Against All Odds
Flick wasn’t remotely religious. She was a journalist. She believed in facts.
In truths that could be researched and fact-checked.
In remaining objective. In a commitment to reporting only accurate stories, without skewing or embellishing the facts.
Which is why she’d fidgeted her way through her Catholic primary school assemblies as a child, sitting cross-legged as she listened to the stories from the Bible about faith and miracles.
But where was the proof? she would ask, shooting her hand up, much to the impatience of her headmistress. Where were the facts?
But now, some twenty years later, even she hoped for a miracle as she handed over her credit card.
Thankfully Mastercard performed one and her payment was accepted. She didn’t look at the bar bill. Just closed her eyes and said a little prayer. Her headmistress would be delighted.
‘OK, time to call it a night,’ yawned Flick, as they both slid off their bar stools and began making their way past the roulette tables.
‘Really?’
Flick glanced at Maggie, surprised by her reaction. She’d assumed Maggie would be more than ready to leave the casino and go to bed.
‘It’s been a long day, and we’ve got an early flight tomorrow. I’m beat.’
‘Yes, I know, me too.’ Maggie paused on the swirly carpet. ‘Except . . . we’ve got one night in Monte Carlo. We’re in the world’s most famous casino. Are we really going to go back home without having a flutter?’
Flick frowned. ‘With what? We’re both broke. After that bar bill, I don’t think it’s just you who’s lost their life savings,’ she wisecracked and kept walking.
‘C’mon, just one game of cards.’
‘You’re drunk.’
‘Yes, I am.’ She smiled tipsily. ‘And so are you.’
Maybe it was the three strong cocktails.
Maybe it was being in Monte Carlo, away from real life.
Maybe it was seeing Him again. But while she’d been reluctant to come here, now Maggie was reluctant to leave.
As soon as she walked through that exit, the spell would be broken, and she’d be back to reality.
‘When am I ever going to get this chance again? You know, I used to be pretty good at cards. Dad taught me how to play blackjack. We used to play all the time when I’d visit him on his canalboat. I might not have got his watch back but I’d like to play a game of cards, just for him.’
Flick faltered. It was the mention of Maggie’s dad that did it.
She knew what it was like to lose a parent.
The things you remembered. The things you did to make them feel close again.
The lengths you’d go to. Plus, let’s be honest, she was more than a little bit drunk herself.
Those cocktails had gone straight to her head.
‘OK, why not?’ Why not humour her? At this point, it wouldn’t do any harm; plus, she still felt guilty not telling her the whole truth about the trip. ‘There’s just one problem – we don’t have any cash.’
‘Aha, well, that’s where you’re wrong. As luck would have it . . .’ Maggie opened her wallet and pulled out her emergency twenty-pound note. ‘Ta-dah,’ she said, brandishing it.
She knew it would come in useful at some point. All that talk about it being a cashless society. There would always be one place happy to take your cash: a casino.
OK, so perhaps happy wasn’t quite the right word.
A few minutes later, the cashier peered rather sniffily at Maggie’s paltry twenty-pound note. He was used to players with big amounts. The person in front of her had just exchanged enough for piles of chips. She handed over her money. She got one chip back.
‘That’s it?’
‘Oui,’ he replied, his face deadpan.
‘OK, then.’ She smiled brightly, undeterred. One chip was better than no chips. When the chips are down and all that.
Together she and Flick walked over to one of the blackjack tables.
‘How much are you going to bet?’ asked Flick.
‘There’s a minimum to play, so I’ll bet the lot.’
Flick nodded and felt rather pleased. She was tired and totally ready for their soft and lumpy bed. This should be over in no time. One game and Maggie would lose her money and they’d be going back to the Airbnb.
As Maggie took her place at the table amongst the rest of the players, she put down her chip and the dealer dealt her two cards. Stick or twist? She twisted and won.
‘Wow!’
As Flick watched the croupier hand Maggie her winnings, Maggie felt an unexpected shot of adrenaline. It was the first bit of luck in she couldn’t remember how long. The first time she’d won money, not lost it. She felt a buzz of excitement.
‘Let’s go again.’
‘Hello, can I have the old Maggie back?’ joked Flick as Maggie placed another bet and won. And then another. And another.
But what Flick didn’t know is this was the old Maggie. The Maggie who was adventurous and confident and fun. The Maggie she used to be before she fell in love with a fraudster who stole her life. She was back.
Time flew by and before she knew it, Maggie had won two hundred and fifty euros, which included her original bet. Time to quit while she was ahead.
‘Wow, you’re really good!’ congratulated Flick.
She was wide awake now. Watching Maggie gambling was invigorating.
She knew nothing about playing cards, but Maggie obviously did.
Choosing to stick or twist with the seriousness and certainty of someone who’d played a million games of blackjack, even if it was with her dad at the kitchen table and not a fancy casino in Monte Carlo.
‘I had a good teacher,’ grinned Maggie, gathering up her chips and leaving the table. The croupier nodded in respect. As did a few other players, men that weren’t used to be being beaten by a woman, especially not one as unassuming as Maggie. ‘And by the way, it’s yours.’
‘What?’ Flick looked confused.
‘To pay you back for my flight and the dress and lunch and everything. It’s not nearly enough, but at least it’s something.’
‘No, don’t be silly. It was my stupid idea.’
‘It wasn’t stupid. It was the first time I’ve had fun in a long time. Please, take it.’
Flick hesitated. She should be sensible. Cash in the chips. Use the money to pay off some of her credit card. And yet, even though she’d never admit it, Maggie wasn’t the only one caught up in the spell of Monte Carlo. Tomorrow she’d be back home to face the music, but it wasn’t tomorrow just yet.
‘How about we gamble it all?’
‘Huh?’
Impulsively she pointed to a table with a roulette wheel. ‘What have we got to lose?’
Maggie had heard that somewhere before. She thought of her friend George. ‘Two hundred and fifty euros?’ she replied and together they both started grinning.
It was so out of character for both of them. Flick had spent her whole life being sensible, while Maggie no longer trusted herself to take any risks, but they were both drunk and in the most famous casino in the world.
‘Faites vos jeux!’
‘What does that mean?’ hissed Flick as they took their place at the roulette table.
‘Place your bets,’ whispered Maggie. ‘You must place them yourself on the green baize.’
All around them people were placing their chips on the table.
‘Do you want red or black?’
‘Can you bet on a single number?’
‘Yes, but then the odds are really against us,’ warned Maggie.
‘What’s new?’ replied Flick and they both met each other’s gaze.
‘OK, what’s your lucky number?’
‘Nineteen. It was my mum’s birthday.’
With a flick of his wrist the croupier spun the roulette wheel as Maggie slid all their chips onto number nineteen on the table. It wasn’t much, but it was everything they had.
‘If we win thousands, what are we going to spend it on?’ Flick’s nerves jangled. Too late to change their minds now.
‘Paying off our credit cards?’ suggested Maggie, her chest tightening.
‘Rien ne va plus.’
So this was it. No more bets. The moment when everyone held their breath, their eyes riveted on the roulette wheel, waiting for the ball to come to rest.
‘That’s boring. How about we use the money to catch a thief?’
And then suddenly the croupier was announcing the number and it was flashing up on the screen and people were whooping and clapping.
‘Dix-neuf.’
Nineteen. They’d won. Oh my God. They’d won!