Just the Ticket: Part Two

Saturday night at eight o’clock the lottery was about to be drawn.

Bob had teased her mercilessly, but she didn't care. The more she had thought about the strange events, the more she was sure that she was going to be a big winner. The ticket was clutched in her hand.

The special numbers generated by her odd dream were 5, 13, 26, 27, 29, 7 and the bonus number 22.
Her hands were sweaty. She could hardly breathe. Rebecca Ferguson had just finished singing Backtrack and was poised with her finger over the button ready to start the balls rolling in the week’s Lottery.

‘Good luck, everybody’ she cooed and pressed the button. The smooth deep, sultry voice of the caller over rode her giggle.

‘Right ladies and Gentlemen, the first ball out tonight is number Four. Last drawn three Saturdays ago...

When the caller had reached the bonus number, Alison looked in dismay at her ticket. Not one number corresponded.

She checked the numbers displayed on the television screen.

There must be some mistake, these weren't her numbers. 4/ 12/ 24/18/ 35/ 6 and the bonus ball was number 40.

Above Bob and the kid’s hilarity she heard Daisy’s cracked voice playing in her head.

‘A word of warning, don't be too hasty.’ Don’t be too hasty. What did it all mean. She said goodbye to the dream house they’d been going to buy and to the simple things such as new uniforms for the kids. She managed a forced laugh. ‘Crazy old bloody trout’ she thought, why had she ever listened to the senile old fool in the first place?

Alison drifted off to sleep quickly. She was tired after the restless night before.

In her dream she was surprised to find herself walking in the park again. Mother duck was there with her offspring. As they swam, the little fellow at the end of the formation was slower than his siblings; he was struggling to keep up. Mother turned round to quack a warning at him to stay close. The nag in her voice was clear to any mother who had to cope with dawdling children.

A large black Labrador burst through the reeds and landed with a splash in the water. He swam towards the floundering duckling. The dog yapped and plucked his trophy from the water. He turned and headed back to shore. Mother duck said quack, quack,quack, quack ...but only four little ducks swam back. Four little ducks went swimming one day, over the hills and far away.

Daisy appeared at her side.

‘You were too hasty, dearie, too quick to move on. Should have stayed, should have watched, should have waited. She cackled to herself as she moved down the path.

At the bandstand the same song was playing. She was about to move on when the purple faced tuba player caught her attention. His instrument was lowered and his face contorted into a grimace. He clutched his chest and fell to the floor of the bandstand, his Tuba clattering noisily onto the wooden boards beside him. Paramedics appeared from nowhere. The musician was stretchered off into a waiting ambulance.

The old lady beside Alison dabbed her eyes with a white lace handkerchief, before turning her tear stained face to her. ‘Such beautiful music but a pity you were so hasty dear,’ the hanky disappeared into the large overcoat pocket, and Daisy leered up at Alison. ‘Twelve, there were only twelve band members left.’

The children milled round her. Miss Daisy the teacher clapped her hands to bring the children to order. She bent to look at a child's work and a boy and girl nearest to the pavilion on the left, instantly took advantage of their distracted teacher, to entwine in a long and passionate necking session. His hand groped childishly at her budding breast. They finally broke apart and he whispered something into her ear, pulled her by the hand and they charged off across the grass. They disappeared round the corner of an old tool shed.

Daisy clapped her hands a second time. ‘Now children I want to see good work. Take your time, and don't be too hasty.’ Her eyes bored into Alison’s.

At the boating pool, Henry and Prudence rowed pleasantly along on the glassy water. Their laughter and clipped accents carried over to Alison standing on the far bank.

Daisy raised her megaphone and shouted ‘Come in number twenty seven your time is up.’

Henry dropped an oar into the water and the boat lurched. Prudence screamed and lunged forward. The boat capsized, tipping its occupants into the cold grey water.

