationship, minimum. 

‘I need you Donna,’ she said through floods of tears on the phone. 

I’m pretty good at understanding Tina’s hysteria level nowadays. When it’s a blow-up with Jason it’s a four or a five, if she’s been sacked a solid six, but this felt new – hence the biscuits – I’m going to say maybe a nine. It was enough to send a flutter through me. So here we go again, basically. 

I ring the doorbell, except it doesn’t work because she’s Tina and she still hasn’t got it fixed. Jason’s the name of a bloke that sounds like he could fix it, but in reality he’s more likely to shag the girl down the chippie and forget to buy you a battered sausage. 

I say to her all the time, Tina you need to get out of here. She’s in a horrible little council house in the bad part of town, the sort of place where you consider how valuable your wheels are. I’ve got a second hand Corsa and even then I’m still thinking I should keep it in view from her window. Well the pane which isn’t covered up with newspaper and cardboard. I catch myself reading it. Remain looks likely to win next week. Where the hell has she dug that out from? I shudder as I knock on the door. 

‘Coming, coming,’ I hear Tina from the kitchen, she’s been crying. Best friends can just tell.

The door opens and the mascara almost drips at my feet. She rubs her nose as she leans in for a hug. The perfume, stale booze and cigarettes swirl together creating a speedrun of a night out in my nostrils.   

‘How are you doing?’ As I close my eyes and breathe through my mouth.

The embrace parts as she shoves her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

‘Yeah, good,’ I’m not convinced, ‘but I need to talk to you. Come through babe.’ There’s more to this. 

She saunters off towards the kitchen. I watch her bum, they’re her good jeans, the ones she wears when she wants to make Jason jealous. 

I get a bit jealous myself. Not fair is it, genetics and stuff, no matter how much she parties she always pulls off a look. I go to the gym three times a week, and try to eat my five a day and I look like Shrek’s wife. Sometimes the ogre himself. 

‘Want a brew?’ She waves a hand at the kettle.

I go through the routine. A big sigh, followed by the immortal British line. ‘Oh go on then, stick the kettle on.’

I slap the biscuits down on the table, as if it’s gold bullion and I’m conducting a trade deal. Tina barely pays it a glance. 

‘My stomach is on one, but you help yourself.’ Tina says before rooting through the cupboards for the mugs. 

Great, I’ve bought myself expensive biscuits. Tina says something, but I’m too busy thinking about how rude it will be to take them home with me. Maybe I’ll just leave them for the next time Tina is in freefall.  

The clattering of teaspoons provides a background ambience. We do the usual small talk, the unsaid rule that you’re allowed a few bits before hearing the other person’s shit. She asks about work, about mum and dad, about my love life. I give her the same answers I always do. Fine, good, no.  

The mugs are on the table now, the steam whiffing off the top of them. I eye the unopened pack of biscuits, she doesn’t want one, I do, but I reckon I need to hear her opening salvo first before I can lean in and casually plop one out. 

‘Right so, something’s happened,’ Tina says. 

‘Okay…’ I lean in, I’m being attentive. 

‘I was out last night, with Jason and his mates.’ 

Oh he must have done something real bad this time. I notice her hand is shaking a little. 

He tried it on with me once by the way. A couple of years ago around Christmas, I pushed him away and told Tina, she just winced and walked off. Too far gone, as she often is, so it was just never spoken about again. 

‘Yeah go on…’ I nod a few times. 

‘Well anyway, you know you always say I’ve got to get out of here. Find my own place.’ 

Her and Jason rent together, but from what I can tell, he’s in control and she’s more a sub let. 

‘Oh no, is he kicking you out? Where is he, I’ll have a word.’

‘Who? Oh Jason, no, no. He went to work early this morning. No that’s not it.’

I keep my fists clenched, the idea that Tina might have to come live with me for a bit flashes across my mind.

I gesture for her to continue. 

‘It got messy. I don’t remember much.’

Oh god, what happened, might need more than biscuits. 

‘When I woke up today, I found this in my pocket.’

She fiddles in her pockets before placing a crumpled up piece of paper on the table. It looks like a receipt. 

I tilt my head slightly, and lean to pick it up. 

‘I didn’t think anything of it, but I was so hungover earlier that I could barely leave the bed. So I just typed it in, you know, for a laugh, to check it.’

‘Check?’ I’m looking at the back of the receipt, I turn it over. 

Oh.

‘I won Donna. That ticket, it’s a winner. The winner.’

It’s Lottery Ticket. 

‘What you mean like a tenner?’

‘No, it’s the jackpot winner. The unclaimed rollover from last week.’

I disassociate. The room zooms away from me, Tina is distant. This doesn’t make sense. 

There was a draw last week, it was all over the news. Hell, I even bought a ticket. It was a roll over from the week before, that’s right, and it was the fancy european lottery. Jesus, I snap back to the moment. I stare at Tina.

‘What was the jackpot?’

‘£109 million.’

I rip the packet of biscuits open and devour two.  

‘Fucking hell Tina. What the fuck?’

‘I don’t know what to do.’

‘You claim it? Have you told anyone?’

‘No, I’ve just called you in a panic, I need your help. I’m useless with this sort of stuff.’ 

She’s not wrong, she can’t even send a letter. Genuinely I have to buy her stamps and show her how it works. 

‘Go back a second, where did you find it?’

‘It was just in my pocket when I woke up today. I don’t know, I must have picked it up off the floor or something, literally no clue.’

‘You must remember, it was only a Tuesday for christ sake.’

She looked over at the cutlery draw and nodded towards it. ‘Jason got this new stuff, it’s like a MDMA Ketamine combo. He called it the rollercoaster, cos…’

‘Yeah I get it. Fucking hell Tina, this is insane.’ 

‘I can get out of here, go anywhere in fact. Live in LA, or Monaco, proper fancy life.’

‘Anywhere…’ the word bounces around my mind. 

‘Me and Jason sunning ourselves, oh god I can’t wait.’

I can’t help it, I contort my face. Tina clocks it. 

‘He’s a good guy Donna, he’s just under a lot of pressure.’

‘So is everyone! Doesn’t mean we all go around fucking whoever, and being a dick does it?’

‘I don’t want to do this now. It’s a happy day. Life starts now!’ Her stomach growls like a freight train. ‘Oh fuck, sorry just going to nip to the loo.’ 

I sit there gobsmacked. This isn’t fair, I mean I’m happy for Tina but how does this work? She doesn’t have a job, she puts up with a twat of a fella, and the golden ticket – a miracle – falls onto her skinny lap. 

There’s a lump in my throat, my shoulders feel itchy. I try to breathe deeply, it doesn’t help, all I can smell is her disgusting kitchen whilst the anger bubbles. 

I’m a good friend, I listen to her shit, I pick up the pieces, and what do I get? To be her groupie if I’m lucky, maybe she’ll break me off a fancy biscuit every now and then.

And that prick Jason, she’ll fritter it all away, but with him it will be double time. You read about it all the time don’t you, lottery winners who overdose or blow it all because they’re not clever. Tina is lovely, but she’s not the brightest bulb is she? 

I find myself standing. My brain is telling me to shut up. I walk over to the cutlery draw and open it. It’s in the corner, not even hidden, idiots. I pick up the little ball of cling film and unravel it. I can hear Tina finishing in the loo, she probably won’t even wash her hands. 

Plop. I give the tea a quick stir and sit back down. 

Tina comes back from the toilet, and beams at me. 

‘Right then, let’s plan out your brand new life over this cup of tea.’ I say to her. 

I’m a good friend, aren’t I? 

By Louis Urbanowski – Inspired by the prompt: ‘A cup of tea’