Lucky Break

by Rob Stevens

  ‘Hmmm.’ I nodded. ‘By the way – and this is not meant as a criticism. More of an observation really. I mean I’m no expert by any means so …’

  ‘Get on with it,’ Arnold said.

  ‘Well, I was thinking you could have been a bit more tactful about the smell.’

  ‘I didn’t know it was coming from him, though. I thought something had died.’ Arnold jogged a few steps ahead and turned to face me. ‘Why didn’t you tell him about the chicken in his beard anyway?’

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t want to embarrass him, I suppose.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be more embarrassing for him to go around all day with food on his face?’

  I didn’t have a good answer to that so I changed the subject. ‘And I think it would have been more polite just to thank him for offering to help us – instead of scoffing at the idea.’

  ‘It was a crazy suggestion, though. How is he supposed to help anyway?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I made a quizzical face. ‘But even when you think someone has said something ridiculous, you don’t have to tell them so. It’s sometimes more polite just to nod and say something like, “That’s an interesting idea,” or “I’ll bear it in mind”. Or even just say nothing. That way they’ll think you’re taking them seriously even though you’ve already dismissed what they said as utter rubbish. It’s kinder that way.’

  Arnold looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he smiled and said, ‘That is an interesting idea.’

  ‘I’m just trying to help,’ I said.

  ‘I know.’ Arnold nodded. ‘I’ll bear it in mind.’

  I needed the loo so I nipped back into the café. When I came out Arnold was exactly where I’d left him, staring at the sky.

  ‘Do you still want to go to the arcade?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Arnold said and we started walking together. ‘We can spend some of the money in the wallet.’

  ‘I thought you said you didn’t have any money.’

  ‘I didn’t. But I do now.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘A man just gave it to me.’

  ‘A man just gave you some money?’

  ‘No. Why would a man just give me some money? That would be too weird.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘So why did you suggest it?’

  ‘Because you just said a man gave it to you.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I’m confused. Did a man give you some money or not?’

  ‘Yes and no.’

  I stopped walking. Arnold stopped too and I gave him a serious stare. He seemed to know I was being serious because he swallowed slowly and pursed his lips.

  ‘OK,’ I said slowly. ‘Imagine I’m a total idiot …’

  ‘That won’t be too hard.’

  ‘Very funny. Imagine I’m a total idiot and explain to me as simply as you can how you had no money when we left my house but you do now.’

  Arnold nodded seriously. ‘So – when you were in the toilet a man came up to me and handed me this wallet.’

  Arnold held up a black leather wallet like a referee showing a yellow card.

  ‘Out of the blue?’

  ‘The blue what?’

  ‘Did he say anything?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I waited. Arnold blinked.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Fine thanks.’

  ‘I don’t mean are you well?’ I was starting to get frustrated. ‘I mean well, what did he say?’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Arnold rolled his eyes towards the sky. ‘As he was walking past, he stopped and picked up this wallet which was on the pavement, right by my feet. He handed it to me and said, “Excuse me, son – I think you’ve dropped your wallet.”’

  ‘What did you do then?’

  ‘I took it off him.’

  ‘Was it your wallet?’

  Arnold looked confused. ‘No.’

  ‘So why didn’t you tell the man it wasn’t yours?’

  ‘Well, he seemed so sure it was mine, I thought it would be more polite to say nothing.’

  ‘We have to hand it in,’ I said. ‘We’ll go past the police station on the way to the arcade.’

  Arnold looked disappointed. ‘It’s got loads of money in it.’

  ‘We can’t take the money, Arnold. It’s not ours.’

  ‘Not even some of it?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘What about the tickets?’ he asked. ‘Can we keep them?’

  ‘What tickets?’

  Arnold beamed eagerly. ‘Six tickets to the rugby match tomorrow.’

  I knew it would have been wrong to take the tickets. That was a no-brainer. The tickets belonged to someone else. Fact.

  ‘Show me,’ I said.

  From a black leather wallet Arnold produced the tickets – about the size of five-pound notes. He fanned them out like a game-show host showing off a cash prize. I reached for them then withdrew my hand sharply. I knew if I held them it would have been even more difficult to do the right thing and hand them in.