Alison giggled as they emerged. Henry spluttering like a steam engine on a hill, water dripping from his limp handlebar moustache. Prudence blowing water from her mouth, her previously perfect ringlets hanging in lank rat tails either side of her prominent ears. As she neared the shallower waters she fell and plopped down on her bustled behind. She sat, up to her corseted waist in the pool, her skirts billowing around making her look like a crocheted doll, designed to hold a toilet roll. A new boat rowed into view, it bore the number 18 .

‘Don't be too hasty dear,’ bellowed Daisy's voice over the megaphone.

Out on the street things were much the same as they’d been the last time. As she drew closer to number twenty nine, she was surprised to see the man on the ladder open the window and clamber inside. Sirens were heard approaching. A police car roared into the street, followed by a second and a third. Soon the house was surrounded by police. The man in number twenty nine came out with his hands above his head. He was handcuffed and thrown into the back of one of the police cars.

The street was quiet again. The burglar arrested, and the cars roared off into the distance. Three doors down at number thirty five, the window cleaner dipped his chamois into the warm soapy water and began to wash the upstairs windows.

‘See,’ Daisy said, appearing at her side. ‘You were meant to take the number from the window cleaner, you were right about that, but in your haste you went for the burglar. Wrong number dear, too hasty.’

Daisy turned into the gate and pushed the pram up the path. ‘Now then young man I'm not going to pay for portholes. Make a good job of it now and don't be too hasty.’

The builders stopped work to watch Alison approaching. They were hooting and hollering, making crass comments and being vulgar. One of the Neanderthal apes swung his pick in an effort to impress. As it began its downward curve he took his eyes off it. His scream when the pick went through his foot echoed up the street.

Daisy appeared from the port-a-cabin. ‘Now dear," she said, man handling the screeching builder, ‘come in the cabin and let’s have a look at yer, it might not be as bad as it looks, Let’s not be too hasty in calling an ambulance.’ The six remaining builders turned their attention back onto the hole in the road as though Alison was no longer there.

Looking behind her Alison saw a purple van approaching from the North end of the road behind her. The writing on the side said "Bonus 40." This time the opposite side of the van was facing her. As the van roared past, she just caught the passing words of Daisy as she went by ‘It does a return trip, you were too hasty.’

At breakfast Alison didn't share her dream with the family. They would only laugh. She thought about the amended numbers her dream had generated. They tied perfectly with the winning numbers of the night before.

4, 12, 24, 18, 35, 6 and the bonus ball was 40.

She needed to get some shopping but Bob had taken the kids out in the car. She'd just have to walk. She felt irritated that Bob had the car. The evening roast had to be cooked and he'd be the first to moan if it was late on the table. She walked fast, agitated. When she came to the crossing, The red man on the display was warning that it was unsafe to cross.

It was Sunday for Christ sake, the road was deserted and the corner was clear. She was about to step off the pavement when the old woman’s words came back to her.

‘A word of warning dearie, don't be too hasty.’
When was she going to get that batty old crone out of her mind? She stepped back from the road.

At that moment a bus came hurtling round the corner. It flew past where Alison would have been if the woman’s words hadn’t invaded her thinking. She would have been killed

The old lady turned in her seat on the back of the bus to grin at Alison; she raised her hand in greeting.

In the supermarket, the crowds soon got on Alison’s nerves and on the way out of the store she was accosted by protesters campaigning for more pedestrian crossings in the city. She tried to move past with a polite smile, but a persistent protester forced a leaflet into her hand. She stuffed it into her bag without looking at it.

Back home the house was empty. She clicked the button on the kettle as she unpacked her shopping. Unfolding the crumpled safety leaflet she read.

PLEASE HELP US, TO HELP YOU, MAKE OUR ROADS SAFER

These are the statistics for road fatalities in this city over the last six years.
1993 Four deaths
1994 Twelve deaths
1995 Twenty four deaths
1996 Eighteen deaths
1997 Thirty five deaths
1998 Six deaths
So far this year there have been forty recorded incidents of road accidents in this city.

THE NEXT STATISTIC COULD BE YOU!

Alison made herself a coffee and waited for her family to return.