Space Witches 1: The Book of Witches

19. Glittery Interview

The door of the limousine opened and I got up. There was only one person to meet me. An elderly, dry little man who immediately made me think of elves. His nose hooked downwards and his lower jaw upwards – he looked like a caricature of the man in the quarter moon. He didn't have pointed ears though, but they were enormous. He had grey hair growing down onto his temples, otherwise he was completely bald. He had old fashioned round spectacles on his nose – it never ceased to amaze me why some people chose not to have their eyes operated on so that they could discard glasses altogether.

What I thought he might be was a tax official. I resisted the temptation to dust him – he looked so ancient.

"Welcome to the Great Lottery Center," he creaked, "my name is Mr. Baldwin and I am your assistant for this week, until you have been assigned a secretary. Please follow me."

It was all business from then on. He led me to an office where I typed my ID into the ID gadget and confirmed it with a fingerprint. Then I signed a paper - a real paper - to confirm that I was who I claimed I was. I was then unceremoniously given a platinum credit card and an expensive looking golden colored wallet. While I was placing the credit card into it, Mr. Baldwin took my old phone out of my hands in one swift movement.

"Please write here all the numbers that can be connected to your new phone directly," he said.

He offered me another phone, sounding like a hinge in need of oiling. I guessed that would be my secretary's phone.

I sat on my side of the table while he was working on something else. It didn't take me long because I only had a handful of people I wanted to be able to call me directly. My parents, Tina, Sara... that was about it.

"And now, moving on..."

I was taken to a hairdresser and a beautician who ironed out my appearance to fit in with the rich and beautiful lifestyle that was now supposed to be mine. I managed to refuse the fake fingernails decorated with glittering stones, but the makeup artist threw up her hands in the air.

"Not everyone can do this, you know! No respect for my expertise, no respect...!"

The hairdresser shook her head at me while I stood my ground. I would not wear vulture claws, no matter how glittery they were. I was quite certain the false eyelashes with bright blue little jewels in them were quite enough on their own. Wearing them made me feel I was trapped inside a Christmas tree.

Then I was poured into what could only be described as an evening gown. Pink satin, silk, lace, sequins... the lot. And to top it off they draped me in pearl necklaces that hung to my waist. I stared at myself in the mirror in awe and saw that Miss Lottery's twin was now staring back at me. Tina would die of envy when she saw the dress. No. She would demand that I buy her something similar, if I knew my little sister at all. Well, she could have this one. I had never been a frilly type.

I was pushed into a studio filled with fountains, roses, curving pillars and colourful parrots in golden cages...

"Now we're going to take the official pictures to the winners' gallery for everyone to see..." my assistant informed me.

"Do I have to?"

I wasn't at all sure I wanted the whole world to recognize my face.

"Yes, you do. It is written in the terms of the lottery contract. The winner must confirm that he or she will be presented publicly as the winner and agree to interviews whenever needed. And that she - or he - must wear the outfit we see fit."

I saw the makeup artist's face light up. She looked at my fingers, and I hid my hands behind my back.

"But that means everyone will recognize me! I won't have a moment's peace!" I tried to bargain.

"Which is why you will be having your own secretary... you can forget about peace and quiet, for a while at least."

"Right. And who might that secretary be?" I sighed.

"We'll know by the end of the week. We have hundreds of applications waiting. But now, pose and smile, pose and smile!"

Which I did for the rest of the day. I'd never considered myself photogenic, so I wasn't expecting the photos to look good. Much to my surprise they did – their photographer was an older woman and she knew her job. And thankfully they had put so much makeup on me that even I did not recognize myself. I hoped no one else would recognize me later either, once I had washed the makeup off.

Finally I was pushed into a broadcast studio. A familiar face was there – Miss Lottery. Or rather a familiar back, as she sat there half turned away from me, slouched in a chair and looking unhappy.

"Well surely I don't have to leave here so soon?" she said to someone on her phone. "What do you mean I can't stay here? If I get a job... now that's not fair! You know where I'd have to get back to?"

Mr. Baldwin pushed me forward from behind the cameras and towards the stage, and Miss Lottery noticed us. She finished her phone call and smiled – at my assistant, not me. Then it seemed like another thought had struck her, and she turned all of her pink charming smile on me.

"Wow, you look wonderful, compared to previously," she said.

"Ummm... thanks, I guess..."

"Oh I didn't mean... sorry. But a good makeup artist and a hairdresser can work wonders on anyone!" she tried to correct the effect of her words. Without much success, but I didn't reply. I was trying to keep my eyes open under the heavy eyelashes.

"Are you ready for your interview?" she asked. "Over the worst shock of being filthy rich?"

"Well... no and no. Do we have to do the interview?"

"Yes. The terms of the lottery game," my bald assistant said dryly without lifting his eyes from my old phone which was blinking with incoming calls like a Christmas tree covered in flashing lights. Or maybe that was my lashes?

"This will be my last ever interview," Miss Lottery sighed. "Next week a new Miss Lottery will be chosen..."

I understood the phone call I had overheard. She would have to leave the Palace Plate soon and wasn't at all happy about it.

The interview took ten minutes and I didn't remember any of it later on. I was too nervous. Afterwards I was taken to the room where I would stay that week. I got out of the evening gown, pulled the horrible false lashes off, and rushed into the shower to wash off the makeup. Then I put on the pyjamas that had been neatly placed on the bed (not flannel, but silk) and opened the screen.

"Umm... surprised..." my face announced to the world.

"Where did you buy your lottery ticket? At a mall? On the net?"

I looked like a petrified porcelain doll. My eyes were round and scared under the lashes that were shooting out little blue sparkly lightnings under the bright glare of the studio lights, and I stared at the camera, terror-struck. When no words came out of my mouth, Miss Lottery's smile lit up the stage. She had placed her hand on her ear and tilted her head as if she was listening.

"I've been given information you took part in the draw on the net. A most convenient way to buy a ticket, as you can choose to give part of your winnings to charity right there and then."

I nodded, looking like a scared glittery pink mouse.

The camera mercifully turned to Miss Lottery after that. She fluttered her false eyelashes, the ones that were long enough to sweep the floor with, encouraged people to "buy more lottery tickets!" and then the broadcast thankfully came to an end.

"Oh no..." I had pulled a blanket almost up to my eyes, staring at my pitiful performance on the TV.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

"Are you here?" I whispered.

Nothing. Not a single fly, no feeling of burning hands, no pressure on my fingers to let me know I should write. They had left me here all alone. I turned my head so I could see out of the window and looked at the plates glistening in the sunlight as they turned so that night came to each of them in turn. Just as I fell asleep I remembered I had not been given my new phone yet.