Читать книгу Meet Me at Pebble Beach - Bella Osborne - Страница 9

Regan was on autopilot. She switched on her computer and stared into space as it loaded. She didn’t know how much she’d won. She pulled up the lottery website and checked the draw information for Saturday. She had another quick check of her numbers. They all matched. Something flipped in her stomach. This really was happening. She clicked on ‘Prize Breakdown’. There was one winner for Saturday’s draw and they’d won ten million, three hundred and thirty-seven thousand, four hundred and ninety-two pounds. And that winner was her. She stared at all the numbers that followed the pound sign.

Her phone rang and it was Jarvis. A spike of something unpleasant coursed through her. ‘Regan, I’m sorry if I was harsh earlier but you really wind me up—’

‘You really wind me up too, Jarvis. So shall we call it quits? I think we both know this isn’t forever. No hard feelings. You get on with your neat and tidy life and I’ll get on with mine. Okay?’ She was shaking; she wasn’t sure if it was the effect of the lottery win, or adrenaline at finally having the courage to exit a relationship that wasn’t going anywhere.

‘What? You’re dumping me because of an argument over the washing?’ he said, with a chuckle.

‘Nope. I’m ending the relationship because it’s pointless. We’ve been muddling along for a while now and …’ she realised her manager was hovering at her shoulder ‘… hang on, Jarvis.’ She tilted her head up.

‘Is that a personal call?’ Nigel asked, his grubby tie flapping dangerously close.

‘Yes. Yes it is,’ she said, with a broad smile. Oh, this was going to be so much fun. ‘So if you could give me a minute that’d be great.’ She shooed him away with a flick of her wrist.

‘Jarvis. Our relationship has run its course. I’m sorry but I think it’s for the best. I won’t be coming back tonight.’ She’d already decided that she’d book herself into the Grand Hotel for a few days while she worked out her next steps.

‘But …’

‘Oh and don’t worry about my stuff. You can give the lot to a charity of your choosing. I’m making a whole new start so I won’t be needing it. Find someone who appreciates your planning and tidying skills. And be happy because you deserve to be. Take care, Jarvis. Bye.’ She ended the call. There was a touch of sorrow in her heart. They’d been together for almost two years and she was fond of him, but she knew she was doing the right thing. They’d only annoy the crap out of each other for a few more years, end up loathing each other and then split up anyway. She was just speeding up the process. This was the best decision for both of them.

She spun her chair around to face Nigel, who appeared to be simmering gently by the colour of his face. ‘Right, now. How can I help you?’ she said, in her most pleasant telephone voice.

‘Shall we go into my office?’

‘Yes, let’s,’ she said, propelling herself from her wheelie chair. Nigel stalked off. ‘Hang on,’ she said, snatching up her winning ticket. The last thing she needed was to lose that. She put it carefully in her back pocket.

She entered the office and shut the door behind her.

‘Have a seat,’ said Nigel, his jaw tight. Regan sat.

‘Regan, you really are skating on thin ice. You do the bare minimum and your attitude—’

‘Actually, Nige.’ He looked like he’d been whacked in the face with a dirty dishcloth. ‘Can I call you Nige?’ He didn’t respond. She leaned forward. ‘Nige, I’ve been meaning to tell you a few things for quite some time. Firstly, you really are an irritating little man.’ He started to bluster and she held up her palm to stop him. ‘This is a pointless little carbuncle of a company and you are the tiniest, most meaningless barnacle on that carbuncle.’ She was probably mixing her metaphors but she didn’t care, she was on a roll. ‘I have spent the last three years slaving my guts out,’ okay, slight exaggeration, ‘for no thanks, very little pay and a cheap mince pie at Christmas. Well, today that all stops. I don’t give a crap about my job, this company or you. So you can stick your boring, shitty, low-paid job right up your bottom hole because I don’t need it any more.’ She stood up and relished the look of total shock on Nigel’s face. ‘In case you didn’t get that: I quit. And lastly, you really should change that tie occasionally. It’s very unhygienic. Bye.’ She left the room and did a Bridget Jones style sashay across the office. It felt good. Better even than all the times she’d imagined it in her head – and that was quite a few; mostly when she was meant to be working.

She patted the ticket, which was still safely in her back pocket. She was going to go to her dad’s. She wanted him to be the first to know about her Lotto win, and she wanted to see his face when she told him. Partly because her dad didn’t react to anything, so this would be a big test. Plus, she was planning on getting totally wasted on the most expensive cocktails available and she’d need someone she trusted to get her back to her luxury hotel.

I hope they have those big suites you see in films, she thought whilst she filled an empty printer paper box with the contents of her desk. She swiped the stapler, because they could hardly sack her for nicking it, and she wanted some sort of memento from this chapter of her life. She picked up her lottery wish list and nestled it reverently on the top of her things – she was going to need it. There wasn’t a lot to show for three years and, for a moment, it felt a little sad. She straightened her shoulders; that was all going to change. From here on out she had money to sprinkle like fairy dust on her life. It felt amazing.

