Page 3 of The Lucky Winners
Monday
I lean against the counter in the staff room on my break, waiting for the drain of the morning to leave me. The faint smell of cheap instant coffee drifts through the air while I wait for the kettle to boil.
The door swings open, and Paige breezes in, bringing a little sunshine with her. Her dark hair is pulled back in its usual signature bun, not a strand out of place. Her tunic looks pristine, too. She always has a calm, composed air about her. I don’t know how she does it.
‘Morning!’ she sings, reaching for a mug from the rack. She gives me a quick once-over, her brow quirking. ‘Oh dear. You already look like you’ve been chewed up and spat out.’
‘I came back before I’m properly better.’ I sigh, pressing two fingers to my temple. ‘I’ve already done six blood samples, nine blood-pressure readings, and if I see another cuff today, I might scream.’
Paige gives a warm chuckle. ‘Yep, sounds familiar. Busy and mind-numbingly dull. My life in a nutshell!’
The kettle clicks and we fill our coffee mugs.
I add milk to mine and stir and we take them over to settle into the comfy chairs in the corner.
The moment feels easy, like I can let the weight of the morning slip away.
With Paige, I don’t have to hold everything together.
She makes it feel safe to let some of it out.
‘So, spill. How was your anniversary? Did it turn out to be the wildly romantic night of your dreams?’
I pull a face. ‘It was OK. Dev cooked. Burned the sauce, undercooked the pasta, but he tried his best, bless him. To be fair, the biggest problem was I felt too rough to enjoy it.’
‘Shame he didn’t take you out for dinner.’
‘Money’s a bit tight this month. We’d agreed to just give cards.’ I sigh. ‘But Dev bought a ticket for the latest DreamKey house draw. Twenty quid, Paige. Can you believe it?’
Her eyebrows rise. ‘For one ticket? I wouldn’t fancy those odds.’
‘Exactly. He might as well have just tossed the cash out of the window.’ I fold my arms, my chest tightening.
I’ve only known Paige for a couple of years, but it feels longer.
After we moved house, I left behind the friends I’d made at my old job, the ones I could grab a drink with after work or call when I needed to vent.
I’ve always liked a fresh start. But here, in a new area and new job, I had no one at first – until I met Paige.
She makes the long days at this job bearable, her sharp humour cutting through the tension and making me laugh. Back when I started, her easy warmth made me feel I belonged. I trust her and, right now, I need someone to talk to.
‘I know twenty quid’s not a fortune in the great scheme of things, but we’re scraping by as it is and … Well, I think I went on a bit about it and managed to upset him.’
‘I reckon he’s lucky you didn’t kick his arse.’
I laugh, already feeling validated. ‘I felt like it, I can tell you.’
A small frown wrinkles her forehead. She takes a sip of her coffee before setting the mug down.
‘Men,’ she mutters disparagingly. ‘My brothers get away with everything at home. My dad can’t go a day without asking if I’ve made the “right choice” in going for the nursing degree.
And Mum –’ She breaks off, her expression darkening.
‘Mum expects me to wait on them all hand and foot, like she chooses to do.’
‘I trust you’ve set her straight?’
‘I have, but I need my own place, Merri. I’m desperate. But between nursing-college fees and paying board, I can’t save anything. Not with this crappy part-time job. I’m just … stuck.’
I understand her frustration. From the cramped gloom of the staff room, I look out of the window at the bright blue sky. We’re in the same boat in a lot of ways. Both broke financially, both feeling suffocated by life.
Paige gives me a small smile. ‘At least we have each other to moan to.’
The door opens, and the senior nurse, Karen, sticks her head in. ‘Ladies, break’s over I’m afraid. You’ve both got patients waiting.’
Paige gives her a tight nod, and we make a move, our unfinished coffees abandoned. The hallway smells faintly of antiseptic as we head back to our respective rooms.
I glance at my watch, heart sinking. Only another five hours to go.
It’s almost three by the time my next break comes around, the steady rhythm of patients a background hum. I head for the staff room, glad to find it empty, and pull my phone out of my locker. I have two missed-call notifications from an hour ago.
A prickle of discomfort starts in my chest. I can’t keep ignoring these debt calls, but I haven’t got the money to pay them yet. I just don’t know what we’re going to do.