Diary of a Lottery Winner's Daughter (18 page)

I could hear the policewoman asking Mum and Dad if Chelsea had ever done anything like this before.

‘No,’ I heard Mum say.’Never.’

I thought about the time on holiday when she’d told us she was going bowling then come back to town for the party. Should I tell them about that? But she’d come back that night, hadn’t she? It wasn’t the same thing at all. I decided not to say anything. I didn’t want to get Chelsea into even more trouble.

The policewoman was giving Mum and Dad a load of statistics about how many young people run away every year and how many come home. She said it had only been twenty-four hours and that she’d make sure a description and alert went out to all the divisions in the county. She told them that if we hadn’t heard anything by Sunday night it might be worth thinking about telling the media.

I wanted to run in there and shout at her,’ What are you doing? This is my sister you’re talking about!’ but I didn’t and the policewoman left.

Mum told me and Spencer to go to bed.

I couldn’t get to sleep. I decided to try reading
The Secret Garden
again. I pulled it out off the bookshelf and leafed through it, trying to find the part where Mary discovers the garden, because that was my favourite bit. Something fell out of it and I picked it up. It was the little piece of card that I’d got out of the fortune machine at Wookey Hole.

‘Your wishes might come true so be careful what you wish for,’
I read out loud.

I stood there staring at it and a dreadful thought began to take shape in my head. What exactly was it that I had wished for?

I grabbed my diary out of the desk drawer and flicked madly through it. I discovered the entry for the day when we’d found out that Mum and Dad had bought this house and Chelsea had spoilt the whole day by being so angry.

I found it there, written in black and white.
I’m fed up with Chelsea and her tantrums. Why does she have to be such a drama queen? She’s such a brat. I wish she’d go away. We’d make a much better family without her.

The truth was staring me in the face but I still didn’t want to believe it. I sat down on the edge of the bed. Was it all my fault? If I hadn’t made those random wishes would we still be living on the Ratcliffe estate? Would I still be sharing a room with Chelsea? Would Spencer still be at Avon Comp getting beaten up every day?

If that was the case, then Chelsea wouldn’t have run away because she’d never have known about the Health Spa shop and she wouldn’t have nicked Mum’s credit card and got into so much trouble. If we were still living on the estate then Stacy wouldn’t have moved into our old house and she might never have come to our school at all.

The diary fell from my hands and landed with a bump on the floor. If only I hadn’t made those stupid wishes! Everything is all my fault.

I was going to go and tell Mum and Dad. I was halfway to the door before I stopped myself. What was I going to say? ‘Remember when we were on holiday and we went to Wookey Hole? Well, there was this freaky papier måché gypsy woman and she granted me some wishes, only I’ve been a bit silly in what I wished for and it’s all my fault that Chelsea has gone.’

Yeah, right! As if they weren’t worried enough without thinking their youngest daughter had completely lost her mind.

I feel as though my brain is split in two. The front half is telling me that there’s no such thing as magic or wishes coming true. I know this for a fact. It’s all nonsense. But all the time my front brain is busy denying it, the piece of brain at the back
knows
it’s true really - but will pretend it isn’t, if it makes the front brain happy.

‘I wish Chelsea would come back.’ I’m going to repeat this over and over again until I fall asleep.

Saturday 4th December

Dad was out again at first light, driving around.

I tried to eat some breakfast. Spencer was in the kitchen; he said he was going to meet Alec. I didn’t know what to do. I wished I could be more like Spencer and not worry so much.

When I bit into my toast I suddenly remembered the toast I’d taken up to Chelsea yesterday morning. It was probably still under her bed because I’d forgotten to tell Mum about my accident. Clearing it all up would give me something to do.

Last night the policewoman had asked Mum if Chelsea had taken much with her, in the way of clothes and stuff. Mum had said it was hard to tell because her room was so messy and she’d lost track of what Chelsea had bought since her allowance was raised, though she’d tried to check.

The curtains were open so I didn’t trip over again. It must have taken all Mum’s self-control not to tidy the room yesterday when she was in here. Chelsea would go mad if she got back and found Mum had gone through her things. No, not
if, when.

I found the toast, butter side down and stuck to a pair of pants. Next I found the glass and felt around the clothes it had fallen on, to see which of them were covered in orange juice. It was when I stood up that I caught sight of the photos. They were pinned onto Chelsea’s noticeboard. It was a strip of four from one of those photobooths where you get passport photos. I could see they’d been taken when we were on holiday in Weston-super-Mare because two of them had Zoé in them as well. Chelsea and Zoé were messing around and pulling faces.

And that’s when it hit me! The absolute conviction that that’s where Chelsea had gone.

