Lucky Freddie

Alarm’s going off…WAKE UP!! Fred rolled out of bed and scratched his head. The alarm beeped one more time and he slapped it off. He rose slowly, rubbing his thighs vigorously to get the blood flowing. Hmm…funny dream about Mum…gotta call Mum!! Fred rubbed his eyes now to get the vision flowing. His floor was covered in clothes and who-knows-what-else? but he shuffled deftly over to the dresser and thumbed the corner of the little black book. Printed on its cover was a funny word. Mole-skyne…Mole-skeen…gotta call Mum…Mum would know how to say it. Gotta brush my teeth first!!

Fred ambled off to the bathroom, lifting his feet a little now. He brushed his teeth and splashed some water on his face, using his fingers to smooth his bushy eyebrows. A handsome young man, Mum would say…time to call Mum…gotta get the paper!! Fred went back into his bedroom. Gotta wear a nice shirt when you go out of the house…I’m going to wear this light blue one with buttons down the front…that’s a nice shirt!!

Fred locked the front door and rattled it three times to be sure. He put the house key safely in his top shirt pocket and held the little pile of coins in his trouser pocket as he headed off up Cottesloe Rd. As Fred passed from the morning sun into the cool shade of the awning at the newsagency, he felt as clear as the sky. Gotta get the paper and gotta call Mum!!

Fred grabbed his newspaper from the pile near the entrance and glanced at the image on the front cover. That lady must be a politician or a superstar!! Fred approached the counter in the back of the old newsagency and soaked in the smell of the magazines, greeting cards and exercise books. It was sweet and sour, but not like the sweet and sour soup Fred sometimes ordered at Chinese takeaway. Fred said hello to Mr Quinn. Mr Quinn replied:

“Good morning, Fred, how’s the weather treating you?”

“Not too bad, Mr Quinn. I’m wearing a nice shirt today and I’m feeling nice.”

“Well, that’s very nice indeed. Will it just be the paper this morning?”

Fred pulled the pile of coins carefully from his pocket and dropped them onto the counter. Fred’s eyes twinkled as they met Mr Quinn’s and the old newsagent began slowly counting off the coins required to cover the cost of the paper, sliding them from Fred’s half of the counter over to his. Mr Quinn continued:

“That’s $2.60. The rest is yours for a rainy day.”

“Well, if it’s a rainy day I’ll bring my umbrella!”

“Wouldn’t want your paper getting wet!”

“No, Mr Quinn.”

“Well, have a good one, Freddie!”

Fred was about to return the salutation and be on his way when his eyes happened upon the Scratchie tickets lined up in their cheery columns.

“I’ll just get a $2 ticket, Mr Quinn.”

“Are you sure your Mum would want you gambling, Freddie boy?”

“It’s just a $2 ticket and besides, I’ll do it right here in front of you.”

“Very well. You know you don’t actually need to do it here?”

“But what if I win?”

“Well, if you win, you come back here, and I help you get your prize money.”

“No, Mr Quinn. I mean, how do I know if I win?”

“Ah – well, why don’t you just have a scratch and see how you go?”

The two gents completed the second transaction and now Mr Quinn casually served Maggie, the lady from the school tuckshop, as Fred shifted to the side of the counter and politely used one of his coins to scratch away. Maggie touched Fred on the arm and said good morning as she finished her gossip with Mr Quinn. Fred bade Maggie a good morning too then turned back to his ticket.

“Here, Mr Quinn. Put it in the machine and tell me if I’m a winner!”

Mr Quinn took the ticket from Fred and peered at it.

“I don’t need to scan this one, Freddie boy, you’re a winner!”

“I’m a winner?”

“You’re a winner!”

“I’m a winner?!”

“Yes, Freddie! Lucky you!”

“Lucky me, Mr Quinn! This is great! This is great, great, great!”

“Do you want to know how much you won?”

“How much did I win?”

“$20000. That’s a lot of money, Freddie!”

“How much is that, Mr Quinn?”

“It’s enough to buy a new car, Freddie!”

“But I don’t drive, Mr Quinn!”

The old newsagent, still grinning from ear to ear and waving Fred’s ticket around, came out from the door at the end of the counter and thrusted his hand out towards Fred for a handshake. A little surprised, Fred put his hand out and Mr Quinn grabbed it before giving Fred a rough hug around the shoulder.

“Your Mum would be happy, wouldn’t she, Freddie?!”

“Oh, you’re right, Mr Quinn! I’ll tell her I’m a winner!”

“Well, how about I take this ticket down to the bank, do a little paper-man magic, and then I’ll stop by your place later this arvo?”

“That sounds great, Mr Quinn. Thank you, Mr Quinn.”

“Have a good day and see you later!”

Fred left with a spring in his step and headed a little further down Cottesloe Rd to see Mrs Nguyen at the bakery and get his special – thickly-sliced white bread with sesame seeds baked into the golden-brown top. Fred placed the rest of his well-kept coins on the counter. Mrs Nguyen deftly scooped up $2 worth of coins whilst chatting chirpily with Fred, then left him his change and his bread and turned to her next customer. Fred headed home for tea and toast.

