‘Right. Thanks. Thank you,’ and Rebecca took the scrap of paper, smiled politely and turned towards the door.
She walked across the car park hunching slightly against the bitter wind that blew in her face and swirled around her legs until she reached her car and sat, slightly breathless with her hands against the steering wheel.
She would check when she got home. She didn’t need to check now because it wasn’t really true. She hadn’t actually won the lottery. She had looked at the wrong week when she checked online yesterday. She had gotten confused when she read the numbers in the local paper the day before. She hadn’t won. Of course she hadn’t won because that was something that happened to other people. Not to her. She put her hand into her pocket again and felt for the ticket. It had been joined by the scrap of paper containing the winning numbers and she could feel them sitting side by side, touching. Of course she hadn’t won, it was silly to even imagine that she had. She took her hand out of her pocket and turned the key, listening for a moment to the engine.
Maybe she should just check them quickly, then she would know that she hadn’t won and she could stop thinking about it. Stop imagining what it would mean if the winning numbers were actually her numbers.
She pulled the ticket from her pocket and smoothed it out. It was creased and stained. She had barely let go of it since Sunday morning when with a coffee in her hand and a smile on her face, she had switched on the computer to see if she had won £10.00 on the Saturday night lottery. She stared at the ticket, slowly reading the numbers out loud. Once she checked and admitted that she hadn’t won, the daydream was over. She would have to stop imagining what it would mean to her life. Stop those delicious little fantasies where she woke up in the morning able to do whatever she chose, able to go where ever she wanted. The warm feeling that was surrounding her, that wonderful warm feeling of relief would go and she wouldn’t be able to sit with her feet curled under her, not listening to the TV as she planned her first trip away, what she would do, where she would live.
She stared at the ticket for a moment longer then carefully folded it into a small square and pushed it back into her pocket.
She would check later.
‘Bec! Where are you?’
Rebecca didn’t bother answering. She was where she always was at this time of the day. In the kitchen getting the evening meal started.
‘God what a bloody day.’
Daniel walked past her on his way to the fridge. The hiss of a beer being opened was followed by silence as he took a long drink.
‘You have no idea what a complete waste today has been. That bloody git Peter tried to get us to do team building! Team building. How’s that supposed to help for crying out loud? We’re a sales team, we don’t need to build anything apart from bloody sales!’
He snorted and took another deep drink of his beer. ‘What’s for tea?’
‘Shepherd’s Pie,’ Rebecca answered ignoring his screwed up nose as she spread grated cheese over mashed potato and opened the oven door.
‘Right - I’ll go get changed then,’ and he finished his beer, dropping the can on the surface as he left the kitchen.
Rebecca took off her oven glove and stared at the beer can for a moment then picked it up and put it in the recycling bin. She could leave it on the surface for Daniel to get rid of but he would ignore it and if she asked him to move it, he would throw it in with the kitchen rubbish. Then he would lecture her on what a waste of time it was trying to recycle because when the rubbish was collected it would all be piled up in the same place anyway regardless of what colour box she’d put it in.
That was one of his favourite theories of the moment. Given any opportunity he would describe how the population of Britain were all being taken advantage off, how the landfills were full of all the rubbish that people threw away, regardless of how carefully it had been sorted out before being collected by the weekly refuse men.
She had detected the glaze of boredom in their neighbours’ eyes on Saturday night. Rebecca had laughed at Daniel’s story and tried to take the edge away by poking fun at herself for all the hours she spent sorting her tins and her plastics, her paper and her kitchen refuse.
‘Is it ready?’
Rebecca jumped as Daniel reappeared in the kitchen doorway and smiled at him, feeling guilty.
‘Should be, let’s serve up.’
They ate the meal on their knees while Daniel watched yet another episode about yet another car being rescued from the scrap yard. Rebecca loaded up the dishwasher because Daniel suddenly remembered he needed to check his emails. Then she made the cup of tea that he said he would make but first he needed to check something online. Finally, she ended up in her favourite corner of the settee, not listening to the TV as she slipped back into the warm welcoming daydream that had begun on Sunday morning when she had turned on her computer to see if she had won anything on the lottery.
The next two days were frantically busy. Susie had called in sick at work and Rebecca had been covering both their shifts. Daniel had invited two prospective clients around for dinner in an effort to win their business, leaving Rebecca a note with a suggestion of what she could make as an evening meal. She had spent the evening smiling until she felt that her face would split in two, laughing obediently as Daniel launched into his theory about recycling, nodding appropriately as Daniel discussed the packaging industry then clearing away in a blur of exhaustion when finally, full on wine, brandy and cigars the guests said a protracted goodbye and Rebecca started filling the dishwasher.
Daniel had lounged in the kitchen doorway looking smug as he watched Rebecca clear away.
‘They seemed very interested,’ he said, rubbing his hands together. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if they phone back tomorrow and say they want to put their business with White’s.’
Rebecca stared at him. She would be amazed if Daniel ever heard from them again. They seemed perfectly happy with the idea of drinking as much wine as they possible could and eating a free meal. She had seen the lack of interest in their faces as Daniel pontificated about White’s packaging business and his own personal success. Only several more brandies had kept them in their seats.
Tonight he was wining and dining another business client at a local restaurant and finally Rebecca was home alone. And instead of more cars being dragged out of garages to be given the once over she had turned the TV off and taken from her coat pocket the ticket and the piece of paper she’d collected from the kiosk. She laid both on the coffee table in front of her, smoothing out the wrinkles in the paper.
It was time to check the numbers. The daydream still kept her warm at night. It still filled her thoughts during the day but it had started to become limited. It was all very well spending a few days thinking what you would do it you won the lottery. But that only took you so far. The dreams soon started to fade and eventually you had to let it go - unless it turned into reality.
She took the piece of paper from the kiosk first and following the numbers with her finger she read them out loud, saying each number clearly and letting it hang in the air for a moment before she read the next. She paused and then read them again, trailing her finger along each number as she read.
Then she picked up the lottery ticket and smoothed it out. She didn’t really need to check the numbers on her ticket. She knew those numbers like old friends. They ordered themselves in her mind as she drifted off to sleep. They welcomed her as she opened her eyes in the morning. She knew each and every one of them.
In truth, Rebecca didn’t really need to check the lottery ticket at all. She hadn’t needed to check it for the last two days. She had watched the kiosk lady write down each number and she knew. She knew that every number on the scrap of paper matched a number on her ticket. She had known immediately that they were the same. But this was making it real. This meant that it was actually happening.
She placed the ticket next to the scrap paper and this time as she read the numbers from the paper she
followed the ticket with her finger. Every number matched.
She got a pen from the kitchen drawer and returned to the coffee table. She didn’t want to mark her ticket so this time she read each number on the ticket and then ticked the matching number on the scrap paper. Every number matched.
She wrote down the numbers from her ticket. She wrote down the numbers from the scrap paper. Every number matched.
She stared at the pieces of paper sitting side by side on the coffee table and then closed her eyes. She said out loud each number that was on her ticket. She opened her eyes and read each number that was on the scrap paper. Every number matched.
Rebecca picked up her ticket and stared at it. The dream was over. Reality had arrived. Rebecca Miles had won the lottery.
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If you want to find out more about Rebecca and her lottery win, follow this link to Amazon!
Did I Mention I won The Lottery?
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Google Your Husband Back Page 25