I don’t know why I was so certain, but all the time Chelsea’s been missing I’ve always thought she must be with someone, because I know she hates being on her own. I was certain she’d gone to Zoé because there was no one else she could have gone to.

I rushed downstairs to tell Mum. Spencer was just leaving. He said Mum had gone to the Health Spa shop to see if Chelsea had been in there. She must have been desperate because that was the last place Chelsea would go after Mum had been in and given them a talking to.

I thought I was going to burst waiting for Mum to get back. I sat on the stairs and worried. What if Mum thought my idea was mad and refused to check it out? She wouldn’t let me go there and see. I knew we could ring the campsite and ask, but Chelsea would have sworn Zoé to secrecy.

I just wanted to go down there and check, to look Zoé in the eye. I’d know if she was lying and had seen Chelsea. Besides, it was all my fault that this had happened so it was up to me to put it right.

I was thinking about getting the train there and not telling Mum until I was sure one way or the other. I didn’t want to get her hopes up and then turn out to be wrong. I was about to go upstairs and get my debit card when the doorbell rang. My heart leapt.
It might be Chelsea!
I thought. But when I opened the door it was Belinda standing on the doorstep. She must have seen my expression change from anticipation to disappointment.

‘She’s not back yet, then?’ said Belinda. I shook my head. ‘Hey, don’t worry, I’m sure she’s fine,’ Belinda reassured me. Why was everyone so certain? I wanted her to go so that I could get going before Mum got back. I’d leave a note saying I’d gone shopping or something. I didn’t want Mum worrying about me as well.

‘Is your mum in?’ Belinda said. I told her where Mum had gone. ‘I’ll wait,’ said Belinda. She held up a notebook. ‘I’ve got a few ideas for people your mum can contact - charities and organisations who deal with missing persons.’

‘She’s not missing,’ I said, surprising myself at how rude I sounded and then I burst out crying. I was so embarrassed but I couldn’t help it. I was desperate to tell her it was all my fault - to come clean - but no one was going to understand.

Belinda was great. She didn’t patronise me at all and I ended up telling her about my theory that Chelsea had gone to Weston-super-Mare but how I didn’t want to tell Mum in case I’d got it wrong and I thought I’d go and check it out first. She didn’t tell me I was mad, or that I couldn’t go there on my own, or why didn’t I ring them first. She just said,’ Was she very close to this Zoé person?’

‘Well, no not really.’ I had to admit it, although it didn’t do a lot for my argument. ‘But then Chelsea isn’t really very close to anyone at the moment and I think that’s why she might have gone to Zoé - because she won’t ask too many questions.’

‘You could be right,’ said Belinda.

At that moment Mum got back. I could tell she hadn’t had any good news the minute she walked in the door. I was praying that Belinda wouldn’t say anything about my plans, but she just gave Mum the list she’d made and explained how they might help.

Then Belinda said,’ I have to go out. There’s a shop in Weston-super-Mare that’s shutting down today and I might get some bargains. I wondered if Charlotte would like to come with me - it might take her mind off things and give you one less thing to worry about.’

I couldn’t believe it! I wanted to hug Belinda but I grabbed my coat instead. ‘Let’s go,’ I said, opening the front door.

‘Hold on,’ said Mum. ‘Not so fast.’I thought she was going to say I couldn’t go but she only wanted to give me a hug. I was sure she hugged me tighter than usual.

I fell asleep on the way down there because I’d had so little sleep last night. Belinda woke me up when we reached Weston-super-Mare and I directed her to the campsite. We had to drive along the sea-front first because I only knew the way from the pier.

The campsite was still open, despite the fact that it was the middle of winter. But then I remembered that there were a lot of static caravans there. There might even have been people who lived there all the time, for all I knew. Belinda pulled up in front of the reception.

‘What’s the plan?’ she said.

Now we were there, my courage was all gone but I knew I had to do this on my own. It would look odd if a woman was asking for Zoé, whereas I could ask for her without raising any suspicion.

I knocked on the door to the site manager’s bungalow. A man opened it. He didn’t look very friendly. I swallowed and tried to look and sound as normal as possible, as if I was one of Zoé’s school friends calling on her.

‘Zoé! Get out here.’ The man walked off, back into the bungalow and I waited for Zoé to appear. She came to the door, pulling earphones out of her ears. At first she didn’t recognise me, but then I saw it dawn on her and she looked incredibly relieved. She came out, shutting the front door behind her.

‘Thank God you’re here,’ she said, pulling me along the path. Belinda was still sitting in the car and I gave her the thumbs-up as Zoé hurried me past. She nodded and I knew she meant she’d wait for me, wherever it was Zoé was taking me.

