‘It’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for!’ he says, grinning broadly. ‘The raffle!’
A few cheers erupt across the hall.
‘Oh my God!’ I grin, gripping Rowena’s arm in excitement.
I look over at Will to see him looking back at me, steely-eyed. He smiles smugly as he holds up his crossed fingers. I smirk and wave my crossed fingers back at him.
‘This year, we have a host of brilliant prizes,’ Mick enthuses, gesturing at a table piled high with goodies. ‘From a bottle of Fortnum’s vintage port, Amazon gift cards, a year’s subscription to Good Housekeeping and many others, to the star prize – a five-star romantic getaway for two in Marrakech!’
We all cheer.
‘Big thanks to my lovely niece Hannah for pulling out all the stops to get the travel agency she works for to gift us this marvellous prize,’ Mick continues, explaining how Hannah couldn’t make it to the event because of her ‘busy London life.’ Ha. Unlike me and Will who now spend our Friday nights in village halls. I look over at him and catch his eye, we exchange a wry smile.
‘I’m delighted to reveal that we’ve raised a total of £4,428 tonight for Cancer Research, making tonight our most successful fundraiser ever! A big round of applause to everyone! To everyone who’s bought a ticket in the raffle and gifted prizes; to everyone who donated items for the auction and all the generous bidders; and to everyone who’s taken the time to help with everything from the buffet to the bunting – it means the world to me that you all get behind this event year in year out. I know if Maggie could see us all, she’d be so incredibly proud,’ Mick says, his eyes glistening with tears. ‘Give yourselves a round of applause!’ he adds, smiling warmly.
We all start clapping enthusiastically. Everyone, including myself, has teared up a little. It’s so touching just how sweet and loyal Mick is that after twenty years, he’s still holding fundraisers for his true love. It really does bring a tear to your eye and I can’t help feeling bad that I hadn’t been particularly interested in coming along tonight. I glance over at Will and even he’s looking misty-eyed as he claps enthusiastically, a tender smile on his face.
Rita suddenly gets up on stage and takes the mic from Mick. He seems a little taken aback.
‘I’d just like to say that even though everyone has done a marvellous job to make this event happen I think we should all acknowledge Mick’s efforts. Without him, this event would never be the success it is. Your dedication is an inspiration to us all, Mick. Maggie would be so touched and so, so proud,’ Rita says, her voice cracking with emotion. She starts clapping and we all join in, with even more gusto this time.
She and Mick hug and he takes the mic. Rita heads back to her seat.
‘Thanks everyone. I’m so very touched,’ Mick says as the applause dies down. ‘And without further ado, I’ll now be announcing the prizes of the raffle.’
Mick picks up a tin from the table of prizes and gives it a shake. ‘Right, who wants to help me pick winners?’ Mick asks, looking encouragingly towards a few kids sitting with their parents at a nearby table.
A little boy in a Transformers T-shirt sticks his hand up. ‘Me! Me! Me!’ he cries out.
‘Come up on stage, Edward!’ Mick says. Edward’s mum ushers him towards the stage and helps him up.
‘Right, Edward, you can pick our winners,’ Mick says, pulling off the lid of the tin. Edward smiles up at him delightedly.
‘Okay, so our first prize we’ll be announcing is a fifteen-pound Waterstones voucher and the winner is …’ Mick presents the tin to Edward, who reaches for a ticket.
He pulls one out victoriously.
‘Thanks Edward,’ Mick says. ‘What number is that?’ Mick holds the microphone down to Edward.
‘Number 231,’ Edward announces shyly.
‘Oh, that’s me! That’s me!’ A red-haired lady I recognise as the receptionist from the local GP surgery calls out, waving her ticket in the air. She comes up on stage and Mick hands her the voucher. She seems delighted. I know it’s only a raffle and I should just relax and have fun, but I can feel myself becoming totally gripped with excitement. I really want to win too!
Mick and Edward reveal the rest of the raffle winners. Will’s mum Sharon wins a dinner for two at an Italian restaurant in town and I can’t help feeling sorry for her as her admirers all seem to light up, clearly hoping to be her plus one. I suspect she’ll probably end up taking Will. Rowena wins the bottle of port. By the time the final few prizes are revealed, Edward’s beginning to look exhausted, like the novelty of choosing winners is starting to wear off. He goes back to sit with his mum. Edna, an elderly lady from the local church, comes up on stage to pluck the final winning tickets from the tin.
The table of prizes is growing increasingly empty and the tension in the room is mounting as we get closer and closer to the star prize reveal. I know it’s only a charity raffle, but I can’t help caring so much. A holiday to Marrakech is not something that people in my village take lightly. I know this prize and whoever wins will be the talk of the town for months. My mum was right. This is an important event on the village calendar. I can’t believe I even considered missing it.
‘Okay ladies and gentlemen, now the moment you’ve all been waiting for – we’ll be announcing the winner of the star prize! A romantic getaway in gorgeous, exotic, exciting Marrakech,’ Mick says. He switches a button on a projector on the table and suddenly, beautiful images of the most exquisite hotel fill the screen. It’s stunning – a huge white palatial building with a tapering gold domed roof and tall majestic archways, lined with palm trees soaring to the sky. The images cut to the inside of the hotel and it’s all dreamy-looking terracotta walls, sun-filled riads and wide marble hallways. The pictures cut to a photo of a plush sumptuous bed covered in fractured light flowing from ornate silver lamps and photographs of a giant tranquil aquamarine pool lined with sun loungers in the most stunning courtyard ever. Rita really wasn’t exaggerating when she said this holiday was ‘top notch’. The images of the hotel blend into images of Marrakech, with its bustling souks, full of spices, tagine dishes, rugs and elongated lamps that look like something you could use to summon a genie.
I drink in the images, my daydream of reclining on the sun lounger in a bikini and sunglasses growing sharper and sharper by the second. I really want to win this prize. It would be so great for me and Lauren. She seems to be loving the single girl-about-town life, but I know it gets exhausting and she could do with a break. We used to go on mini-breaks from time to time. She and I took the Eurostar to Bruges one weekend and we’ve been to Paris a few times, too. I’ve felt a bit bad since I had Hera and moved to Chiddingfold as we don’t get to hang out anywhere near as much as we used to. This holiday would be perfect for us. We’d get to spend some quality girl time together.
‘And the winner is …’ Mick holds the tin out to Edna, who reaches inside.
We all hold our breath. We’re so silent you could hear a pin drop. Yet Edna is taking forever to choose a ticket, rummaging about in the tin. She probably feels like Dermot O’Leary right now, announcing the winner of the X Factor.
Eventually her hand emerges from the tin and she unfolds a piece of paper.
‘Number 18!’ she announces.
Excitement floods through me as I scan my raffle tickets. I’m pretty sure I had number 18 and then my eyes land on the winning ticket. Number 18!
‘And number 102,’ Edna adds just as I leap to my feet, waving my winning ticket and cry, ‘It’s me!’
My moment of joy is suddenly shrouded in confusion. Why is Edna calling out another winning ticket? I won!