‘They’re here!’ called Gary, peering out of the window, rubbing his hands together with anticipation. Tracy was a little more restrained. Whilst she had agreed to be interviewed, she still felt a touch anxious. Not for the first time, Tracy wished she had some of her husband’s enthusiasm. Life must be so much more enjoyable if one can breeze through it without a care. She often envied Gary’s joie de vivre and was left feeling like a wet lettuce in comparison.
Truth be told, Tracy had been happier before winning the lottery. A part of her felt guilty owning so much, without having earned it. But there was no turning back now. Even if by some miracle Gary agreed to go back home to Lancashire, it wouldn’t be the same. They wouldn’t fit in. Things had changed. Tracy remembered the look on her so-called best friend’s face when she told her she was moving away. She’d wanted to believe it was because Sharon would miss her, but deep down she knew the real reason for her crest-fallen expression. No more gravy train: Tracy was going and taking her money with her.
‘Shall I get the door?’ Tracy asked, watching Gary fidget impatiently by the window.
‘No, no, I’ll get it.’ He sped off into the hall. Tracy went to the window and watched Gary march down the pathway to greet their visitors. There was a slim, attractive woman with long, brown hair, a middle-aged man carrying a camera, and a young, trendy-looking man wearing faded jeans and a combat jacket, who was also carrying some form of equipment. She grinned to herself, watching Gary pump everyone’s hand enthusiastically.
‘This way, come through!’ called Gary, ushering them through the hall and into the lounge. The film crew weren’t expecting the rather brash interior, with its gaudy abstract artwork glaring from the walls on large canvases, and the floors covered with thick shag-pile carpet. A huge plasma television stood in the corner, opposite a black, leather sofa. Not what one would imagine for a listed gatehouse.
Tracy stood waiting for them, nerves starting to edge in. Choosing to appear smart but casual, she had opted to wear red Capri pants and a white and red striped shirt. She had finished the outfit off with red ballet shoes. Tracy cringed when she realised Gary still had his slippers on.
‘So,’ he slapped his hands together, ‘sit down, make yourselves at home. Do you want a brew?’ There was a pregnant pause, until Tracy intervened.
‘A cup of tea?’
‘That would be lovely, thank you,’ smiled the lady with long hair. ‘Let me introduce the team.’ She turned to the two men standing next to her. ‘This is Len, our cameraman, and Jamie, the runner. I’m Viola.’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ returned Tracy, her stomach beginning to tighten. ‘I won’t be long.’ She hurried into the kitchen to put the kettle on. As she was busying herself with making the tea, the sound of Gary’s laugh boomed through the doorway.
‘So, in the blink of an eye, I went from stacking freezers at Iceland, to moving into the Gate House on the Treweham Hall estate!’ she heard him exclaim.
Tracy decided to use the hostess trolley instead of a tray, in case her nerves got the better of her and she dropped it. She’d picked up the trolley in a local vintage shop because it reminded her of the one her gran had had years ago. Unfortunately, the casters squeaked a bit, making her feel somewhat self-conscious wheeling it into the lounge.
Luckily she didn’t see Jamie suppressing a giggle, the image of Julie Walters’ Mrs Overall springing to his mind.
‘I’ve made some parkin,’ Tracy smiled, leaving everyone staring at her in wonder. Gary’s laugh echoed round the room again, making Jamie jump.
‘It’s ginger cake!’ Gary cried. ‘Nobody’s heard of parkin round here, Trace.’ He winked in his wife’s direction.
Viola managed a feeble laugh. ‘Oh, I see. Yes, please, we’d love a piece of parking cake, wouldn’t we?’ She looked at Len and Jamie, who nodded their heads willingly.
After the niceties were over, Viola explained the procedure. Gary and Tracy were to relax and enjoy the experience, just answer a few simple questions and appear as natural as possible. ‘Easy-peasy,’ she encouraged with a warm smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, Tracy noticed.
‘Bish, bosh, bash,’ replied Gary, rubbing his hands together again.
Tracy wished he’d stop doing that, suddenly finding it highly irritating.
Len set the camera in place. Jamie was adjusting the lights, standing on tripods, to Len’s requirements. He then held a huge, furry microphone near to Gary and Tracy. Viola took out her clipboard and cleared her throat.
‘Sound check,’ Len said.
‘Testing one, two, three,’ answered Viola, ‘testing one, two, three.’
‘Good to go,’ said Len.
Jamie’s hand moved closer to Tracy and Gary with the microphone.
‘Well, what a lovely home you have,’ beamed Viola.
‘Thanks,’ said Tracy with a smile.
‘We’d all love to know, how does it feel, living on the Treweham Hall estate?’ she asked in clear, concise tones.
Gary jumped in. ‘Smashing. All this space is a far cry from where we came from, innit, Tracy?’
‘Yes, we’re very fortunate to be living in such a beautiful part of the country.’
‘What brought you to the Cotswolds?’ enquired Viola.
‘We came into money—’
Gary was interrupted by Tracy. ‘Yes, and we decided to return to Treweham after honeymooning here a few years ago.’ She didn’t want Gary to talk about their unpleasant experience back home. ‘When we saw the Gate House was up for sale, we couldn’t resist it.’
‘Is that why you paid over the odds for it?’ asked Viola innocently.
Gary and Tracy stalled. Had they overpaid for it? They didn’t like being ripped off – who did? But being made to look foolish made it worse.
‘Well, we paid the asking price,’ Gary finally replied. His voice was quieter, calmer now.
‘The price Lord Cavendish-Blake asked for it?’ Viola still spoke matter-of-factly.
‘We didn’t like to haggle,’ Tracy answered.
‘You mean you felt uncomfortable?’
‘Well… you know…’ Gary stumbled.
‘Do you find Lord Cavendish-Blake intimidating?’ Viola pressed.
‘He’s… a bit…’ Tracy tried to explain.
‘Yes?’ Viola responded quickly.
‘Well, maybe he was a bit standoffish at first. We invited a few people round when we first moved in.’
‘A house-warming party,’ Gary supplied.
‘Yes, and he seemed…’ Tracy trailed off.
‘Unapproachable?’ Viola offered.
‘Er… just a bit aloof, I’d day,’ finished Tracy hesitantly.
‘Even though he was happy to take your money,’ concluded Viola.
Gary coughed with unease. ‘Yeah, but he did invite us to his wedding.’
‘And made us feel very welcome,’ Tracy conceded.
Viola gave a quick nod and moved onto the next question.
After a shaky start, Viola rounded the interview off on a positive note, asking about their future, possible children, and telling them how lucky they were to have such a beautiful home. All in all, the experience had gone relatively OK.
Although Gary wasn’t as jubilant when seeing the television crew off, he returned to the lounge looking fairly optimistic.
‘How do you think it went?’ Tracy asked.
‘I think we came across quite well, don’t you?’
‘Hmm, I hope so.’ She had a very uneasy feeling about the whole experience now.