Licence to Dream (2013)

by Jacobs, Anna

  ‘Dinner, then?’

  ‘No way!’ The words burst out before she could stop herself. She could see his surprise, the way his eyes narrowed.

  ‘I was that rude to you, was I?’

  Time was passing. She was due to take that final examination in just over an hour, and she still had to eat and get across town to the college. ‘I'm not free.’

  ‘Pity.’

  When he continued to sit there, she took the initiative by standing up and walking round the desk, ready to move towards the door.

  He stood up, too, but instead of shaking her outstretched hand, he took it in both his and kept hold of it. ‘Couldn't you take pity on a stranger to Perth and break your engagement tonight?’

  He was so large and vibrantly male that her breath caught in her throat. She looked up at him and for a moment forgot everything. She had to take several slow deep breaths before she could get her thoughts in order. How could this be happening to her? She had never before reacted to a stranger on such an instinctive physical level and it shocked her. He was clasping her hand so tightly she didn't like to make an issue of pulling it away.

  Then common sense took over. This was just a passing physical attraction, she told herself, straightening her shoulders and stepping backwards. It happened to people all the time. You met a stranger and something sparked between you. It was no big deal.

  If she ignored it, it would go away. And so would he. After all, he lived in Queensland. She tried to remove her hand and his fingers tightened on hers.

  ‘Sure you won't change your mind?’

  ‘No, thank you. I’m–um, in a long-term relationship.’

  He didn’t try to hide his disappointment and let go. But although she had her hand free now, she could still feel the imprint of his fingers on hers.

  ‘He’s a lucky man.’

  She led the way briskly along the corridor to the reception area and said a crisp goodbye, but it wasn’t until she sat down at her desk in the quietness of the long examination hall that Meriel managed to get the image of Ben Elless out of her mind. She forgot everything then but the questions in front of her. She had learned the basics of her new trade now, and one day she would earn her living entirely as an artist.

  She had vowed to do that when she started on this course, and she intended to make the dream come true, however long it took.

  * * * *

  When he left the accountant’s office, Ben Elless stopped for a moment to shake his head in bewilderment. What on earth had got into him, pressuring a stranger for a date like that? He’d been acting like a seventeen-year-old with raging testosterone fever. The last thing he needed at the moment, the very last, was to get involved with a woman.

  Then sadness took over for a moment or two. Such an instant attraction hadn’t happened to him for a long time, not since he’d met Sandy.

  To his ongoing annoyance, over the next few days he had trouble getting the beautiful Ms Ingram out of his mind. It wasn’t her good looks, though that didn’t hurt, it was something much deeper than that. He grinned at the memory of how indignant she’d been when he asked her age. Well, that had been absolutely stupid of him. Only she did look young and untouched, somehow.

  It was strange that he should feel so attracted to her, because he didn't normally go for blondes. Or small women. And why the hell was he thinking about her again?

  He was relieved when he finished his business in Perth and could go home to Brisbane. He phoned the office from the airport, hoping to pop in and see Phil before he left for the day, but got only the answer phone. He was beginning to think his partner was avoiding him and to wonder why. At this stage they should be liaising closely on the current project.

  Should he drop in on Phil at home? No, not today. Phil’s wife would insist on Ben staying for a meal and he didn’t want to involve her in any arguments because she was a nice enough woman.

  Perhaps there was nothing wrong, but Ben felt uneasy. Phil had been behaving himself since their last confrontation, but recently he had been rather elusive. It wouldn’t hurt, though, to do some careful checking that everything was in order. Well, Ben knew he ought to have done so before now, but he’d been too busy implementing a particularly complex design to catch his breath.

  Needing a bit of peace and quiet after all the hassles of his Perth trip, he picked up his car and headed out of the city centre. As he sang along to the music he felt the tension drop away. He wasn’t really interested in being a high-powered businessman but he absolutely loved designing gardens, and the bigger the better.

