Diary of a Lottery Winner's Daughter (8 page)

Saturday 2nd October

Today, at breakfast, Mum and Dad announced that we were going to view another house. It’s quite unusual for us all to be having breakfast at the same time on a Saturday morning. Normally Chelsea would still be in bed, but Mum and Dad had agreed to raise her allowance, so she was planning to go on a spending spree. They’ve raised my pocket money too. Mum said that when I want to start buying my own clothes I can have an allowance as well but at the moment I don’t really need one. I’m still happy to go shopping with Mum if I need anything as I’m not that interested in clothes and stuff.

Chelsea said she wasn’t coming to see the house because she was too busy.

‘Why do we need to look at more houses?’ she said. ‘I thought we were going to buy the one with the pool, so what’s the point?’

‘We never said we were going to buy that house, Chelsea,’ said Dad.

Chelsea flicked her hair back and took a deep breath in. It was a sure sign that she was about to list (again) all the reasons why we had to buy the house she’d chosen.

Mum, who had been clearing away the breakfast, got in first. ‘We’re all going and that’s an end to it. Half an hour everyone,’ she said, clapping her hands, because only Spencer was actually dressed.

Chelsea let her indrawn breath out in a big huff, but she knew there was no point in arguing with Mum when she used that no-nonsense voice. There was always the possibility that her newly inflated allowance would be cut back to its original size if she refused.

I was halfway up the stairs when Chelsea barged past me and headed for the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Typical. So I’m waiting for her to come out. I hope the house we finally buy has more than one bathroom. Most houses do these days, I’ve discovered. Ever since I found out we were going to move, I’ve started watching property programmes on the television. Mostly they’re people who want to move and they get the presenters to find them a house. I wonder why Chelsea has never thought of applying to take part in one of the shows, seeing as she’s so fond of the limelight.

And that is the main difference between us. Chelsea seems to live her life on full power. She’s either mega happy or super stroppy. Everything is a drama and she has to be centre stage. I, on the other hand, am the opposite. Like Mum, I don’t like a scene. I’d be quite happy if nothing dramatic ever happened to me. I like everything to be calm and predictable. Not in a boring way, just in a reassuring way.

We all piled into the car and Dad drove to the estate agent’s to pick up the keys. This meant that I couldn’t really judge how far this house was going to be from ours. I didn’t want to look at a house that was miles away from Lauren’s.

We drove up some pretty steep hills and I reckoned we were in the Clifton area of town. I relaxed a bit because that was only a short bus ride from our estate.

Dad slowed down and finally turned into a driveway between two big stone pillars with round stone balls on top. The pillar on the left said
HILL
and the one on the right said
HOUSE.

I was craning to get a look at the house but the drive was bordered by great big shrubs. Then we drove round a bend and the house came into view.

Chelsea gasped. ‘You are kidding, right?’

Spencer looked up from his DS to see what all the fuss was about. ‘Cool,’ he said, and I had to agree with him.

Chelsea was less than impressed. ‘Are we changing our surname to Addams?’ she sounded seriously outraged. ‘I’m not going in there. There’re probably bats in the belfry and God knows what else.’

It did look a bit Addams Family. There was even a turret on one corner with a conical roof. The large oak front door was impressive and the porch reminded me of the entrance to a church. I couldn’t wait to get inside.

‘Victorian Gothic,’ said Mum. ‘Isn’t it gorgeous?’

‘If you’re a goth, maybe,’ said Chelsea,’ or a vampire. I’m waiting here, so don’t be long.’ She produced a nail file from her bag and started on her nails. ‘Hill House, my arse,’ she muttered. ‘More like Hell House.’

‘Come on,’ said Dad. ‘You’ll love it when you see the inside.’

‘God, this is such a waste of time. I could be out shopping,’ she said, but she put the nail file away and followed us to the front door. Dad got the keys out and grinned at Mum. Then he ceremoniously flung open the door.

The hallway was probably as big as our sitting room at home. It had a patterned, tiled floor and a wide staircase leading up to a half landing, where there was a stained-glass window. The sun chose that moment to come out and the hallway was suddenly bathed in a rainbow of colours. I half expected dramatic music to ring throughout the house.

‘Well, go on then,’ said Dad. ‘Go and explore.’

Chelsea seemed reluctant to move any further into the house. ‘Does anyone actually live here?’ she asked.

‘No,’ said Dad. ‘The house belonged to a very old man who lived here all his life. It’s an absolute gem. Totally unspoilt.’

‘You mean totally
unmodernised,
muttered Chelsea. ‘What a nightmare!’

I tried to ignore her mutterings because I was enjoying a nice, warm, cosy feeling that had come over me. I could see us living in this house and I hadn’t even gone further than the hallway.

‘It’s got four bedrooms on the next floor,’ said Dad,’ and two more in the attics, so no fighting over them.’

Mum went back out to the car and started rummaging in the boot and Dad disappeared through a door at the back of the hall.

‘They must be mad,’ said Chelsea. ‘We’re never buying this house.’

I didn’t like to point out to her that it was Mum and Dad who would be choosing a house and not her. At least I hoped so. Chelsea has an uncanny ability of always getting her own way.

