Lia's Guide to Winning the Lottery (16 page)

‘Thanks, Rita,' I said in a slightly muffled voice.

The door swung open.

‘There you are!' said a loud voice. ‘I thought I saw you coming in here.'

‘Hello, Donna,' said Norma. ‘Everything OK? What can we do for you?'

‘I want a word with Lia, that's what,' said Donna.

‘Hello, Mrs Hargreaves.' For some reason I felt nervous. I nibbled my gingerbread man's right arm and Rita beamed.

‘Lia Latimer,' said Donna. ‘At last. You can't avoid me any longer, you know.'

‘I wasn't avoiding you,' I started to say, but a crumb hit the back of my throat and I started coughing.

‘You've bought Jack a motorbike. A motorbike. How bloody dare you?'

‘Umm . . . he wanted one. . .'

Her voice was really loud. ‘Firstly, my brother fell off his motorbike when he was just about Jack's age and has never been the same again. I would never allow my boys to have one.'

‘Oh!' She must mean Jack's Uncle Terry. I knew he wasn't right in the head. I never knew why.

‘And secondly, Jack's morally entitled to half that money. He bought you that ticket.'

‘Umm . . . it was a birthday present.' My eyes were full of tears from the stupid gingerbread crumbs.

A woman came into the shop, and asked Rita for a sliced wholemeal loaf. It didn't put Donna off one little bit.

‘He bought you the ticket! Eight million pounds! And you try and fob him off with a motorcycle that'll probably kill him.'

‘You bought Jack a
motorcycle
?' said my dad. I didn't even know he'd come downstairs.

‘That's what he wanted,' I said. ‘It's a really nice one.'

The wholemeal loaf lady showed no signs of leaving. Two more women had come in and were just standing there, blatantly listening.

‘You're out of order!' said Jack's mum, her voice shrill and shaky. ‘You're putting him in danger so he can't make a claim on your fortune!'

Rita and Norma shook their heads and clucked.

‘That's not very nice, dearie,' said Norma. ‘I think you need to calm down a bit.'

‘There is no way that I am allowing him to keep that bike,' said Jack's mum. ‘I'm sending it straight back, and you can give him a cheque instead. And for a sight more than twenty thousand pounds, thank you very much.'

‘Now hang on a minute, Donna,' said my dad.

‘Jack's got rights!' she said. ‘Jack should have half that money, and you know it. We're going to sue you! We've got a lawyer! Call yourself a friend? You're just a selfish little slut!'

‘That's enough, Donna,' said my dad. ‘Why don't you leave now—'

‘I am not a slut!' I spat. ‘How dare you? I didn't have to give Jack one penny and I've just spent thousands of pounds giving him just what he wanted.'

‘Not the first time,' she snarled, ‘I've told you I don't like the way you hang round with my son. . .'

‘Shut up!' I screeched, grabbing one of Rita's fruit Sponge Specials and hurling it at Donna's open mouth. It flew through the air – she screamed – and landed right on her chest. Cream and little lumps of pineapple slid down her crinkly cleavage.

‘Lia!' said my dad. ‘What have you done?'

Donna howled, ‘I'll be talking to my lawyer!' and ran out of the shop.

‘Get lost!' yelled Rita.

‘You deserved it!' cried Norma.

And then I heard a cough. I turned around.

Oh no. No, no, no.

Raf was standing right behind my dad.

Chapter 16

A lot of people will be jealous of your good fortune. It's not easy – but it's not your fault either
.

How could he just appear out of
nowhere
? And why, just at my moment of total humiliation? I gave a gigantic, yelping sob and rushed to the door, with my dad, the girls, several customers and Raf in pursuit.

They caught up with me halfway down the hill, just outside the fish shop.

‘Lia!' said my dad. ‘Come back . . . come back inside and we can talk about this sensibly. Don't worry about that stupid woman, she hasn't got a leg to stand on.'

I was desperately searching for a tissue, determined not to cry in public.

‘It's the Lottery Girl!' said someone in the crowd.

‘Disgusting behaviour,' said someone else.
‘That poor woman, she had to go into Help the Aged to get wiped off.'

I sniffed, hiccupped and sneaked a cautious glance at Raf. I was expecting him to look completely disgusted at my appalling behaviour. His eyes were grave. But his mouth was definitely twitching.

‘It was an accident,' said my dad. ‘Norma! Rita! You've left the shop unmanned.'

Rita and Norma shrieked and scuttled off up the street.

‘Didn't look like an accident to me,' said the woman. ‘Assaulted with a fruit flan! I've never seen anything like it!'

Raf had his hand over his mouth now. I was trying not to look at him, but then my dad said, ‘Actually, for your information, it was a Pineapple Sponge Special,' and I lost it altogether and started cackling with laughter, tears pouring down my face.

‘Lia!' said my dad. ‘Behave yourself!'

‘I can't!' I spluttered.

‘I'll talk to you later,' he said, stomping back up the hill. He turned back to look at Raf. ‘I'll see you 5 am tomorrow,' he said. ‘Welcome aboard. It's not usually like this.'

