Millions (19 page)

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Authors: Frank Cottrell Boyce

BOOK: Millions
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The police went after them due to concerns about large numbers trespassing on railway property.

Which left Dad and me and Anthony and Dorothy. She was putting her coat on. She said, ‘Well, it was fun while it lasted, eh?’

Dad said, ‘Listen, if you want the car . . .’

‘No, no. I love my little car. Thanks all the same.’ She kissed him on the cheek, ruffled my hair and went to ruffle Anthony’s but stopped herself just in time. And then she left.

We stood around saying nothing. I was waiting to hear her engine start up. But it didn’t. Instead, the doorbell rang. It was her, back again. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘there’s no easy way to say this, but the fact is . . .’ She put her hand inside her coat. ‘I kept a bit back. For myself. It’s yours really.’

And she put a wedge of money on the table.

Dad looked shocked at first, then pleased.

‘It’s six grand,’ she said.

He went to the biscuit tin on the top shelf, levered it open and pulled out another wedge. He put it next to Dorothy’s. She laughed. ‘You crook!’ she said.

‘It’s the dollars. It felt different somehow. Ten grand’s worth.’

‘Ten grand! That’s worse than me! That’s twice as bad as me, nearly!’

Anthony was emptying his dressing-gown pocket. He had a roll of notes the size of a Jaffa orange. ‘I just liked having a wedge. The feel of it. It wasn’t the money really. It was more like a stress ball.’

‘How much?’

‘Four thousand three hundred and forty-five.’

They stared at him. He shrugged. ‘I enjoy counting it.’

Then they all three stared at me. I said, ‘Well, don’t look at me. I haven’t got any.’ They kept staring. ‘I haven’t!’

‘Well, you could’ve put a bit by, you daft sod.’

‘Well, I didn’t.’

20
 

If our Anthony had been telling you this story, it would be the most unhappy ending ever. He would put, ‘And so they failed to make proper use of their once-in-a-lifetime investment opportunity and they all regretted it ever after.’

Anthony regretted it hundreds of times every day. Every time we passed a shop window or saw an advert, he’d shake his head sadly, thinking of what might have been.

Because what actually happened was this. Since I was the only entirely honest member of the family, Dad said I could decide what we did with the money. And with 20,345 new euros we built 14 hand-dug wells in northern Nigeria.

Sometimes money can leave your hand and fall like water from a pipe on to the hot ground, and the dusty earth swallows it up and bursts into food and flowers for miles and miles around. And all the seeds and roots and lives that were lying dead in the ground spring all the way back to life.

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