Page 11 of The Lucky Winners

Merri

The house is stunning, even more beautiful than the photos.

The limo crawls up the hillside, its tyres crunching on gravel. I tell myself it’s just the nerves, but the driver has said barely a word since we left home, and there’s something about the way his eyes gravitate to the rear-view mirror … like he’s watching us, not the road.

Dev lets out a low whistle. ‘Jeez Louise!’

The place is like something straight out of a Hollywood movie, a glass palace that glows with warmth and promise in the afternoon light.

Perched on a grassy knoll above Lake Windermere, it’s modern and vast, yet seems to merge effortlessly with the natural landscape.

The glass facade reflects the blue sky, white clouds and the lush trees surrounding it.

From outside, the large windows reflect nothing but endless trees and the dark stretch of water.

It seems too quiet and still, as if the house itself has been waiting for us to arrive.

Ben from DreamKey is a tall guy with shoulder-length dark-blond hair and a surfer vibe. He’s waiting for us at the front of the house with a cameraman. He greets us and says, ‘Congratulations. Let’s show you around your beautiful new home.’

I turn my back on the lake and stand at the bottom of the steps, trying to take it all in.

The architecture is sharp and almost futuristic with its clean lines, natural wood accents and open glass walls.

Every floor-to-ceiling window offers a glimpse of something magical.

A roaring fire inside, plush cream sofas, and that stunning view of the lake just beyond.

It’s like something I’d expect a celebrity to own, never me. Never us.

‘Sorry about the fire in July.’ Ben grins. ‘Makes for too good a photo to miss.’

‘Can you believe this, Dev?’ I turn to him. ‘You won this with your ticket.’

‘ We won it. You and me … Well, once I’d rescued the ticket off the floor.’ He gives me a cheeky grin.

Maybe this is Fate’s way of giving me a clean slate. If that’s the case I’m going to grasp it with both hands. I’ve always felt the past isn’t something you can just walk away from. Not really. But people do, don’t they? Turn over a new leaf, forgive themselves.

But old lies are still lies, and sometimes they find their way back to you. I shake off the thought, but it lingers, like morning mist curling off the cold, dark lake that makes my blood curdle just to look at it.

Now I’ve seen the place, it’s becoming easier to picture us living here. The brand-new version of us, waking up to those views, sipping coffee on the terrace.

This is the kind of place people escape to. A sanctuary. But it can’t be a sanctuary if I’m still hiding from myself. From Dev. The past is the past. There’s no reason for anyone to make the connection with who I used to be: people are too caught up in their own lives to worry about mine.

Sounds so simple when I think of it like that.

From where I’m standing on the wraparound terrace, the whole of Lake Windermere stretches out below. Her silvery waters are calm. The back of my neck prickles at the distant hills that seem to rise directly out of the water, their peaks blending into the pale clouds.

Cold, dark water. I take a moment to feel the ache and see her face before turning away.

Running my hand along the smooth edge of the glass balustrade, I glance at the small cluster of slate roofs dotted down the hill.

They seem to belong to another time. It’s all so perfect, like a scene from one of those glossy calendars you keep hanging on your wall, wishing you could step inside it.

The terrace is immaculate, with huge wooden loungers draped with sheepskins, inviting us to sink in and relax.

Along the edge of the balcony, neat, well-maintained planters are artfully arranged.

Topiaries and herbs spill over the sides of wooden barrels, the scent of pine and rosemary mixing with the clean air.

I can already imagine us here, curled up with blankets on those chairs, watching the changing colours of the landscape as the seasons turn.

I glance at Dev, enjoying the way his eyes also roam across the view. He’s just as awestruck as I am. The sheer scale of it, the beauty, the serenity, is overwhelming.

The glass doors at the front slide open smoothly as I follow Dev inside.

Click, click, click. The cameraman pads soundlessly around us, recording each and every moment.

Every reaction on our faces. Every single expression.

It’s pretty jarring that each intimate moment with my husband will probably be plastered over their website by tomorrow, but I’m trying not to think about that.

In the exquisite living room with its panoramic views, everything is bathed in a soft golden glow. The high ceiling only serves to make the space feel endless. Every room seems fluid, each space spilling seamlessly into the next, all of it connected by the warmth of the lights.

When Dev walks forward and starts to chat enthusiastically to Ben, the DreamKey guy, I hang back in the hallway and close my eyes.

The house has a good feel, all of it so welcoming with the trace scent of fresh paint lingering in the air.

