Diary of a Lottery Winner's Daughter (10 page)

Saturday 23rd October

In the end, Mum had to do all Chelsea’s packing. It became obvious, this morning, that Chelsea didn’t intend to do anything. And I mean
anything. She
wouldn’t even get out of bed. I didn’t like to snitch on her but by nine o’clock, when she still wasn’t up, and the removal van was coming at ten, I thought I’d better bring it to Mum’s notice.

Mum, who was stressed anyway, stormed into our bedroom and started to fling things any old how into the boxes. Chelsea was just a lump underneath the duvet. I watched from the door as Mum kept up a running commentary.

‘How can one girl possibly need so many pairs of shoes? Charlotte, pass me that box. I’m going to fill it with stuff for the charity shop.’ I could see the twinkle in her eye as she went through Chelsea’s wardrobe. ‘I’m sure this top can’t fit you any more, Chelsea. Perhaps you’d like it, Charlotte? What do you think?’

There was the faintest of movements from beneath the duvet. Chelsea hates me anywhere near her clothes. She must have been dying to take a look to see which of her precious tops Mum was about to give away.

‘What’s this?’said Mum, picking Chelsea’s favourite top off the floor. It was the one Chelsea had bought on the day after Mum’s lottery win, when she’d been in such a good mood. ‘This one looks like an old rag, I don’t think even the charity shop will want this,’ said Mum, knowing full well that the tears were an intentional fashion statement. Chelsea must have known which top Mum was talking about.

‘Charlotte, nip downstairs and get me a bin liner. Some of these things need to go straight in the bin.’

Well, that did have an effect but probably not in the way Mum had hoped. Chelsea didn’t emerge from under the duvet, at least not much of her, just an arm. It shot out and grabbed the top from Mum’s hand and the arm and Chelsea’s prized top disappeared under the duvet.

I ran downstairs to get the bin liner because there was a lot of rubbish under all those clothes. Old tissues covered in make-up and glossy magazines still lay in drifts against the skirting boards. Luckily the bin liners were on top of the kitchen worktop. Everything else had disappeared into boxes. The house seemed oddly bare with nothing but boxes stacked everywhere. Mum and Pam were going to come in tomorrow and give the place a good clean.

When I got back upstairs, Mum had made some headway. My bed had been stripped and the wardrobe and chest of drawers were now empty. Mum looked at the mess on top of the dressing table then unceremoniously swiped the whole lot into a box. The sound of Chelsea’s make-up, lotions, perfumes and hair gunk products all hitting the bottom of the box didn’t even get a twitch from the bed. I started to fill the bin liner with rubbish. I found the white and gold bikini under the chest of drawers and slipped it into the bin liner. If Chelsea never saw it again she wouldn’t have to be reminded of Sophie’s awful party.

Dad appeared in the doorway holding a screwdriver. ‘Right, let’s get these beds dismantled,’ he said cheerily.

Mum silently indicated the problem to him.

He nodded and taking a corner of the duvet, he pulled. He might as well have tried to remove a limpet from a rock at low tide. Chelsea was not about to give it up.

‘Seems like this bed is going to have to go in the van as it is,’ said Dad in a loud voice. ‘I don’t suppose Terry and Baz will be too happy about it.’

There was a stirring from beneath the duvet. Dad had hit the jackpot all right. The thought of Baz carrying her and the bed down to the removal van was too awful for Chelsea to contemplate. Mum hustled us tactfully out of the room so that Chelsea could emerge, without losing dignity, and get dressed.

The move was so chaotic none of us had time to get too sentimental about leaving the old house and I was the only one who glanced back when the car turned the corner at the end of our street.

Wednesday 27th October

It’s funny sleeping in my old bed without the other one on top. Dad dismantled them in the end and they’re now two separate beds instead of bunk beds. They’ve come with us to the new house because we haven’t bought new ones yet and, for the first few nights, I had a problem getting to sleep because of the yawning space above my head.

I’ve discovered that if I sleep with my head under the duvet it helps. I keep my bedside lamp on all night because being on my own is so weird. I am also very conscious that I’m a long way from any of the others, stuck at the back of the house, as my room is. I make sure that the door to Morticia’s boudoir is always firmly shut, because I don’t much like walking past it in the dark if I have to get up to go to the loo in the middle of the night.

