Free Millions by Frank Cottrell Boyce

cross, he had to sit down on the wall.
    It was a pity he did that really. If he’d just gone inside he wouldn’t have seen the Comet van pull up and unload the DVD player, the dishwasher, the Gamecube and the two plasma-screen televisions. It wasn’t the fact that I’d given them the money that upset him. It was the fact that they’d managed to spend it.
    ‘Look at all the stuff that they’ve got! And what have we got? Junk. Junk that people were going to give to Oxfam anyway. Two tellies, a dishwasher . . .’
    He went on and listed everything they’d bought. He did this ten times, like a rosary. It was a very impressive feat of memory.
    ‘I didn’t know they were going to buy a telly. I thought they were going to give it away. They’re supposed to be saints, after all. I thought they were going to give it to the poor. I thought they were poor.’
    ‘Look, Damian, if you give poor people money, what happens to them? They stop being poor. Obviously. And if they’re not poor any more, what are they? They’re the same as everyone else.’
    So that was when I had this worrying thought: what if giving people more money just makes people more money-ish? And if it does, what’s all the money for? What can we do with it?
    After supper, there was a knock on the door. Dad answered it and it was one of the Latter-day Saints – Eli – carrying a little box and looking very anxious. Anthony and I were washing up. We looked at each other nervously.
    ‘Probably going to ask for more money,’ growled Anthony.
    Eli said he had an idea he wished to share with us. Then he opened his box and took out a tiny camera. ‘This is a security camera, CCTV. It mounts easily to the door lintel using the bracket arrangement here and then hooks up very simply to your domestic television.’
    Anthony sniffed bitterly and said, ‘Television? Or televisions?’
    Eli didn’t notice.
    ‘We’re most anxious about this very high likelihood of a burglary in the area. Terry says he has seen a suspicious character and of course we must protect our property. This camera could be most useful in this regard. We have bought three such. We wish to position one with a clear line of vision across the main point of access to the Close – from your front door to the car port of number 3. The ideal positioning would be your lintel. Would you be willing to assist the community in this way?’
    I said, ‘I thought you didn’t mind about burglaries. I thought you didn’t care about earthly goods.’
    ‘Well, of course in a sense this is true, but if we do not have security, then we are tempting the burglar, not so? And so tempting him into sin. We therefore become assistants to the sin. The camera comes with reactive halogen lighting, which has a prohibitive effect.’
    ‘Great,’ said Dad.
    Personally, I went to bed.
    I lay there listening to Dad clanging up and down the stepladder and drilling holes for the CCTV bracket, then I fell asleep. It felt like I’d been asleep for hours when I heard him calling us. Anthony and I hurried downstairs to see what was up. He was very excited. ‘Just sit there,’ he said, pointing to the couch.
    We sat down. He turned the TV on and started flicking through the channels. ‘One, two, three, four, five and now . . .’ Six was a picture of the car port of number 3, which had a life-size illuminated Santa sitting outside. ‘That’s the terrestrial channels and the new CCTV. That much we know. Now . . . seven, eight, nine, ten . . .’ He went through all the new channels, with a big happy grin on his face.
    Anthony smiled too and said, ‘Brilliant, Dad. How did you do it?’
    ‘I was just fixing the CCTV and there it was. It must be something to do with the cable. Maybe it acts as a kind of aerial. Maybe it’s a miracle.’ It was the first time we’d seen him smile in ages. ‘Thank you, God.’
    I explained that St Clare was the patron saint of television. ‘If it is a miracle, it’s one of