Chapter 11
‘Big smiles for the camera!’ called the news reporter. ‘That’s it, Gary, put your arm round Tracy and hold the winning ticket in the air. Yes, that’s it!’ Gary and Tracy embraced, giggling with excitement. After several more shots were taken, the reporter approached them to ask a few questions. ‘So, how does it feel to be millionaires?’ she beamed, holding a microphone in Gary’s face.
‘Well… bit of a shock to be honest, but… well, we’re getting used to the idea, aren’t we, Trace?’ He nudged her with a wink.
‘Too right we are,’ Tracy gushed. ‘We still can’t believe something like this has happened to us.’
‘So what plans have you got for the three million you’ve won?’
‘Not sure, like I said, it’s not properly sunk in yet,’ answered Gary firmly. Tracy looked sideways at him with a slight frown.
‘Well, whatever you decide to do, we wish you all the best.’ The reporter shook hands with both of them.
The next day there they were: front-page news in the local newspaper.
Gary and Tracy Belcher – local lottery winners!
Tracy was pleased with the photograph, thinking how good her hair extensions looked, while Gary’s visit to the dentist had given him that real winning smile. The uneven, yellowing front teeth had now been fixed and polished, making them perfect shiny white ones, which were displayed quite a lot lately, as he couldn’t stop smiling. He’d resigned from his job, obviously – who would want to keep stacking freezers in a supermarket five days a week with three million in the bank? Tracy, too, had left the care home, but missed her old friends dreadfully.
‘Gary, why did you go all cagey when the reporter asked if we had any plans?’
He looked wary, then sat down, indicating she sit next to him. ‘Listen, Tracy, I’ve been thinking.’ This sounded serious she thought and sat still. ‘We’ve got to move.’
‘But—’
‘No, hear me out. Everyone round here knows us, knows how much money we have.’
‘So?’
‘So, Trace, things have changed. It makes things more complicated now. Before we were just Gaz and Trace, a working couple like everyone else round here, but now… well, now I’m beginning to feel a bit used, taken for granted.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Take for example the other night at the club. Everyone automatically assumes it’s my round, permanently. It’s like I’m only there to pay for everything, not because it’s me, Gary.’ Tracy looked crestfallen, but she knew exactly how he felt.
‘I know, I felt similar when Sharon asked me outright for a few grand, bold as brass, like she had every right to.’
‘I think we should move. Somewhere nobody knows us.’
‘But what about our parents?’ Tracy looked horror-stricken, having always been close to her mum.
‘We’ll see them right, of course, but we need to get away, Trace.’
She understood now, and nodded in agreement.
At first they searched close to home, a radius of a few miles. After narrowing down a few properties they liked the look of, Gary contacted the necessary estate agents. But news travelled fast and soon they realised that going public and appearing in the papers had been a bad decision. Each estate agent was bending over backwards to assist the new lottery winners, knowing full well how much commission they’d be coining in.
‘It’s no good Trace, we’re going to have to look further afield. Everyone knows us in this area. I don’t feel like I’m me anymore.’
Tracy dully agreed. Her phone had never stopped ringing with ‘old friends’ suddenly wanting to keep in touch. Sharon, her best mate, had continued to ask for money and routinely supposed that Tracy would fund the shopping sprees and lunches she constantly organised. Tracy, too, had become unsettled. She had loved her job in the care home, had really felt needed. Shehad beenneeded. Her kindness and attention to the elderly were a credit to her, and she had a genuine gift for making people feel wanted and cared for. Not for the first time she sadly thought of the group of old people that would be wondering where she was. Would they understand what had happened? Would they think she’d abandoned them? A lump formed in her throat. She pictured Alf, sitting by the bay window, patiently waiting for her to come in the morning. Often she would help him with his breakfast and make sure he took his pills with a cup of tea. Who was seeing to Alf now? A tear ran down her face. Now they were having to leave their family. Now they were beginning to realise just who their friends were. Being ousted from your own home wasn’t a pleasant experience, even though you had pots of money to buy another one. This tiny terrace was their first house. They’d been so excited to get the keys and build a home. Tracy had made it theirs with the dozens of photographs framed, depicting their childhood romance, wedding day, honeymoon and family occasions. Focusing on those happy memories changed her mood. It also gave her an idea.
‘Gary?’
‘Hmm?’ He was on his laptop, continuing the property search.
‘Do you remember our honeymoon?’
He gave a short laugh. ‘Course I do, why d’ya ask?’