  ‘Where are the seats?’ I asked.

  ‘Aren’t they all in the stadium?’ Arnold frowned. ‘Facing the pitch?’

  ‘I mean which block and what row?’

  He peered at the tickets. ‘Block twenty. Row P. Seats fifteen to twenty.’

  That was pretty much bang on the halfway line. My first thought was Lenny is going to be stoked! How long before my brain stopped playing this cruel trick on me? The false joy of that idea was short-lived. Immediately my mind lurched into reality – Lenny would have been so stoked. That thought was pure sadness, dipped in regret and rolled in anger.

  ‘We can’t keep them,’ I said, anger leaking into my voice.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because they’re not ours.’ It had also occurred to me that whoever they belonged to might go to the stadium for the match and explain they’d lost their tickets and it would be really embarrassing if they found my family sitting in their seats. Getting thrown out of the ground was hardly the sort of experience I was hoping for. I didn’t mention this to Arnold though because I was quite enjoying the view from the moral high ground.

  ‘Can we at least take some of the money then?’ he asked.

  ‘No, Arnold. That’s not ours, either.’

  Arnold peered into the wallet. ‘There’s loads in here. We could take enough for the tickets and no one would notice.’

  ‘That would be stealing,’ I said. ‘Anyway, we’ve got enough money for the tickets. If they’re available. Has that lady from the ticket office rung you yet?’

  Arnold checked his phone. Shook his head.

  ‘Never mind. It’s still early. Let’s hand in the wallet then go to the arcade.’

  It was only a few minutes’ walk to the police station and Arnold spent the whole time complaining about handing in the wallet. As far as he could see, the man telling him it was his wallet meant that it was his wallet. Arnold seemed to think that was a much stronger argument than the fact that he knew for sure it wasn’t his wallet.

  He was still muttering in protest as we approached the drab concrete slab that was the local police station. The door had a panel made of glass, reinforced with a crisscross of wires. Something had punched a spider’s web of cracks into the bottom corner. I pushed open the door and we approached the desk.

  ‘What can I do for you two troublemakers then?’ asked the desk sergeant. She had a square chin and thick eyebrows, one of which was raised. Her hair was black and cut in a straight fringe. She reminded me of a Lego figure.

  ‘We haven’t made any trouble,’ said Arnold.

  ‘We found a wallet,’ I said.

  The sergeant leaned her elbows on the desk. Her arms, which were folded, were fat and pink like two joints of ham. ‘Well, well,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Where did you find it?’

  Arnold and I exchanged a glance.

  ‘Just in Chambers Park,’ I said sort of shrugging vaguely. I don’t know why I lied. There
was something about the sergeant’s uniform and her stern expression that made me feel weirdly guilty – like I had something to hide. It just seemed less suspicious to have found a wallet full of money in a field rather than some man giving it to Arnold. My answer would have been perfectly believable too if, at exactly the same time, Arnold hadn’t said, ‘A man gave it to me.’

  The sergeant’s second eyebrow rose to join the first near the top of her forehead. She straightened up and looked down at us, her chins multiplying as her mouth opened.

  ‘Come on now, lads,’ she said. ‘Which is it to be? Did you find the wallet in the park or did someone give it to you?’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ I said, acting like I’d only just remembered what actually happened. ‘That’s right. Someone gave it to us.’

  The tip of the sergeant’s tongue popped out of her mouth as she scribbled some notes on a pad.

  ‘Have you looked inside it?’ she asked, looking up from her notes.

  I felt my heart racing again. ‘We may have glanced inside,’ I said, waving a hand as if to suggest it was barely worth mentioning.

  Arnold nodded. ‘There’s three hundred and fifteen pounds in cash, a credit card, a debit card, a dry-cleaning ticket and a Starbucks loyalty card. Oh, and six tickets to the rugby match tomorrow – block twenty, row P, seats fifteen to twenty.’

  The sergeant turned to me and puffed out her cheeks. ‘Sounds like someone glanced inside very thoroughly indeed.’

