‘Come on, let’s do it!’ I’d urged him, full of optimism for the future. I didn’t mention the backdrop of desperation to get away from the dingy flat we were living in, with the nosy neighbour who was always trying to get friendly. Asking me which school I’d been to, where I’d lived before. Stuff like that.
Once Dev had viewed the house and seen the new no-contract gym that had just opened close by, he was keener than I was to move in. Now, though, we have less spare cash than ever. He can’t stand his new boss, and the two girlswho’ve just moved into the house next to us throw parties every weekend, often until the early hours. I’d started to think things couldn’t get much worse. Until last night, that is.
Yesterday had been our third wedding anniversary. Dev’s ‘special dinner’ that he insisted on making for me had turned out to be a simple affair – Spaghetti Amatriciana. We sat at the peeling wood-effect table for two that we were planning to replace with something of better quality when we moved in here. To give him credit, he’d tried his best to make it special, lighting a candle and playing soft music in the background, but the ambience couldn’t disguise the undercurrent of exhaustion between us, especially with me continually yawning and snuffling into a tissue. It had been a long time since either of us felt like celebrating anything.
‘Right, then,’ Dev said, with a nervous little grin. ‘Time for your present.’
‘Present?’ I leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. ‘Dev, you didn’t need to get me anything. We agreed just cards, didn’t we?’ I wanted to say we had better things to spend our money on than this, but he was already reaching into his jacket pocket. With a flourish, he pulled out a folded white sheet of paper.
‘Ta-dah! Happy wedding anniversary, honey.’ He unfolded it and waved it in front of me, beaming. ‘You are now the proud owner of a ticket for the DreamKey national prize draw. It’s that amazing house in the Lake District we saw on their advert.’
I blinked at him, confused. ‘A raffle ticket?’ My voice sounded flat, even to me, and I could feel my patience already wearing thin. ‘You bought a raffle ticket?’
We’d seen the ads on TV, of course, and I’d joked a couple of days ago how amazing it would be to win a house like that. Dev had joked how inconvenient it would be to win, a bigmove, leaving the jobs we hated and friends we never saw much any more.
‘Come on, Merri. It’s not a raffle, it’s a prize draw with a difference,’ he said, reaching across the table and pressing the ticket into my hands. ‘It’s the DreamKey mansion by Windermere, remember? Imagine it – a beautiful home, no more rent, no more leaking taps. You said it yourself! This could be it, Merri. Our chance at something better.’
I stared at the ‘ticket’ that Dev had mocked up and printed off after he’d bought our entry online. The bright lettering did little to cheer me up. Dev, however, was beaming.
‘How much did this cost?’ I tried to swallow my frustration. ‘We can’t afford to waste money on silly things like this. You cancelled the Netflix subscription last week.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ he said sheepishly. ‘But I had the idea after a few beers on the sofa last night.’
I’d gathered up the empty cans when I came down this morning.
‘Hey, it’s just one ticket,’ he said, his smile fading. ‘It wasn’t that much, just twenty quid. And it’s our anniversary. I thought it might give us the edge, you know? If the universe is looking for a Nottingham winner, I mean.’
Twenty quid. On a single ticket with ridiculous odds stacked against us.
I let out a weary sigh, my head pounding. My eyes felt tired and heavy. ‘Dev, we need to be realistic. We’re drowning in bills. And now you’re spending money on stupid pipe dreams.’ I let the ticket fall out of my hands, not caring where it landed. ‘I’m going up to bed.’
I stood up and instantly felt dizzy, my blocked sinuses making me sway slightly. As I made my way to the narrow staircase leading up to our bedroom, I heard Dev’s voice callup softly behind me: ‘I just thought it could be a chance to escape all the crap.’
I didn’t respond. I was too tired to speak – too frustrated to argue.
The ticket didn’t feel like hope: it felt like another gamble we couldn’t afford.
2
Monday
I lean against the counter in the staff room on my break, waiting for the drain of the morning to leave me. The faint smell of cheap instant coffee drifts through the air while I wait for the kettle to boil.
The door swings open, and Paige breezes in, bringing a little sunshine with her. Her dark hair is pulled back in its usual signature bun, not a strand out of place. Her tunic looks pristine, too. She always has a calm, composed air about her. I don’t know how she does it.
‘Morning!’ she sings, reaching for a mug from the rack. She gives me a quick once-over, her brow quirking. ‘Oh dear. You already look like you’ve been chewed up and spat out.’
‘I came back before I’m properly better.’ I sigh, pressing two fingers to my temple. ‘I’ve already done six blood samples, nine blood-pressure readings, and if I see another cuff today, I might scream.’
Paige gives a warm chuckle. ‘Yep, sounds familiar. Busy and mind-numbingly dull. My life in a nutshell!’
The kettle clicks and we fill our coffee mugs. I add milk to mine and stir and we take them over to settle into the comfy chairs in the corner. The moment feels easy, like I can let the weight of the morning slip away. With Paige, I don’t have to hold everything together. She makes it feel safe to let some of it out.
‘So, spill. How was your anniversary? Did it turn out to be the wildly romantic night of your dreams?’
I pull a face. ‘It was OK. Dev cooked. Burned the sauce, undercooked the pasta, but he tried his best, bless him. To be fair, the biggest problem was I felt too rough to enjoy it.’
‘Shame he didn’t take you out for dinner.’
