Winning Big

Greg Cooper stopped off at the corner shop on his way home from work, as he did every Friday night. The guy behind the counter smiled as he entered.

‘Alright, mate? The usual ticket for tonight’s draw?’ 

‘Yes, please, and make it a winner.’ Greg said.

The shopkeeper laughed and handed Greg the printed ticket. As he headed for the door, Greg tucked the ticket safely in his inside pocket. He patted the pocket, hoping for that big win on Saturday night. 

The biggest event of the week was the lottery draw. The whole country was obsessed with the draw and almost everybody played. Pubs and bars showed the live draw every Saturday night to packed crowds. Families and friends made plans each week to get together for the draw in homes across the UK.

Everyone played the lottery, dreaming of winning big. Greg only knew one person who did not live for the lottery draw, and that was his oldest friend, Phil Clarke. Phil was one of life’s conspiracy theorists. He was convinced the lottery was a scam, nothing more than a money-making racket.

Not that anyone paid any attention, but Phil was extremely vocal in his suspicions about the lottery. Whenever Greg and his friends spoke about the lottery, and what they would do if their numbers came up, Phil would chip in, declaring in a loud voice:

‘Give over! It’s all scam. Nobody wins big. It’s a fix. Do you know anyone personally who has won the jackpot?’ 

‘My mam won twenty pounds last week.’ Greg said, recalling how his mother had won. 

‘I mean,’ Phil said, ‘won the big one. Anybody? No, and that’s because nobody actually wins. Mugs like you lot, buy your tickets, and pump millions into the company. And for what? A chance of winning an imaginary jackpot?’

‘But what if you win? Just imagine.’

‘That is what they want you to think. That’s how they get you.’ Phil insisted. ‘They have everyone playing, joining in work syndicates, so afraid of missing out. My office has a lottery syndicate. I’m the only one not part of it.’

‘But if they win, you’ll be the only person in the office to miss out.’

‘Let’s just say, it’s not happened yet, and they’ve been doing it for six years.’ Phil replied.

One Saturday evening, as usual, the draw was being shown on the big screen in the pub, everyone glued to the numbers being drawn. Phil finished his pint and shook his head at the people surrounding him.

‘Look at you all. Hypnotised, the lot of you. It’s pathetic. You keep pumping money you don’t have, into that corporation.’ He ranted, his voice rising. 

‘Shut up, we’re listening for the numbers.’ Someone called.

Phil turned and jabbed a finger as he replied.

‘Maybe you wouldn’t need that lottery win, if you didn’t spend so much money every week playing the flaming lottery! It’s all a massive swindle! When will you all wake up?’ 

Everyone in the pub was looking. Conversations had halted, drinks stopped half-way to being sipped. The whole pub stared at the crazy man who was kicking off, yelling that they lottery was a big scam.

Greg winced as Phil looked at him for support, for him to agree with him, to take his point. Greg shrugged, then patted his friend on the shoulder. Come on, Phil, I’ll buy you a pint.

Greg nodded, saying nothing, as they sipped their beers. Phil continued to rant about the lottery being a massive swindle, how the adverts sold this dream of one person winning big, that was how they reeled you in.

‘You got any holidays booked, Phil?’ Greg asked in an attempt to change the subject. 

‘All-inclusive holidays? They are a scam too. You pay over-the-odds for watered-down drinks and second rate food.’ Phil said.

Greg sighed, he wanted to tell his friend to just chill-out, to relax, to stop over-thinking everything. It wouldn’t do any good. Phil spent hours on the internet, looking into these far-fetched, outlandish theories. Phil called it research, but to Greg it was all just nonsense. The internet was a dangerous place. While Phil thought that everyone else was brain-washed, Greg felt it was his friend whose head was being filled with dangerous ideas. Phil seemed rather naïve and gullible. 

‘Are you okay, mate?’ Greg asked finally.

‘Me? I’m fine, mate. My eyes are open. I can see what’s going on.’ 

Greg said nothing.

Greg joined his friends in the pub the following Saturday night as usual. Greg, Phil and the others were all in their twenties and, while a couple of the lads had settled down, had children and got married, there was still enough of them to play out on a Saturday night. There was always a decent turn-out for Saturday night with the boys.

The pub was bustling with the Saturday night crowd. Again, many were there to watch the lottery draw on the big screen.

Greg went to the bar and ordered himself a pint of beer. He bought a couple of the lads a pint too. It all got very complicated over who was in a round with who, and who owed who a drink, but by the end of the evening it usually sorted itself out, and besides, by that point they were all too drunk to care. 