After the third night of waking up with a beating heart because I thought I heard scratching at the window, I’m beginning to wonder if that fortune card was right and you should be careful what you wish for. I’d give anything to go and get into Mum and Dad’s bed but I’m way too old for that. Besides, I’ve been harping on about having my own room for so long it would be way too embarrassing to admit that, now I’ve got it, I’ve discovered I’m terrified of the dark.

Sunday 31st October

The half-term week has gone far too quickly. Lauren and Pam came over yesterday to see the new house. I had hoped that Lauren could stay over for the night but Mum said to wait until the house is sorted out. Apparently there’s a new family in our old house already.

Lauren didn’t seem too impressed by my new bedroom. I know it looks a bit old-fashioned at the moment, but I didn’t tell her I like it as it is in case she thinks I’m being weird. She didn’t want to go and explore the garden or help me pick out a new bed for my room. I think she’s still sulking because I’ve moved away - as if it was my fault! Which got me thinking about those wishes again and how it might actually be my fault, but there was no way I could explain to Lauren about Gypsy Ginny.

I wish I could have another week off school so I can get used to living in our new house. I love it. I love sitting by the Aga in the kitchen while Mum cooks and best of all I love the fact that, if there’s something on telly I don’t want to watch, I can just go in the other room and read my book and I can’t even hear the telly. Chelsea’s been on at Mum and Dad to give us our own tellies in our bedrooms, but Mum says if they did that they’d never see any of us again. In Chelsea’s case that would surely be a good thing. Maybe, when we get our new HD flatscreen, I can persuade Mum and Dad to let Chelsea have the old one.

Monday 1st November

Back to school today.

I was on my own this morning because Spencer catches an earlier bus and Chelsea was going in later.

I was a bit nervous. Lauren and I used to catch a bus into town sometimes, but I’ve never had to get one on my own before. As it turned out, I wasn’t completely alone because when I got to the bus stop there were loads of Avon Comp kids there. I did a quick recce to see if there was anyone I knew. There was a girl who I was sure was in my form, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember her name. She was fairly overweight and had stringy ginger hair and - embarrassingly - knee-length socks and sensible shoes. She saw me looking and smiled shyly at me. I decided it would be social suicide to get too pally with her so I kept my distance. Also, I didn’t want to turn up at school with a ‘new best friend’ and upset Lauren, who might think I was abandoning her and who would have had to walk to school on her own now, if she missed Karly and Tiffany.

I needn’t have bothered being so sensitive about Lauren’s feelings, as it turned out. When I got to school I was earlier than I would have been walking from the estate so I hung around the gate, waiting impatiently for Lauren to arrive. She finally turned up, walking slowly and chatting avidly to a girl I’d never seen before. When Lauren eventually saw me she waved and came hurrying over.

‘Hey, Charlotte, this is Stacy. Guess where she lives.’ I must have looked blank. ‘In your old house!’ said Lauren triumphantly, like she was pulling a rabbit out of a hat. Actually Stacy does look a bit like a rabbit. She has abnormally large teeth, and her eyes are impossibly huge. Maybe she is half Manga.

What’s wrong with me? Why am I suddenly being so judgemental about everyone today?

‘Isn’t that amazing?’ continued Lauren. ‘She moved in last week.’

I took a couple of steps backwards so I could get a good look at Stacy. She’s way taller that me (but then isn’t everyone?) and nearly a head taller than Lauren, and far too skinny - all angles. She had the faintest touch of make-up on, just a bit of mascara and lip gloss. Not enough to get told off for. I reckoned she’d be in Year 9 or 10 so with any luck she’d disappear when the bell went. I don’t know why but she made me feel uncomfortable. Maybe it was the cool, assessing look she gave me.

When the bell finally rang and we trooped inside for registration, I kept expecting Stacy to peel off and go her own way. When she followed us into our form room I realised, with a sinking, sick feeling, that she wasn’t going anywhere. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she plonked herself down in
my
seat, the one right next to Lauren. I waited about four heartbeats for Lauren to say something but she didn’t. I didn’t want to cause a scene by saying ‘Oi, that’s my seat,’ so I sat round the corner of the square table on the other side of Lauren. Lauren did all the talking. Stacy didn’t say anything and I had a strange lump somewhere between my heart and my mouth which was stopping me from speaking, so Lauren chatted away oblivious to her two silent friends.

