Page 17 of The Lucky Winners

Nine Days Later – Saturday

It takes just under five minutes to do a final recce of the empty rooms of our former home.

We clamber around the boxes stacked in the hallway. As small and cramped as it is, it’s hard to believe this place was once a step up for us. Every wall, every cupboard, every corner is so familiar.

Living here has been frustrating at times, but it’s been ours. A place of safety. Home . And that’s the hardest thing to leave behind: the life I know. A routine I can count on.

‘You read the meter?’ I ask Dev, trying to wrestle with the practicalities.

‘Did all that yesterday and submitted the final readings online.’ Dev flashes me a thumbs-up, ducking into the cupboard under the stairs. ‘We’ll never have to deal with this crappy place again,’ he adds, laughing as he hauls out the bulky vacuum cleaner. ‘Goodbye, nightmare!’

‘Yeah, good riddance,’ I murmur, staring at the blank, scuffed walls in the hallway.

Paige made a flying visit yesterday and I gave her a set of keys, walked her through everything. I’d imagined us embroiled in an emotional goodbye, but she’d seemed quiet and in a bit of a rush to get off. It wasn’t like her. It was as if she was just going through the motions.

I told myself she was probably busy, but a kernel of worry settled in my stomach.

By the time the removal van pulls up at one o’clock, we’re ready.

The movers are efficient, carrying the few sticks of furniture we’re taking and the boxes.

The place empties faster than I’d expected, the once-cluttered rooms newly streamlined with just the basic furniture and rugs we’ve left for Paige. I give one last glance around.

‘Ready?’ Dev asks, keys in hand, his eyes sparkling.

I nod, exhaling a long breath. ‘Yep. Let’s go.’

My heart feels heavier on the drive out of Nottingham than I’d imagined. I watch the familiar streets slip by, and then the countryside stretches out before us. Dev chatters away about all the plans he has for the new house – home gym, parties with the joint friends we’ll apparently make there.

‘We’ve neglected making joint friends and it’s a good time to put that right,’ he says. ‘Be nice to have people round for drinks and a meal now and again. We’ve certainly got the room to entertain at Lakeview.’

I know I’m to blame for us not having more friends. Dev is gregarious and finds it easy to chat to new people. I’m always wary and suspicious of giving too much away. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s time to move past my belief that everyone is out to get me.

‘And maybe we could even get that dog,’ he continues, and I smile.

The further we drive, the more the nerves creep in. What if it doesn’t work out? What if we hate living there? It’s all been so quick with no time to assimilate. No time to take a pause and reflect on whether we should sell up or move in.

I gaze out of the window as the landscape changes.

Rolling hills replace the urban chaos, and there’s a strange ache in my gut.

Dev doesn’t seem to notice my silence, too wrapped up in the thrill of it all.

He’s practically buzzing, and I try – really try – to feel the same.

But something sits at the back of my mind in a dark corner I don’t want to look at too closely.

We pull into a small village just outside Windermere, stopping at a shop to grab some sandwiches before we head to the house.

The sun is shining, the air crisp and fresh, and I can feel hope shimmering inside me again.

This place is beautiful, serene. I can’t wait to start exploring the scenic area.

Inside the shop, we’re choosing our sandwiches when I hear two women a few aisles over, talking loudly.

‘You heard the winners of the big house are moving in?’ one says, her tone sour. ‘They were over there a couple of weeks ago drinking champagne and having a photo shoot done.’

‘Only in their early thirties, I heard,’ the other replies. ‘Just fell into their laps. Lucky them.’

I freeze, my hand hovering over the sandwiches. It’s a glimpse of what people around here really think. My appetite disappears and I turn to Dev, quietly relaying what I just heard.

He laughs, craning his neck to look for them. ‘They’re just jealous, Merri. Let them gossip.’ He grabs our food and heads to the counter, smiling. I wish I could brush it off as easily, but their words have already burrowed underneath my skin, like ticks.

It’s late afternoon when we arrive at Lakeview House. The sun is still high, casting everything in golden light. It’s perfect and it feels like I’m seeing it for the first time. It’s a view you might never get tired of.

We drive slowly up the long track that winds through the trees before it opens to the front of the house. You can’t see the expansive terrace that overlooks the river from here. This is my favourite view. Dev’s practically skipping as we get out of the car.

‘Our new home!’ he says, throwing his arms wide. ‘We’ve made it, Merri! We’re really here!’

The house looms large and beautiful in front of us, and for the briefest of moments, I let myself imagine it – a new life here, far from everything.

Thankfully, it’s quieter without the DreamKey crew milling around.

Maybe too quiet. But I don’t miss their intrusive photographer zooming in on our every expression.

The peace doesn’t last long. Two hours after we arrive, the removals team pull up and it takes a good hour to get everything inside.

We’ve marked up all the boxes, but because we don’t know the interior of the house well enough yet, aside from the living room and the master bedroom, we ask them to leave most of our belongings in the cavernous hallway.

Later, Dev gets a beer out of the fridge, I pour a small glass of white wine, and we sit on the terrace.

Dev talks animatedly about the future while I angle my gaze away from the water and across the hills.

His eyes are bright with optimism and his hands are flying around as they tend to do when he’s excited.

I’ve noticed his thinking has been so much bigger lately, no longer feeling hemmed in.

No more debt to limit his brainstorming.

‘We’ve got this house now and it’s a real foundation for us to build on,’ he says.

‘What if we used it as a base to launch something? A small business – maybe a homewares and interiors line, or even something like a studio space? You’ve got such a great eye for design, and I could handle the logistics. We’d make a good team.’

The energy in his voice is catching, tugging at something hopeful inside me.

He grins, already half lost in the dream. ‘We could turn one of the spare rooms into an office. Or a showroom. Nothing too big at first – just a website, a few pieces. Maybe some local networking. We could make it work. What do you think?’

‘It sounds exciting,’ I agree, hoping he might stop talking about it soon. ‘We should jot down some ideas.’

His voice softens. ‘It’s not just work, either. I want us to have a life. Real time together. I was thinking we could even do proper date nights – once a week, no matter what. Phones away, just you and me. Maybe even go out with friends once a month.’

My stomach turns as a breeze carries the scent of the water, fresh and slightly garlicky from the algae. The memories stir, dark and unwelcome. I close my eyes, trying to push them back.

‘Everything OK?’ I hear Dev ask, his voice softer.

I open my eyes. ‘Yeah. It’s a lot to take in. Like, we were there and now we’re here, you know?’

He grins and nods his agreement, but I know he doesn’t get it. Not really.

I stare out beyond the terrace where the light stretches long fingers across the hillside and down towards the water. It’s a hollow kind of space, big enough for someone to stand in. To watch from the cover of trees and bushes.

I turn to look behind me. From out here, the windows of the house are transformed into mirrors, my own face staring back at me – framed and exposed.

But from down there – from the vantage of the hillside – the bright glow from inside must illuminate the house like a beacon once darkness falls.

An itch starts at the base of my skull. I tell myself it’s fine, that no one is out there to see inside.

The thought lingers, though. Nipping at the edges of my mind.