  One day he’d find a piece of land and start work on the big project he’d been dreaming about for years. Perhaps he’d even do this on one of his uncle’s blocks of land. He had very fond childhood memories of living in York and learning about the bush.

  Unfortunately, although the recent legacy from Uncle Johnny was good news in one way, it was bad in another because it’d take time and effort he could ill afford to sort everything out. At this stage he needed to focus on the business and keeping Phil in order. No small task.

  He couldn’t help smiling at the thought of his inheritance, though, and he was looking forward to seeing the old house in York again. He’d such happy memories of living there as a boy.

  He’d have to see Ms Ingram again, too, when he visited the accountant in Perth. He wouldn’t mind that, either. Perhaps she’d be free by then to have dinner with him.

  Chapter 8

  The art examination was so straightforward it was an anti-climax. When it was over, Meriel felt empty and drained. That was it. She’d finished her studies.

  She didn’t really want to go out for a celebratory drink with the others but did it anyway. They’d become good friends as they studied and you never knew when you’d meet someone again in a place like Western Australia, which had a small population, however big its physical size.

  She excused herself after an hour or so, pleading a date. Everything seemed a little unreal as she walked back to her car.

  On her way home she stopped at the shops and pulled up short at the sight of a display of birthday cards. Oops! She’d nearly forgotten to get a card for her mother. She’d better buy one now and put it in the post for England straight away. If it didn’t arrive on time, her mother would be upset and huffy.

  As she was paying for the card Meriel noticed the Lotto machine on the counter. She didn't normally buy lottery coupons because the odds against winning were astronomical and it was a complete waste of money. She had told Rosanna so dozens of times, but her friend just laughed and said she enjoyed her weekly licence to dream.

  Today, however, was a special day and Meriel had an urge to do something different to mark that. She hadn’t been lucky in love, so she might as well test the old saying and see if she was lucky in other ways. ‘I'll have one of those things as well,’ she said.

  ‘Slikpik?’

  ‘Yes, all right. Give me a slikpik.’ She waited impatiently as the machine churned out a coupon, choosing her numbers for her, then stuffed it into her purse and left, already regretting her impulsive purchase. That money could have been added to her savings. She’d wasted it, absolutely thrown it away.

  Back at her flat she hurled her handbag on the couch, dumped her shopping in the kitchen and sank into her favourite chair. She’d found the wooden rocking chair in a junk shop. Some idiot had painted it a hideous shade of green. Thanks to Grandpop's training, she had recognised its potential, stripped off the gunk and waxed the chair until it gleamed. The wood was now a glossy honey colour, the carved back fitted the curves of her spine exactly and she usually found sitting in it soothing. But not today. Today, nothing seemed to soothe her.

  She wasn't worried about the exam. She knew she’d passed and probably done quite well, too. But she felt empty, not elated. Was that because she’d reached one of her main goals in life and what she really wanted now was to use her new skills?

  Well, she couldn’t, had to continue number crunching
and that was that.

  She wished . . . oh, she didn’t know what she wished! That was the trouble.

  * * * *

  Meriel spent Saturday working on a painting. She was designing a series of greeting cards based on Australian flora and fauna, and was rather pleased with the results so far. As usual she lost herself in her work and it was lunchtime before she knew it.

  While she was eating she flipped through a magazine. One of the male models looked a bit like Ben Elless and . . . She got annoyed with herself for thinking about him again. Anyway, the man in the magazine wasn’t nearly as good looking and . . . she tossed it on to the low coffee table.

  On the Sunday she slipped out to get some fresh air and buy a newspaper, enjoying the spring sunshine. Only when she opened her handbag did she remember that she’d bought a Lotto coupon. She scowled at it. Might as well throw it away. But of course, she didn’t. She would have worried that she might have won ten dollars or whatever tiny amount you did occasionally win on these things.

  When she got back home she dumped the newspaper on the kitchen surface, made herself a cup of coffee then settled down to read.

