A Christmas Tale - A Short Story

A Christmas Tale 

“Are you sure you want to be spending that amount on lottery tickets?”, Dolores, the nice one in the post office asked him. He nodded. “I’m just checking because it's a lot of your pension money, if you don’t mind me saying”, Dolores said, her brow creased. “I’m sure”, he said nodding wishing he’d gotten the desk Sarah was at, she wouldn’t have noticed if his hat was on fire never mind think to pass remarks on him spending half his weekly pension on lottery cards. He took them from under the plastic counter and shoved them into the inside breast pocket of his jacket. He shuffled back out of the post office, passed the people carrying large amounts of parcels and brightly coloured plastic packets.  

Next stop was the credit union. Agnes had always insisted that they save ten per cent of their pay packets into there in case they were every in need of a loan. They’d gotten one once, for Denise’s wedding. “We can’t have half the estate thinking we are too mean or too poor to pay for a good spread”, Agnes had insisted. Tommy wouldn’t have had a say in the amount or the wedding in any case, so he signed along side Agnes, and tried not to look too shocked at the five figured sum. He’d adopted the pawn shop face his father had taught him when he was a kid. It was a sort of half nod, shoulder shrug that could mean disapproval or resigned agreement all at once. The loan was long since paid off and Agnes wasn’t around to co-sign anymore. He slid thirty euro under the counter and his prefilled form and got his usual two euro and eight cents back. 

Next stop was the church for mass. He’d be glad to rest for a few minutes, truth be told. Father Cassidy was in flying form this morning, talking about temptations. Too much chocolate everywhere he’d said. Nothing wrong with a bit of chocolate, Tommy thought, he might even treat himself to a bar in the supermarket afterwards. It would be nice and sweet after dinner. Father Cassidy mentioned gambling and Tommy sat up a bit straighter. “One of the worst temptations of all”, Father declared. Tommy was nearly beginning to wish he hadn’t stopped for the rest, the lottery tickets seemed to feel warm against his chest, as if they too could feel shame. He found himself dozing off after that, only to awake for Holy Communion. He shuffled up to the altar along with the other pensioners. And then back to his seat again.  

After mass he picked up a handsome looking wreath from the florist outside that was sometimes there. He wasn’t sure what Agnes might make of the big red bow but he liked it, it was very Christmassy. He carried it to her grave and put it down. Someone had placed a new pot on her grave, Tommy guessed it was Dolores. Sure who else could it have been? Amanda and Gerry were in Australia so that ruled them out. “I’m trying to win big Agnes”, he told her. Not that she could hear him. Or maybe she could. Sometimes he’d imagine hearing her in the house. A step on the stairs might creak and he’d forget what year it was for one moment and think she was coming down to get his bit of tea ready. He sighed and bent down to straighten up the wreath. Agnes had always liked things just so. He thought for a minute he might not be able to straighten up again but he did and let out a big sigh. 

He made his way slowly down the hill towards the library. He only bought newspapers on the weekends now preferring to read them in the library. They were free in there and no one else seemed to read them so the copy was always fresh. He stopped at the tea shop which was really the oddest little place. It was a horsebox that had been turned into a sort of shop where people stopped to get a tea or coffee “to go”. He didn’t really have a choice with the whole “to go” business because there was nowhere “to stay”. He pointed that out the first time he’d bought tea from Julie. She’d looked confused at first and then laughed loudly and said she got it. “What’ll it be today Tommy?”, she asked “Latte, Hot Chocolate, Americano?”. “Tea will do me rightly”, he said. “I have it all ready for you”, Julie smiled and moved it across the counter to him. “Thank you”, he said and passed her five euro. When she gave him the change he popped it in the tip jar. “You have to stop doing that”, she said with scolding look that he knew wasn’t serious. “Best tea I have all day”, he said and nodded to her as he took his tea “to go”. 

The library was always warm and his favourite table was free. You weren’t supposed to eat or drink in there with Mairead never gave out to him. He started to read the second newspaper and sipped his tea which by now had cooled down enough for him to drink. The first article was so graphic that he nearly spat out his tea. He quickly turned the page. Not for the first time he wondered why someone never made a “good news” newspaper. He looked at his watch, it was nearly half eleven. Still plenty of time to read more. He looked at the next story, another stabbing. He closed the paper. He was glad now he hadn’t paid for the copy, nothing but bad news. “Would you like one? I made them fresh this morning?”, Mairead said offering him a shortbread biscuit. You could tell they were home made on account of them being all different shapes and sizes. “I’d love one, thank you Mairead. Your husband is a lucky man”, he told her. “He surely is”, she said sighing. Tommy thought he best not mention her husband again. 

