Lia's Guide to Winning the Lottery (31 page)

‘It must've been horrible, though.'

‘Jasper saved me. He said I had to come and live with him and Sylvie – that's his wife – even though it would be awkward because their little boy George doesn't sleep and they were living at his mum's, which isn't easy. . . I mean, it was my fault she got divorced in the first place.'

‘That must be so difficult.' Oh my God. And I thought things were tough living with my parents.

‘She's always very nice and polite to me, but I know she must hate me – I try and keep out of her way. And Jasper and Sylvie, they're great, actually, but so tired all the time, because George never sleeps. Jasper gets really bad-tempered sometimes because he hasn't slept enough. And Sylvie keeps on bursting into tears which is kind of embarrassing. My dad, he's got a
lock-up full of clothes and he sells them. It's totally against the rules. If the authorities found out, they could prosecute him. Lia, I know he wants you to invest – you mustn't. . . He'll take all your money!'

‘Don't worry,' I said. ‘Blimey, Raf, I can see why you wanted to move into that office.'

‘Yeah. I don't know what I'll do now.'

I knew I had to ask. ‘You won't ever do it again, will you?'

‘What?'

‘You know . . . the pills and vodka. . .'

He stared at me. ‘Why would I do that, when the best thing that's ever happened to me just happened?' And then he looked away. ‘I'm sorry, Lia. Maybe you just want to forget it . . . forget we ever. . .'

‘No, I don't, it was great, but Raf, I don't know . . . how I feel. I don't know what's going to happen.'

‘No one knows what's going to happen.'

‘I never want to hurt you. But I don't want to make you promises I can't keep.'

‘It's OK,' he said. ‘I'm OK. There are lots of good things happening in my life, Lia.'

‘But, Jasper – he works you like a slave.'

‘He thought it would help the anxiety if I was busy all the time. And I am, and it does. He made me join
the football team as well. It all helps. I'm actually excited to have that job in the bakery – I've got loads of ideas about your dad's development plans. And one day I want to set up my own thing – maybe antiques, something like that – but till then I need to learn how to run a business and not end up like my dad.'

‘But you like history . . . and literature. . .'

He shrugged. ‘I can always read. The way things are at the moment, you have to be a millionaire to devote your life to stuff like that. You could, I can't.'

‘I could . . . I could help you.'

‘You do help me. But not with money. Much more than that.'

And then his arms slipped around my waist and, he bent his head and I tasted the warm, salty softness of his mouth.

It was strange, I thought. All those months thinking Raf was like a hero in a paranormal romance, that he might be one of the living dead. And none of us realised how close he'd been to being just plain dead and gone, ashes in the air or rotten flesh in the ground.

‘Just think about it,' I said. ‘I can't keep all the luck to myself. I have to share it around.'

Then we walked around the park a bit, and then he said, ‘I'm due at the internet café, I think. . . I'm hours late, actually. Jasper will kill me.'

And I looked at my watch and said, ‘Oh God, I've been out for hours, I'd better go home.'

The minute I walked through the door, my mum pounced.

‘Where have you
been
? I've been worried
sick
. We came back from the hospital and there was no sign of you. I've been phoning and phoning, texting and texting. Good Lord, Lia, I'd have thought you had more consideration.'

I had no energy to fight at all. I fell into her arms. ‘I'm sorry . . . it's been a really difficult day . . . I didn't mean to scare you.'

She looked as amazed as if I'd grown another head.

‘Well! As long as you're all right. Come inside, darling and I'll make you some tea. You look done in.'

‘Where's Natasha? What did the hospital say?'

‘She had an acute reaction to alcohol. Some people do. It's like an allergy. She's sleeping it off.'

‘What did about the phone call?'

‘She knew nothing about it. She just passed out at her friend's house, then tried to walk home. No, the police think that phone call came from some girls at
your school. Shazia – she called them. Told them to look at that disgusting Facebook page. There were all these comments there about playing a trick on you . . . making you suffer. Ugly stuff. They're going to have a word with those girls. It's disgraceful. Cyber-bullying, it's called. I think the school should take some action. Get those girls suspended, at least.'

She made tea and came and sat on the sofa next to me. I leaned against her, just like I used to when I was little and she'd read to me, for hours and hours –
Little House on the Prairie, The Secret Garden, The Little Princess.

‘Mum,' I said, ‘what if someone loves you more than you love them? What if you think you'll end up hurting them? Should you just finish it?'

She smiled. ‘That's a difficult one. Is it . . . are you. . .? Never mind. I think you have to be honest, and try not to get in too deep. Take it easy. Love can grow, you know. Don't rush at things.'

‘Oh, right.'

‘Sometimes that's how I feel with you girls,' she said. ‘I love you so much, and all you want to do is break free of me. Sometimes it feels like you hate me. I have to remember that it's quite normal – and it's what I did to poor old Nana Betty in my time.'

My eyes filled with tears. ‘I haven't even bought Nana a present. I've got all this money and I haven't sent her anything. I'm so selfish.'

‘No you're not. You're just young and you've got a lot to deal with. There's plenty of time to sort yourself out. And I sent her some flowers from you, a week ago, to keep her happy.'