Spencer and I spent the next hour exploring. The house was big, but not too big. We started in the attics, which Spencer got quite excited about. They were just two big rooms but, as Spencer had always slept in the box room at home, I could empathise with his dream of having space, at last, to put out all his War Hammer stuff. When Dad had said attics, I’d imagined pokey, dusty rooms with sloping ceilings but this wasn’t the case. Each room had a large, arch-shaped window that looked out over the garden in the back one and the street in the front one. I could see that Spencer favoured the back room and was already mentally moving in. I wasn’t going to commit myself to a room; I didn’t want to get too excited just to be disappointed when we moved into the glass monstrosity of Chelsea’s choosing.

‘Do you want that room in the front, opposite mine?’ said Spencer.

It was sweet of him, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to be that close to Spencer’s piles of smelly socks and the late night explosions from his computer games.

‘Let’s look at the other rooms first,’ I said, leading the way downstairs.

I was suddenly very excited but also anxious. I’d dreamt of having my own room for so long and now that it was going to happen I was worried I’d be disappointed with the choice. Mind you, not that I was likely to get much of a choice. Even if we did buy this house, Mum and Dad would get the master bedroom in the turret and then Chelsea would pick the next best. But at least that would leave me with a choice of the remaining rooms.

Back on the landing I paused. There was an archway that led to the two back bedrooms. What if they were awful? What if they were dark and had ghastly wallpaper?

‘Come on,’ said Spencer, charging off down the corridor. First on the right was a door which turned out to be the bathroom. It wasn’t exactly modern but there was a big shower head over the bath. I liked it, but Spencer wasn’t going to linger in a bathroom so we shut the door and carried on to the next door on the left.

‘Whoa,’ said Spencer. ‘This must be Morticia’s boudoir.’

I followed him in. The room was dark, because there was a large tree outside the window blocking most of the light. The walls were covered with the most hideous green and purple wallpaper and there was a huge wardrobe on the back wall, just like the Bings’. I suppressed a shudder. You won’t catch me climbing in there; you’d be more likely to come out in hell than Narnia.

The room had the ability (like one of the Dementors in
Harry Potter)
of sucking all the hope and joy out of a person. Spencer shivered. He obviously felt it too, so I knew I wasn’t being weird.

‘Let’s find the other one,’ he said cheerfully, for my benefit, though I could tell, like me, he was dying to get out of there.

At the end of the corridor there was a smaller archway and a couple of steps down.

‘Looks like we’re in the servants’ quarters,’ Spencer commented.

‘I thought servants always slept in the attic,’ I said, trying to keep the worry out of my voice. Not that it mattered, I kept telling myself. I’d sleep in the cupboard under the stairs if it meant I had it to myself. And besides, if the next one was as bad as the last, I’d sleep in the other attic room.

Spencer stopped at the door, as if he already thought of it as my room, and let me go in first. I stepped inside and looked around.

‘Oh well,’ said Spencer, peering over my shoulder,’ looks like you’ll be in the attic with me, then.’

I hadn’t realised I’d been holding my breath until it came out in a big sigh.

‘What do mean? It’s absolutely perfect,’ I eventually managed to say.

I was still taking it all in. I suppose Spencer thought I wouldn’t like it because it was smaller than all the other rooms. But that was one of the things I liked about it. It had a bay window overlooking the garden which let in plenty of light, and the thing that I couldn’t take my eyes off was the wall between the bay window and the little window at the back of the room. The whole wall was covered with bookshelves. Floor to ceiling bookshelves. I mentally put all my books in place and reckoned they’d take up about two of the twelve shelves.

On the opposite wall was a tiny fireplace. There was wallpaper on that wall but it was lovely. I could definitely live with it. It was pale blue with tiny sprigs of flowers. Maybe not what I would have chosen myself, but it was growing on me already. Mind you, I think that if there had been a hole in the roof I would have told myself I could live with it, because I had fallen head over heels in love.

‘Whatever floats your boat,’ said Spencer. I was just grateful that he hadn’t fallen in love with it too. I was pretty sure that Chelsea wouldn’t want it.

I ran my hand over the polished wood of the shelves. It was funny really. Only the other day I’d been wishing I had somewhere to put all my books.

And that’s when it hit me. Because a bookcase wasn’t the only thing I’d wished for. In fact, thinking about it, everything I’d wished for, when Spencer found the card from the arcade machine under my pillow at the caravan site, had so far come true.

‘Spencer?’ I said. ‘Do you remember on holiday when I made those wishes? I wished we could afford a better holiday, which we definitely can now, even if we haven’t been on one yet. And I wished I had a room of my own and that thing about you not being picked on at school for being the cleverest. Well, now you aren’t because you’re at a new school, aren’t you? And now here are the bookshelves I wished for on the way back from our first shopping trip.’

Spencer was looking at me and his eyes were huge. ‘Oh my God! Gypsy Ginny is making your dreams come true!’

And then he grinned and made spooky music noises and fell over laughing.

‘Oh, Charlotte, please wish away all my spots and please wish that Emma Lilywhite lurves me!’ he said.

I kicked him. Not hard, just enough to make me feel better. I could feel myself blushing. I really must get a grip. If Spencer tells Chelsea what I’d said about the wishes, I might as well be dead.

‘Who’s Emma Lilywhite?’ I demanded.

Now it was his turn to blush. ‘No one,’ he mumbled. No doubt she was the hottest girl at his new school. I looked at Spencer with his tufty hair and glasses and pimples and knew that no girl was going to fancy him for a few years yet. I wish someone would see past the geeky exterior and appreciate him for what he is.

God, I’m doing it again! Making random wishes! I really ought to be more careful. No, get a grip - there is no way my wishes are being granted.