Raf managed to put on his most serious face and say, ‘Thank you, Mr Latimer, I'll see you then.' But then he leaned against the fishmonger's window, laughing as much as I was.

‘Oh my God. . .' he gasped. ‘When you . . . and she. . . And then she had to be wiped off in Help the Aged. . .'

We were doubled up with laughter. I was just inching towards him, hoping I could somehow engineer a hug . . . a kiss . . . when someone tapped Raf on the shoulder.

He stopped laughing right away. Great. His big brother was standing there, alongside an older man. He had the same dark hair, mixed with silver, and his piercing eyes were blue-grey. He was dressed entirely in black, and his face was gaunt, grim and strangely attractive.

‘So good to see you laugh, Rafael,' he said, in a deep, gloomy voice.

Raf looked as though he'd never laughed in his life. He was pale, sidling away from me.

‘Hello Lia,' said Jasper. ‘What's the big joke?'

‘Nothing,' I said. The older man turned his eerie gaze to me.

‘Lia Latimer?' he asked. ‘The girl who won the
lottery. Well, well. I had no idea that you were a friend of Rafael's.'

‘She's not,' said Jasper harshly. ‘Why are you standing around here, Raf? You're meant to be at the café.'

What the hell? I waited for Raf to tell Jasper to piss off, to take my hand maybe, say that I was
more
than a friend. But he just glanced at me briefly, not even a smile, and almost ran down the road to the internet café.

‘Raf was just having an interview for a job at Lia's dad's bakery,' said Jasper. ‘Did he get it, Lia?'

I nodded. Aha! That was why Raf'd been there. My dad had been going on about taking on someone for the 5 am shift, so he wouldn't have to get up so early every day.

‘Another job?' asked the older man. He sighed. ‘Rafael's got more important things to do than work in some . . . some. . .' He waved a dismissive hand. ‘Some suburban cake shop. It's a tragedy.'

‘Never mind,' said Jasper. ‘It's good for him.'

The man took my hand. His skin was cold and smooth as marble. ‘Thank you, my dear,' he said, ‘for making Rafael laugh.'

‘Oh, no problem, my pleasure, any time,' I babbled,
completely mesmerised by his sapphire-blue eyes.

He didn't let my hand go. ‘You have been given a rare opportunity,' he said, ‘a chance to change lives. I would very much like to talk to you at some time—'

‘But not now,' said Jasper. ‘I'm sure Lia is very busy and needs to get going. Nice to see you, Lia. Come on, Nick.'

He let my hand drop. I could still feel the chill of his fingers.

‘Another time, Miss Latimer,' he said. And they walked away, up the hill, past Hard as Nails, past Latimer's Loaves, in the direction of Melbourne Avenue. Huh. They must live in that huge house, while Raf was left to slave in the café and sleep on a mattress.

And then I remembered Donna and the cake and the way the pineapple lumps had clogged up her cleavage, and I rummaged for my phone. I suppose I'd better warn Jack about the tornado coming his way, find out exactly what Donna was planning.

But Jack didn't answer. I wondered about going round to his house, but the thought of seeing Donna – oh God, would I ever be able to go round there again?

No Shaz. No Jack. I had no choice. I headed home.
If Mum was horrible to me, I was buying a one way ticket to New York – but I had to get my passport from her filing system first.

Natasha was all alone. She took one look at me – tear-stained, cream-splattered – and said, ‘What the hell? The phone hasn't stopped. Loads of papers wanting to talk to you.'

Oh my God. Oh my God. Donna hadn't gone to her lawyer or the police. She'd gone to the press.

‘It was her, Nat, Jack's mum. She came into the shop. She was shouting at me, saying things. . . Nat, I threw a cake at her.'

‘You did what?'

‘I was really angry – she's such a
bitch
, Nat, she was saying horrible stuff.' My voice turned into a wail. ‘And now she's going to tell the papers. . .'

‘Oh, Lia!' Natasha threw her arms around me.

‘And there's a page . . . a page on Facebook. . .'

Natasha's face gave her away.

‘You knew! Why didn't you
tell
me?'

‘I thought you knew . . . you've got the new iPhone. I didn't think you'd be that bothered. It's just a bit of teasing, Lia, that's what Molly and Keira said.'

‘No one's making Facebook pages about
them
.'

‘Yes, but you're like a celebrity now. That's what
happens.' Her voice was pleading. ‘Don't be upset, Lia, we can make a fan page for you.'

‘Oh yeah, great, who's going to sign up for that?'

There was a knock at the door. Natasha went and peeked out of the window.

‘It's a reporter,' she said. ‘And a photographer. What are you going to do?'

‘I don't know! I don't know!'

The front door opened. Mum. Great gulpy sobs were building up inside me.

She was in her gym stuff and on her mobile. ‘She did
what
?' she was saying. ‘Donna said
what
? She threw
what
at Donna?'

She turned off her phone, and walked into the living room. I braced myself. I hadn't just disgraced myself, after all. I'd ruined the shop's reputation. Mum was going to explode any second – three . . . two . . . one. . .

But she just said, ‘OK, girls, damage limitation exercise. I'm going upstairs to get changed, you get the kettle on. We're going to have ourselves a little press conference.'

Chapter 17