She scanned the office. Almost all heads were down; everyone was busy working. They were oblivious to the massive life-changing event going on in their presence. There was no sign of Alex. She left a Post-it note on the cake box, which read EAT ME, and grinned to herself. She’d call him later. Maybe he could join her after work for cocktails.

‘Bye, losers!’ she hollered, then she strode out of the office, out of the building and into her new life.

Well, she would have done if she hadn’t had an altercation with the bloody revolving doors. Trying to get through with her box was more than tricky. She got the box wedged and the door jammed. She reversed back out, ignored the sniggering receptionist, and tried again. Halfway round she heard someone call her name.

‘Regan!’ It was Alex and he was waving frantically at her. She staggered out into the street clutching her box and waited for him to join her.

Alex flew out of the revolving door looking puffed. He took a second to get his breath.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ he asked.

Regan jolted backwards in puzzlement. ‘I’m ditching this shithole and starting my new life. I told Nigel to stick the job up his arse and change his filthy tie. You should have seen his face.’ She snorted at the memory. That was a picture she would savour for a very long time. ‘Oh and I’ve told Jarvis we’re over. It was going to happen sooner or—’ The colour was draining from Alex’s face and it made her pause her story. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Regan …’ He shook his head. Well, it was more of a wobble.

‘What?’ He was acting very strangely and he was delaying her starting her celebrations. She thought she’d try a cosmopolitan cocktail first – she’d never had one and had always wondered what they were like. Then she would order lots of expensive champagne.

Alex held a lottery ticket aloft. Regan peered at it. ‘Oh, did you win something too?’ He couldn’t have shared the jackpot, because she’d already seen on the website that there was just one winner. And it was her – eek!

Alex was shaking his head. He really didn’t look very well. He took a deep breath. ‘You’ve not won the lottery.’ He swallowed hard.

Regan grinned at him. ‘Yes, I have.’ She pulled the winning ticket from her back pocket. ‘We’ve both checked the numbers.’

He shook his head; his expression was solemn. ‘That is not your lottery ticket.’

‘Yes, it is. It was locked in my desk drawer.’ She frowned at him. He wasn’t making any sense.

‘This is your ticket. I switched them,’ he said, his face ashen. ‘I have your spare desk key. The ticket you have does have the right numbers but it’s for next Saturday’s draw. I bought it this morning.’ Regan’s grin vanished and a wave of nausea swept over her. She opened her mouth to speak but she had no words. ‘I was getting you back for the coffee. It was just a joke. A prank. I didn’t think—’

Regan was shaking her head like a bobble head strapped to a racehorse. ‘You’re lying.’ Her stomach felt like a washing machine on spin cycle. The sounds around her were muffled, like she’d been immersed in water.

‘Check it,’ he said, calmly, and pointed to the ticket she was clutching. She studied the lottery ticket that she thought had changed her life. She blinked at the date. He was right – it was dated for next Saturday. The realisation of what she had done hit her. An icy sensation went over her like she’d just done the ice bucket challenge. She had walked away from her job, her boyfriend and all her possessions. All because of a stupid prank. She slowly looked up. Her whole body started to shake uncontrollably. ‘You bastard!’ she yelled, dropping the box of office stuff and launching herself at Alex.

The force of her sent him flying backwards into the revolving doors and she followed, screaming like a banshee with its hair on fire. She pummelled him with her fists whilst he held his arms over his head to try to protect himself. ‘I’m sorry!’ he shouted. Regan grabbed his head and began banging it on the glass, the momentum of which started to turn the revolving door.

‘Ow! Ow! Ow!’ hollered Alex, each time his head hit the glass.

‘You fart-brained shitbungle!’ yelled Regan.

Someone grabbed Regan from behind and hauled her off Alex. With her arms still flailing she turned around to have a go at whoever had interrupted her. ‘Woah!’ said a broad-shouldered guy. ‘You need to calm down.’

‘You need to keep out of this,’ snapped back Regan.

‘I’m a police officer.’

‘Then arrest him. He’s ruined my life!’ She spun back to have another go at Alex but he had managed to push the revolving door round so he was trapped in the middle section, where he was safe from her assault. ‘Argh!’ she beat her fists on the glass in frustration making Alex wince like a trapped animal.

Inside the security guard was heading towards the doors. ‘Come on,’ said the police officer, who wasn’t wearing a uniform. ‘You don’t want to get arrested.’

‘You need to arrest him.’ She shot the police officer a glare, but stopped short when she noted his stony response. She was in enough of a mess. He was right – she didn’t want to get arrested, although at least she’d have somewhere to sleep tonight if they locked her up. The thought was a sobering one.