The solid oak floors and that sublime view: it’s a big leap beyond even my wildest dreams.

I hear someone whistling and turn, startled, when a man appears at the end of the hallway. He’s about five foot ten and lean, wearing dark clothes, with a tool belt slung low over his hips.

‘Oh, hi,’ he says, running a hand through a mop of unruly black curls. He looks over my shoulder. ‘Erm … is that guy Ben around? He let me in. I’ve boarded up the smashed window.’

‘Smashed?’ I frown. ‘They said it was just cracked.’

He points to half a house brick on the shelf in the hallway. ‘Definitely smashed,’ he says. ‘Someone lobbed this through it so –’

‘All finished there, Jack?’ Ben coughs behind me. He and Dev walk down the hallway.

‘Yep. All done, boss,’ Jack says brightly.

I step to the side as they join us. ‘Jack says someone threw a brick through the window,’ I say, looking at Ben and then Dev.

‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ Ben says easily. ‘Just local kids pratting about. They know the property’s empty, see, so there’s no comeback.’

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a small, wriggling doubt tugs at my peace but I push it away.

Jack leaves and Ben takes a call, leaving Dev and me a bit of precious time on our own.

First stop is the kitchen where I feel as if I’ve walked into a magazine spread. Everything is polished, designed to impress, from the high wooden beams overhead to the sheer expanse of space stretching in every direction.

Dev gives a low whistle. ‘This place is …’ He doesn’t finish, just shakes his head as he takes it all in.

The kitchen is huge, with a charcoal-grey island at its centre, the marble countertop gleaming under soft recessed lighting.

Open shelving holds neatly arranged bottles and jars, everything curated like a showroom, except for the longest wall, which has been painted lipstick red.

It grates a bit. No doubt an edgy statement that’s lost on me.

A bottle of champagne sits in a gleaming silver bowl, ready for a celebration.

When I get closer, I see it’s empty. Beyond it, the dining area sprawls towards more floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a view of rolling hills drenched in sunlight.

A crystal chandelier hangs over the massive wooden table, each place setting arranged with precision.

I pull out a drawer, open a couple of cupboards and they’re all fully loaded with cutlery, crockery and saucepans. It’s the kind of room designed for hosting, for laughter and wine, evenings that stretch into early mornings.

We move through to the living room where an outsize olive-green sofa dominates the space, its cushions plump and mohair throws draped just so.

I swear even the air feels more expensive in here.

Another log fire, this time unlit, sits beneath a mantelpiece framed by stacked firewood and a mounted faux stag’s head.

Shelves lined with decorative vases and colour-coded books flank either side.

I feel a smidgeon of disappointment when I select a novel to find it’s fake.

There are other rooms we haven’t explored but Dev is keen to go upstairs where the luxury only deepens.

The master bedroom features a symphony of glass and timber, the entire far wall made of windows overlooking the lake.

I shiver and turn to the enormous bed, a fortress of soft white linens and faux-fur throws, the kind you could lose yourself in for days.

A small sitting area is arranged near the window, a deep armchair and a fur-covered footstool perfectly positioned for lazy mornings with coffee and a book.

‘This is ridiculous,’ I whisper, running my fingers over the smooth wood of the coffee-table. ‘Who actually lives like this?’

Dev smirks. ‘People with too much money.’

I exhale slowly. ‘I feel like I shouldn’t be touching anything.’

He grins. ‘Same. But this place is ours now so we can do what the hell we like.’

I run a hand over the fur throw at the end of the bed. ‘If we ever get rich, remind me that this is the kind of house I want.’

Dev chuckles. ‘Noted. And your wish is now granted, madam.’

We’ve just got back downstairs when the gate buzzer sounds. It’s probably more people. I can’t wait until it’s just us two here with no cameras and no sense of our reactions being monitored and logged.

‘I’ll get it,’ Dev says, already halfway down the hall. He seems relaxed, but I notice that he wipes his hands on his jeans, like he’s preparing himself for something. He presses the button to view the gate camera, then the one that opens the electric gates.

‘You didn’t ask who it is!’ I say.

Dev shrugs. ‘It’s a couple. They look nice enough. Stop worrying.’

He opens the door and steps out on to the porch.

I lag behind him, half out of curiosity, half out of caution.

A man and a woman walk over the gravel towards us, smiling. They’re older than we are. I’d say early forties. An air of sophistication surrounds them that makes me feel immediately self-conscious.

