‘With friends like this’ By Dean O. Arutoghor

‘With friends like this’ By Dean O. Arutoghor ©

A silence fell over the three ladies as they hovered over the stash of money in the dusty old trinket box they had just stumbled upon under a pile of rubbish beneath the old woman’s bed.

Grinning mischievously, Lucy nudged Mel. Mel looked at Christina to her right. Christina shook her head sternly. Mel had been working long enough with both women in their painting and decorating company that catered exclusively to women to know exactly what they were thinking without a single word being exchanged.

As she wavered though, Lucy whispered encouragingly into Mel’s ear: ‘What are we waiting for? The old dear probably has forgotten about it. She won’t miss it…’

‘How can she not miss it? There must be at least five grand in here,’ Mel retorted, trying not to raise her voice in case she drew the attention of the householder who was pottering away in the kitchen.

‘In case you are forgetting, she has dementia. Bless her, the poor thing most likely doesn’t remember she stashed this away under the bed years ago…’

‘Don’t listen to her Mel,’ Christina murmured. ‘Whether she remembers or not is not the point.’

Lucy rolled her eyes. She had been anticipating that from the moralistic bitch.

‘This is the very reason we set up this business. That as women, our female customers can trust us. Feel safe in their homes when we are working for them. Trust that we won’t pinch their valuables when their backs are turned.’

‘How can she miss something she has forgotten exists?’ Lucy snapped. ‘She clearly doesn’t need the money. Does this trinket box look like something that has been opened in years? Her daughter who hired us probably doesn’t know about this…And you have met her. She looks loaded. Do you think she is waiting for this tiny inheritance? Can we quit faffing about and take the bloody thing, please?’

Mel thought Lucy made a good argument but when Christina could see that she was buying into it, she started to talk again to deter her boss. At times like this, even Mel wished Christina would just shut the fuck up and let her do what is necessary without the guilt tripping. She knew Mel needed the money desperately as the business was operating at a loss but yet here she was making this harder than it should be.

‘…This doesn’t sit well with me,’ Christina was rambling on. ‘If this was your mother, would you be Ok with someone doing this to her?’

‘That’s a dumb question,’ Lucy fired back. ‘Because Mel’s mum died more than a decade ago so it’s a pointless hypothetical question…Oh, for heaven’s sake, can we just take this godforsaken thing, share it three ways and be done with?’

‘You will regret this Mel. This is not you. Close the lid, put the box back where you found it or give it to the lady and let’s get on with our work,’ Christina implored.

Mel took a step back. Christina smiled with relief. Lucy glared at Christina.

‘You do it,’ Mel said, panting and with eyes fixated on the money.

‘Huh?’ Christina looked at her sharply. Even Lucy wasn’t quite sure what was happening.

‘Lucy, take it. Take it and we will split it three ways.’

‘I don’t want any of it,’ Christina said firmly.

‘More for us then,’ Lucy smirked. As she reached out to grab a fistful of the pound notes and shove them into the large pockets of her work overall, Christian grabbed her hand.

‘Get your hands off me or I swear I will punch you in the throat,’ Lucy snarled.

Christina looked at Mel. Mel avoided eye contact. Christina was wise enough to know when she was defeated so she eased her grasp. Still glaring at her, Lucy snatched her hand away.

As Lucy started to greedily pocket the pound notes and hand some of it to Mel, Christina, with tears welling in her eyes, turned her back on her lifelong friends and walked out the room. The tears weren’t so much for what her friends were doing to the poor old lady but more for the fact that, yet again, she had failed to make Mel do the right thing.

After Mel and Lucy had cleaned out the trinket box, they casually tossed it in the black bin bag they were using to collect rubbish from the room. Christina returned soon after to join them as they carried on working.

A mere second later when Mel looked up, she stared shamefully at her reflection in the old woman’s dressing table mirror. Unsurprisingly, Lucy and Christina were nowhere to be found. She sighed. She knew the drill. They would be back later. Especially Lucy. That one is always the first to appear by Mel’s side to egg her on whenever she is faced with a moral dilemma but never there to comfort her afterwards when her guilt is feasting on her conscience.

END