Auction

The hammer drops. “Sold! For one million pounds. ”The auctioneer states without emotion, as if this sort of thing happens everyday. I turn to my brother, he is standing rigid. His face is a shade of grey I don’t think I have ever seen before. He swallows again and again, blinking as if to wake himself from a dream. I touch his arm gently and ask him, “Jack, are you ok?” He just nods. We walk silently out of the auction room together. Looking around I can see that everyone is going about their business, like nothing has happened. I pinch myself hard,” Ouch!” This is real. The enormous double doors leading to the street, swing slowly open, dramatically slamming shut behind us. I look at jack again, this time he’s smiling. I allow myself to break into a grin. We grab each other and jump around, screaming, laughing and crying, all at the same time. Passers by stop and stare but we ignore them. This was the best day of our lives and we intended to celebrate.

I had woken up early that day. The sun was just about peeping through my curtains. I made my way downstairs, as I did everyday, for my caffeine fix and soggy cereal. Jack was still in his pit as usual. I shouted him to get out of bed or he’d be late. The normal grunt came back in reply. I switched the kettle on and went to fetch the paper off the mat. Bills covered the mat and I sighed deeply, wishing they would just all vanish in a puff of smoke and I wouldn’t have to deal with them. The newspaper wasn’t here yet, I remembered that I was up earlier than usual, which meant the paperboy wouldn’t have left the shop yet. I headed back to the kitchen with the wedge of bills under my arm. Jack appeared bleary eyed in the doorway, “Morning sis.” he half grunted, half spoke. I chucked the bills at him and told him to put them in a safe place. He winked and threw them all in the bin. I couldn’t help but laugh, although he was a pain in the ass most the time; Jack had a wicked sense of humour which could brighten even the worst day. We drank our coffee and ate our cereal without speaking much. I think we were both worrying about the bills, but neither of us wanted to say anything.

Sitting in my car on the way to work, I wound down the windows and blasted out my music. I think I was trying to blow the worries out of my head, if only it was that simple. I dropped Jack at college, and then joined the chaos of the motorway. I was going to be late again. I really was not in the mood for listening to another lecture from my boss. The CD I was listening to finished and I realised I hadn’t seen the paper yet. I switched on the news on the radio and settled back in my chair, knowing the traffic wasn’t going to move for quite a while. The traffic was slowly moving forwards. I followed behind the car in front like a sheep, barely moving inch by inch. The newsreader on the radio was babbling on about an auction to be held in the city tomorrow evening. I had always wondered about people who have things worth thousands of pounds sitting on dusty shelves around their homes. How rich do you have to be to not need that money? I would have given my left arm for one hundred pounds let alone a thousand.

I arrived at work, I was fifteen minutes late again. I tried to sneak in behind the counter without the boss noticing, but I failed miserably. He came out of the office; all I could see were his lips moving up and down. The words blended into one another. I had heard them a million times before. I gave the usual, sorry it won’t happen again, and made myself look busy. This seemed to do the trick as he walked off, went back into his office and slammed the door. I began the mundane paperwork which greeted me every single miserable day.

An old lady walked in the door. I noticed first how beautiful her clothes were then as she got closer, I could smell her perfume, it was expensive. Her hair was perfectly styled. She greeted me with a warm smile and I couldn’t help but respond. She handed me an envelope and asked me if I could take a look at her watch for her. I took the watch out of the envelope, it was absolutely stunning. She said it wasn’t running properly and felt it had seen its best days. My boss came out of his office; he must have sensed an opportunity to make some money. He put on his sickliest smile and took the watch from my hands. He looked closely at it, inspected it a few times, opened the back and tutted, shaking his head animatedly. “I’m sorry dear,” he said patronisingly, “It’s just not worth me fixing. It would cost more than the watch is worth.” He said, lying through his teeth. “But I tell you what, I like you. As a favour let me give you fifty quid for it.” I stared in disbelief. I don’t know what came over me. I snatched the watch from his hand. And handed it back to the old lady, telling her to take it to someone else, who won’t rip her off. She left and off course I was promptly sacked.

Next day, instead of just bills greeting me on the mat. There sat a envelope, smelling of expensive perfume containing a very beautiful watch, with a simple note saying,

Auction, town hall 7pm
Lot 123
Thank you for your honesty!