Page 10 of Birds of a Feather

Eric had looked over his shoulders to make sure no one was listening and leaned towards me as he whispered what he said were ‘the most important two pieces of information’.

‘Think carefully about who you tell until you’ve had a chance to get your head around it,’ he whispered. ‘And guard the ticket with your fucking life.’

I looked at my watch. I needed to get back to the office for a meeting with my manager. I hurried through the centre towards the exit nearest my car. As I reached the automatic doors, I passed a patisserie, which had cakes and pastries I had often admired.

What the hell, I thought. Surely this deserves a celebratory cake.

I selected a fruit tart with kiwi fruit, strawberries and mandarin segments, arranged artistically under a layer of shiny gelatine on a bed of yellow custard in a chocolate-filled pastry case. It looked delicious. And $4.75 didn’t seem outrageous for a post-lotto-win splurge.

I made it back to my car, opened the passenger-side door and climbed into the driver’s seat. I decided I would get the driver’s side lock fixed as one of my first priorities. It wasn’t until I had pulled out of the car park and driven halfway back to work that it occurred to me that I could buy a new car altogether.

~

Back at the office, I sat down at my desk. I wondered how I would focus on my work as thoughts spun inside my head.

What should I do with all the money? Who should I tell? Should I go on a holiday? How much should I give to my family? What charities should I support? Should I pay off my mortgage? Or should I invest it?

‘You sure you’re okay?’ Alannah asked, gesturing to the blank computer screen I’d been staring at for the past few minutes. ‘You seem a million miles away today.’

I determined that sharing the news of my win with Alannah contravened Eric’s advice about withholding the information until I’d had a chance to digest it.

‘Yes. Sure. Absolutely,’ I lied, tapping at my mouse to wake up my computer.

Alannah narrowed their eyes at me. We had worked together for about four years; I knew they sensed something was amiss.

‘Well,’ they started slowly, ‘if there’s anything I can do, just shout out.’

‘I will, thanks.’

I stood up from my desk and made my way towards my manager’s office, steeling myself at his door and attempting to gather my thoughts; updating Geoff Kinsman about the progress of the possum bridge was too important to be distracted.

I knocked three times.

‘Come in,’ he called out without looking up from his computer. Typing did not come naturally to Geoff; he employed only his two pointer fingers and searched for every letter as though he had never seen a keyboard before. I stood silently to avoid breaking his concentration.

‘Ahh, Beth,’ he said finally. ‘Take a seat. How’s your week going so far?’

I instinctively clutched the employee ID card that hung from a lanyard around my neck where I had tucked the lotto ticket. At first, I had put the ticket in my wallet for safekeeping. But it seemed foolish to store it in the object most likely to be targeted by a thief, should one enter the office. So I folded it into a small rectangle and tucked it into my bra. Then I had worried the heat of my body would compromise the thermal paper and make the print fade. Next, I placed it under the stationery tray in my desk drawer. I left it there for about two seconds before I decided that was the least safe place in the office, given the regularity with which my colleagues pilfered my office supplies. I imagined their surprise when they came to ‘borrow’ a bulldog clip or a highlighter, and discovered a winning lotto ticket. In the end, I had decided that it was safest tucked away in the plastic sleeve hanging from my neck.

‘My week’s going well, thanks, Geoff,’ I replied, taking a seat opposite his desk. ‘I’ve been in touch with my contact to coordinate the road closure for the bridge installation …’

I managed to hold my focus for each of the twenty minutes I was with Geoff, except for the one moment I was distracted by a photo of him and his family at Machu Picchu. I made a mental note to prepare a list of places I wanted to visit. Peru would certainly be in my top five.

‘There is one more thing,’ I said, as our meeting was drawing to a close. ‘I need to head off early today. I’ll be leaving just after three.’

‘Of course,’ he replied, dipping his head slightly to study me over the top of his glasses. I was usually the last to leave and rarely took time off during the day, so it was understandable my request was met with surprise. ‘Go whenever you need to. Unless it’s for a job interview, in which case I’ll need you to stay till six.’

He laughed at his own joke. If only he knew.

Chapter 8

Beth

I pulled up to a large grey building in an industrial suburb east of the city and dialled the office number, as per Eric the newsagent’s instructions. There were few people around, apart from a pair of panelbeaters smoking outside the workshop to the left of the Lottery Head Office, and a middle-aged woman wearing an impossibly frilly apron stacking chairs outside the cafe across the road. There was no obvious sign of any would-be lotto ticket thieves.

The office door opened, and a short, slightly built woman with waist-length dark, shiny hair and a huge smile emerged.

I unfurled from my car.

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