Second Hand

Written for https://lifeafter50forwomen.com/category/what-do-you-see/

His apartment, overlooking the ocean, seemed like a good idea when he won a million pounds on the lottery. Yet, all his childhood mates still lived on their old estate, in similar two up, two down sort of houses. When he first splashed out his cash, it was on pints of lager and a plate of sandwiches.

Second-hand clothes, or hand-me-downs, were a normal part of life. He never went hungry; even if she did occasionally. Working as a cleaner, she was always there to pick him up from school. Made sure he looked smart. What would she say about his rise in fortune?

Probably that mates never took you for the money you could loan them. False company. Not proper friends, who would share a kebab after a night on the town or spend an afternoon at the footie, putting the world to rights.

He picked his new Galaxy mobile from his pocket; with all his old contacts hidden amongst the new. George? Would he answer his call? There was a match on today, and he didn’t wish to go alone. Not again.

It rang for longer than it should, but he couldn’t hang up. It stopped, and he thought he had hung up.

‘Hello? Don’t recognise the number? Look, I don’t take cold calls.’

‘It’s me, Jack. I was wondering, we ain’t seen each other in a while, and I’ve a spare ticket.’

‘Not sure …’

‘I’m sorry, and you’ve every right to be angry.’

‘Not angry. A little disappointed. I don’t care about your money. Never did. I’ll join, but on one condition. I don’t want your tickets, you can share mine. We will eat a stale pie, and have a drink after.’

‘Meet you at the same place, but the kebab is on me.’

‘Too right.’

Jack smiled, and coiled his Manchester United shirt around his neck – Money would always be part of his life, but his mates were the true treasure.