Should I Tell Her?

Should I Tell Her?

Steve Barnes

Leaving work I made my usual stop at the newsagents to purchase a draw ticket with random numbers, for that evenings big Euro Millions draw; a fruitless habit I had been indulging in for several years.  Yes, I had had a few small Lottery wins in the pastnbut nothing to enable me to tell the boss at the garage just where to stick his job! I still hoped the numbers would fall my way allowing me to venture forth and start a new life.

Hellen and I had married early in life and for a variety of reasons we had never succeeded in having children and now tended to live separate lives under the same roof with her working lengthy night shifts at our local hospital.   We were like ships passing in the night as we came and went.  What had been married bliss for a few years had become increasingly more strained and I had begun to entertain thoughts of a separation and these would fill my mind for the fifteen minutes it took for me to drive to Jenny’s house on the outskirts of Halifax.

Who is Jenny I can hear you enquiring?    Well, she had started working in the office at the garage several years ago and I had become rather attracted to her and in the course of a few months had struck up a fairly intense out of hour’s relationship which entailed me visiting her small house on the occasions her husband was away from home. Hence, my journeys to Halifax.

Jenny’s husband, Frank was a salesman of small components for garages and his patch was the entire top end of the country which necessitated him regularly being away from home for the odd night or so. Every so often he would call in at the garage where I worked to try to pick up the odd order.  A likeable bloke, I got on quite well with him and we would often spend my lunch break together, occasionally accompanied by Jenny at the White Horse where we would sink a few jars before rather reluctantly returning to work. I wonder how friendly he would be if he knew that I regularly bedded his wife when he was away and my wife was pulling a night shift!

After we had eaten the fish and chips I had stopped off for on the way to Jenny’s, we settled in front of the telly to allow our supper to settle. I had found from experience that sex on top of a full stomach was not a good idea!

The Euro Millions draw took place as we watched and as I hadn’t any idea what my numbers were I did what I always did and waited until I was at home the next day before checking them, and enjoyed the ultimate reason for my visit to Jenny


Arriving at work a little late and rather bleary eyed the next day, I didn’t have time to check my draw tickets until later that evening and even then as my wife was at work I waited until after I had had some supper and tidied the kitchen. I knew that nothing upset Helen more than coming home tired from her twelve hour shift to find an untidy kitchen!

I settled down in my armchair with bottle of beer and retrieved the draw tickets from my wallet. Scrutinising the numbers carefully I realised that my third line looked very familiar. Checking again it became obvious that I had a winning line.                                                     In a state of shock I took another beer from the fridge and collapsing back into my armchair gazed stupidly at my ticket. Surely I was not seeing the numbers correctly, so with a shaking hand I telephoned the Claims line to be assured that I had indeed been successful and unless other claimants came forward, I was due to share the jackpot of £38 million pounds with two other people. I was advised that I would receive a further confirmatory call in the next few days.

After several more beers I took myself to bed in a mental quandary as to whether I should tell Helen and we could retire from our employments and perhaps enjoy a fresh start in life together, or should I tell Jenny and encourage her to abscond with me to some sunny Mediterranean island.

Decisions, decisions?

Foot note:  As to the best of my knowledge I have never purchased a Euro Millions lottery ticket, this story entirely fictitious!