Just My Luck(2)

‘What?’ I can’t quite work out what he’s on about, it might be the wine, it might be because my head is still full of betrayal and deceit, but I can’t seem to climb into his moment. I turn to the screen. The lottery website. Brash and loud. A clash of bright colours and fonts.

1, 8, 20, 29, 49, 58. The numbers glare at me from the computer. Numbers I am so familiar with. Yet they seem peculiar and unbelievable.

‘I don’t understand. Is this a joke?’

‘No, Lexi. No! It’s for real. We’ve only gone and won the bloody lottery!’





2


Lexi


￡17.8 million.

￡17.8 million.

￡17.8 million.

No matter how often I say it, I can’t make sense of it. In fact, the opposite is true. The more I say it, the less real it seems. I can’t imagine what it means. Not really. Our numbers are on the screen. They are still there, I’ve checked a thousand times, just in case, but they are there. And the other numbers too. The numbers saying how much our winning ticket is worth – 17,870,896 pounds. So much money! I rush to the kitchen and grab the ticket off the noticeboard, suddenly terrified that a freak gust of wind has blown it away, or that one of the kids has knocked it off when they pinned up their letters from school. Although this makes no sense because in the entire history of our family life, neither of our two kids has ever pinned up a letter from school; I’m much more likely to find them crumpled up at the bottom of their rucksacks. I stare at the tiny hole made by the drawing pin; the ticket is slightly creased at the corner. How can this scrap of paper be worth 17.8 million pounds? It’s unbelievable. It’s incomprehensible. What does this mean for us? I turn to Jake to see if he is making any more sense of this. Jake beams at me. It is the widest, most complete beam I have seen him wear for years. I’m reminded of our early days together. When we were nothing other than hope and happiness. It makes me splutter laughter through my nose.

‘Are you sure this is right?’

‘Absolutely. I’ve checked. I’ve watched the draw six times on YouTube. They’ve announced that there is a winner. Just one. Lexi, that’s us! We are rich. Rich beyond our wildest dreams.’

I giggle again because the phrase is crazy. Rich beyond our wildest dreams is something people only say in pretty dreadful plays or movies. My body is tingling. I can feel every nerve end. It is almost painful. ‘Wow. I mean wow. What shall we do?’ I ask.

‘Well, we need to call it in.’

‘How do we do that?’ My fingers are cold, immobilised, but on the other hand I feel hot and no longer solid. I am melting. The two glasses of wine I downed now feel like six. Shock, I suppose.

‘I don’t know. It must be on the website or something.’ Jake starts to dart around the screen, hitting buttons. I can’t believe it. Don’t dare to. It can’t be true. It’s too lucky. It’s too wonderful. I am quivering, Jake might be able to hear my teeth chattering. I notice his hands are shaking too. ‘Here it is. The National Lottery winners’ line. We have to call them.’ Jake pauses and stares at me. His eyes gleaming, bright but unfocused. He picks up the house phone and hits the buttons to dial the number on screen. We almost never use the landline, but the occasion demands gravitas and somehow the dusty neglected phone on the desk feels more serious than a mobile.

‘I think we’ve won the lottery. The whole amount. The jackpot.’ The person at the other end of the phone must ask Jake if he bought the ticket because he looks confused and a bit irritated when he replies, ‘No. My wife actually bought it. Well, yes, she paid for it… Yes, yes, she’s here with me now.’ He offers the handset to me. ‘They want to talk to you.’

I somehow manage to stumble through the security questions that confirm where and when I bought the ticket. I suppose some people might find winning tickets or steal them. The lottery company has to be certain I bought ours fair and square.

‘Can you please write your name and address on the back of the ticket now, if you haven’t already done so,’ advises the woman on the end of the line. She sounds calm and measured, which I find comforting but bizarre. I wonder how many times this woman has spoken to winners, to people whose lives will never be the same again following this particular phone call. I wonder what it must be like to be her. I’m struggling to be me. I feel I’m having some sort of out of body experience. I can’t concentrate or reason when she says, ‘Well, congratulations, Mrs Greenwood. You are indeed a winner!’

‘The whole lot?’ I just can’t believe it.

‘Yes, Mrs Greenwood. The whole lot – 17,870,896 pounds sterling.’ The number, massive as it is, rolls fluently off her tongue. I start to giggle. It’s impossible. Earlier on I thought this was the worst night of my life, but now the night has turned around completely. What am I talking about? My life has! ‘Now, Mrs Greenwood, we have people here who’ll take you through the process and for us to do that most effectively we’ll need to know, will you be taking publicity?’

‘No, I don’t think so.’ I imagine the lottery company like it if you take publicity. A good luck story in the papers must mean more tickets are bought but my instinct is to keep this to ourselves.

‘You don’t have to decide now,’ she replies smoothly. ‘One of our winners’ advisors will be in contact with you shortly. They’ll send an email or call you, and then they’ll fix up a meeting. Probably for Tuesday next week. Usually it’s sooner but as it’s a bank holiday on Monday, Tuesday might be better for you?’