The Voyage of the Golden Handshake Read Online Free PDF Page A

buys a couple of lottery tickets. She checks the numbers and I don’t pay much attention, for we never win. Today I went home for lunch as usual and there was the mail with our joint account statement from the Prudent Bank - and guess what? I looked at it and saw that we had been credited with six million, six hundred and sixty six thousand, six hundred and sixty-six pounds and six pence. Six million quid! Heather must have checked the tickets, got in touch with the Lottery folks - and bingo. There is the lovely cash in our account. That’s why I am treating everyone, see? Drink up, lad. There’s more where that came from.’
    Albert could literally feel the colour drain from his cheeks.
    So that explained it, he said to himself. That drunken old fool of a Bank Manager had credited Jason and Heather Smith with his legitimate winnings. The situation would have to be put right, but there was bound to be trouble.
    ‘Drink up, Albert,’ said Jason as he flung an empty bottle across the room, narrowly missing the Co-op cat and striking a pile of biscuit tins.
    ‘Hold on, lad,’ said Albert. ‘You can’t damage the place.’
    ‘Oh yes, I can,’ said the increasingly inebriated trolley man.‘I’ve telephoned the office and told them what to do with their rotten job. I’ll pay for the party today and for any accidental damage that might be caused. Have a pie Albert.’
    By now Albert was ravenous, having missed his lunch, so he accepted a Melton Mowbray special and bit into it gratefully. What on earth was he to do? The shop looked as though a tornado had hit it and the staff would have done credit to pre-Lent festivities in Munich.
    Albert was still trying to work out in his mind how this appalling mix-up was going to be resolved when there was a loud ringing on the shop’s telephone. As he was the only sober person present, he picked it up and answered it. Immediately he recognised the soft lilting tones of Heather Smith.
    ‘Hello, is that the Grimsby Co-op?’ she asked.
    ‘It is,’ said Albert, just as there was a mighty crash and a display of baked beans went cascading across the floor.
    ‘Goodness, what’s that?’ asked Heather. ‘And to whom am I speaking? I need to speak to Jason, please.’
    ‘It’s me - Albert. The cat’s just knocked some tins over, nothing to worry about. I’ll get Jason for you.’
    Jason lurched out of the back room, champagne bottle in one hand and pork pie in the other.
    ‘It’s Heather’ said Albert in a stage whisper. ‘For God’s sake, sober up!’
    Jason dropped the pie and grabbed the receiver.
    ‘Heather chuck. My dream girl. My angel. You are wonderful. Well done my sweetie. Well done.’
    He dropped the phone with another crash, picked it up and resumed his monologue. He was quickly cut short by Heather.
    ‘Jason, are you all right? Whatever is the matter? And what’s all that noise? You don’t sound at all well, my dear. What is it? I hope you are well, as I am ringing to ask you to collect me from the station at six this evening.’
    ‘No problem, my honeybun. No problem whatsoever. I’ll have a car meet you. Do you prefer a Rolls or a Bentley?’
    ‘What are you talking about, Jason?’ asked Heather, now becoming seriously alarmed at her husband’s telephone manner.
    ‘The lottery, my pet. Why didn’t you tell me earlier we had won? You are a real little tease, of that there is no doubt.’
    ‘Lottery?’ queried Heather. ‘Won? Jason, I haven’t done the lottery for the past two weeks, as it’s not at all easy to get tickets up here in the wilds of Scotland.’
    Jason froze and for once that afternoon was speechless. He gently put the champagne bottle down and looked directly into Albert’s eyes.
    ‘Bloody hell,’ he said, and collapsed in a heap on the floor.

5
    Admiral Sir Benbow Harrington was in a jovial mood as he tucked into his breakfast kipper. ‘Delicious, my dear,’ he remarked to his wife as she poured him another cup of coffee.