Happy Ticket
All right, ladies, take a seat! Lets share a proper tea, mark the day together. How the years have fluttered by! Forty years have drifted away, yet it feels as if I just stepped through the garden gate Emma busied herself, laying out the spread. Smoked salmon on blinis, a little cucumber salad shed tossed herself, warm scones from the salon in the next tent, still steaming, the sort youd lick the crumbs off your fingers! And a sponge cake, of course. A sip for life, for friendship, for all the good things. No hurry for us, she said. Evelyn was seventyseven. Shed started in a bookshop, spent the last fifteen years at the post office, and shed brought Clara with her. You never get bored with those two! Emma also invited her former postmaster, Margaret, whod been her mentor for years. Theyd worked sidebyside, lived as one bustling team. Now Margaret was retired, knitting with her grandchildren.
Emma herself had spent her whole life on that very post office, right beside her cosy terraced house. Shed left school, missed out on the technical college, and her parents moved the younger brothers into the grandparents flat. Emma got the twobed flat in the fivestorey block. She was happy as a lark, already eighteen, and took a job at the post office rather than linger at her parents side. She was her own mistress now, and still had to look after the younger ones. Emma thought, Ill stay here awhile, its convenient, close to home. Then Ill decide what comes next. The staff were brilliantMargaret, the head, took Emma under her wing at once, showed every nook, explained the simple, steady work. Nothing is more permanent than something temporary, theyd joked. Emma settled in, delivering magazines and pension notices to the elderly, keeping the subscription ledger. When the computers arrived, the job lightened. Her fate mirrored that of the other women: divorced, singlemothers, just like Emma. Their children grew up, ran to their mothers after school, ate here, did homework here. Emmas dear Bear and Claras daughter, a nailartist from the beauty salon, played together from childhood. Now theyre married, and Emma looks after her granddaughter, the darling Milly. Emma Andrews, as shes now called, runs the post office; Margaret passed the reins to her a few years back.
How do you manage without me, my dears? If it werent for the grandkids, Id still be here, chipping away, Margaret raised her teacup, Heres to us, to our closeknit team, health and happiness, my friends! And what about you, Emma? Are you steering the ship? she turned to Evelyn and Clara. Oh, absolutely, Evelyn and Clara exchanged a look and burst into hearty laughter, she does it all. Takes parcels, processes transfers, chats with the charming gentlemen! Which gentlemen, dear? Do tell, Margaret said, nibbling a bite of salad, picking up a scone, Ah, youve still got it, girls! Just like old times! Come visit more often, Margaret. Youre just next door, and bring the grandkids along; weve practically raised an army of them here. We built towers of parcels, drew on the old forms, helped Vasili the loader. All grown into proper folk, bring them in! Alright, lovelies, Ill be there. So, what about that gentleman whos taken a shine to our Emma?
Emma flushed, setting her scone aside, There is one. He dropped by yesterday. Divorced. His son studies up north; he was sending parcels, transferring money. He bought another lottery ticket.
He wasnt here for that, Clara interjected, unable to hold back, He comes hoping Emma Andrews will appear. He doesnt come for us, its clearly for her! Well then, dear Emma! What if its true? What if you end up with a married old soul, could be nice, eh? Margaret lifted her cup, Heres to love! You, Natalie, are still a spring chicken! Take a leaf out of Emmas book. Maybe well all dance at a wedding yet, wont we, Emma?
Two days later Konstantinnow Arthurstrolled into the post office, eyes searching for Emma. Clara shouted, Emma, someones waiting for you! Arthur blushed, fidgeted, Im just here to check my ticket, he muttered, pulling out a EuroMillions slip, the reason revealed. Emma, though startled, kept her composure, Lets have a look. She switched on the machine, the ticket whirring. Arthur had won before, claimed that Emma brought him luck, bought another ticket. He entered the numbers, eyes wide. The screen flashed a cascade of zeros, an astronomic sum. We cant claim it here, Emma handed back the golden ticket, explained how to collect the prize. The door slammed shut behind the hopeful.
See? Hell never return. Emma, can such a win really happen? I thought we were being taken for a ride, Natalie exclaimed.
But the next morning the post office door swung open. Arthur entered, dressed in a crisp new suit, a lavish bouquet in hand. Good morning, Emma Andrews! I could not decide any longer, nor could I keep silent about what I have to offer. Who am I? A retired serviceman, a solitary old chap, pockets empty. And you, a stunning, brilliant lady, the head of this office. Youve plucked a lucky ticket from my fate, just as my mother used to say. Emma Andrews, will you be my wife? Let us build a happy life together! He knelt, flowers trembling in his hand. The room erupted in delighted applause, even the earlymorning patrons clapped.
The wedding was modest, all familiar faces, tables laid out in the post officeafter all, it was the heart of the home. Margaret beamed, I knew this would be the ending, she whispered, a tear of joy glistening. Soon after, Emma left the post office at her husbands request; they were off to the seaside, planning a cottage, a future brimming with schemes. She gathered the ladies at a cosy restaurant to toast her retirement. It was bittersweet; a tear slipped down her cheek, but she promised to drop by, living just a stones throw away. In her place, Emma recommended Evelyn, convinced she might pull a lucky ticket of her own.