‘Hello, new neighbours!’ the man says brightly, offering Dev his hand. ‘Thought we’d just pop over and say hello. I’m Simon and this is my wife, Tilda. We live at Kendal Barn, just down the hill.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ Dev says. He turns and calls inside, ‘Merri? We have our first visitors.’ He turns back to them and says, ‘There’s some filming happening here today, so we’re a bit at their beck and call.’

I take a breath and step into the hallway, smiling. ‘Hello!’

I shake hands with them, my smile fixed. All the photos, filming and now meeting new people out of the blue: it’s sensory overload for someone like me who’s a natural introvert.

Simon is tall and attractive in a classically handsome way.

His dark hair is neatly styled and he’s wearing a fitted shirt in understated fabric that looks expensive.

Tilda stands beside him, her cool, Nordic-like beauty making me feel inadequate.

She’s slim, with blonde hair pulled back in a sleek, low ponytail, and her eyes are a captivating blue.

Her clothes are simple but elegant – a silky blouse and perfectly tailored trousers with stylish suede loafers.

‘It’s so nice to meet you,’ Tilda says, with a soft smile. She offers up a large plastic container. ‘I made you a Victoria sandwich cake.’

‘Oh, that’s so thoughtful. Thank you!’

We take them to the living room.

‘Oh, wow, look, Simon,’ Tilda gasps. ‘I thought our view was amazing, but this … this is very special.’

‘Stunning,’ Simon agrees, taking a few steps further in and surveying the vista. ‘Congratulations, by the way. You guys must be absolutely stoked with your win.’

Thanks to the press, the whole region seems to know about our good fortune. I can feel I’m starting to fold in on myself. Being a bit weird , as Dev affectionately refers to my introvert tendencies.

‘Thank you,’ he says, smiling broadly. ‘Yeah, we are and, as you can imagine, it’s been mad. We’ve hardly got our heads around it yet, to be honest. Right, Merri?’

‘Absolutely,’ I agree, taking the hint. ‘It’s been a whirlwind.’

I’m smiling and nodding in all the right places, but there’s tightness in my chest, the ‘out of place’ feeling I sometimes get among people I don’t know very well.

Tilda and Simon seem so composed, so at ease with themselves.

Multi-million-pound home or not, I can’t ever imagine measuring up to their kind of effortless charm.

‘Sorry I can’t offer you a drink,’ I say. ‘This is our first visit, we’re not actually “in” yet.’

‘No, no. We won’t keep you. I’m sure you’ve got loads to do,’ Tilda says, glancing at Simon. ‘But the other reason we came up was to invite you for dinner at our place. Once you’ve moved in, of course.’

‘A nice informal dinner,’ Simon adds quickly, looking at me. ‘Tilda’s a great cook and it’ll just be the four of us, a chance to chat so at least you’ll know two people here.’

Dev looks delighted. ‘Well, that sounds perfect,’ he says quickly. ‘Doesn’t it, Merri?’

‘Yes, lovely!’ I echo my husband. ‘Thank you so much, we’d love to come.’

Dev adds, ‘Let’s swap numbers and I’ll let you know when we have a definite moving date.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ Simon says, with a wide smile that’s as flawless as the rest of him.

As Tilda and I exchange details, Dev takes Simon into the plant room to show him how the heat pump works.

‘You’re so lucky,’ Tilda says wistfully, gazing around the room again. ‘This place is fantastic and I’m sure you’ll be really happy here.’

‘Thanks. I think we will.’ I smile, realizing it should be the truth without the shadow of unpaid bills to mar our peace. ‘We still haven’t taken in the win, to be honest.’

‘No kids?’ Tilda looks around the lounge, as if a toddler might be hiding in a corner somewhere.

‘No kids,’ I say, my throat tightening. I’ve lost count of how many people have asked that question since we got married. Perfect strangers feel entitled to wade straight in.

I look round with relief as Dev and Simon return from the plant room. We say our goodbyes, and as they turn to leave, I feel the discomfort in my chest ease.

As soon as the front door closes, Dev turns to me, his eyes bright.

‘See, Merri? The people around here are lovely. We’re going to fit in perfectly.’

Later, back in Nottingham when I’m lying in the bath and Dev has gone out for a run, I reflect on why I felt so anxious today. I wonder if it might have had something to do with the last time I made a life-changing move with someone I loved.

My sister and I went to a place that was supposed to be an amazing fresh start.

It turned out to be a place where everything went horribly, horribly wrong.