  I smiled and swallowed hard.

  The sergeant glared at me and when she spoke her voice came out burbling with menace. ‘Do you have any idea how long you can go to prison for lying to a police officer?’

  I felt the blood drain from my cheeks – but before I could answer the sergeant winked at me. ‘Don’t look so worried, laddie – I’m only kiddin’ you on. You’re not exactly the Kray twins now, are you?’

  I managed a smile and a relieved laugh escaped my mouth.

  ‘We’re not even brothers,’ Arnold offered sincerely.

  ‘I’ll let you into a little secret,’ the sergeant whispered. ‘I’m not as scary as I look. This uniform makes me seem way stricter than I really am. Underneath this official exterior I’m just a normal lady, so just relax. Truth is I like you two lads. You’re doing something good here today. If everyone was as honest as you two, the world would be a much better place.’

  Arnold and I gave our names (our real ones) and mobile numbers. The police officer told us her name was Sergeant McIntosh. Arnold explained in more detail about how he’d been waiting for me outside Starbucks when a man had noticed the wallet on the floor, picked it up and handed it to him.

  ‘Did it occur to you to tell him it wasn’t your wallet?’ Sergeant McIntosh asked.

  Arnold shook his head. ‘Leon told me it was more polite to just say nothing – even if you know someone is talking rubbish.’

  I smiled awkwardly. ‘That advice made a lot more sense at the time.’

  ‘I’m sure it did,’ Sergeant McIntosh smiled and made some more notes. ‘When you glanced inside the wallet, did you happen to see the name on the bank cards?’

  ‘Mr C. J. Miller,’ said Arnold.

  ‘And you didn’t think to ask in Starbucks whether Mr Miller was inside – unaware that he’d dropped his wallet?’

  I realised that would have been a pretty smart thing to have done. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Sorry.’

  She scribbled some more. ‘What happens now?’ I asked.

  ‘Now?’ Sergeant McIntosh puffed out her cheeks again. ‘Now I’ll call one of my constables to take you down to the torture chamber.’

  I knew immediately Sergeant McIntosh was winding us up again and I smiled at her joke. She tried her best to keep a straight face, but when she saw the look of horror on Arnold’s face she burst into hysterical laughter.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Arnold asked.

  ‘The look on your face, laddie,’ Sergeant McIntosh wheezed, her round cheeks bright pink now. Wiping a tear from her cheek she continued, ‘I’m sorry. That was a wee bit cruel. There aren’t many laughs working in a place like this, but that was a good one.’

  Arnold waited until the police officer’s laughter had stopped. ‘Seriously,’ he said … seriously. ‘What happens now?’

  ‘Right, yes,’ Sergeant McIntosh stood up straight and laced her fingers together on the desk. ‘Seriously – we will contact Mr Miller and tell him his wallet has been handed in to us. I’m sure he’ll be extremely grateful to you both.’

  ‘Do you think there will be a reward?’ Arnold asked boldly.

  ‘A reward?’ Sergeant McIntosh raised her thick eyebrows. ‘Possibly, I don’t know. I suppose it depends how grateful Mr Miller is to you both.’

  I nodded, feeling slightly awkward about asking for a reward. After all that wasn’t the reason we’d handed in the wallet in the first place. But I wasn’t surprised that Arnold was feeling none of my discomfort.

  ‘If he does want to thank us,’ he pressed. ‘Could you ask if we can have his tickets to the rugby match tomorrow? We only need five, actually, so he could keep one.’

  ‘I’m not sure he’s going to be quite that grateful,’ Sergeant McIntosh chuckled. ‘I was thinking he might be grateful to the tune of about ten quid each.’

  ‘Oh,’ Arnold replied. ‘I don’t think I know that tune?’

  ‘Both keen rugby fans, are you?’ Sergeant McIntosh enquired.

  I nodded.

  ‘Leon and his twin Lenny used to play in their school rugby team together. But Lenny was killed a year ago and Leon’s mum won’t let him play any more.’