As the barmaid handed over his drinks, she also gave him a printed lottery ticket.

‘What’s this?’ Greg asked.

The barmaid pointed to a poster on the wall behind her and explained about the promotion the pub was running. If you spent over ten pounds, you got a free ticket for tonight’s draw. 

Greg thanked her, and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans. 

A few rounds of drinks later, Phil returned from the bar. He plonked the tray of beers down on the tall table, a look of disgust on his face. He waved the ticket in outrage as though it was a parking fine he’d just received. 

‘See that? Trying to push this lottery business on the customers. Shocking.’ Phil said.

‘Not really. If you’re old enough to buy a drink in a pub then you’re old enough to play the lottery.’ Someone said.

‘Yeah, it’s just a bit of fun.’ Another added.

‘Don’t start again tonight, will you?’ said another.

Phil said nothing, placing the ticket under his pint glass.

As the week’s numbers appeared on screen, the room held its breath. People studied their tickets and looked to the screen, hoping for a match. 

By the time the last number rolled onto the screen, the crowd groaned in dissatisfaction. No big win this week. Maybe next week would be the week they own.

One of the group reached and pulled Phil’s ticket from under his beer glass. 

‘Let’s see how your free ticket did.’ he said.

Phil, Greg and the others checked the numbers on the ticket. Everyone made the realisation at the same moment. The numbers were the same. It was a match. Phil had hit the jackpot with this gifted ticket.

A huge cheer went up as they handed Phil his winning ticket. All eyes in the pub were on them and Phil in particular. This man had just won millions. This was big. Phil’s life had just changed forever. 

Phil was hugged, patted on the back and had his hand shook by almost everyone in the packed pub. 

Over the next round of drinks, they talked about what Phil should spend his winnings on. They spoke of buying an executive box at Old Trafford to watch their beloved Manchester United play football every week, or maybe a cruise around the world, sailing off into the sunset. Perhaps a massive house in the countryside, or a flash sports car.

‘And just think,’ Greg said, throwing an arm around his shoulders, ‘you thought it was a scam, that nobody ever won.’

‘I bet it’s still a con. I probably won’t hear anything when I ask them to pay up.’ Phil said.

The group protested, insisting he was so lucky and that his life had just changed forever. 

‘You are a millionaire!’

Greg studied the back of his own losing ticket. 

‘There’s a phone number you can ring if you think you have a winning ticket. It’s a 24 hour number.’

‘Fine.’ Phil replied. 

Phil reached for his mobile phone and headed outside, away from the noise of the pub.

When Phil re-joined his friends at the tall table, all eyes were on him, they fell silent, drinks put down. Greg couldn’t read the expression on his face. Phil shrugged, then paused for a long moment, before finally speaking.

‘They confirmed that I have won. They are sending a car to take me down to London to the lottery head office first thing Monday morning. They will give me my winnings and go through everything with me.’ Phil said.

The loudest cheer erupted from the table, like England had just scored a last-minute winner in the World Cup final.

Greg called round to Phil’s small flat over the book-makers shop. His friend greeted him with a grin.

‘I still can’t believe this is happening.’ Phil said.

‘Let me know how you get on, won’t you? Keep in touch.’ Greg replied.

‘Will do. They are sending a car for me, but I’ll probably have to buy my own train ticket back home.’ 

‘You’ll be able to afford a first class ticket, now though.’ Greg laughed.

While Greg knew that some of his friends were envious of Phil’s win, wishing they had gone to buy the drinks at just the right moment to receive the winning ticket, and jealous of the life-changing amount of money, Greg was simply delighted for his friend and wished him every happiness. 

Of course their friendship would change. Phil may move to a leafy suburb somewhere and start mixing in different circles, but that was only natural. Greg had had a friend at high school who had moved to a well-to-do fee-paying school. They had tried to maintain their friendship but his friend was suddenly moving in different circles, a different world. How had Greg and his mates been expected to compete with horse-riding trips and rowing weekends? Hanging around the local shopping precinct didn’t quite have the same appeal.

The same fate could befall his friendship with Phil. Greg could just see his friend in a swanky members club, dressed in designer clothes, still banging on about his latest conspiracy theory.

As he left Phil’s flat, Greg hugged his friend, patting him on the back, reminding him to keep in touch. Sure, Phil agreed, you don’t get rid of me that easily.