Gotta call Mum and tell her about Mr Quinn…and the money…but what if she gets mad because I was gambling? I will tell her I was gambling. Yes!! I’ll tell her I am very sorry I was gambling but I’m going to give her half my money…no wait, all of it!!

Fred passed through the pretty garden gate and saw Marissa. She returned down the path from the doorstep and greeted Fred:

“Hi Fred, how are you today? Sorry, I’m a bit early this morning and I thought I’d just see if you were around!”

“That’s no problem, Marissa. I would have been here to see you, but I was down the road. I got my paper, and I got my bread, and I gotta call Mum.”

“Of course, Fred. Shall we go inside, and I’ll start making your tea and toast?”

“Yes, thank you, Marissa. I’ve got the key in my top shirt pocket.”

“Well, here, I’ll hold your bread and paper and you can open the door.”

“Thank you, Marissa. Then I’ve gotta call Mum.”

After they went inside, Marissa left Fred’s paper on the coffee table, thrust open the curtains, and went into the kitchen with Fred’s special bread. Fred went into his bedroom and retrieved the little black book from his dresser. He came back to the now-illuminated living room and picked up his paper. Gotta read the paper and gotta call Mum. Fred was still perusing the front page when he heard Marissa coming with his tea and toast. Marissa had also made herself a cup of tea, as Fred always insisted, and they sat and talked. Wiping a few crumbs from his stubbly chin, Fred polished off the last of his tea and picked up the little black book. He said to Marissa:

“I’m ready to call Mum now. Can you please help me call Mum?”

She smiled and replied:

“Of course, Fred. Pass me your book and I’ll put the number in on my phone.”

Marissa turned to the inside cover of the book and held it so that Fred could watch her place her finger delicately below each number as she softly spelled out the contact info which she had neatly printed there once upon a time.

“Okay, Fred. Dialling Mum.”

Fred was on the edge of his seat. He couldn’t wait to tell Mum how he’d won the money. When she answered the phone, her voice was as fragile as flower petals, but also as beautiful.

“Hi, you’ve reached Vera. I’m not around anymore, but Fred, if this is you, just know that your mother will always be with you. I love you, my handsome young man.”

The line cut to an automated message and Marissa hung up. She looked at Fred as she always did, strong and supportive. Fred looked at her weakly, then shrugged. Mum’s not around anymore.

Marissa encouraged Fred to pick his paper up again and started tidying the house. After she’d set the washing machine, she came back out to the living room and sat opposite Fred, poised. Fred started speaking to her as soon as she’d sat down.

“If Mum’s not around anymore what am I gonna do with the money?”

“What money?”

“I was a winner at the newsagent this morning, but I was gambling so I wanted to give the money to Mum because I shouldn’t be gambling but Mum’s not around anymore.”

“Fred, you didn’t tell me! Congratulations, mate! How much did you win?”

“20…20…”

“$20? $20000?!”

“Yes! $20000!”

“Oh my, Fred, that’s wonderful. That’s enough to buy a new car!”

“But—"

“Oh, sorry Fred. Well, what do you want to spend the money on?”

“I don’t know, Marissa!”

“Okay, firstly, you don’t actually need to spend it. You can save it if you want. Go on a holiday? Buy yourself a new couch or something? You’ll figure something out!”

“Mr Quinn is bringing the money this afternoon.”

“Okay – and who’s Mr Quinn?”

“The old paper-man.”

“Right. Well, I’m going to make a note in the book. Either me or Therese will follow up with you in the next couple of days to make sure you and your money are safe.”

Fred gave her a puzzled look, then resigned; he was grateful Marissa always knew what she was talking about. She made a quick note in the Moleskine diary then stowed it on the spotless kitchen counter.

“Alright Fred, time to get ready for bowls soon.”

“Okay, thank you, Marissa.”

As Marissa and Fred puttered over to the bowls club, Fred had a grand idea. He’d been gazing out the window when it came to him like a strike of lightning. Garden!! He said excitedly:

“Marissa! I’m going to use the money to make a garden for Mum. She’s going to love it.”

“I’m sure she will absolutely adore it, Fred.”

Later that evening, Fred sat patiently on his doorstep. The last tongues of light were lashing tin rooves and eucalyptus trees as lorikeets chattered noisily, playing their colourful games in the warm air. An old maroon ute with yellowed headlights pulled up in the driveway and an old man got out. Mr Quinn!! Fred hauled himself up as Mr Quinn hurried over to meet him. He held a slip of paper in his hand. Fred started trying to figure out what was going on, but Mr Quinn held his hands up and said:

“Fred, good news!”

“Mum’s not around anymore.”

“Fred, your Mum was an incredible woman, and I don’t think it’s fair to say she’s not around when her handsome young man is still doing her proud about town. Listen, I went to the bank and talked to Anita. She got in touch with your State Guardian and they’ve approved the transfer. I thought you might need to sign or something, but they said not to worry. They had a note about you in a little black book. The money’s yours, Freddie boy. Here’s the slip to prove it. Winners are grinners!”

Mr Quinn put his hand out to shake Fred’s hand once more and as Fred took it, he asked Mr Quinn in for tea and biscuits. Mr Quinn roared:

“A 20-grand idea!"

Gotta make a garden for Mum!!