Page 6 of The Lucky Winners

The woman steps aside and gestures to a high-sided van parked close to the house, ‘DreamKey Homes’ emblazoned across its bonnet. The gold lettering alone has drawn a few more neighbours to their doorsteps, openly watching the activity with curious expressions.

I blink, trying to process the chaotic scene before me. ‘Lucky winner?’ I repeat vaguely, my brain still refusing to compute. Then it hits me. My anniversary gift! The ticket Dev gave me …

An actual drumroll booms out from a speaker on the van and Susie looks like she might burst. Party poppers explode in our faces as she yells, ‘You’ve won a three-million-pound mansion in the Lake District, and that’s not all … You also get a quarter of a million pounds! Congratulations!’

The enormous screen on the side of the vehicle lights up and the most beautiful house of glass and steel is displayed. Taken at night, every room in the property is fully lit and overlooking a vast expanse of water.

My hand flies to my throat. It can’t be real. It can’t! Things like this just don’t happen to people like us. There must be some mistake.

I’m about to ask her to repeat it when a blur and a screech of tyres cuts me off.

A cab pulls up behind our broken-down Ford Fiesta, jutting out untidily into the road.

The passenger door flies open, and in seconds Dev is bounding up our tiny front path and then he’s right there, standing right in front of me, fizzing with energy like an overexcited schoolboy.

‘They rang me on the bus, on my way in to work,’ he yelps, bouncing on his toes. When I look at him, he laughs and pulls me into a bear hug. ‘Merri, we’ve won! Do you understand? We’ve won the bloody house!’

Dev throws back his head and lets out a euphoric roar of delight, prompting a couple of passers-by to begin clapping. I notice a few of the neighbours across the street are smiling and waving now, too.

‘Congratulations to you both!’ Susie shouts triumphantly, her ever-widening grin distorting her features. ‘How do you feel, Merri, Dev? How does it feel to be an instant millionaire ?’

For a second or two everything sounds as if it’s happening far away before it springs back into sharp focus. Dev’s arms are open wide as if he wants to pull the whole street into this moment with him. Someone hands him an enormous gold-cardboard key.

‘It’s the most amazing feeling in the world! Thank you, Universe!’ he cries, practically bursting with joy. ‘Thank you, DreamKey!’

Dev is the perfect winner, providing every emotion they want to see. He holds the outsized key aloft while the photographer circles him, like a great white shark, snapping what seems like hundreds of machine-gun shots.

When the camera turns to me, I freeze.

I must look like crap, still in my dressing-gown with bed hair – more than that, I don’t like cameras. Cameras capture things. They make moments permanent. And the last thing I need is for someone, somewhere, to recognize me and start raking up a past I’d rather forget.

I’m Merri Harris now. I left Jane Meredith Harrison behind a long time ago.

There’s no one left from back then to come after me.

Nobody who would put two and two together and start to dig.

Yet all this press attention feels very uncomfortable.

Most reporters are resourceful by nature.

They’d happily ruin someone’s life for the sake of a story.

And if they did, what the hell would I tell Dev? How would I explain, after all this time? It would break my heart if he couldn’t get over the truth.

I shiver. It’s unlikely, but you never know …

Susie latches on to my distraction. ‘Come on, Merri, share how you’re feeling with us! Isn’t this win just beyond your wildest dreams?’

‘Yes! It’s – it’s amazing. I can’t believe it. It’s just incredible!’ And it is. It really is. I’m trying so hard to push through the disconnect I’m feeling. Trying to put the irrational fear behind me and enjoy the moment.

‘Why don’t we go inside, and I can tell you more?’ Susie suggests. ‘Is that OK? We’ve brought champagne!’

‘Everyone, come through.’ Dev laughs, his eyes wet with emotion as he regards the DreamKey team. ‘Come on in. All of you.’

Everyone squeezes inside, clogging our tiny hallway with bodies and technical equipment. Someone shuts the front door behind us.

Dev leads them into our cramped living room and I cringe at the mess. Magazines, dirty plates, half-filled mugs of cold coffee. The clothes dryer strewn with damp garments Dev must have draped over it when he emptied the washing-machine before leaving for work.

This was supposed to be my job for today: catching up with the cleaning.

A young woman moves quickly, plumping the sofa cushions while another gathers the dirty dishes. Within minutes, the mess disappears, leaving the sofa spotless.

‘I need to – I should get dressed,’ I say faintly.

‘No, no, you look fine. Really!’ Susie insists, laying a perfectly manicured hand on my arm. ‘You’re keeping it real, Merri. People will identify with your shock. They’ll believe it could be them next time!’

Still smiling, Dev guides me to sit down while tripods and light equipment are quickly assembled around us.

I step over thick, snaking cables and sit next to him on the sofa in a daze.

Watch as someone carries in a couple of cut-glass flutes – not the flimsy supermarket specials from our cupboard – and pink champagne, with a custom DreamKey label, appears as if by magic.

‘Ta-dah!’ Susie holds the bottle aloft like a light sabre.

‘How?’ I whisper to Dev, as she pops the cork. ‘How is this even real?’

‘Who cares?’ Dev answers loudly, taking two glasses of champagne from Susie and handing me one. ‘The important thing is that we did it, honey! We actually won the bloody house. Cheers!’

I clink my glass against his, excitement finally beginning to triumph above the nausea rising in my chest. The photographer appears again.

‘Let’s capture this moment. Faces a little closer together.

That’s it! Both look at me and smile.’ I try my best to muster a grin but, out of the corner of my eye, I can see Susie growing frustrated at my lack of visible enthusiasm.

‘What will the photos be used for?’ I ask. The photographer beams. ‘This is all for the DreamKey winners’ section on our website. People love seeing the real people behind the biggest prizes. OK, both looking at the camera for me, and … smile!’

At the last second, I lift my glass, trying to inject some energy into my expression as the camera shutter fires off in rapid succession.

It helps to know the photos are just for the website – that hopefully they’ll go no further, and we’ll be able to maintain our privacy.

Dev is like a pro, playing up to the camera.

Holding up his glass, changing his pose.

I’ve never seen him like this, giddy on the attention and excitement.

‘We’re rich, Merri … Do you hear me? We’re rich! ’ Dev whispers in my ear, his face suddenly serious. ‘All our problems are behind us now. You’d better believe it because it’s true.’

I swallow more champagne and nod, feeling the warmth of the alcohol in my throat. And for the first time since I opened the door to the DreamKey team, I start to believe it is.