Just My Luck(17)

‘Wealth management arm?’

‘Looking at who you currently bank with, I’d suggest Coutts. Have you heard of them?’

I think of the elegant branding on the side of a massive, seemingly impenetrable building I sometimes pass on the Strand, in London. Only ever pass, I’ve never dreamed of going in. Curly, rich-looking black lettering on a creamy background. Coutts is the royal family’s bank. ‘Will they accept us?’ I ask.

‘Without a doubt,’ smiles Gillian.

‘Money talks,’ chips in Emily.

‘Money shouts,’ laughs Jake.

I’m uncomfortable with Emily being privy to this conversation about finances. In the past, we’ve always avoided talking about money in front of the kids. Although that was because previously all our discussions were about whether we had enough and if not, how could we make more?

‘My notes say you are undecided about publicity, but we’ve been online and there’s already a leak that the winner is local to this area. Is it to do with…?’ Gillian tactfully trails off but swivels her eyes to the front garden where the car is parked.

‘Yes,’ I confirm. ‘My husband lacks discretion.’

‘Ah but I make up for it in enthusiasm.’ Jake taps his fingers in a way that imitates someone hitting a cymbal. Emily laughs. Gillian smiles politely. I swear the man doesn’t take drugs but he’s as high as a kite.

‘Well, I suggest you take publicity now. With the leak and a Ferrari parked on your road it will only be a matter of time before the local press reveal who has won the seventeen point eight million pounds. If that happens, you can’t easily control the narrative. If we take the lead, then we can help direct and manage the publicity so that it’s the least intrusive.’

‘Control the narrative?’ I ask, bemused.

‘Well, there’s a lovely story to be told here,’ says Gillian with a reassuring smile. ‘Family of four, big win, people will relate.’ She means ordinary family. We’re quite ordinary. She’s just too polite to put it into words. She could, I wouldn’t mind. I am OK with being ordinary. I smile. If it’s a little stiff, Gillian doesn’t seem to notice. ‘We can introduce you to publicists and even image consultants if you want.’ I have no idea what an image consultant is but I nod anyway; I want a team, support. ‘In that case, if you are taking publicity, we need to set up a little ceremony to hand over the enormous cheque. That can be a lot of fun. How about this Friday? Does that work?’

‘Yes, I only work a half day on Fridays, I’m sure I can swing it,’ I say. Again, Jake and Emily giggle between themselves. Clearly work and school are not considerations for their availability.

‘It can take place wherever you want but I’d suggest not in your home. Maybe at a local country house, somewhere grand for the photos. We’ll invite the local press and radio stations. We’ll talk you through the sort of questions they are likely to ask. We can practise answers if you like. There’s nothing to worry about. It won’t be huge. This isn’t a national story.’

‘It’s not?’ I’m relieved.

‘Not really. You’d need to have won sixty million upwards to make the national press.’

‘Imagine that,’ says Jake in awe.

‘I took the liberty of scouting around the area this morning, in case you did want to go in this direction. This manor house hotel looks lovely. Just the ticket.’ Gillian hands over her iPad. ‘I’ve already spoken to the events manager there. They can accommodate us, if you like it.’ There are pictures of the stately home hotel, Camberwell Manor. I know of it; they host big weddings and corporate balls. I’ve never visited but somewhere in the very back of my mind, I’ve always thought it might be the perfect venue for Emily’s wedding, in say fifteen years’ time.

‘Very nice,’ I nod.

‘Yup, great. I always wanted to take the publicity. I think it will be fun,’ comments Jake. ‘Only one thing. Will we have to wait until Friday to get the actual money? We were originally told it could be in our account by Wednesday.’

I close my eyes, embarrassed by his greedy keenness.

‘The cheque is symbolic. You can’t actually cash it,’ points out Gillian.

‘No, thought not.’

‘However, of course we can get the money in your account sooner if that’s what you want.’

‘It is,’ replies Jake, firmly.





11


Emily


Friday, 26th April

The lottery company arranges for a car to pick us up so that both Mum and Dad can have a glass of champagne at the press conference without anyone suggesting they will be driving home under the influence. Dad says he could have ‘just the one’ and still drive and that he wants to drive there in the Ferrari. Mum says he can’t because even if he is technically under the limit, it will make a very bad story if any of the journos notice. Dad says Gillian said we’re not as big a story as all that. He sounds disappointed by this. Mum says we don’t want to become a bigger story for the wrong reasons and anyway we can’t all fit in the Ferrari. Logan says if Dad is driving then he wants to go with Dad because the Ferrari is dead cool. Mum pushes us all into the lottery car, which is a stretch limo and not too shabby anyway. She says she doesn’t want to hear another word.