The Lucky One

John removed his green quilted gilet and draped it across the back of the stool. He grabbed the peak of his Tweed flat cap and slapped it down on the polished wood of the chunky bar before easing himself onto the stool with a loud sigh.
‘Why such a glum face, John?’ Chloe inquired, as she ran a tea towel around the inside of a glass, making the pint pot squeak with pleasure. ‘You look as though your prize bull has run off. What are you having? The usual?’
‘Might as well have done,’ John replied morosely. ‘No, not the usual. Today, I’m in need of a double whisky, and more than one.’
‘Oh dear,’ Chloe said. ‘That does sound serious.’
‘It is. Haven’t you heard? The bloody government has a vendetta against us farmers. They’re only going to go and hit us with inheritance tax … and we’re already on our knees after Brexit.’
‘Didn’t you tell me you voted for Brexit, John?’ Chloe asked, placing the whisky on the counter.
‘Not this bloody version of it I didn’t. Anyway, that’s not the point.’ John batted Chloe’s question away with a wave of his left hand. ‘Twenty percent they’re going to steal from us.’
‘Isn’t that twenty percent on assets over a million?’ The question was posed by a man wearing a smart charcoal grey suit on the next stool along.
‘Eh? What was that?’ John twisted his head, raising one tufted eyebrow. ‘Oh, it’s you Doctor Smythe. I didn’t spot you sitting there.’
‘In fact, John,’ Dr Smythe continued. ‘As I understand it, with various other allowances thrown in, the threshold figure could be as much as three million.’
‘Pah! Rubbish.’ John’s left hand was enjoying a workout as he dismissed Dr Smythe. ‘Where did you read that, in a lefty paper?’
‘No, it was this actually.’ Dr Smythe held up a free agricultural newspaper about sustainable farming.
‘It’s wrong, that’s what it is. It’s a bloody disgrace.’ John’s face reddened. ‘And I’d have expected some sympathy from a man like you, Doctor.’
‘You expected sympathy from me, did you, John?’ Dr Smythe turned so he was facing John. ‘Did you really? You know my father died recently, don’t you? Of course you do, you were at the funeral. He tended to all your aches, pains, and illnesses before I took over the practice. Well, I’ve got to pay inheritance tax on his estate. But the threshold for me, and everyone else like me, is not one million pounds, it is three hundred and twenty-five thousand. And get this, John, here’s something that might improve your mood.’ Dr John flashed a cool, insincere smile. ‘It’s not twenty percent tax for us mere mortals, it is forty percent. So, answer me this, John, where was your sympathy for the rest of us?’
Before John could respond, there came the sound of a loud sob from behind the bar. Both men turned to see Chloe bent over holding her stomach.
‘Are you all right?’ The two men asked at the same time.
Slowly, Chloe straightened up, salty tributaries spreading across her cheeks. She wiped at them with the back of her hand and took a deep breath, trying to control her laughter.
‘Ah dear,’ she chuckled. ‘Thank you for giving me such a laugh. I was miserable coming to work this morning. I couldn’t think straight for worrying if I had enough money left in my purse to buy food for me and the little ones. The last leccie bill cleaned me out, you see. I was right down in those dumps, really feeling sorry for myself. But listening to the problems you two gentleman have has cheered me up no end, I can tell you. My financial worries are nothing compared with yours,’ Chloe explained. ‘Because I don’t have any assets to fret over,’ she let out a short, sharp laugh. ‘I rent my little flat, so I’m never going to have to worry about making such a profit on anything that I’ll have to pay extra tax on it. Oh no, that’s never going to happen. There’s rarely anything left from my pay packet by the end of the month, no savings in the bank to worry about. Aren’t I the lucky one out of the three of us?’
Chloe turned, pushed two glasses under the optics, then turned back and put the two whiskies in front of Dr Smythe and John the farmer.
‘Have these on me,’ she smiled. ‘For doing me a favour and showing me that my worries are trivial compared to the weight you two have to carry around on those broad shoulders. In fact, I’m feeling so grateful that I have a proposition. I’m happy to make a sacrifice and swap places with either of you, take that awful financial burden away from one of you forever. Just think, you won’t have to worry about the tax man pestering you again.’ Chloe put her hands on the bar. ‘So, which one of you fine gentleman would like to take me up on my generous offer?’
Chloe waited for an answer … and waited … and waited.