‘You’ve got to get her to go home,’ Zoé said. ‘I’ve tried but she won’t go and I’m going to get into so much trouble if Dad finds out she’s here.’I was so relieved I could have sunk down onto the concrete there and then and cried. But Zoé was still dragging me further and further into the caravan park until we reached the very back. There was an old static caravan up against the hedge. Zoé got a key out of her pocket and handed it to me. ‘She’s in there,’ she told me. ‘Tell her I can’t bring her any more food because my mum’s getting suspicious. That should do the trick. And don’t be long,’ she added, hurrying back towards the bungalow.

I unlocked the door and stepped into the caravan. If anything it was colder in there than it was outside and very gloomy. I guessed Zoé hadn’t dared switch the electricity on in case her dad noticed the lights and came to investigate. I saw Chelsea immediately. She was huddled on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket and her nose, which was practically the only bit of her that I could see, was red. Whether it was because she’d been crying or because she was so cold I didn’t know.

She didn’t move at all but her eyeballs swivelled in my direction.

‘Go away,’ she said.

I sat down beside her. I didn’t know where to start. ‘You’ve got to come home. Mum’s worried sick and Dad’s driving around trying to find you.’

She didn’t say anything but pulled the blanket more tightly around herself.

‘Please, Chelsea. You can’t stay here. It’s freezing. And Zoé says she can’t bring you any more food,’ I added, remembering Zoé’s message. ‘Besides, Zoé’s terrified her dad’s going to find out you’re in here and he looks really scary.’

I was certain these weren’t the right arguments to get her to come back home but I couldn’t think of the right ones. I stuck my hands into my pockets to stop them from getting frostbite.

‘Mum and Dad won’t be cross any more - they’ll just be glad you’re back.’

‘Dad’s going to send me to Brat Camp.’ Her voice cracked and she started crying.

‘You know Mum would never agree to that,’ I said. It was true; I was sure she never would. She believed in sorting out her own problems.

‘Is that why you ran away?’ I asked. ‘Because of Brat Camp?’

‘Not only that.’ Chelsea sniffed. ‘It was everything really.’

‘Everything?’

‘You know, I was so cross about the house and stuff. I thought when Mum won the lottery everything would change . . . but they’re so crap at being millionaires!’

I had to turn away so she didn’t see me smile because she was deadly serious.

‘And then everything was just the boring old same. We still had to go to school, and Sophie was being horrid about the fact we had loads of money because she couldn’t bear the fact I was suddenly richer than her, and then it got difficult with the girls from the estate because I wasn’t living there any more and what was the point of school any way? We’re millionaires! I just wanted something to happen! That’s when I started going to the Health Spa and then I couldn’t stop because it made me feel good. You and Spencer were so happy and always giggling and poking fun at me . . . I felt really . . . left out, like nobody liked me. Even the bloody cat doesn’t like me! She’s always in your room . . . ‘ Chelsea wailed.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t realise . . . it’s not that Spencer and I don’t like you, it’s just that . . . well, sometimes you’re a bit . . . you know, difficult. We thought
you
didn’t like us. And you know what Mum’s like - she’s worried about spending it all and being left with nothing again. She’s saving it so that when we leave home she can help us get a flat or house or something and she’ll be able to afford for any of us to go to university without a lifetime of debt.’

‘I know,’ said Chelsea, sounding defeated. ‘It’s just that I was so disappointed. Sometimes I almost wish Mum hadn’t won the lottery.’

‘I know what you mean,’ I said.

Chelsea looked at me disbelievingly so I tried to explain.

I told her about how Stacy had moved into our old house and taken Lauren away from me and how Spencer had been working too hard because he wasn’t as clever as he thought and he hated not being top of the class. I told her how I’d made a really nice new friend and how I’d nearly ruined that because I’d been really rude to her.’And the worst thing is it’s all because Mum won the lottery and it’s all my fault!’ I said, without thinking. I was crying now.

Chelsea looked alarmed.

‘What do you mean, it’s your fault?’

So I told her about the trip to Wookey Hole when she’d pretended to be ill and how I’d found the fortuneteller machine and since then loads of my wishes had come true: being able to afford a better holiday next summer, getting to have my own bedroom and Spencer not getting picked on any more. I got so carried away I even told her I’d wished she would go away because she was making everyone’s life a misery.

Chelsea made a strangled noise and I thought she was going to shout at me, but when I dared to look at her I saw she was laughing! She was trying to keep it in but it was too much for her and she collapsed sideways onto the sofa, laughing and laughing. At first I was offended and I hit her, but that just made her laugh even more and in the end I was laughing too, because it was so good to see Chelsea laughing again.

I wanted to stop laughing because it was starting to hurt, but every time we tried to stop we’d look at each other and start all over again. I didn’t even know why we were laughing.