Page 29 of The Lottery Win
‘But stylish. And I’ve already got my eye on a lovelyconsole table for the living room.’
‘Don’t buy a console table.’
‘What? Why?’
He sighs. ‘You weren’t supposed to know.’
‘Hang on. You’remakingme a console table?’
‘I am. And now you’ve ruined the surprise.’
‘Oh, Adam. Thank you so much!’
‘You might not like it.’
‘Rubbish. We like the same things when it comes to style. Soif you’re making me a console table, I know I’m going to love it.’
‘We do have a lot in common. You never know. Maybe Carrie’sright and we really do belong together. Wouldn’t that be spooky?’ He makes aneeriemwah-ha-hasound.
I laugh. ‘Why do you always have to joke about things?’
‘I’m not joking.’
‘Oh, really?’
‘Really. Some things are just meant to be together.’
I snort. ‘Like Tom and Jerry.’
‘Yes. Like snakes and ladders. Fish and chips.’
‘Erm, who’s the fish in this scenario?’
‘You. But a veryposhfish now that you’ve won the lottery.Like turbot or red mullet. Or maybe caviar.’
I chuckle. ‘Didn’t win the lottery.’
‘You know what I mean.’
I go to bed that night wondering if maybe Adamismydestiny... but dismissing it almost immediately, because thethought of losing him as a friend if it all goes wrong doesn’t even bearthinking about...
CHAPTERTWENTY
I love living at Rose Quartz Cottage. I’ve been herealmost two weeks now and I feel like a new person, now that I’m managing tokeep the lovely April at bay.
I’m much more relaxed now, and despite not working at thecafé any longer, I never seem to run out of things to do. I was worried I mightget lonely, living so far away from civilisation, but actually, I’m really enjoyingthe freedom of being able to wake up naturally every morning (without an alarmclock’s joltingly rude start) and decide, over my first cuppa, what I’m goingto do with the day ahead. I’ve been taking advantage of the gorgeous summerweather we’ve been having lately and getting a tan in the back garden,reclining practically naked on one of my lovely new sun-loungers. The benefitsof having no neighbours are endless really. (No strap-marks for the first timein my life!)
Also, you can turn up your music and dance around the gardensinging Little Mix songs at the top of your voice, very badly, without worryingyou’ll get charged with breaching the peace. (Or so I’m told.)
I haven’t been completely idle, though. I’ve been investigatingonline courses in interior design and I’ve chosen the one I like best, which isreally exciting, and I also started researching growing your own vegetables.This resulted in me doing yet more shopping online (I really must rein it in – yesterday,the delivery man joked that he might as well just move in, he sees me so often)and I ordered two things called raised beds and a big bag of compost.
This morning, I set off in The Beast – my nickname for thePorsche – to the garden centre near Sunnybrook, and I spend some time wanderingaround and discovering a whole new world I never knew existed. (If you’vealways thought soil was soil, you’d be very much mistaken. You wouldn’t believehow manykindsof soil are out there. And don’t get me started on thedifferent types of garden tools!)
‘I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t started this whole grow-your-ownthing,’ says a woman as we stand by a display of spades and rakes and gardeningforks. (She looks as bemused as I’m feeling.) ‘I mean, I just want to grow somelettuce to save myself a bit of money. But by the time I’ve bought all thefancy equipment...’
I nod in sympathy. ‘I feel you. You’d have to be amillionaire to afford one of everything.’
She chuckles. ‘I don’t know any of those, do you?’