  ‘Slightly more information than Sergeant McIntosh was expecting,’ I muttered.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Leon,’ Sergeant McIntosh said. ‘My brother and I used to play rugby in the garden when we were kids. He went on to play at a much higher level than me but I like to think I taught him everything he knows.’

  The police officer smiled and winked at me. I nodded gratefully.

  A few minutes later Sergeant McIntosh had finished filling out her paperwork on the wallet and told us we were free to go. She thanked us again for our honesty and wished us a safe afternoon.

  ‘I’ll contact you if anything comes up in the reward department,’ she said as I pulled open the door with the spider’s web crack. ‘But don’t hold your breath.’

  It was a relief to get outside into the cold fresh air after the stuffy police station.

  ‘Why would we hold our breath?’ Arnold asked. ‘We’d suffocate within about five minutes, then the reward would be no good to us.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said, taking a deep breath. ‘Come on then.’

  ‘Come on what?’

  ‘Last one to the pier’s a loser.’ I tapped Arnold’s chest with the back of my hand and legged it.

  I could hear the loose sole on Arnold’s shoe flapping behind me as I pelted across the paved avenue leading up to the pier. The sky was clear and a salty breeze was blowing my hair off my forehead. Lenny and I used to race everywhere. He was always faster than me – but only just. Mum didn’t like me running anywhere now because, ‘You’re not careful enough if you’re charging around …’ But it felt good racing Arnold. Not because I was faster than him. There was just something pure and natural about running as fast as you can.

  I slapped my hand on the wall next to the entrance to the arcade. Arnold staggered to a halt next to me and doubled over.

  ‘I win,’ I gasped, pinching my sides.

  ‘You’re a loser.’

  ‘You had a head start,’ he said, beaming.

  ‘If you snooze you lose.’

  Arnold crouched down to inspect his trainers. The loose sole had come away even further now. When he pulled the toecap up I could see all his toes inside the thick green sock.

  ‘Let’s see if we can win some money on the slots,’ I suggested.

  Arnold nodded eagerly. ‘I love playing the fruit machines.’

&nb
sp; He led me into the arcade. The atmosphere inside was totally different to the wide-open peacefulness outside. It was dark and crowded and noisy. I followed Arnold past rows of people standing in front of machines. Eagerly feeding coins into slots or staring intently at screens, they seemed mesmerised. Garish lights flashed in the gloom, briefly lighting their zombie-like faces. Joysticks rattled and bells rang and levers cranked and coins kerchinged.

  We went straight to the cashier. I had a five-pound note left from my twenty, which I changed into ten-pence pieces. Even if we lost the lot we’d still have enough money between us to buy the tickets – if they were available. I followed Arnold as he prowled the arcade in search of a free fruit machine.

  ‘Here’s one!’ I said, raising my voice above the whoowhoo-whoo coming from a pinball machine.

  Arnold shook his head. ‘Not that one,’ he said. We rounded the corner and he pointed to a fruit machine being played by an old lady in a smart red coat and black felt hat. ‘We want to play that one.’

  ‘Why don’t we just play one of these?’ I asked, nodding at the free machines further along the row. Arnold shook his head. Folding his arms he stood right behind the old lady, like he was queuing to use a cash machine. ‘Nine is my lucky number and this is the ninth machine in this row.’

  Glancing to his right Arnold spotted something that made him grab my wrist. He nodded towards a large figure strolling towards us. ‘Here comes the security guard,’ he said from the corner of his mouth. ‘Just act natural.’

  Acting natural was exactly what I had been doing. In fact, acting natural had seemed like the most … well, natural thing in the world to do. Right up to the point where Arnold told me to act natural. From that moment on, I discovered that acting natural was the most impossible thing in the whole world.

  I tried folding my arms but for some reason they kept coming unfolded. Hands on hips felt too aggressive – like I was waiting for a scrap. I tried leaning casually against a fruit machine but it was further away than I’d anticipated so I ended up stretched out at about forty-five degrees to the floor. When I tried to stand upright again I pushed too hard on the machine and it rocked back slightly. Unfortunately it was the exact moment the security guard was passing right behind me.