may keep it to himself.’
‘That’s not how offices work. It’ll be the biggest thing since Chris got a beard trimmer in the secret Santa draw.’
‘Didn’t he like it?’
‘No, she didn’t.’ Regan stared at the small glass of brandy and large coffee Charlie had bought her.
‘Life has a funny way of making you look at things differently.’ He leaned forward a little.
‘Oh yeah. It’s shitting well hilarious.’ She shook her head. This guy was no help. Regan downed the brandy and when it hit the back of her throat she grimaced. She noted the slight tremor was still there in her hand as she returned the glass to the table.
‘You might not see it now, but this might end up being the best thing that’s ever happened to you.’ Yep, this guy was nuts.
‘Charlie, I’m sure you are a well-meaning person, and I guess looking out for members of the public is your job, but I fail to see how losing literally everything in approximately ten minutes could be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’
She picked up her coffee, appraising Charlie over the rim. If she hadn’t felt so miserable she would have been far more appreciative of his easy good looks and stubble-swathed jawline. He was having a rummage in the old printer paper box, which now contained everything Regan had left in the world. He pulled out her lottery wish list and managed to give it a quick scan before she hastily snatched it off him.
‘I saw this when I picked up your things. There’s some life-changing stuff on this list. What’s stopping you doing those things anyway?’ he asked.
‘Erm. Oh, let me see,’ she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘The lack of ten million quid for a start.’ Just saying the amount out loud made her feel sick. She’d lost ten million pounds. She couldn’t imagine anyone else on the planet had lost so much money in such a short space of time. A little voice in her head unhelpfully pointed out that she’d never actually had any winnings, but that wasn’t the point; she had genuinely thought she’d won the money – and now every single penny was gone.
‘You don’t need money to enjoy yourself,’ said Charlie, taking a long sip of his coffee.
Regan was too tired to argue. Her whole body was fatigued. She wanted to curl up in a ball, but she wasn’t going to do that in front of a complete stranger – she still had her pride, if nothing else. ‘I need to get back to my car. And then …’ Then what? She stared at Charlie.
‘Is there a friend or a family member who could be with you?’
Cleo sprang into Regan’s head, but she was thousands of miles away living her hashtag-best-life. A life Regan had thought she was about to share. Next, she thought of her dad. She didn’t want to bother him; but what choice did she have?
‘I’ll drive over to my dad’s.’
‘I can give you a lift.’
‘No, don’t worry. Turning up in a cop car is the last thing I need.’ She forced a brief smile.
Charlie’s forehead puckered for a second, and then it was gone. ‘I’m off duty. No cop car. You promise you won’t go after that Alex guy?’
‘I promise,’ she said, begrudgingly. She finished her coffee. ‘I should get going.’ She had absolutely no need to get going – other than that she needed a bloody good mope away from this kind stranger.
‘Sure thing. Look …’ He opened his wallet and pulled out a card. He took a pen from her box and wrote his name and mobile number on the back. ‘This is a group that might interest you. Help you focus on the here and now and what’s good about it.’
Regan read the card. ‘Mantra – mindfulness for beginners? It’s a full mind I’m suffering from – it’s full of how quickly my life has turned to shit.’ She could see he was trying to help. ‘But thanks. I’ll think about it.’
‘No, you won’t,’ said Charlie, which was unexpected.
Regan narrowed her eyes at him. ‘I might.’ She was feeling dogmatic.
‘We’ll see. Anyway …’ he got to his feet. ‘Nice to meet you, Regan. Take care of yourself.’ He held out a hand to shake.
The odd formality of it made her smile. ‘You too, Charlie. Thanks for not arresting me back there.’
‘What? Oh, my pleasure.’
She watched him leave. The feeling of being totally alone swamped her and she quickly picked up her box and left.
Regan hurried through town clutching her belongings like her life depended on it. When she reached the market, it was in full swing: stallholders shouting out the day’s best bargains; elbows out enabling others to get to the front; busy people swerving in and out on their way to somewhere important. The burger van hissed as a fresh batch went on the griddle and a chill wind blew through the stalls, making all the coverings slap about wildly. Everyone and everything had a purpose. Apart from her. She was surrounded by bedlam and yet she’d never felt more alone in her life.
Regan wasn’t sure if it was the brandy, but her head started to swim. The noise, the bustle and the smell were all too much. She was going to pass out. She reached for a stall, but she wasn’t close enough. Her legs buckled and she dropped her box, but someone grabbed her securely around her waist and kept her upright. She shook her head to clear it.
‘You’re not well. You need coffee,’ said a kind voice.
‘Kevin?’
She was about to protest but the feel of something wiry under her fingers pulled her concentration. Elvis was standing the other side of her, his head under her hand. He looked up, his sad eyes appearing concerned.
Kevin and Elvis guided her out of the main thoroughfare and to the Hug In A Mug coffee shop. Kevin took her inside.
‘Customer,’ he called. ‘You’ll be all right now,’ he said, and he scuttled out of the door before Penny appeared.
‘Hey, what’s happened to you?’ asked Penny, coming from behind the counter. Regan didn’t know where to start: from nowhere, the tears started to pour. She had always been irritated by crying – in her mind it served no good purpose. She didn’t believe those people who said you’d feel better after a good cry. It made your face blotchy and your nose run and quite often it gave you a thumping great headache to make you even more miserable.
‘Sorry, no tissues.’ Penny offered Regan a bundle of serviettes instead, which she took gratefully. ‘I’ll get you a coffee and you can tell me all about it.’
Regan took a moment to pull herself together while Penny made her a coffee and left the other waitress to field the couple of customers who had come in. ‘Here,’ said Penny, handing Regan a cup and pulling up a chair.
A loud bang on the glass right behind Regan’s head made her almost jump off her seat. She spun around and came face to hairy face with Elvis. Kevin popped his head round the coffee shop door, pushed Regan’s box inside and gave her a tentative thumbs-up. ‘You okay?’ he asked.
Despite
