Lia's Guide to Winning the Lottery Read Online Free PDF

I get the money?’
    And she explained that they had to check the ticket, and make an appointment, and they’d come to our house and sort things out. I shouldn’t tell too many people yet, and quite soon, all being well, I’d be having the whole winner experience.
    The Whole Winner Experience. Woo hoo. I liked the sound of that.
    And then she said, ‘Goodbye, Lia,’ and I said, ‘Goodbye, Ruth,’ and I didn’t quite know what I was going to say to Dad because he was still just sittingthere, with his head in his hands, murmuring softly, ‘Eight million. Eight bloody million. Oh God. Eight million.’
    Then the front door slammed and I heard Natasha chattering away about some lame movie, and Mum fussing about shoes being left in the hall for people to fall over, and Dad rushed out to meet them.
    â€˜Sarah!’ he said, ‘Sarah! You’ll never guess . . . you’ll never believe it.’
    â€˜
What?
’ said my mum. ‘Has Lia rung? Is she at Shazia’s?’
    â€˜It’s . . . it’s . . . Lia . . . eight million. . . Sarah, we’ve won! We’ve won the lottery!’
    That’s what he said. ‘We’ve won the lottery!’
    And I stood there and thought, who said anything about ‘we’?

Chapter 4
    Winning the lottery may have a strange effect on the people close to you
.
    It’s amazing how a few million pounds clears the air after a family row.
    Mum rushed at me, like a jackal scenting a crippled antelope, and gave me a hug. I stiffened, corpse-like, as she enveloped me in clouds of Chanel Coco Mademoiselle.
    â€˜One thing I’ll say about you, Lia, my darling, is that you do things in style,’ she burbled, giving me a big slurpy kiss on the cheek. I pulled away.
    â€˜Urgh. Paula . . . keep your bodily fluids to yourself.’
    Natasha was leaping up and down. ‘Oh my God!’ she shrieked, right in my ear. ‘Oh my God! Lia, you are amazing! You’re the best! Oh my God, Lia! Can we go shopping tomorrow? And singing lessons, Lia, can I have singing lessons?’
    Huh. I might have known. Natasha had been desperate for stardom since she was ten. Mum and Dad had totally mishandled the situation by stringing her along, instead of telling her the truth – she croaked like a reptile. I’d done my best to straighten out her expectations – I thought it was only fair – but no one understood the subtle difference between being mean and my cruel-to-be-kind strategy, designed to shelter my little sis from humiliation and disappointment. As I often pointed out, she should have thanked me for my honesty.
    I opened my mouth to tell them to forget it. This was my money. I was buying a flat, leaving home, starting out on my independent family-free twenty-three-year-old life, a blissful seven years early.
    And then I shut it again. I don’t think I’d ever seen everyone look so happy about something that I’d done. Sort of done. Normally they looked angry, upset and/or disappointed.
    I thought of Raf’s Angelic Message. I’d bide my time.
    I gave Natasha a hug. ‘Yes, you can have singing lessons,’ I said. ‘Best teacher you can find. And we’ll go shopping. You can get those shoes . . . you know. . . those silver ones. I’m going to make some phone calls.’
    Upstairs in our tiny bedroom, I lay on my bed. I imagined my new penthouse flat. A huge double bed. A satin bedcover . . . dark purple, maybe, with pale lilac cushions. Or maybe silver? A TV screen . . . a computer room . . . a sound system. A walk-in wardrobe. My music as loud as I wanted. I’d get to pick what went on the television. Privacy. Control. Independence.
    There didn’t seem to be a downside. If I got lonely I’d just ask some friends round. I might even ask Raf . . . which led me on to thinking about his strong arms around me, his serious grey eyes, his strange formal manners,