I came to this library when I was growing up and it is also the one I used to bring my kids to. That’s why I like coming here. It evokes fond memories.
Miss Heffer is aware that I was a police officer and what had happened to my family. She also knows my current situation. Without an address, I’m not eligible for a library card so she keeps the books I’m reading behind the counter until my next visit. My current book is Too Close for Comfort by Adam Croft. It’s extremely gripping and I’m about a third of the way through it.
I walk over to the rack where the daily newspapers are on display and look at the headlines for something to grab my attention. I settle on The Daily Mail. I’ll save reading my novel for later. As I walk over to my ‘favourite seat’ by the window, I see Miss Heffer and wave politely, and she returns it with a lovely and genuine smile. It’s something I treasure, as my years of detective experience have taught me when someone is genuine.
I sit down and look around before I start to read. There are only three other people in the library, two who have returned books and are busy choosing new ones. The third person is a few feet away from me using the photocopier located next to the row of three computers. I glance away from what is going on and read.
I notice the front page is the usual story covering the latest row between the two main political parties. The inside pages are a range of articles detailing the misery going on around the world. Mixed in is a group of columnists, each one more than ready to force their own opinion onto whoever is prepared to read their rants.
I spend as much time as I possibly can reading the newspaper, but the level of interest I can muster means it only takes me twenty minutes to reach the back cover. If I was interested in reading the adverts for sea cruise holidays the time would probably double. Next I decide to read The Sun newspaper. I often do the Sudoku puzzle as it’s a way of passing some time.
I’m just about to return it to the rack when I remember the Lotto ticket I have in the back pocket of my trousers. I placed it in this pocket because I’m certain it doesn’t have any holes and furthermore it is secured by a button. On the rare occasion I have something important to keep, this is the pocket I use.
I find the results section of the newspaper and pull the Lotto ticket from its place. I check the numbers but they don’t match any of the numbers the newspaper has as the winning ones. My finger is still on the line of numbers in the newspaper when I see Miss Heffer bringing over my current book.
She happens to notice what I’m doing and tells me, “You’re checking the wrong section. Those are the National Lottery numbers. The ticket you’re holding is for the Euro Lotto.”
“I didn’t realise there are two different Lotto’s,” I answer. “It’s just someone said it could be my lucky day, so I thought it was worth a go.”
“Someone has to win,” she replies with a smile. “You could be Mr Lucky today.”
Chapter Eleven
JAMES
As she walks back to her desk, I check the numbers on the Euro Lotto. One by one, they seem to be identical. I double-check them. I triple check. I even check them a fourth time. They match every time.
My hands shake and I stand up and accidentally knock against a bookcase, causing several books to fall to the floor.
Within a few seconds, Miss Heffer appears. “Are you unwell?”
“Eh, eh,” is all I can utter. “Can you check these numbers for me?” I ask in a whispered voice, so as not to attract attention from the girl still using the photocopier. Fortunately her back is turned and the copier is humming away.
Miss Heffer runs her finger along the line of numbers on my ticket as she carefully checks them off. She then looks at the date on my ticket to make sure it is the same as the one printed in the newspaper.
After what seems like an hour, she says in a soft voice, “According to the evidence I can see here, you have just won the Euro Lotto. Congratulations.”
“What do I do?” I ask.
“You contact the Lotto Company and stake your claim, but before you do, you need to put your details on the back to prove it’s your ticket.”
“I’ll get you a pen,” she says.
When she returns, I follow her instructions and put my name and signature on the back of the ticket where it says “Sign Your Ticket, Make It Yours.”
“I’ve just been on their website and I think the best thing you can do is to phone and tell them you have a winning ticket,” says Miss Heffer.
“But I don’t have access to a phone.”
“Under the circumstances I think it would be all right if you use the telephone we have in the staff room annexe. Here’s the number you need to dial,” and with that she hands me a piece of paper with a telephone number neatly written down.
She leads me across the library to a door with a glass-panelled top section, keys a set of numbers into a security pad to the right of the door and turns the handle.
It’s a fairly large room consisting of a small kitchen area on the right-hand side. On the left is a small office with a beech desk and a large corkboard on the wall above it. On the corner of the desk is a blue telephone.
“Dial nine for an outside line and then the number I’ve given you,” she tells me, “and good luck!” She then walks out, closing the door softly behind her.
My first