Supermarket was next on his list. And his least favourite part of the day. He hadn’t been the same since before Agnes passed. They’d gotten rid of those traffic lights at the doorways now and those plastic walls at the tills but still it never went back to how it had been before. He got a small trolley as it was easier to lean on it and not have to carry a basket. Even milk seemed to weigh a ton these days. He made his way around the store, checking his list every few minutes to be sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. He got his fruit, his brown bread, milk, cottage cheese, cheddar cheese, yoghurts. Now the nurse couldn’t say he was lacking calcium he thought triumphantly. Then he spotted Killian’s favourite biscuits, chocolate chips and popped them in too. He got some fish from the fish counter and a few slices of turkey from the meat counter. He’d get meat from the butchers tomorrow, this would do for today. 

 “Self-service is free”, the smiling man said to him as he waited in line for the only till with a person on it. “No thanks”, he said firmly and waited his turn. The young man behind the till scanned through his food in no time, “You got your superpoints card?”, he asked. “My what?”, Tommy said. “Your superpoints card”, the man said a little impatiently. “Here he can have mine”, the woman behind him said and thrust her phone to the man behind the till. Tommy nodded her a thanks. “You are so welcome”, she said patting him on the arm. Agnes wouldn’t have liked that, she used to get jealous if he was too friendly with strange woman. Not that it mattered much now of course. He took his change from the young man and stuffed the notes into his wallet and the change into his pocket. He returned the trolley to the row of them outside the shop and made his way home. 

It was nearly lunchtime now, his stomach told him before he’d even got the kettle turned on. He set up a plate of turkey slices and buttered some bread. All to be washed down with a cup of tea in front of one of his favourite programmes. It was the Antiques Roadshow today, a repeat, but he didn’t mind that. It was the reactions of the people he enjoyed, especially when the items being valued were worth way more than had been expected. Tommy patted his chest pocket again thinking of the lottery cards. He got up and laid them out one by one on the dining room table and the two eighty euro in coins to help scratch them. He was feeling tired now, he’d tackle them after a little nap in his favourite chair. 

“Grandad, I’ve made you a cup of tea”, a gentle voice woke him up. The light in the room had changed, it was late afternoon. “Killian”, he said he knew the voice of his grandson anywhere. “What time is it?”, he said letting his eyes adjust. “Nearly four now, got late out of school today. Do you want me to make you some dinner?”, Killian asked. He was getting taller by the day that boy and was growing a moustache, either by design or by default. It wasn’t Tommy’s place to ask. “What’s with all the cards on the table, Grandad?”, Killian asked gesturing to the dining room. “Felt lucky today so thought I’d try my hand”, Tommy told him and slowly got up and stretched. “Want to give me a hand scratching them?”. Killian nodded. 

For an hour they’d slowly scratched their way through over two hundred euro worth of cards. Todays purchase hadn’t been the only one. The light had been turned on to help Tommy see a bit better. They’d laughed and groaned and cursed when they’d been one star or one amount shy of a decent win. Each card was double checked to be sure. Killian made a pile of the winners and they’d added them up eagerly. “One hundred and four euro, four free cards and three entries for a grand prize”, Killian declared, “That’s good isn’t it Grandad?”. “Not too bad,not the win I was hoping for though”, Tommy said. “Why did you want to win for Grandad? If you need money I can get some out of my account for you”, Killian offered. “And no your money is your own but you are very kind to offer”. 

“I was thinking it would be a nice present for your mam for Christmas, pay off her house and that. You know. So she wouldn’t have to work so hard”, Tommy said.  “Ah dad, you big old eejit”, Denise said from behind them, “I love you”. “Ah mam, don’t be crying”, Killian said. “I’m not crying, it’s cold outside that’s all”, she said and hugged her father. “I’ll put a bit of dinner on for you”, she said and kissed his head. “Please tell me it’s not fish again”, Killian said. “I brought a cooked chicken from the butchers. And they had those little potatoes you bought like too”, Denise said, “Give me five minutes. You pair clear up this and Killian you set the table”. Tommy and Killian. The pair of them began putting everything away. Tommy put the lottery tickets on the shelf, maybe they might win the big prize yet, he’d have a word with Agnes he thought watching Denise in the kitchen. He was a lucky man already though, he knew that.  

 A little Christmas tale inspired by my late father who did try to win big for us in the lotto but never did win.