Just My Luck(45)

‘Yesterday, my daughter was beaten at school,’ I explain.

‘I’m so sorry to hear that. Is she going to be OK?’

‘Yes, in the grand scheme of things I know she’s not—’ I break off. Change tack. ‘I know things could have been worse.’ He makes a sound, not a word exactly. I find it soothing. ‘Before it happened, I thought I understood how you felt. That I understood your loss. Your sense of anger and impotence. Or at least almost—’ I stumble again. I take a deep breath and admit, ‘But I see my empathy was limited.’

‘It still is. Your child was hurt. Mine is dead.’

‘Yes.’

I feel fury and shame. Fury that she was hurt. Shame that I didn’t protect her. Toma must feel something a hundred thousand times more daunting, more dreadful.

‘My problem isn’t your problem, Lexi,’ says Toma quietly. ‘I can’t take your money. You have done a lot already. Thank you. You are a very good woman.’ His thanks are heartfelt but steady, not gushing. ‘Thank you. You’ve helped me get back on my feet, the lodgings, the job.’

It still doesn’t seem enough. ‘I don’t want you to lose any more time.’

‘You can’t control that. Even with millions you can’t control time.’

‘Right.’ I sigh and it sits between us. The boundary of my abilities.

Toma seems to understand my sigh, my frustration. I can hear the smile in his voice. ‘But Lexi, I’m nearly there. Things are changing for me. You did that.’

‘I want to give you this money,’ I insist.

‘Three million pounds is a lot of money, Lexi.’ He whistles. ‘A lot.’

‘It’s a fraction of what we won. Really, Toma, I want you to have it. Go and do some good with it. Or go and blow the lot, I don’t care. I know it doesn’t bring them back,’ I mutter apologetically.

‘Nothing can.’

‘No. But it might help with other things.’ For a moment he is silent, and I am afraid he’s not going to let me do this. ‘Please.’

He sighs and then says, ‘OK,’ and he gives me his bank details. I feel breathless. Light-headed. I make a call to my bank, trying not to think about how Jake will react when he finds out what I have done. I am taken through security by someone at the bank who is terribly well spoken and efficient. In just a few moments the transaction is complete. As easy as that. I’d expected that moving such a monumental amount of money might be difficult but things are made very easy for the rich.

None of it seems very real to me. It’s like playing with Monopoly money.





22


Emily


Dad and I spend the morning trawling through various sites like Oliver Bonas, Anthropologie, Zara. Click, click, click. I buy lip balms, jewellery trees, bracelets, photo frames, handbags, hair clips and clothes. I didn’t want to do real-life shopping because I don’t want to stare at my bashed-up face in the mirror in changing rooms and I certainly don’t want people staring at me. Dad sits next to me while I shop. Before the win, if I was browsing online, he’d be all like, ‘Wait ’til you see it in the shop. They make stuff look better online.’ Basically, massively discouraging. But now he is worse than me.

‘Get it, get it. Why not?’ He gently strokes my cheekbone, which is the colour of a thunderous cloud.

Logan buys two different football kits. Manchester City and Real Madrid. It doesn’t take long at all, but he seems mad happy. Mum has gone to work but I don’t think she’d have joined in on the spree even if she’d been here. Other than the clothes for the press conference, the only thing she has expressed any interest in buying is a book from The Folio Society. Apparently, they publish special-edition books with cool illustrations. She got one last Christmas off Dad: Atonement by Ian McEwan. She said she ‘might start collecting them’. What is she on?! Start collecting them? Doesn’t she realise she can afford to buy the entire lot in one drop? We don’t need to eke anything out anymore. I don’t know how Mum can exercise so much self-control. I have no idea why she would want to. I tell Dad he should buy her the lot to surprise her, but he buys her just one, Wuthering Heights.

‘Your mum secretly loves a bad boy, and Heathcliff is the prototype,’ he says, grinning. I grimace. That is not information I need. Then, just as he’s at the checkout, he pops Mansfield Park into the e-cart and murmurs, ‘It’s her favourite book. Two isn’t over the top, right?’ My favourite book is The Fault in Our Stars. I don’t know if Ridley knows this. Ridley says his is Catch 22 but he’s never actually read it, it just sounds cool. His actual favourite is Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

Dad is buoyant today because last night he took a call from the lottery company who say Jennifer and Fred have now confirmed that not only had they pulled out of the lottery but that the Pearsons had pulled out of the syndicate before the win too. He looks smug. I’m just relieved. Hearing their names makes me feel weird. As they are Ridley’s parents, up until very recently they were always associated with fun, happy times and specifically access to Ridley. Ridley has been part of my life for ever and I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love him, one way or another. At first just as a friend, and then… Well.

People say we were like siblings because we shared paddling pools and chicken pox, but that was never true. I was always more aware of him and in awe of him than anyone is with a sibling. When we were tiny, I thought he came up with all the best games and plans. I followed him up trees and through streams. We built every Minecraft world to his specification. He is the first boy Megan and I ever kissed. We both kissed him on the same night. It was a long time ago, when we were younger and all just working out whether we were – I don’t know – people who might want to kiss or be kissed, I suppose. It was experimental and the experiment turned out to be conclusive. For Ridley and Megan, their kiss was just a bit of fun, a practice; for Ridley and me, our kiss was everything. We started to acknowledge that we saw each other differently. I don’t understand the raw need he lights in me. I just know that when I’m not with him, I’m not really anywhere. I don’t exist. I’m just flat. Then he walks into a room and I’m all the dimensions.