I learnt, before Mr Lawson came in, that Stacy had moved from London with her mum and older brother and younger sister. I wondered idly how they’d managed to jump the queue on the council housing list. I knew from what Mum had said that the Bristol waiting list for a council house was about as long as the Gloucester Road. It didn’t seem fair that someone from London should waltz in and grab one. I had to tell myself off again for being so judgemental.

I did remember to keep a look out for the girl I’d seen at the bus stop. She
was
sitting in our form room and I’m slightly ashamed of myself for not really having noticed her before. When Mr Lawson read out the register I waited for her name to come up, even though Lauren was trying to whisper something to me at the time. I had to ignore her in order to catch the girl quietly saying yes to the name Annabel. Lauren immediately turned to Stacy to whisper to her instead so I wished I hadn’t ignored her; it wasn’t that important. When I turned back, Stacy and Lauren were giggling together. I felt unfairly cross with Annabel for having distracted me.

Things got worse after registration because the first lesson was maths. I silently prayed that Stacy wasn’t some kind of maths whizz and would go off with Lauren to the top set. ‘Please let her be a bit rubbish and not in the top set,’ I chanted to myself.

Lauren picked up her bag.’I’m off now. Make sure you look after Stacy for me, Charlotte. She’s in your group for maths. See you in English.’And she was gone.

Stacy smiled at me. ‘Sorry to be such a pain,’ she said. ‘I hate being new and totally clueless.’

Her sudden change to sweet and friendly took me totally off guard. Any thoughts of going off without her and leaving her stranded were dashed. After all, it wasn’t her fault she was new, and it must be really difficult coming into a school where everyone knows everyone else. But there are plenty of other people she could attach herself to. I made up my mind to introduce her to a few of them.

Stacy chatted away about the house all the way to maths. ‘It’s so nice not to be living in a flat any more,’ she said. And the Ratcliffe estate is way nicer than the estate we lived on in London. I hardly dared leave the flat sometimes, it was so bad. Someone got stabbed once practically outside our front door.’

I made an appropriately sympathetic noise, even though I wasn’t sure whether or not to believe her.

By the time maths was over, I’d decided that Stacy wasn’t too bad after all. It was fun to have someone to giggle with in the back row. Stacy drew a really funny cartoon of Miss Carlisle. It had me in fits and for a moment we thought Miss Carlisle was going to demand to see what it was that was distracting us. Luckily she was too busy telling off some of the boys so we got away with it. But I did make sure I got into the classroom before Stacy for the next lesson so that I could get my usual seat next to Lauren.

When it was time to go home, I nearly turned left at the school gates with Lauren and Stacy before I remembered that I had to go the other way to get the bus.

‘See you tomorrow,’ called Stacy cheerfully, linking arms with Lauren. Stacy sounded friendly enough but what Lauren didn’t see was the sly smile she was giving me. I must have looked as dejected as I felt because Lauren smiled at me and unlinked her arm from Stacy’s. I didn’t look back as I set off for the bus stop but I didn’t really need to. The image of Stacy walking along next to Lauren was burned into my brain, and I’d got a pretty bad headache coming on.

I managed to get off the bus at the right stop. Annabel got off there as well. I ducked into the mini supermarket next to the bus stop, thinking that I could buy some sweets, and by the time I came out she’d have gone and it would avoid any awkwardness of walking with her. My way was blocked by a fat shop assistant. ‘You can’t come in here with that,’ he said, pointing to my rucksack.

‘What?’

He pointed to a sign on the wall.
No more than two school children at a time and NO school bags.
Is that even legal? What are we supposed to do with our bags? Leave them on the pavement outside? I walked out, deeply offended. Obviously the shop must have had some problems with school kids pinching stuff, but that didn’t mean we were all like that. I objected to being treated like some sort of criminal.

I stomped off up the hill.