The following evening, Greg sent Phil a message, asking how he was getting on, if he got sorted and what he was up to. There was no reply. No doubt Phil would be living it up down in the capital before returning home at some point. 

A few days later, there was still no news from Phil. The longer it went on, the more Greg worried about his friend. It wasn’t like him not to reply. Phil had his faults, could be quite snappy and had a rather short fuse, but he always replied to messages, even if the response was rude and laden with sarcasm. Greg hoped there was a logical explanation. Maybe his phone had packed in, or ran out of charge. Maybe Phil hadn’t brought his phone charger with him.

Greg met up with his friends the following Saturday night as usual. While everyone else is excited for the lottery draw, for the first time in years, Greg didn’t even have a ticket for the draw. After Phil winning and then disappearing, it all seemed so strange. He couldn’t bring himself to play this week. As they sipped on the first round of drinks, Greg spoke to the group.

‘Has anyone heard from Phil?’ He asked, trying to keep the concern from his voice.

His friends shook their heads and shrugged. Nobody seemed worried.

‘He’s just vanished. This isn’t right.’ Greg said.

‘Mate, he’s just won millions. Did you really think he’s come back here? If I won the jackpot you wouldn’t see me for dust.’ One guy said.

‘Nah, it’s not like him. I’ve tried texting and calling. Nothing. I don’t like it.’ Greg said.

One guy slapped him on the back.

‘You know who you sound like?’ He asked.

‘Phil!’ The group said in unison, bursting into laughter.

As the group raised a toast to their old friend, Greg simply shook his head. Why couldn’t they see it? Was he being paranoid?

By the start of the next week, with nobody having heard from Phil, and his mobile phone simply saying the number you have reached is unavailable, Greg decided he had waited long enough.

He took an old lottery ticket and dialled the number on the back of the ticket.

‘Thank you for calling Lottery Head Office. Can I just take a few details then we can direct your call?’ The woman chirped.

Greg answered the questions, giving his name and address and went on to explain about Phil and how nobody had heard from him and they were getting worried.

‘Bear with me and I’ll just check.’ She said brightly.

Greg waited, he heard the tapping of a computer keyboard.

‘I am afraid we do not have any record of any visitor of that name.’ She said.

‘But he won the jackpot. You called him and arranged for him to go down.’ Greg insisted.

‘I am very sorry, sir, but we do not have any record of any visitor by that name.’ She said.

‘You actually sent a car for him. I can give you his address to check.’

Greg heard a click as the line went dead.

A shiver went through him as a thought occurred to him. What if the lottery company had removed his friend because he was becoming a nuisance?

He needed a drink. The stress of whatever was going on with Phil was weighing on him. He stopped off at the corner shop. He needed a drink. 

The guy behind the counter smiled at him when he entered.

‘Are you here for the lottery ticket?’ He asked.

‘No, I’d actually like a bottle of single malt whiskey, please.’

Greg shivered, just the thought of the draw made him sick. As the guy rang the sale through, and Phil handed a crumpled ten pound note, the till made a sound.

‘Oh, wow, look at that. You’ve won a free ticket for this week’s draw. That’s lucky, isn’t it?’ The guy said, handing Greg the ticket. 

As he headed for the door, lucky was the last thing Greg felt. He put the ticket in his pocket, and twisted the cap of the bottle, taking a hit before leaving the shop.

By the Saturday night, Greg was so worried about Phil. Quite unsure what to do about his missing friend, he joined the others in the pub. He tried to forget about everything, and just wanted this week’s draw to be over with so they could talk about anything but the lottery. He just felt an overwhelming feeling of dread.

As the lottery numbers rolled across the screen, Greg took a long swig of beer, and then pulled out the ticket the shopkeeper had given him. Usually, when he checked the lottery numbers, it was inevitable that none of the numbers matched. Tonight, with sickening inevitability, every number matched perfectly. He had the winning ticket. One of his friends, standing beside him, noticed the numbers.

‘You’ve won! That is amazing! What a coincidence after Phil!’ He said.

Greg sensed this was far from a coincidence. What had happened to Phil seemed to be happening to him. Greg simply downed the last of his beer and headed for the door. Something was wrong about this whole thing. He felt like all this was a weird dream. Surely this couldn’t actually be happening.

At home, Greg poured himself a large measure of whiskey. He paced up and down the living room, staring at the winning lottery ticket on the fireplace. Finally Greg tore the ticket to shreds. He wanted nothing more to do with any of it. He wanted to forget about the whole business. 