  Only later as she was putting her bag away did she remember to take out the Lotto coupon and check the numbers in the newspaper. It was hardly worth bothering, but still . . . Shrugging, she picked up a pencil. She might just, if she were very lucky, recoup her money.

  A minute later she stared in startled disbelief at the line of circled figures. Six numbers, all in one row. Her heart began thumping so loudly she had to press her hands against her chest to calm herself.

  ‘I won!’ she said aloud, her voice hoarse and scratchy with shock. It was impossible odds, but she’d won! She stood up and walked round the room, feeling jerky and uncoordinated, then flopped down on the couch and said, ‘I won!’ several times more. She thumped a cushion to emphasise her words, before picking it up and tossing it in the air.

  Then she shook her head. ‘I must have made a mistake.’

  She checked the numbers again, not realising she was holding her breath until she had to let it out in a whoosh. There was no mistake. Six numbers. All in one row.

  She sat staring at the ticket till everything ran into a blur. How much had she won? It could be anything from a couple of hundred thousand dollars, if the prize was shared between several people, to over a million. According to Rosanna, who had once won fifty dollars, you didn't find out how much you'd won until late Monday afternoon. Meriel groaned aloud. Over a day to wait! How was she going to bear it? She might – she really might be quite rich. Well, rich by her standards, anyway.

  The thought that followed seemed to etch itself into her brain in letters of fire – rich enough to give up work and try to become a full-time commercial artist. She caught her breath on a gasp, then told herself to get a grip. She shouldn’t count on anything till her win was confirmed.

  She made another cup of coffee then wondered whether to open a bottle of champagne, but it was no fun celebrating on your own. She rang Rosanna to share her news, but her friend’s mobile was switched off. The coffee was stone cold by the time she took a sip, as she tried to come to terms with the thought that she might be able to stop working as an accountant.

  After a while, feeling as if the walls were closing in on her, she grabbed her shoulder bag and went out, driving into Perth then going for a brisk walk along the river. The beauty of the day gradually seeped into her bones and she could feel herself relaxing. Blue water reflected even bluer sky, its movement chopping up the reflections of the buildings on the southern shore into a million fragments that nonetheless formed a pleasing whole. The ferry chugged slowly across the river like a prim spinster aunt then chugged back again.

  She felt better out in the open air. She always did.

  Hunger drove her home again and the evening crawled past at an agonising snail's pace. She kept trying to phone Rosanna’s mobile and getting no answer. She kept looking at the clock and finding that only a few minutes had passed. She kept staring into space, hoping, praying that she would win enough money to escape being an accountant – for a while at least.

  * * * *

  When she went to work on the Monday morning she said nothing to anyone, not even her friend, because Rosanna would be bound to shriek for joy and Meriel didn’t want anyone else knowing about her win yet.

  ‘You don't look well,’ Rosanna said. ‘You should have stayed at home.’

  ‘It's just a – a touch of the collywobbles.’

  Rosanna chuckled. ‘You don’t have much of a pommy accent but you do use some funny words sometimes. Collywobbles! What does that mean?’

  ‘Australian translation: I've picked up a stomach wog.’

  Meriel spent most of the day locked in her office, pushing papers to and fro, but getting nowhere. Thank goodness she had no client appointments today. She couldn’t concentrate properly on anything.

  In the afternoon, heart pounding, she rang the Lotteries Commission hotline to see what this week's prizes were worth. A mechanical voice told her that the first prize was shared between two people and would amount to just over a million and a half dollars each. She stood there, frozen in shock, with the recording still droning away in her ear.

  What you gonna do when you win Lotto? The silly jingle from some TV adverts she’d seen a while ago began to pound through her brain again and she had to take several deep breaths before she could move. Setting the receiver down with extreme care, she left her office. She had to share the news with someone, just had to.

  She made it along the corridor, then the world started tilting and she had to clutch the doorframe. ‘Rosanna, I – ’ Everything started to whirl around her and the next thing she knew, she was staggering across the room.

