Chapter 1

Ariel Constance hesitated, and it was the prospect of love that was doing it.

For a normally decisive person, she thought this was a big step, although in her 36 years as girl, wife and mother she had taken several big steps already. Nonetheless, spending so much on a single lottery ticket was an expensive—and potentially life-changing—step.

Not only a lottery ticket, priced at an outrageous £30 a ticket, but one called The Love Lottery.

‘Buy a ticket and win the desire of your heart’ announced the banner over a single man standing in a small booth. It wasn’t even obvious, placed where it was under a little-used staircase in the corner of the mall. Whoever was in charge of marketing this project had done an abysmal job promoting the so-called Love Lottery.

Ariel hadn’t even heard of it before, and stared at the booth and the small, round man standing looking bored behind the counter. He was hardly an advertisement for ‘the desire of your heart’ with his portly figure, thinning hair and bristly moustache.

She realised she had the man’s attention. “Do you want the ticket or not, lady?” asked the agent. He sounded irritated that he even had to be there, though given the lack of interest in the lottery he was probably bored out of his mind. More, he looked exactly the kind of person Ariel didn’t want to win. Of course, the man selling the Love Lottery tickets today might not have been a player—which would make him a possible prize if this was what it was all about—but it would have been dreadful if the unpleasant man was what she won.

Or rather, what he won. Perhaps that was the thing about the Love Lottery: one could feel elated they were the winner and the other very much were stunned they were a loser.

Behind the man was another display. ‘Join our winners in love’ read the slogan, surrounded by hearts. Inside each image was a grinning young, good-looking man or woman with perfect teeth on show in a radiant smile.

Ariel shuddered: did that mean she might win a woman? How would she feel about that? She swallowed and read more. Another sub-headline on the display glowed; “You never know how it will change your love life!”

Ariel almost walked away, but almost wasn’t walking away. She stood and thought about love, and what that might be. She thought about missed opportunities in her life, and what she had ended up with. A cold, indifferent husband obsessed with work and an unpleasant daughter who did little to help around the home. There was little desire there, other than a desire to get away from it all.

Ariel shrugged. “I suppose so,” she answered the man, who had repeated his question with a fraction more irritation. She took money out of her coat pocket, though not too fast in case she changed her mind about buying.

“How many tickets?” The man asked, eyeing the money in the woman’s hands. She was holding at least two twenty-pound notes.

“I think one ticket is enough. I’m not after more than one.” Ariel almost added the word ‘lover’ but avoided embarrassing herself. Her tone was frosty, for she really didn’t like this man. She handed over the money for one ticket and snatched the pink ticket from the man’s pudgy hand. She felt embarrassed at even buying one of these Love Lottery tickets, and equally didn’t want to be seen by a friend or neighbour or someone from the church. Especially not the church. The official line was gambling was a temptation from the devil and the Lord would provide what each person needed.

For all his infinite wisdom, the Lord hadn’t provided. Not yet. Ariel was stuck in a marriage she didn’t much care for with a child who gave the impression of not liking her mother very much. But while Colin was out most of the week at work, Serena was always home. Grumbling and making sly comments about her mother’s clothes or her cooking or more often something no one could do anything about. How many times had Ariel told the 16-year-old that there was no point in complaining about something as immutable as the weather because it was out of anyone’s hands?

The one Love Ticket—pink, of course with a huge red heart with a smile across it as if it was a face—had been stuffed by Ariel into her pocket as quickly as she could. She mumbled ‘thanks’ and started to walk away with head down.

“Your change, lady,” called the man after her. Ariel gritted her teeth and swung back to the man. She nodded her thanks, shoved the ten-pound banknote into her coat pocket with the ticket and asked: “How do I claim? If I win, that is.”

“Details on your ticket.” Sniffed the man as if it was obvious. Ariel nodded, and hurried away.

“So why do you want a Love Lottery ticket?” Said that nasty, criticising voice in her head as Ariel re-joined the people in the main part of the mall. The leader of the church called such inner voices angels, but this angel always had a hectoring, condescending tone. A voice that sounded like her always critical mother.

“You know. A chance for someone to love, that’s all,” said Ariel to herself.

“You mean cheating on the man who gives you everything,” came the sharp voice in her head.

“He doesn’t give me what I most need,” Ariel retorted. “I’m 36 and I’m running out of time.”

“Then you should try harder with your husband,” said the voice in her, almost sneering. “You could have spent that money on a pair of panties—sexy ones, not the plain things you wear now.”

“Doesn’t matter what underwear I have: he doesn’t get turned on any more by me,” said Ariel, and then blushed for she must have said that aloud because a young teenage couple were near her and were staring at her. The girl was frowning but the boy with the girl was smirking. Neither of them looked old enough to be out alone, she thought.

“Hi, I was ... um ... practising my lines from a play we are doing at the church women’s group,” Ariel stammered by way of explanation.

“Some play,” grinned the teenage boy. “Can we have tickets?”

“Stop it,” snapped the girl with him, elbowing him in the ribs. “That’s not the sort of thing we want to be associated with.”

Ariel nodded and fled, thinking the young lad certainly did. Poor kid, she thought. All he wants is some fun, and so do I.

But that was the trouble with fun, wasn’t it? Sometimes one person wanted something and often the other person didn’t. The same was true of love. It wasn’t that Ariel wanted wild, passionate sex—though that would be nice—but at least someone who was there and wasn’t complaining all the time. Or sneering.

She almost ran at once into Delilah Blacking, the unfortunately named leader of the church women’s group. A battle-axe of a woman who always wore a thick tweed coat buttoned up to the throat in even the hottest of weathers. Today was cool, so she had an excuse.

“What are you doing here?” demanded Delilah, as if it was any business of hers. No greeting, and certainly no warmth.

“Oh, you know. Shopping.” It was a mall after all and that was what most people did there. Ariel didn’t announce the obvious, and nor did she say what was on her mind: ‘And what are you doing here?’ if only because no one ever said things like that to Delilah Blacking, ogre of the church ladies.