Lia's Guide to Winning the Lottery (15 page)

She didn't mind me staying overnight, although she insisted on texting Natasha so my family would know where I was. I wanted to let them worry – well, I wanted to let Mum worry – but in the end I agreed with her that Dad didn't completely deserve to be punished. After all, his main sin was to marry an evil, grasping, selfish witch.

‘Don't tell me about it now,' she said, mopping my eyes and making me a hot chocolate. ‘You might feel better in the morning.'

But I didn't. We had the place to ourselves – her
dad was visiting family in Islamabad and her mum was at an all-night twin delivery (she's the head of our local flying midwife squad). I poured out the whole story. But Shazia, while sympathetic and great with cocoa and tissues, wasn't the perfect audience.

‘Lia, you should show more respect for your parents,' she said, as we ate breakfast. We'd decided to skip the café, because my eyes were too pink to be seen in public.

‘Why? They don't show any respect for
me
.'

‘But they are your
parents
. Your parents, Lia. Their job is to care for you and help you make your decisions. Why do you want to move out anyway? You're only sixteen.'

‘I want some space. I want to feel grown-up.'

‘You'd have loads more space if you bought a new house for your family. You could buy it jointly. It doesn't have to be a present.'

‘Yes, but I don't want them telling me what to do. And telling me I'm horrible and selfish.' I sniffed. ‘Maybe I should be more selfish. If I look after myself, then no one has to worry about me.'

Shaz shook her head. ‘You can't cut yourself off from your family. You need other people.'

I thought of Raf in his makeshift home. He'd understand me.

I scrubbed my eyes with a tissue. ‘I was really happy too, before she spoiled it all, because of Raf. You know, Raf Forrest. He likes me, Shaz. He was so lovely. He kissed me.'

Stupid, stupid mistake.

‘Oh my goodness, Lia, what are you like? You hardly know this boy. Now you're kissing him? I bet the pound signs lit up in his eyes.'

‘I'm in love, Shazia!' I declared rashly, spreading my arms out wide to try and convey the total drama of the moment.

Shaz raised her eyebrows, shrugged her shoulders and said, ‘I give up. You're completely mad. You've fallen for a handsome face.'

‘Oh Shaz, there's
so
much more than that,' I said. ‘We had a really amazing, intimate chat. He is just so gorgeous.'

‘But you don't know anything
about
him,' said Shaz. ‘You're in love with what? The way he touched you, the way he looked at you? Come on, Lia. What do you think of people in films who fall in love at first sight?'

‘Yeah, but that's films, Shaz, this was really amazing.'

‘Lia, you totally despise girls who think they are defined by a guy just because he deigns to look at them. Bella flipping Swan. You think they're mad and stupid, don't you? We've
always
agreed about that.'

‘Well, I know, but this isn't love at first sight. I've been sitting next to him all year in Science.'

‘And he's hardly said two words to you. He's given you the cold shoulder. Now, suddenly, he's staring into your eyes, getting you all worked up. What's the difference? Mmm, let me see. I can't think. Could it be eight million pounds?'

‘Oh Shaz, come
on
.'

My phone rang. Natasha. I sent her the busy signal.

Shaz shook her head. ‘Don't ask me to give you my approval, when I think you're doing the wrong thing,' she said. ‘What kind of friend would I be then? Look, all I'm saying is, get to know him before you leap into anything. What do you know about his family? His home? What's he really like?'

‘I'm not doing anything with his family,' I pointed out, to avoid admitting that Raf's brother was definitely abusive and totally gave me the creeps. ‘And I've seen his home, actually.'

‘Have you? Really?'

‘Yes,' I said, and then I remembered it was meant
to be a big secret. ‘But I can't tell you about it.'

‘I give up,' said Shaz. ‘I always thought you had a brain in your head. But now I'm wondering.'

‘Oh, you don't understand. You study too hard, Shaz, it's not natural. When you fall for a boy, you'll see.'

Shaz's voice was a little shaky. ‘I hope I'll be a bit more sensible than to fall for someone who doesn't share my values.'

‘You'll probably let Mummy and Daddy pick someone out for you,' I said nastily.

‘What's that supposed to mean?'

‘Oh. Nothing. I mean, if that's what you want, that's fine. But I worry about you, Shaz. I mean, all this religion. You're letting it rule your life. Hiding under a headscarf. It's not very. . .'

Shazia slapped her hand down on the table. ‘That's enough!'

My phone rang again. Mum. I switched it off.

‘You – I thought you understood, Lia. I thought you respected me.'

‘I do, it's just. . .'

‘You don't get it, do you? I love Science, right, because it's about rules. It tells me how the world works. Islam is the same for me. It tells me what the
rules of life are. How to behave. What good decisions look like. I can't always keep everything as I should do, but I try my best.'

‘Oh. I didn't realise. You never said.'

‘You never asked.'

Of course I didn't ask. We didn't sit around at school talking about religion and rules for life and stuff like that. We talked about celebrities and coursework, boys and shopping.

‘You should've said.'

‘You
could
'
ve
asked. I saw how shocked you were when I started covering my head. No one ever asked me why.'

‘Oh. Well, it was a bit awkward.'

‘Sometimes I wonder what we've got in common.'

‘Oh well, thanks a lot, Shaz.'

‘Look,' she said, ‘I think – I don't know if I should say anything. . .'

