The HUSTLER

Lola was losing far too often. It was time to do something radical

Lola, 51, Hobart, Tas*

My atmate Ginny and I were in our early 20s and living in the city. I was an apprentice hairdresser and she worked in a music store. We liked to cut loose on weekends.

Every Friday, we’d go to our local pub and play pool. Ginny was a good player and even had her own ‘lucky’ cue, which she would bring along. Then one day, she suggested we make things interesting.

‘Let’s have a competition,’ she said. ‘Whoever wins gets to choose whatever they want from the other one’s wardrobe.’

‘Okay,’ I readily agreed. Ginny had much nicer clothes than me as she was on better pay. I particularly coveted a pair of designer sunglasses she had.

I tried hard but she easily managed to pot the black. ‘Yes!’ she cried.

That night, she took my necklace with the pretty little silver heart.

‘Sorry, Lola,’ she grinned, putting it around her neck.

‘You won it fair and square,’ I said, through gritted teeth.

The following week, I was determined to beat her and get it back, but I lost again.

This time she took my beloved Levi’s.

They tted her perfectly.

‘You can borrow them any time you like,’ she grinned.

Over the next few weeks, no matter how hard I tried, she kept beating me. Gradually, all the favourite items in my wardrobe ended up in hers.

Then one evening, I came home very excited. I had nally managed to buy the beautiful velvet jacket I’d wanted for ages!

‘It’s gorgeous,’ Ginny said, stroking the fabric. ‘I dare you to another game of pool. If I win, that jacket is mine. If not, you can have all your stuff back!’

‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘I really love this jacket.’

‘Come on Lola, don’t be a wuss. You’ll get back your Levi’s, your necklace, your red mini skirt, two sun dresses… I’ll even throw

in my designer sunnies!’

It was too good an offer to turn down. So, one night after work, I went to the pub to play pool on my own. I practised for three hours, potting ball after ball, but I knew I still wasn’t good enough to beat her.

The thought that I’d lose my new jacket was too much to bear. As I left the pub, my eyes lled with tears. Back home, I ran the bath so I could have a long soak. Ginny had gone away for a few days with her boyfriend so I was all alone.

Heading to the bathroom, her ‘lucky’ cue caught my eye. I hated that thing. It’d robbed me of my favourite gear and now it was about to steal my new jacket.

Suddenly, I had an idea. Grabbing the stick, I threw it into the bathtub. After it’d had a really good soak,

I put it outside to dry.

By the next evening, I could see it had bowed a little bit. I put it back just where I found it and didn’t say a thing to Ginny.

That Friday, we went to the pub to play for the velvet jacket. Ginny missed shot after shot.

‘There’s something wrong with this cue,’ she said. ‘It’s not shooting straight!’

‘You’ve just had too many late nights and not been getting enough sleep,’ I said.

Staying calm, I kept playing. Finally potting the black ball, I raised my arms in triumph.

‘Yes!’ I cried, jubilantly. Ginny’s face was grey. That night, I got all my stuff back, kept my precious jacket, and even got Ginny’s designer sunglasses.

Ginny lost all faith in her ‘lucky’ cue and we never played pool again.

Nearly thirty years on, we are still good friends – but I haven’t told her how I won back my things that day – and I never will! ●

The thought that I’d lose my new jacket was too much to bear