Bella Osborne - Meet Me at Pebble Beach

‘Ooh,’ said Regan, pulling her purse from her bag. ‘Look what I got.’ She held up the lottery ticket and gave it a wave. ‘It’s a rollover on Saturday. Ten million quid. Think what you could do with that.’

They both paused for a moment, lost in thought, until their boss, Nigel, tapped on his glass office door and they both quickly got back to work.

Regan liked Alex. There was no romantic pull on her part, but she knew he was quite fond of her thanks to some slurred words after too much tequila at the Christmas party. In any case, he made the day go quicker: they kept the tedium at bay by winding each other up on a regular basis. Nothing major; just the usual office pranks like hiding each other’s mouse, changing chair adjustments and unplugging equipment. It was quite childish, but it made work marginally more entertaining.

Most of the day was uneventful. In the afternoon, Regan found herself dozing off in a very dull meeting about discounting and promotions. Alex gave her a nudge and she turned what she feared was a snore into a cough. A few heads spun in her direction.

‘Terrible hay fever,’ she muttered, pulling a tissue from her pocket. Alex shook his head at her.

She could see he was furiously scribbling things down on his pad; she eyed him with suspicion. Alex was like her in a lot of ways; neither of them usually put in any particular effort at work, although Alex still fancied himself for a promotion. Regan couldn’t really see the point. She’d get paid very little extra at the end of the month, but have a load more responsibility. No, she was all right just doing what she needed to and no more. She understood why sales people worked harder for a bonus, or people who ran their own company, but it totally foxed her why an ordinary employee would do any more than the minimum required.

She leaned over and tapped a finger on Alex’s pad. He tilted it for her to see. The title at the top jumped out at her: ‘Lottery Rollover – What I’d do if I won’.

‘You don’t even have a ticket,’ she whispered.

He shrugged. ‘I’ve got loads of time to get one.’

She pulled the notepad from his grasp and had a read. It was fairly standard stuff. She handed it back and began jotting down her own. Regan chewed the end of her pen and made some crossings out as her imagination soared.

Live in a big huge awesome home

Help Dad out

Get a pedigree puppy

Save the tiger whale some important animal

Run my own successful company

Bask on a deserted island and drink cocktails served to me by bare-chested waiters

Go out and enjoy myself

She had another scan of Alex’s list. He’d put down ‘Hook up with celebrity females’. Regan snorted and Alex turned his pad away. She studied her own list. Where did Jarvis feature? After how he’d annoyed her that morning, did he feature in her lottery fantasy life? She added an extra item to the list. It was only a laugh after all.

Get new hot boyfriend who doesn’t nag or wear button-up pyjamas

‘Regan?’ asked Nigel, their manager, who was standing at the front, his expression one of knotted puzzlement. Alex gave Regan a nudge and knocked her pen from her hand, making her jolt upright.

‘Er, yes. Sorry. I was concentrating on my notes,’ she said, reaching down and scrabbling on the floor for her wayward pen. Alex kicked it and it disappeared. She glared at him.

‘How many queries do we get relating to errors in discounting?’ Nigel repeated.

‘Um,’ she scratched her head, ‘Alex?’ She looked pleadingly at him.

He grinned. ‘Regan is the data guru on this.’

Thanks for nothing , she thought. She’d definitely get him back later. ‘A couple a week. Maybe.’ She didn’t really record them like she was supposed to, so it was a complete guess.

‘When I last checked the figures, they were much higher than that,’ said Nigel.

Regan wondered if that was the column on the end that she added lots of ticks to at the end of the week. ‘It’s quite variable,’ she said. ‘Peaks and troughs.’ Nigel nodded and she relaxed. She needed to pay more attention, but it was hard when meetings were this boring.

Back at their desks, Alex was still tittering about Regan’s questioning in the meeting. Regan started plotting her revenge. It needed to be something hilarious. She zoned out trying to come up with a suitable penance for Alex while she did some data input. When he went off to a meeting she put a sticky note over the sensor of his mouse so it wouldn’t work and flipped his login screen upside down. They were only temporary measures, but they would at least put him off the scent that she was planning something bigger.

Regan paperclipped her lottery ticket to the wish list she’d drawn up.

‘Predictable,’ said Alex, returning to his desk and flipping his screen back. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked, nodding at the lottery ticket.

‘I’m not giving Jarvis any additional excuses to moan about me spending money. And if I win it’s probably safer here.’ She stopped short of adding that replacing Jarvis was an item on her wish list.

Alex made a grab for it. ‘Do the numbers mean something?’

‘Nope. It’s a lucky dip. Statistics show you’re likely to win more money with a lucky dip.’

Alex looked momentarily impressed. He pulled out his phone and took a snap of the ticket. ‘Hey,’ she said snatching it back. ‘What are you doing that for?’

‘So I’ll know if you’re lying when you ring me on Monday and tell me you’re on a beach in Barbados.’

‘As long as you don’t buy a ticket with the same numbers. I don’t want to share with you.’ She put the ticket and wish list safely in her desk drawer and locked it.

Alex stuck his tongue out at her. ‘Remember we’ve got a director’s visit tomorrow. Don’t be late.’

Regan pulled an unimpressed face. She didn’t like anyone telling her what to do and just because Alex was slightly older and squarer than her still did not give him that right.

‘Ah yes, it’s your big opportunity to impress,’ said Regan. Alex had been chosen to meet the visiting director and she hadn’t. Not that she was bothered – she wasn’t. But Alex was clearly making plans to improve his career prospects.

‘He’s meeting everyone,’ said Alex, breaking eye contact and chucking his stuff into his desk drawer.

‘Yeah, but you’re special.’ He glared at her. She did her best solemn Confucius impression. ‘Just remember the higher the monkey goes up the tree, the more it shows its bum.’ He took a swipe at her and she ran for the door.

Regan was still plotting her revenge on Alex as she walked through the market place en route to her car, which she had parked in the cheapest car park possible. The market traders were packing up for the day and she was astonished by the amount of waste she saw as the grocery stallholder piled up the veg he couldn’t sell next to the bins. He caught her staring at the racks of tomatoes a little past their best.

‘Help yourself, love,’ he called to her. She thanked him but declined. Jarvis would not be impressed if she took home a crate of dodgy tomatoes, but it did seem like a terrible waste.

As soon as she opened the front door she could hear Jarvis tutting. He’d beaten her home. She went to check her watch and for the umpteenth time that day cursed that she’d left home without it. She didn’t know exactly what time it was, but she guessed he must have left work earlier than usual, probably just so he could beat her home and have something to moan about. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for some grovelling.

‘Hiya, you’re home early. I need to get straight on with the tidying,’ called Regan, scooting through the flat. She met Jarvis in the kitchen already shaking his head.