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Just the Ticket

Carl, just back from a business trip, only got half way through the door before Lynne, his wife, squealed, “WE'VE WON! WE'VE WON!”
   She was so excited it took a good few minutes before he could get the figure out of her. Just over four million pounds.

They sipped champagne at the kitchen table. Mute with shock. Carl’s thoughts wandered, thinking about cars, houses and holidays. One thing was for sure they’d never have to work again. He wanted to phone Pete up, there and then, to tell him to screw the job.
   Carl finally broke the excited silence, “Show me the little beauty then.”
   "What?”
   “The ticket. The golden ticket!”
   “I've hidden it for safety until the woman from Camelot comes tomorrow morning. Said it would be wise. She'll here at 8.”
   “Come on. You do trust me?”
   “Of course I trust you but I've told a couple of people. Sorry Carl, I know it was stupid, but I couldn't get you on your mobile. I had to tell someone. I was going to burst. Of course I trust you. Oh, I love you and we're going to have a wonderful life. Four million pounds. Four million. I can't believe it. We can definitely afford to have children now, yeah? Oh Carl, let's try, let's try tonight. The champagne's, well, it’s making me feel a bit randy. Just think Carl, our little life is going to be amazing and a child to share it all with, well, wouldn't that just be the icing on the cake?”

When Carl thought his wife had fallen into her post-coital slumber he crept downstairs. Looking in all of her special hiding places but the ticket refused to be found. She heard him tip-toe back up the stairs to bed.

So this ticket? Was there a ticket? Of course there was a ticket, but like the randomness of millions of sperm all vying to fertilize one single egg, what the numbers held only probability would tell.

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