Bella Osborne - Meet Me at Pebble Beach

‘Thank you,’ he said, pulling the small cup from the tray. He put down his own drink, took the top off Elvis’s milk and carefully tipped a little into the dog’s mouth. His tongue began working overtime even though it was fairly redundant because no lapping was required. The drink disappeared in seconds.

‘Kevin, that was brilliant,’ said Regan. Such a tender act of kindness. Elvis gazed adoringly at Kevin. They were a match made in heaven. ‘Take care,’ she said.

‘You too,’ called Kevin and Regan left with a spring in her step and a happy heart.

She took a moment before she walked into their office space because if she was grinning like a mad clown Alex would know there was something up. Once composed, she walked in with her shoulders back and her head high.

‘Good morning,’ she said to the back of his head. He jumped.

‘Regan, you’re early.’

‘Only a couple of minutes. Here.’ She passed him his coffee and then opened the cake box. ‘And I made you these because I still felt bad about the coffee accident .’ She emphasised the last word because she wasn’t apologising for it. She stepped back and tried to control her excitement.

‘Er, right. Thanks. But there’s something far more important.’ Regan puckered her eyebrows; her plan was getting derailed. ‘Did you check your lottery numbers?’

‘No. The ticket’s in my desk drawer.’

‘Open it, open it!’ said Alex, beginning to bounce about like a toddler on too many Haribos.

‘Why?’

‘Because I took a picture of your ticket and I’ve checked your numbers and … I think you’ve won.’ His words came out in an excited screech making Regan recoil.

‘What?’

‘I think you’ve won. But you need to check it. Check it now!’

‘What? A couple of quid?’ But she could tell from Alex’s body language that he was way too hyper for it to only be a few pounds.

Bubbles of excitement fizzed in her gut. She’d always secretly thought that one day she would win. Most people hoped they would, but she’d had a feeling that she couldn’t quite explain. A luxury lifestyle of parties and cocktails felt like her destiny far more than working in a dull office drinking coffee out of paper cups.

‘Open the bloody drawer!’ said Alex, pulling her from her thoughts. She fumbled in her bag and pulled out her desk key. Inside the drawer was her ticket paper-clipped to her wish list. She pulled the ticket free. ‘Here,’ said Alex, thrusting his mobile at her. ‘Here’s Saturday’s winning numbers.’

She tried to look at the ticket and back at the phone but the numbers kept dancing about. Her pulse was racing and she was starting to shake. She took a deep breath and checked the people around her. It was early and most hadn’t settled at their desks yet. Nobody was watching them. She splayed out her hands in a calming motion and took Alex’s phone. He continued to bob up and down beside her. Regan put her finger under the first number and checked it to Alex’s phone. It matched. The second one, the same – it matched. And the third, fourth and fifth. She could no longer control the shaking. With a trembling finger she checked the last number. It was a match. ‘I’ve won.’ It was like fireworks going off in her head. ‘I’ve bloody well won!’

‘I know!’ said Alex.

She threw her arm’s around him and he stiffened. She held him at arm’s length. ‘How awesome is this?’

‘Totally awesome,’ he said, through a broad grin.

‘Alex,’ called the finance manager. ‘Can I have a word?’

‘Sure,’ called back Alex. He turned to Regan. ‘Don’t do anything. I’ll be back in five minutes. Okay?’ he said, still grinning.

‘I’m not telling anyone.’ She certainly wasn’t going to share any of her winnings with the other office dwellers – most of whom looked down on her anyway. They wouldn’t be looking down on her any more. This was it. This was the turning point in her life. Everything was going to change.

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.