This hill is going to be a pain. Literally. The backs of my legs were burning before I was even halfway up. Icould see Annabel ahead of me and the gap between us was shortening. I slowed down. But it was no good; I’d have had to stop in order not to catch up with her. I wondered if she knew I was behind her and was going slow in the hope that I would catch her up. When I finally reached her I saw that this probably wasn’t the case. She was bright red in the face and breathing heavily.

‘Hi there, Annabel,’ I said, giving in to the inevitable. It would have been rude just to walk past her.

Annabel pushed her glasses back up her nose and peered at me. ‘Hi.’ I think she would have blushed if she hadn’t been so red anyway;she was obviously painfully shy. I could see conversation was going to be difficult. We carried on walking at her snail’s pace.

She smiled at me. ‘It’s nice to have someone to walk with. It helps to take my mind off the agony.’

Oh God, I hoped she didn’t think I was about to become her new best buddy. As if she could read my mind she added,’ It’s okay. I won’t talk to you at school or anything.’

That made me feel really bad. Was I that obvious? And why shouldn’t she talk to me at school? But I knew what the others would say if she did. I could hear their cutting remarks about her appearance in my head. It only made my headache worse and I was glad when we reached the top of the hill where I turned left and Annabel turned right.

Tomorrow I’d find out where she lived. I’d ask her about her family. She was right; it did make the walk less tedious having someone to talk to. I might even say hi to her at school. Maybe. If there’s no one else around.

I was thinking all this as I walked along our street and was so absorbed that I nearly missed the little white cat. She was sitting outside the gate of the house next door to ours. I slowed down so as not to frighten her and I thought she was going to let me stroke her, but just as I got close enough she bolted away. I stopped at the open gate and looked up the driveway. It wasn’t as long as ours and it didn’t have a bend in it, so I had a good view of the house. It was a big house with two large bay windows either side of the front door. There were five steps leading up to the door. The garden was untidy and overgrown but where our house had a front lawn, this house was all tarmac at the front. I noticed that beside the front door were about five doorbells, all with a name below them.

As I stood there staring, the door opened and a man came out. He was wearing grease-covered jeans and holding a spanner in one hand. It was then that I noticed a big motorbike parked on the tarmac. Sitting beside the motorbike and washing her paws was the cat.

The man saw me staring and raised his hand in a greeting. I raised mine back. I know you shouldn’t talk to strange men but he was our neighbour after all.

‘Is that your cat?’ I called up the drive. He bent down to stroke it and the cat twined itself round his ankles. I was wondering whether or not to go up the drive so that he didn’t have to shout his answer, when the front door opened again and a woman came out. She was carrying two mugs and she came down the steps gracefully, despite the big boots she was wearing, and handed one of the mugs to the man.

She saw me and waved and called out,’ Hi.’

Feeling bold, I went halfway up the drive. The woman looked nice and she was still smiling at me so I carried on. On closer inspection the couple weren’t as young as I’d thought. The woman had blond hair that was definitely bleached and she’d grown it into long dreadlocks. It was bunched together at the back with a massive scrunchy. Apart from the big boots, she was wearing a short skirt and a vest top under a floaty top with a big cardigan, which looked like something Grumps would wear. Somehow, she managed to look amazing in it.

‘You must be Charlotte,’ she said. ‘I was talking to your mum this morning. I’m glad she bought the house. There were a load of developers after it who wanted to turn it into flats, like this one.’She indicated the house behind her.

They were really friendly and we chatted for a while. She’s called Belinda and the man, who hardly said anything, is called Chris. It’s a relief to know that the new neighbours are so nice. It made me realise just how much I’d been worrying that they’d be snooty and stand-offish and that we’d never fit in here.

But I still had a bad headache so I was hopping from foot to foot with impatience to get home, so they probably think
I’m
deranged.

When I got home I remembered that I’d forgotten to ask them about the cat. So when I walked into the kitchen and saw the cat sitting by the Aga, washing its paws, I thought for a minute that I was seeing things.

Mum was in there, and from the smell I guessed she’d been making cookies. Mum’s cookies are the best ever. She puts chocolate chips and fudge chips in them and they’re always soft in the middle. The one she handed me was still warm and I took a big bite which meant that I then couldn’t ask her about the cat, so I just pointed at it and raised my eyebrows.