‘Don't hold back,' I said, trying not to sound bitter.

‘It's just, I'm not sure you're handling all this very well. All the media stuff. People are getting upset.'

‘People?'

‘Girls at school. They're saying stuff.'

‘What stuff?'

‘Oh, you know . . . have you looked at Facebook recently?'

‘Ummm . . . not in depth.'

I had about a hundred messages in my inbox and four hundred and sixty notifications. Every time I looked at Facebook I felt as though I were drowning.

She led me to the computer. She called up a page called ‘Lia Latimer the Lottery Girl is a mean tight-fisted ugly slag'. There was a picture of me from
Hello!
simpering over a glass of lemonade – so many wall posts they made my eyes go blurry. And two thousand seven hundred and thirty-eight people had already liked it.

‘Obviously most of them don't even know you,' said Shaz, while I sat in total shock, hands over my mouth, letting out little whimpers of distress, ‘but some are from school. As far as I can tell, it was started by Lindsay Abbott – do you remember when she couldn't fit in the taxi when we went shopping? I think she's really narked that you never gave her a T-shirt like you said. And of course Georgia and Alicia never really liked you, anyway. Open your eyes. You'd better read it.'

It was horrendous. Totally random strangers calling me a jammy bitch, and about twenty wall
posts from Lindsay and her friends moaning about the taxi thing. And saying rude stuff about my clothes and my hair and my body (‘See Lia's got a nose job already – wonder how much that cost her?'). Why did people hate me? People who didn't even know me.

‘Shaz, there must be something I can do. Complain to Facebook . . . get it taken down. . .'

‘Possibly,' she said, ‘but I doubt it. You're a bit of a public figure now.'

‘Shaz! What can I do?'

‘Well, you could try actually talking to people at school instead of spending all your time giving interviews.'

‘You're not being very helpful,' I said. ‘I'm beginning to think you actually agree with these people.'

Shazia sighed. ‘I don't agree with them, Lia, I just think you've really changed. Even your clothes. You used to be a really fun, nice person. Now . . . I don't know. . . You're just coming over as a bit . . . a bit. . .'

‘What?' I squeaked. ‘Selfish? Spoilt? Thanks a
lot
, Shaz.'

Shaz's face never gives much away. She generally looks serious and sensible, but when I looked at her through my tears I realised that there was another side to Shaz, a self-righteous, judgemental side.

‘Forget it!' I screamed at her, ‘I thought you were my friend. But you're not interested in me at all!'

‘No – Lia—' she said, but I was at the door.

‘I'm going!' I said, ‘I might just go and see if Raf wants to go away with me. We could go to Paris . . . or New York. . .'

She rolled her eyes. ‘I'm not saying anything.'

‘Good!' I slammed the door behind me.

I headed for the Broadway. Perhaps Raf would be at the café. Perhaps he'd be coming off his shift.

We could do anything. We could go to St Pancras and get on the Eurostar and spend the night in Paris. We could book into the Ritz. We could fly to New York. I was dizzy just imagining it all. There was nothing . . . nothing . . . stopping me doing whatever I wanted.

As long as that's what Raf wanted as well.

Chapter 15

Think before you act.

‘Lia!' It was my dad's voice. His head was poking out of the door to Latimer's Loaves. ‘Thank goodness. We were so worried about you. Come on in, sweetheart, and we'll have a chat.'

I shook my head. ‘No.'

‘Come on. Just with me. Not your mum. You and she are too similar, you know, two hot tempers.'

‘Oh.'

‘The girls are dying to see you. You haven't been in since your win.'

Oh great. Selfish old self-obsessed, self-centred Lia.

‘OK then,' I said.

‘Come and say hello to them,' he said, patting me on the shoulder. ‘I'm just finishing up something in the office, I'll be with you in five minutes. We can have a cup of tea.'

He disappeared into the back of the shop and I took a shaky breath.

‘Hello Lia!' chorused Rita and Norma. They were both pushing seventy, but they'd been called ‘the girls' by my grandad, and they were still ‘the girls' now, even though they both had hundreds of grandchildren and every time I went into the shop I heard all their stories about them. They reminded me of my grandad. He used to make gingerbread men with iced clothes, especially for me.

Latimer's Loaves had been part of my life forever – the shelves of jam tarts and currant buns, the iced fancies, cream cakes. Not a lot had changed over the years. Sugar and yeast smells of childhood to me, warm, homely, secure – and stifling.

I forced a big smile onto my face for the girls and Rita said, ‘We're so excited for you, darling. What a wonderful stroke of luck. Winning the lottery! At sixteen!'

‘Oh, thanks, Rita.'

‘Are you having fun, sweetie?' asked Norma. ‘We've been watching you on the telly . . . reading about you in the papers. We're all so proud.'

‘Oh, err, thanks Norma. It's a bit weird.'

‘Much better to win the lottery at your age, darling.
I buy a ticket every week, but what would I do with the money if I won?'

‘I tell you what I'd do,' said Rita. ‘A nice cruise. I've always wanted to go on a cruise. And then there's the family to think of. . .'

‘Are you all right, darling?' said Norma. ‘You look so pale.'

‘Give her a gingerbread man,' said Rita. ‘That's your favourite, darling.'

Rita always gave me a gingerbread man when I went into the shop. Over the years I'd devised many ways of avoiding eating them. But that day I bit right into his thigh. Pure comfort food.