At that moment a car pulled up outside his house. Greg peered through the net curtains. The black car had tinted windows. It reminded him of something you might see the American secret service driving. A car like that should be guarding a president somewhere, not sitting outside his house. There was something rather sinister about the vehicle and the way it was just parked up outside, nobody coming or going. Then he noticed the sticker on the windscreen. The whole car was black apart from the small white sticker. The sticker was of the lottery logo of a cartoon thumb.

Two men in dark suits stepped out of the car. Greg looked on as they straightened their ties and sauntered up the path to his front door. They knocked forcefully, like the police just before they smash the door in. The men called out to him.

‘Greg Cooper, we’re from the Lottery. We’re here to take you to collect your winnings.’ Their tone was harsh, firm. They were giving orders rather than asking him to come along.

Greg backed away from the window. He knew two things for certain, one was that there was no way he was answering the door to these creepy men, and two, that Phil had been right all along.

He moved through to the back of his house, and slipped out the back door, shutting it quietly behind him. He jumped the fence and crossed his neighbours’ back gardens. 

He emerged on the main road. He paused, unsure where to go. The black car screeched around the corner, headlights framing him. Greg turned to run, his feet pounding the pavement. 

A bus pulled up to a stop up ahead. Greg hopped on and told the driver he was going into the city centre, the end of the line. As the bus pulled out Greg looked out the back window of the bus. The car was pulled up, the men had given up their pursuit. One of the men was standing on the pavement, watching the bus pull away, talking on his mobile phone. 

Greg sighed, taking a seat, thankful he had made his escape. He knew that something awful would happen if he went with these men. His lottery win, like with Phil, was a set-up, a way to get rid of you. 

When the bus reached the terminal in the city centre, Greg made sure he left the bus in the middle of the throng of passengers. He kept his head down and tried to lose himself in the crowd. 

Once out on the busy Manchester streets, he walked in the shadows, hovering in doorways, keeping an eye out for the black car. 

As he walked his mind raced. Phil had been right. The lottery firm had found him and got rid of him, and now they were coming for him.

He checked into a hotel for the night, paying cash, and using a false name. The bored-looking guy on the reception desk simply nodded and handed Greg his room key. 

Greg lay on the bed in the small hotel room, wondering just what to do next. How would he get out of this mess? Would these lottery people give up and move on to someone else now that he had made his escape? If he kept a low profile, his head down and mouth shut, maybe they would go away. 

He was trying to concentrate on a quiz show on TV when his mobile phone rang. It was his mother. The word ‘Mam’ bounced around the small screen. What could his mam want this time of night?

‘Hi Mam. Everything okay?’ Greg asked.

‘There are two men from the lottery here, love. They say you must come at once.’ His mother said.

‘Are you and dad okay?’ Greg said.

‘Oh yes, we’re fine. I’m just making these gentlemen a cup of tea. They say that your father and I are to go to Lottery Head Office if you can’t make it.’ 

Greg felt cold. He could see the threat behind the apparently innocent invitation. He knew that if his parents were taken they wouldn’t be coming back. The threat was very clear. 

There was nothing he could do. He had to go with these men.

‘Mam, just tell them I’m on my way. Tell them I’ll co-operate, I’ll go with them.’ Greg said, then hung up the phone.

He zipped up his coat, and headed to his parents’ house. He had no option but to go along.

Three days later Lottery Head Office received a phone call. 

‘Hello, this is Mrs. Cooper, my son Greg went down to collect his winnings a few days ago and we’ve not heard from him since. Could you let me know if he’s okay?’ Greg’s mother said. 

‘Ah yes. Your son is still here with us, sorting things out. These things do take time, but it will all be worth it.’ The chirpy receptionist said.

‘Really? I was worried because he’s not answering his mobile phone.’

‘I might be able to transfer you, actually. We should be able to put him on, if you would like to speak to him?’  

‘Oh, yes, that would be lovely.’ His mother said.

A second later his mother was transferred to the other line.

‘Hello, mum?’

‘Greg is that you? It’s not the best phone line.’ His mother said.

‘Yeah, it’s me. How’s things, mum?’

‘We’re doing okay but I was getting worried about you.’ She said.

‘I’m fine. I’m being spoilt rotten down here. They say it could take a while to sort everything out, but they are taking such good care of me. I’m staying in a fancy hotel. And they took me for a lovely Italian meal last night.’

As she hung up the phone, a few things niggled at her. Something wasn’t right. Greg never called her mum, always calling her ‘Mam’, the more Northern term, and if there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was Italian food.

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom