Suddenly Mary didn’t like the situation. It felt all wrong. The guy in the suit at the table isn’t smiling, for one. He should be smiling by now. Mary’s Mum is leaning against the sink and her Dad has his arm around her. They’ve got very lovey-dovey pretty quick, thinks Mary, but knocks the thought from her mind. This is what she’s wanted to happen for years. Her parents are showing affection. Her brother Phil is sitting at the table to one side of the guy from the Lottery, just grinning at him. There are three empty champagne bottles on the floor around the bin.
“I’m not sure how we’re going to get through this, but get through this we must,” says the man from the Lottery. “My colleague will be with us in a few moments, he’s just parking the car.”
“We don’t care about the paperwork,” says Mary’s Dad. “Funny how much we don’t mind the paperwork with four million pounds at the end of it!”
Everyone laughs except Mary and the man from the Lottery. The doorbell rings and Mary’s Mum goes to answer it.
“That will be Derek. He’s our solicitor,” says the man from the Lottery.
“Come in, come in, we’re through there in the kitchen,” says Mary’s Mum from the hallway.
“Thank you.”
The solicitor comes in and sits down at the table next to the man from the Lottery.
“Have you started?” asks the solicitor.
“I thought it best to wait,” says the man from the Lottery.
“Very good,” says the solicitor.
There is another pause that Mary doesn’t like and she starts to bite her fingernails like she always does when she’s nervous and despite the men at the table her Mum looks sharp at her.
“Mary, stop it,” says Mary’s Mum.
“Sorry,” says Mary.
Everyone looks at the man from the Lottery.
“I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news,” he says.
“What kind of bad news?” asks Mary’s Dad. “How many people are we sharing it with?”
“Well, there were two sets of winning numbers from last night’s draw, so if everything had proceeded as normal you would have split the jackpot in two,” says the man from the Lottery. No one says anything now, notices Mary. They don’t like this either. Mary starts biting her fingernails.
“There was…a problem,” says the solicitor.
“What problem?” Mary’s Dad, his voice is getting hard now. The solicitor and the man from the Lottery look at each other.
“Last night’s draw was declared invalid,” says the man from the Lottery, and all of a sudden Mary doesn’t like her family. They are shouting and screaming and her Mum is crying and her Dad shouts and stops and looks sad and shouts again and jabs his finger at the man from the Lottery.
“We have notified the police and the other…winner has been arrested,” says the solicitor.
Oh so now they quieten down, thinks Mary.
“What happened?” says Mary’s Mum wiping her eyes.
“The balls were tampered with by a television company employee. It would appear that six of them were weighted,” says the man from the Lottery.
“I knew it!” Mary’s Mum. “I told you! It was like they were going into the hole at the bottom of the drum all by themselves! I thought it was fate!”
Mary’s Dad shakes his head and looks at the kitchen floor and Mary wonders what he’s thinking.
“So what does that mean?” says Mary.
“Well,” says the solicitor and the man from the Lottery looks at him again, “the draw being pronounced invalid means that all prizes won are…well…they cannot be claimed.”
Mary bites her middle fingernail hard and tastes a little salt blood on her tongue. None of her family says anything; they’re just waiting for what’s next.
“It’s all laid out here and in the legal disclaimer on the back of your ticket,” says the solicitor, softly placing his hand over some papers on the table like he doesn’t want to break them.
“It’s not all bad news!” says the man from the Lottery. “You can sell your story to the papers. They can, can’t they?”
“Yes,” says the solicitor. “There’s no guilt or foul play at the Lottery’s door. You can take your story to the media if you wish.”
“No,” says Mary’s Dad. “We don’t want to.”
“I really think it would be your best course of action at this point,“ says the solicitor.
“No,” says Mary’s Dad. “We’re going to sue.”
There is a pause.
“Legally we’ve done nothing wrong,” says the man from the Lottery.
“You’ve been negligent,” says Mary’s Dad.
There is another pause and Mary looks at her Dad and her Mum is crying again and Phil’s face is blank just like it is at mealtimes.
“Our systems are checked and double checked for every draw.”
“But they didn’t work,” says Mary’s Dad.
