Did I Mention I Won The Lottery? Read online

  Did I Mention I Won the Lottery?

  By Julie Butterfield

  Text copyright © 2013 Julie Butterfield

  All rights reserved

  Smashwords Edition

  Smashwords License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  For my bemused husband

  and my amused children

  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

  Preview Google Your Husband Back

  Chapter 1

  Rebecca looked down at the ticket in her hand. She knew the numbers by heart but she read them to herself again before pushing the ticket back into her pocket and walking over to the kiosk.

  ‘Sorry - could you tell me - are those the winning numbers from this week?’

  The large woman behind the counter nodded, pointing to the notice board behind the counter.

  ‘They certainly are my darling, why, do you think you’ve won? Here, give me your ticket and I’ll put it through the machine. That’ll soon tell us!’

  She laughed as she spoke, holding her hand out for Rebecca’s ticket.

  ‘Oh no, I can’t… I mean, I haven’t got it with me. I just wondered if those were the numbers. This week’s numbers I mean, then I could check them when I get home.’

  Her fingers tightened around the ticket still in her pocket, her cheeks flushing a little.

  ‘Well those are the numbers. Look, why don’t I write them down for you. Who knows, you might have won the jackpot,’ and she laughed again, a deep belly laugh that shook her ample frame as she reached for a pen.

  ‘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 even
ing 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.

  Chapter 2

  It was Sunday morning and Rebecca had slipped downstairs to make a cup of tea and have 5 minutes peace before Daniel woke. She went into the conservatory where the laptop rested on a small computer desk in the corner and sat with a mug of coffee in her hand as she flicked from screen to screen. This week she didn’t have any new numbers to check. She hadn’t bought a lottery ticket on her way home on Friday as she usually did. On Saturday as they watched TV together, Daniel had flicked through the channels, resting briefly on the big ball draw of the lottery.

  ‘Do you need to check your numbers?’ he had sneered. ‘Are we millions better off?’

  Rebecca hadn’t answered. She had taken another sip of her wine and made no reply as he sniggered and carried on channel hopping.

  It had been Friday night when Rebecca had checked her numbers against the scrap of paper she had brought home. She hadn’t looked at the numbers since. She hadn’t checked to see how much she had won. And she hadn’t mentioned the winning ticket to Daniel.

  There hadn’t seemed much point when she didn’t know what to tell him. All she knew was that she had a winning ticket. She had no idea what her prize was but the daydreams had returned full force. Now they were real and strong. Now it wasn’t an if but a when. Rebecca didn’t know how much she had won but surely it was enough to change her life. It wouldn’t take much after all.

  Clutching the coffee mug with one hand, Rebecca soon found the lottery web page that gave all the detail she needed. Every draw, every week, every winning ticket and how much each ticket had won. She scrolled to her week. There had been only one winner that week. Was it Rebecca? She supposed so, she had matched every number. Didn’t that mean she got the jackpot? She scrolled down a little more - and how much had she won?

  The cup fell out of her hand as though in slow motion. Rebecca watched as it flew gracefully towards the floor, landed and then bounced upwards throwing its contents across the tiles and her feet before landing again to smash into one large piece and a dozen smaller pieces. She watched for a moment as the pale brown pool of coffee trickled between her toes and round the chair leg then hearing Daniel’s feet thumping down the stairs she reached forward and snapped closed the computer.

  ‘What have you done? Don’t just sit and look at it, it’s spreading everywhere!’ and with a grunt Daniel grabbed the paper towel from the kitchen and threw it in Rebecca’s direction.

  Catching it on reflex, Rebecca tore off a sheet and looked downwards at the spreading pool.

  15.7 million pounds. The numbers jumped around in front of her eyes as she stared at the coffee. 15.7 million pounds. Rebecca had won 15.7 million pounds.

  ‘For God’s sake Bec, what’s the matter with you? Give it here,’ and snatching the paper towel from her hand Daniel bent down to start mopping at the floor.

  15.7 million pounds. For a moment Rebecca wondered if she had said it out loud but Daniel didn’t react. Mopping roughly at the floor and grunting, he grabbed more handfuls of towel until the lake of coffee was gone.

  ‘I’ll get a brush,’ he muttered and walked back towards the kitchen.

  15.7 million pounds. Rebecca could still see the amount printed on the screen, the numbers neat and organised. 15.7 million pounds written next to her lottery numbers.

  Her hands started to shake and she pushed them into her dressing gown pocket as Daniel came back with the brush. She suddenly realised that he was fully dressed.

  ‘I told you I was playing golf today,’ he started defensively as he saw Rebecca take in his outfit. ‘It’s an important day. I’m taking old Murgatroyd and his son for golf and then a meal. They used to be one of our best customers and I haven’t had a sniff of business from them in ages. I need to get him back on side!’

  Rebecca nodded.

  ‘I did tell you Bec, I told you last week I would be out all day. I said that …’

  ‘I remember,’ interrupted Rebecca who had absolutely no recall of the conversation. ‘It’s not a problem. Give me the brush, I’ll do this. Go on, get off, you don’t want to be late.’

  Daniel’s eyebrows shot up as Rebecca grabbed the brush from him and all but pushed him towards the door.

  ‘Right… well,’ he started ‘as long as you realise how important this is…’

  ‘It is, I agree, I remember.’

  Rebecca took a deep breath and tried to control her breathing. ‘Of course it is
Daniel, go on, I’ll clean this up. Have a good time.’

  It took another few minutes to get Daniel to the door and then Rebecca stood in the front room, slightly to the side of the window and watched as Daniel’s car pulled out of the drive and set off down the road.

  15.7 million pounds. She had won 15.7 million pounds.

  Two hours later Rebecca had cleaned the house, put in the washing and was sitting in front of her computer again with her heart hammering. She turned on the screen and scrolled to the lottery results page. There it was, one winner only, one winning ticket, a 15.7 million pound ticket. She had checked the screen every 15 minutes as she cleaned, convinced that she would suddenly realise it didn’t say 15.7 million at all. In a daze she had wiped the kitchen surface and mopped the floor where she had spilled her coffee. No of course it hadn’t said 15.7 million. She would finish the cleaning and check again. But after the cleaning was done and Rebecca checked for one last time, there it was, 15.7 million pounds.