Heather worked the night shift at her 24/7 supermarket. She preferred it that way. There were no crowds, few colleagues and little to trigger her anxiety. All she had to do was arrive at 10:30pm and stack the shelves until 7 in the morning. She put on her coat and boots, wrapped around her scarf and walked through the sprawling housing estate for 10 minutes, over the motorway bridge and through the car park.
The lorry full of rattling cages would arrive shortly after her shift started. The driver would unload them and Heather would heave them through the store.
She'd get out a Stanley knife and slash through the dense layers of polythene wrap. Then she'd tear off the flaps of cardboard, fling them in the cages and replace the empty boxes on the shelves. It was methodical, hard work. Tomorrow neurotic mums would be chucking these multipacks of Quavers and sweets into their trolleys, while their children ran and skidded on the shiny floors. But for now it was peaceful. All she could hear was the distant bleeping of a checkout.
She loved her independence. She'd had a bad boy boyfriend when she was younger. The last one had ended up in prison for dangerous driving a stolen car. At this point she declared that men were good for nothing to her friends. Soon after, she discovered a number of vibrating toys that did the job better than a man and that was the final straw. She had no need for men in her life whatsoever. She deleted her dating profile on PlentyOfFish and got on with her nocturnal life.
She volunteered for the local foodbank two evenings a week before her shift. She'd give out tins of beans and tuna to single mums and the elderly.
Some afternoons she would meet her girlfriends in the cafe opposite the bus station. She normally played the role of Agony Aunt. She'd tell them their cheating boyfriends were no good for them and that they'd be better off without them. If they forgave their fellas, then the boyfriends would know they could get away with it and would only do it again. Of course her girlfriends never listened as their children ran around the table. But Heather enjoyed the feeling of "I told you so" and her friends enjoyed having a woman to talk to who understood.
Heather was generally quite happy in her own company. But the weekend left her at a loose end. She'd be bright as a button in the early hours. There was nothing to do. The flat would be clean, the bathroom was immaculate. She'd cleaned the bin with bleach for the fourth time in the week. So she'd turn on the TV - except in the early hours there was nothing on.
That was excluding the many channels with the spinning roulette wheel. One morning at 2am, she'd flicked through everything else, bored, and decided that she would have a flutter. She phoned up the number and paid some money in. But she must have pressed some wrong buttons or her big fingers had pressed something wrongly. The Eastern-European presenter called Katja said "no more bets" and she realised that as hevhev84 she'd put 20 pounds on 20 Red. She was shocked and worried.
The ball span around in circles, her heart in her mouth. The pearl tinkled around and jumped around the wheel before landing in a slot.
"20 Red" the presenter lilted in her foreign accent.
Heather was all a-fluster - the screen said that hevhev84 had won £720. She was shocked. This couldn't be right. Anyway she didn't want to lose her beginners luck and lose it all. So she managed to press a button that put her through to somebody and cashed it all out.
What would she do with all her money, she wondered. She skipped through the channels. There was a cruise channel, she listened to a Scouser tell her all about the Princess Royal ship where they served lobster and had a free bar. Oh and a cabaret every night and karaoke. That sounded like fun. Then she thought about it for a while. Did she really want to be on a big boat with thousands of other people who could get sick? Wasn't it common that people got Noravirus on them? It would send her anxiety into overdrive, especially if she couldn't escape from it all.
She switched over the channel to Gemstone TV. There was a very pretty ring on the channel. They said it was a Tamsinite diamond. Heather had never heard of Tamsinite, but it did look especially shiny. It had a blue glow. The lady on it had hairy fingers and Heather thought that was a bit gross - but the ring was especially beautiful. The ring itself was made out of 18 carat silver apparently too! Oh it would be very nice wouldn't it, she thought to herself.
"This would be the perfect gift to a special woman in your life" said the hairy-fingered presenter. "Your mum, your nan, your girlfriend, or even perhaps your daughter. And I promise you I have never seen it as such a low low price. Just £99.99."
"I've got to let you into a little secret. I actually bought one of these for myself. I was feeling a bit down one night, I was sitting in front of the telly and I thought 'you know what Emma? You've been working hard all week long and isn't it time you deserve a little treat'. So I dialed in and got myself one. All my friends think that a bloke bought me it - they keep asking me to introduce him to them. But there isn't a man in my life. I just tell them that a very special person got it for me. They were right: me!"
She cackled to herself in a gravelly voice and turned her finger for the camera.
"Now I was a bit stupid and I paid double for this ring. But we've got... wait for it... wait for it... another price drop coming." A big whoosing sound came down as a 3D hammer graphic hit the price down to £69.99
Heather was enthralled. Hairy Fingers made it all sound so appealing. She did some maths in her head. She could have one for every finger. Yes that would use up most of her winnings and she would be Miss Tamsinite. She would arrive for her shift and sparkle the insomniac shoppers. She would meet her friends in the cafe and they'd be in awe of her shiny fingers!
"We've only got 13 of these left before we're sold out!" yelled the presenter. "Only 12 now. Hang on"
Heather was getting sweaty palms as she prodded the number into in her phone. She ordered 10 anxiously and gave the Indian man her card details. "That's all sorted madam it will arrive in 5-7 working days."
"I'm afraid we're all out of Tamsinite rings" shouted Miss Hairy Hands. "Thank you to Heather from Eastbourne who took 10. Trust me love, you got a bargain on those."
Hev calmed down in her chair - her, yes her, had been mentioned on TV. This was her 5 minutes of fame. Well, more like 5 seconds but whatever. What a night this was turning out to be. All this called for some celebration. She went to the cupboard and pulled out a pack of old Jammy Dodgers and flicked the kettle on. She danced around the kitchen, she'd never felt so carefree or excited.
She was an independent women with 10 Tamsinite rings. She didn't need a man. She dunked her biscuits with joy.
