A WINDFALL OF SECRETS

He stared. He blinked. He moved his head a few inches nearer to the screen. There was no doubt. The line of numbers on the screen was identical to the line of numbers on the piece of paper in his hand. He held the winning ticket. Many times in the past he had speculated about winning a massive amount of money. He had made countless plans inside his own head. People all over the country, he was sure, did exactly the same thing on a regular basis. That was part of the ‘fun’, part of the mystique of any random competition where a huge prize could transform a person’s life in an instant. It was embedded in the culture of the National Lottery as it had been, for previous generations, with the Pools. The hopes and dreams of so many people were articulated in a million conversations every week, every day, about the elusive magic touch of instant fortune. And here was Eric Middleton with a winning row of numbers, on a modest piece of paper, in his hand. A slight churning sensation flirted with his stomach, and he was aware that his mouth seemed dry. He looked into the mirror and saw a shocked face. What was he to do now? The sudden importance of the piece of paper in his hand made him feel worried that it was too flimsy an object to protect for any length of time. The mad notion that it could be inexplicably blown away came to mind. He desperately wanted to relinquish the ticket now, exchange it for the money and put the money in the bank. The urgency of this feeling made him sit down and experience something akin to fear. This was absurd, he thought, but it was real. To slip into a state of panic he realised would be so easy. He resisted the temptation. Think, Eric, think. Keeping the ticket on his person became a must. He could not even contemplate putting it anywhere else. Crazy ideas about freak accidents and sudden unlikely fateful circumstances arising out of nowhere swept across his anxious imagination. This small thing was so precious, it required a particularly intense type of consideration. This was something which was about to change his life. Too many ideas battled for supremacy as he tried to trawl through his memory and focus on one plan, and one plan alone. Isabel might still be awake. He would tell her immediately. If she was asleep, would he wake her? No. Leave it until morning. Would he actually get any sleep tonight? Unlikely. He was spectacularly wide awake and on a wave of adrenalin. He needed to think about what to do; how to make his claim. He thought positively about all the amazing things that would happen to his life and the life of his family. They could give up work, move to a bigger house, take more holidays, guarantee the kids’ futures. His daydreaming careered around him in a wild whirl of wonderful visions. As the forever-increasing peaks of perfection lay before his mind’s eye, he felt the strong urging of a wary caution seamlessly seeping into his consciousness. He was simplifying everything. But he knew that life did not work like that. More negative scenarios began to emerge from the euphoria of his initial joy. There were all sorts of potential upheavals which would not be good for him, or his family. Other people’s responses were important to consider here. He had heard numerous accounts of similar wins leading to disaster in all shapes and forms. It was possible to have a dream turn into a nightmare. People turned nasty, people rejected you in a perverse reversal of snobbery, relationships were compromised and some fell by the wayside. These situations could often bring out the worst in people. He needed to avoid these problems, avoid these traumas. Retaining control was crucial. Could it be kept a secret? Very difficult. Both Laura and Tony were excitable and could never remain silent about such a huge win, a huge transformation in their lives. How huge was it? He looked, once more at the ceefax. The page was changing and he waited for the figure which would indicate the level of his fortune. The screen flicked and he stared. £8,675,377. Only one lucky winner. It was him! Good God, Eric thought, I must keep this secret. I need to give myself time to control this, I must not let anyone know. He needed space and time to consider carefully a clear line of action. No sudden moves. No impulsive gestures. No explosion of change. No room to regret. No burst of publicity. No burst of knowledge. And that was what he resolved. This would be a secret. A secret from everyone.