"Terry Wright? ", asked the voice at the end of the telephone. Before I had a chance to answer, the excited-sounding disembodied voice announced: "Congratulations, Mr Wright. I'm Matthew Pratt from the 'Daily Pride'"
"Congratulations on wh...", I began. But before I could complete the sentence: "We're prepared to offer you half a million for your story if you can grant us exclusive rights."
"Well that sounds amazing, but I need to kno...."
"I'll explain it all face-to-face. I'm just round the corner from your house. Hold on Mr Wright."
"Look, you'd better tell me what this is all ab..." The line went dead. Clearly some joker was playing a weird game with me.
The doorbell rang, and I opened the door. There was a strange 'buzzing' of conversation from the roadway outside my gate. Lining the pavement outside and the pathway to my front door were what seemed like hundreds of journalists. Flashlights went off, taking my photograph as I opened the front door. Television cameras and microphones had been set up outside my house. The telephone started ringing again.
A man in a rather scruffy coat pushed his way past me into the house. "Leave the 'phone, Mr Wright." He slammed the door closed behind him. Immediately the doorbell sounded again. "And the door. Leave it!"
I was curious, frightened, disbelieving and very angry all at the same time. I grabbed the scruffy man's coat lapels and drew him toward me: "Just who the hell do you think you are!" I screamed into his face.
For a moment my fear seemed contagious and the man looked scared. Then he said quite calmly: "I'm Matthew Pratt. I want the same as the others out there. Your story. The difference is that I work for the biggest daily in the land and we will pay you half a million up front."
I walked over to the television and tuned to one of the 24 hour news channels. The message 'Breaking News' was flashing on the screen below a live picture of the front of my house! A newsreader standing on the pavement outside my house was talking to camera, explaining how the 'Daily Pride' had uncovered the whereabouts of a man who had won several millions on the lottery but was too devoted to his work and neighbourhood to quit his job and move home.
I smiled to myself. Whoever thought he had uncovered a millionaire had made one enormous mistake. I was barely managing to keep up the mortgage payments on my humble little terraced house. I would love to give up work, but needed every penny I could make.
I was about to tell Mr Matthew Pratt that he was wasting his time, when something occurred to me. I turned off the television and spoke to Mr Pratt.
"You say that if I agree to give you my story exclusively, you will pay me half a million upfront. Am I right?"
"Yes. That's the deal."
"OK - I accept - but only on certain conditions."
"And they are?"
I ushered my future benefactor to a chair, poured two glasses of whisky and said:
"You will write me a cheque before you leave this house." I continued, "I will write you my story - in my own words - and I will hand it to you, with a signed declaration that I will never speak to another newspaper about anything at all for the next five years."
Pratt took a large sip of whisky and began to speak. I put my hand up to stop him.
"My turn to do the talking." I said. "I expect you will want me to answer some questions so that you can get your own angle on the story. I'm not going to do that tonight. I'm too tired. I will give you the basics in writing as promised, in a sealed envelope for you to open in front of your lawyers and you will hand me a cheque for half a million. Tomorrow you can ask me as many questions as you like, and I promise to answer them all truthfully and as thoroughly as I possibly can."
"I'll need to call my editor" said Pratt.
"Call away, Mr Pratt. But that is the deal. Take it or leave it. I am saying no more on the matter this-evening."
Pratt duly called his editor. After much animated discussion, he hung up the phone, turned to me and said: "OK. You have a deal." I went to fetch a notepad and pen. Pratt wrote out a cheque to me in the sum of five hundred thousand. After about half an hour, I handed him a sheet of paper, sealed in an envelope. He handed me the cheque and left. I unplugged the telephone and tried my best to sleep above the droning noises outside my window.
Tomorrow I really would be front-page news. "The man who duped the 'Daily Pride'!" The other papers and television would make a meal of the story once it broke, but I had pledged to remain silent, and I would keep my promise.
I wondered how Pratt would feel when he opened my letter in front of his editor and lawyers and read:
"I, Terence Wright, promise not to talk to any newspaper other than the Daily Pride for a period of five years from today.
I have never in my life bought a lottery ticket and have consequently never won a prize. I can only imagine that in your haste to run a story you have confused me with somebody else bearing my name. The entire conversation between myself and Mr Matthew Pratt is recorded on the closed circuit television which I have had installed in my house since a recent failed robbery attempt. I am willing to show this recording to any interested party, including a court of law. Providing that my cheque is valid, however, I see no reason why your mistake should go any further. Thank you for helping me in my time of need.
Yours sincerely,
Terence (Terry) Wright.