“We’ll have to see in court whether or not any blame lies on shoulders other than those of the television employee under suspicion,” says the solicitor.
“Shit,” says Mary’s Dad. “In the meantime I suppose, I’ll just have a chat with the papers.”
“I can’t believe it, Harry,” says Mary’s Mum. “I thought…I thought it was all going to be all right. How much do you think we’ll get from the papers?”
“It’s not about the money from the papers,” says Mary’s Dad.
“The sums they pay for stories of the moment can be quite substantial,” says the solicitor. “Wise investment should see you in possession of a nice little nest egg in a couple of years.”
“I’m not interested in a nest egg. I think I’ll put that money towards legal costs,” says Mary’s Dad.
“You still intend to take legal action?” asks the solicitor.
“Fucking hell of course I do!” Mary looks at her Dad and he’s red. “I woke up this morning a millionaire and you’ve come in and told me that I’m not because someone fucked up! You took it from me! Of course I’m going to sue. I’m going to sue you, the bastard from the TV company, the fucking TV company itself, anyone, I don’t fucking care. It’s unfair is what it is and someone’s got to pay.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” says the man from the Lottery.
“Watch the apologies, Jim,” says the solicitor.
“What happens to the money?” asks Mary with her finger in her mouth.
“What love?” says Mary’s Mum. Mary removes her finger.
“What happens to the money? What people would have won.”
“That has yet to be decided,” says the man from the Lottery.
“Bugger everyone else,” says Mary’s Dad. “What happens to our money?”
“The jackpot fund will probably roll over to the next draw,” says the man from the Lottery.
“What about all the little prizes?” says Mary’s Mum.
“As I said, we’re not sure,” says the man from the Lottery.
“You turn a profit, do you?” asks Mary’s Dad.
“As a company?” says the man from the Lottery.
“Yeah. Do you take some of the money?” says Mary’s Dad.
“We do. We have outlays. Our operational costs, wages, ticket distribution, advertising…all of that. We are a company, sir. We exist to make a profit,” says the man from the Lottery.
“What about charity? Are you going to give all of the little prizes to charity?” asks Mary’s Mum.
“We’ll probably donate the usual amounts,” says the man from the Lottery.
“And keep the rest,” says Mary's Dad.
“It'll stay in the prize fund. It'll help boost the prizes in slow weeks, keep people interested, you know, keep them winning prizes and help us keep the Lottery going, help us keep doing good for charities and things,” says the man from the Lottery.
“Keep you making profits, you mean,” says Mary’s Dad.
“That’s a very cynical way of looking at it,” says the man from the Lottery.
“That’s all I want to hear,” says Mary’s Dad.
“Pardon me?” says the solicitor.
“That’s all I want to hear, you’ll make your ways out of the house now please, gentlemen, because I’ve got to call some newspapers and things,” says Mary’s Dad.
“I would really urge you to reconsider,” says the solicitor, standing up.
“No, no, no, I understand. You two gentlemen had best be off to hand out money to the poor and so on,” says Mary’s Dad.
Mary’s Mum looks upset and yet embarrassed and shows the solicitor and the man from the Lottery down the corridor and says goodbye to them hanging off the front door. Mary sits down opposite Phil, who still looks blank.
“Go and get me the paper from the front room, Pip,” says Mary’s Dad.
Phil gets up and goes to get the paper and Mary’s Dad follows him into the living room. Mary goes through too and sits down on the couch.
“They’re still there,” says Mary’s Mum, coming in.
“I can’t believe it,” says Phil. “I thought we were going to be rich.”
Mary’s Dad stands in the living room window and reads the paper.
“One of them’s on the phone now,” says Mary’s Mum. “They keep looking in the window.”
“Are you going to call the paper, Dad?” asks Mary.
“Not yet, my darling,” says Mary’s Dad. “Not yet.”
“They’re still there,” says Mary’s Mum.
“But go and get me the phone, would you?” says Mary’s Dad.
Mary heaves herself off the couch and brings in the cordless phone from the kitchen. Mary's Dad stands in the window holding the newspaper and the phone, staring out through the white net curtains.
“Harry…” says Mary’s Mum, looking back from the window. “Harry! They’re coming back!”