  When she collapsed into a chair, her friend stared down at her, plump arms akimbo. ‘Did you eat any lunch today?’

  ‘Er – no. I wasn't hungry. Rosanna, I – ’

  ‘What did you have for breakfast?’

  ‘I don't remember.’

  ‘Meriel Ingram, I don't know what's got into you lately. You aren't looking after yourself. If you get any thinner, you'll fade away. Are you turning anorexic on me?’

  ‘No. It’s not that.’ Meriel sat down in a visitor chair and told herself to calm down.

  Rosanna stopped scolding and perched on the desk beside her, asking in a gentler voice, ‘You feeling better now?’

  ‘Mmm.’ But she didn’t tell her friend the real reason for her faintness. She didn’t want the rest of the office to know anything yet. The Lotto coupon was tucked away in her handbag and she wouldn’t feel certain about the money until she had presented it to the Lotteries Commission and had her win confirmed.

  Rosanna's voice was still blaring in her ears. ‘I'm going to take you home, feed you and put you to bed. This can't go on.’ And from that decision she refused to be moved.

  Meriel trailed back to her office, worrying about how badly she was handling this.

  Her boss, John Repping, came to stare at her and insist she go home ‘And let someone else drive you. You’re as white as a sheet.’

  ‘All right. Thanks.’

  A few minutes later Meriel buckled herself into the passenger seat of her own car and directed Rosanna to drive her north to Osborne Park. ‘I have some things to pick up. It’s urgent.’

  When they got near the Lotteries Commission, she told her friend to stop for a moment, then got out of the car. ‘We need to go into the Lotteries Commission. The reason I nearly fainted this morning, Rosanna, is that I think I've won Lotto.’

  ‘Yeah? Which Division?’

  ‘Division One. All six numbers.’

  Rosanna's shriek stopped two passers-by dead in their tracks, but the sight of her beaming face reassured them and they went on their way, smiling. She grabbed Meriel and gave her a big hug. ‘Hey, that's marvellous! Congratulations! Oh, wow!’

  Then she held her at arm’s length. ‘Look, I'm coming inside with you. Y
ou might faint again when they confirm it! Are you sure you double-checked all the numbers?’

  ‘I must have checked them fifty times, at least.’

  Inside, Rosanna took the Lotto ticket from Meriel's shaking fingers and brandished it in the receptionist's face. ‘My friend just won the First Division.’

  The woman beamed at them and pressed a button. ‘That’s wonderful. Let me show you to the Winners’ Room.’

  The ticket was validated then Meriel was asked whether she wanted a cheque or the money paying into her bank.

  ‘Paying in directly, please.’ She didn’t want to risk anything happening to a cheque.

  Once she’d given them her details, a woman came up to her. ‘I’m a member of the Corporate Communications Team. Would you mind having a chat? We like to find out about our winners. And we need to know whether you want to remain anonymous.’

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘Do you have any idea what you’ll do with the money?’

  ‘Yes. Give up work and become an artist. I’ve been training part-time and saving to take some time off.’

  They chatted for a while and Meriel was given a pack with guidelines on making the most of her good fortune.

  Rosanna chuckled when they did that. ‘She’s an accountant. I think she’ll know how to look after her money.

  The woman smiled sympathetically. ‘That’s good. Take the pack anyway. Some of our past winners helped us put it together. The main advice we offer is not to rush into anything.’

  ‘I won’t.’ Meriel closed her eyes for a moment. Coming here, being fêted, had made it all feel real and she felt overwhelmed. She stood up. ‘You’ve all been very kind, but what I need now is some peace and quiet to get used to it all.’ She’d won enough to give her the freedom to do what she wanted with her life.

  As she and Rosanna walked outside, she stopped to say firmly, ‘You're not to tell anyone about this when you get back to the office.’

  ‘But . . . ’

  ‘I mean that!’ She spoke fiercely. ‘I don't want anyone at work to know about my win until I've decided what to do with the money.’