‘Mum, you are brilliant,' I yawned.

I needed to sleep for a hundred years. But I logged onto Facebook, called up the hideous page. And it was hard to know what to write on the wall, without looking paranoid or needy or sad.

But in the end I put this:
You know, I couldn't help it that I won loads of money. I'm just the same as you, just doing the best I can. OK, if you want to hate me there's nothing I can do about that. But what happened to me could still happen to you.

Chapter 35

Money can't buy you love. But it can buy many other very nice things. Winning the lottery exaggerates your normal life. If you're basically happy, you'll be even happier. If you're screwed up, you'll be even more screwed up. Independent financial advisers are the most trustworthy. Other people might make big promises, but they won't tell you that they're raking in a ton of commission on the side.
It's worth spending money on great underwear, because it makes cheaper clothes look really good.

‘What are you
doing
? I thought you'd finished with your GCSEs . . . what are you scribbling in that notebook?'

Even though I'd acquired a massive suite all of my own, even though I had my own bathroom and living room – a purple velvet sofa, a forty-two-inch plasma screen – and a deluxe super-stylish bedroom, Natasha
still
constantly invaded my privacy. Huh.

‘Mind your own business,' I said, chucking a purple satin cushion at her head. I missed.

‘Oooh . . . what are you hiding? A love letter?'

‘Why would I be writing a love letter?'

‘Well, I don't know . . . you're the one dating a vampire. . .'

‘For God's sake, Natters. . .'

Honestly. The stupid year tens
still
thought Raf was paranormal. Talk about immature. Thank God we'd be escaping to sixth form college in a few months. Although, mind you, Raf was still insisting that he wanted to leave school and concentrate on making his fortune. I was trying to work out how I could persuade him. Emotional blackmail? A mysterious scholarship fund?

I sucked my pen and wrote:
Having lots of money doesn't mean you can control everyone's life.

‘Anyway. . .' she said. ‘I just came to ask you for a loan, Lia. Twenty pounds, only . . . although if you've got it, I could do with forty.'

‘
What?
Why don't you ask Mum?'

‘Lia, you
know
she's cut off my allowance since I broke curfew last week. Honestly! She's such a cow. So full of herself too, since she got her new boobs. Dad's just as bad since you gave him Jack's motorbike. Such a big fuss because I came home fifteen minutes late. I don't understand you. You had the chance to escape, and you bottled it. I mean, this house is great, but we still have to live with
them.
'

‘Oh, they're OK, really.'

I'd looked at a few flats. Gorgeous modern penthouses, with walls made of glass and views all the way to the London Eye. Flats carved out of old houses, with stained glass and high ceilings, rooms large enough for grand pianos. I imagined myself living in this flat . . . in that one. All that freedom. No parents telling me what to do. Raf could come and live with me . . . we could do whatever we wanted. . .

Financial independence is the best. But actual independence . . . you'll know when you're ready. If you feel scared and anxious at the thought of living on your own – you're not ready.

So I instructed Kevin the Bank Manager to help my mum and dad find a nice big house in Tithe Green where everyone would have loads of space; and he
worked out some sort of deal where we all paid part of the mortgage, and I put down a lump sum and they hung on to their house and rented it out.

A personal bank manager is a great help in knowing how to organise complicated deals and investments, and a trust fund that gives you a regular income but protects most of your money.

Just about that time, Jasper's mum sold the house in Melbourne Avenue and moved to Bournemouth, and Jasper and Sylvie and George rented Mum and Dad's house. So mostly Raf sleeps in my old bedroom, and occasionally, when Mum and Dad and Natasha are elsewhere, he sleeps in my new one.

Natasha clicked her fingers under my nose. ‘Wake up, dreamer! Am I getting the money or not?'

I stretched out on my completely amazing, bouncy, wrought-iron, satin-spread-covered double bed. ‘Natasha, you know very well that Mum would kill me if I undermined her authority. Plus, you've got to learn the hard way that money doesn't grow on trees.'

Her eyes grew wide. Her mouth formed an outraged O shape and she took a deep breath.

‘Only joking!' I trilled, and pulled twenty pounds out of my purse. ‘But don't tell Mum and Dad.'

‘Of course not! You had me worried there – thought you'd flipped over to the Dark Side.'

‘Maybe I will, if I don't even get a thank you—'

But she was already talking on the iPhone that I'd bought her for her birthday.

Christmas and birthdays after you win the lottery are a nightmare. Everyone's not-so-secretly expecting the best present ever. Months and months of dropping unsubtle hints. Huge pressure. I wished they'd all convert to Islam. Next year they're all getting personalised donations to charity. Almost definitely.

‘Hey, Molls, I stung Lia for twenty quid, meet me at Starbucks down the mall, OK?'

Huh. I wasn't all that sure about the new Natasha. OK, I enjoyed all the rows she had with Mum and Dad – it was so nice to be out of the firing line. But she'd got a little too assertive for my liking. Even though I'd kindly offered to arrange for her to meet Marcus and be told the truth about the music business, she was still completely certain that she was going to win
Britain's Got Talent
and become a big star.

Oh well. We all have to make our own mistakes.