The lottery ticket fluttered in on the breeze, as if it was a gift from God himself. It arrived at Kathy’s feet as she sat at the bus stop, waiting for the number 78 bus in to work. She suddenly knew why they called it the ‘Crack of Dawn’ because as she waited a horizontal layers of cloud had split and a glow of sun had shone its shaft of golden light through and illuminated her for a few moments, before they slid back into place returning the morning to its dour grey.
It had been a miserable week and Friday couldn’t have arrived soon enough. But here it was, Friday morning. Just one more day to get through before the weekend. It was mid November but the weather had been unseasonably mild and as wet as an otter’s pocket. The recent storms meant that there was no colour left on the trees to create autumnal cheer.
Kathy noticed the ticket and picked it up. She stuffed it into her pocket, more in an attempt to remove a piece of litter from the street than anything else. With that the bus arrived and she and the other commuters moved in an orderly queue to get onboard. They all greeted John the bus driver, he was a cheery chap who always had a smile for his regulars. You would never catch him closing his doors in the face of a late comer. He often left his cab to assist young mums with their pushchairs, if they were struggling alone.
Once she arrived at work Kathy hung her coat in the staff room and put the rest of her belongings into her rusty and battered locker. She took no special care with the ticket, because how could she possibly know what she had?
Later that day in the canteen, Margaret asked the group if they all had a ticket for the big rollover on Saturday night. Almost everyone had either already bought their ticket or intended to buy one. Kathy said she might stop and get one on the way home. She had forgotten what she had picked up or maybe she just felt that it wasn’t hers.
With that reminder she stopped off in the newsagents on the High Street on the way home and paid for a lucky dip, which she put into her purse with far more care than it deserved.
Then she got onto the bus and pulled the purse back out of her pocket. The crumpled and mud splashed lottery ticket fluttered to the floor, unseen. John pulled away from the bus stop and the amber glow from the traffic lights immediately illuminated his face. He gave a beatific smile, he felt unreasonably happy.
On Monday morning, the same crowd assembled at the bus stop. ‘Another day, another dollar’, said Jim in place of the more usual ‘Hello’ as Kathy arrived. ‘Did you win anything on Saturday?’ said Kathy, with the relaxed conversation of those who see each other every day. ‘Did I buggery!’ said Jim and everyone at the bus stop laughed.
When the bus arrived almost seven minutes late, it wasn’t John driving this morning. Everyone showed concern and hoped that he was ok. Steve the rather grumpy replacement driver, who had been called on at short notice, couldn’t wait to spill the beans. Lucky sod, he and his wife won the big one on the lottery on Saturday. The passengers couldn’t have been more please for Jim and his unknown wife. What none of them knew was, that it wasn’t Jim who won but his wife Fran, who cleaned the buses.
As she’d been cleaning up at the end of the day, the golden light from the strip lights in the bus station had illuminated every corner of the bus and she hummed to herself as she worked. She was scraping the gum from underneath one of the seats and wishing for something better for their life than this, when she picked up the crumpled piece of paper and found that it was a lottery ticket. She popped it in her pocket and felt an unexplained glow of happiness.
So heartwarming, Jules. Isn't this the stuff of life! Oh to be so lucky.💚
Brilliant writing and a lovely tale. Thanks Julie 💰