Just My Luck(75)

‘Everyone has everyone programmed in their phone nowadays, Toma.’

‘Where are you? You sound like you are at a party.’

‘I am, actually. My own.’

‘You are throwing a party, without me? How is that possible?’

I laugh. ‘Have you been drinking, Toma?’

‘Some.’ If I was having this conversation with anyone else, I would go so far as to call his tone flirtatious. I suppose that’s what happens when you gift a man three million pounds. I mean how is he supposed to read that signal?

‘Why are you calling? Is everything OK?’

‘You should not always think everything is a problem with me,’ he says, his tone changing abruptly, sobering.

‘It’s not that. I don’t.’ I falter because I do. I met the man when he was sleeping in the street outside my office. It’s hard to disassociate him from a feeling of concern.

He quickly dissolves the awkwardness. ‘Well, I am calling for a stupid reason now. You make me feel stupid because you haven’t asked me to your party and I am calling to ask you to mine.’ There’s no real irritation or anger in his voice, just amusement. It warms me. It makes no sense, but my stomach hiccups a fraction, a small glimmer of excitement at the idea that Toma is having a party. That he is inviting me. ‘My going away party.’ And then my stomach plummets.

‘You’re leaving the UK?’

‘Yes, because of you.’

‘What did I do wrong?’ I joke but it’s forced. When I gave him the money, I hoped it would help him move on, that’s what I wanted to enable, that’s what I suggested, but now it has come to it, I feel a faint breath of loss.

Toma laughs. ‘You are the most right person I have ever met, Lexi.’ His words slice through me. It’s obviously a translation thing that makes his compliment seem so moving. The words seem real and raw, although I know they are not. I am not a right person. Jake doesn’t even know about the money I gave to Toma yet. ‘I have no idea why you decided to give me that money.’ He pauses, waiting for me to explain, no doubt. I’d like to one day, but I can’t right now, so I stay silent. He doesn’t push me. Then I hear him breathe out, deeply. ‘OK, so whatever the reason, it is a miracle. At first, I think it is a joke but then the money arrives in my account. I do not spend it. In case you change your mind. Have you?’

‘No, I haven’t changed my mind.’ My voice comes out in a whisper, I grip my phone. Sweat prickles under my arms.

‘OK, then it is a miracle. I am going home, Lexi, you gifted me that.’

‘What will you do?’

‘Something good. Something that will honour Reveka and Benke. I plan a – how do you say it? – a sponsorship of education. I’ll give another child the life I would have given Benke. What am I saying? With that much money I will give many, many children a good life.’ I gasp. The air builds in my throat and I can’t breathe. It’s the first time since we won the lottery that I’ve been genuinely excited about how the money is being spent. ‘I give it a lot of thought. I make a trust. Make the money work hard. Go back to home and find kids who need help to flourish. It will be a full-time job if I do it right.’

I’m in awe of his certainty. I have spent hours poring over endless charity petitions and numerous proposals for beneficial projects. I’ve been paralysed. Unsure where and how much to commit. I am impressed by Toma’s assurance and clarity.

‘When do you go?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow? So your party is happening—’

‘Right now,’ he interrupts to confirm. ‘Lexi, don’t think I am rude. I wanted you to come but I didn’t know how to ask you and then I have two beers and realise I ask you as I ask everyone. So, I ring you up.’ He laughs. ‘But it’s too late. You have your own party.’

‘Where is your party?’ He gives me an address in town. It’s not too far from my office. I look about me. We’ve quickly arrived at the point of the evening where everyone is too drunk to keep track of anyone else, plus the party is spread over a massive field, no one would notice if I slipped away. He is going away. After tomorrow I might never see this dignified, decent man again. ‘OK, I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

I calculate that if I drive back to the new house to take off my make-up and change outfits, then drive back to the address Toma gave me I will lose almost an hour and a half just getting there. It’s already approaching nine o’clock and somehow this sacrifice doesn’t seem worth it. I decide to drive directly to Toma’s in my costume. I should feel foolish and self-conscious but oddly I don’t. I realise that all that matters to me is getting there as soon as I can.

There is a field that has been turned into a car park, I’m frustrated to find that our car has been blocked in by dozens of others. When I challenge the young guys who are working at the car park about this, they point out that they weren’t expecting us to leave until the very end of the party. It’s a fair comment. I check my watch, there’s a bus due in four minutes. I run, if I catch it that will be faster than calling an uber. Now I’ve made the decision to go to Toma’s party, I can’t get there soon enough.

There are not many people on the bus when I get on it. Just two lads sat at the very back and an old lady sat near the front, within shouting distance of the driver. The old dear says she likes my costume and the two boys ignore me altogether. Of course they do; a middle-aged woman, even one dressed as a broken-hearted clown, is invisible to them. As the bus gets closer to town, a handful more people get on. Couples mostly, who look as though they are going to spend the night in a pub or maybe at the cinema. They are all dressed up and laugh and chatter between themselves. I’m reminded of Saturday nights, long ago, when Jake and I used to enjoy a night out in town. The memory should make me smile because we had such great times, but it doesn’t. I shiver. The memory is too distant to warm me.