“We are sure.”
“But it’s complicated, isn’t it? Because Emily is best friends with Megan and dating Ridley. She won’t be able to keep her mouth shut. I thought we agreed the longer we can keep this from the Heathcotes and Pearsons, the better.”
“How are you going to hide seventeen-point-eight-million pounds, Lexi?”
“I’m not trying to hide it.”
“We’ll have to tell our families.”
“Of course.”
“They’ll expect a slice of the winnings. Well, maybe not expect but certainly they would hope for it, that is natural enough. How much is the right amount to give?” He is like an excited kid. I know he can’t wait to start handing out bundles of cash.
I shake my head a fraction, trying to clear it. It is impossible to think straight after everything I discovered last night, after the poor night’s sleep. I lost so much, then won so much. Their betrayal, his loving. My head and heart are about to explode. “I just think that it would be best to wait until the money is in the account. Just in case.”
Jake stares at me. “I don’t know how we can keep this from the kids. They’ll be able to tell something is up. It’s happening, Lexi. This is real.” Jake is grinning so widely it looks like his face is about to split.
“But it’s a big responsibility. This is going to change their lives forever. We need to think about what to tell them, give them ideas on how to adjust,” I insist.
“How to adjust to what?” asks Logan.
I jump. Where did he come from? I want to kick myself—my excitement had made me careless. I know, and usually remember, that one or other of our kids is invariably lurking, especially if they can smell food.
“We’ve won the lottery!” yells Jake.
“What?” Logan looks sceptical.
“Seventeen-point-eight-million pounds. We’re bloody millionaires, my boy!”
“Jake!”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to swear.”
Actually, I was reproving him for his lack of discretion and caution more than his bad language.
“For real?” Logan asks, his eyes on me. He most likely thinks his dad is playing with him. “We’re millionaires?”
“Several times over,” I confirm with a shrug and a smile. “Most probably. Our numbers match and we’ve phoned to confirm it, but I—” My words are cut off because Logan starts to yell, actually squeal like a pig. He jumps up and down on the spot. Then he runs to his dad and launches himself, so their bodies smash into each other with a ferocious energy. A move that is somewhere between a hug and an attack. He doesn’t know how to contain himself. He is literally overflowing. Effervescent. It’s brilliant.
“What’s going on?” Emily is in the kitchen, too, now.
Logan announces, “We’ve won the lottery. We’re millionaires. We’ve won seventeen-million-and-something pounds!”
Emily looks cynical. “Yeah, right.” Sluggishly she reaches for the cereal.
“It’s true, my princess,” says Jake, picking her up and twirling her around, just the way he used to when she was much younger and less self-conscious.
“Honestly?” Emily asks, caution and disbelief swilling in her eyes.
“Yes,” I verify with a beam.
Emily bursts into tears, and then we all run to one another and amalgamate into a big mass of cuddles, screeches and happy tears.
We’ve been saved.
CHAPTER 4
Emily
Tuesday, April 23
“Emily, get up. Your alarm didn’t go off. You’ve slept in.” Mum is banging on my bedroom door, then she opens it and rushes in, carrying a freshly ironed school shirt. It’s like this weekend never happened. “Come on, sweetheart, you’ll miss the bus,” she urges.
“Do I have to go in?”
“Are you ill?”
“No.”
“Then of course you have to go in.” Mum looks confused.
“But we won the lottery,” I remind her.
“Emily, I’m surprised at you. Come on, get in the shower. Get a move on.”
She rushes out of my room, and I hear the almost exact same conversation play out between her and Logan. He mutters, “What’s the point of being a millionaire if I have to go to school?”
“He has a good argument,” yells Dad from their bedroom.
I smile to myself. Dad is always on our side.
“Come on, people. I’m serious. Get out of bed,” Mum insists. I stay where I am, thinking about how it is going to be at school today. The holidays are ridiculous this year anyhow. Who goes back to school straight after Easter? Who goes to school at all if they have just become millionaires? Mum and Dad have said we can’t tell anyone about the lottery, which is going to be so weird because why wouldn’t they want to tell the entire world? We are rich. Like super-off-the-scale rich! Mum says I just have to put it out my mind. Like, as if! How am I going to keep this from Ridley and Megan? We are lottery winners! Multimillionaires! Mum sometimes does this thing where she reads my mind; she does it now and swings back into my room. She hovers at the door looking uncomfortable.
“I know it’s going to be hard keeping this from Ridley and Megan.”
“Yeah, like, understatement of the year. Why do I have to?”
“Because there is a proper chance their parents are going to take this really badly. We were all doing the lottery together until just last week.”
“Yeah, but they said it was lame.”
“I imagine they’ll feel very differently now.”
“Can’t we just give them some of the money?”
Mum doesn’t answer me. She just looks torn. Mum has morals and makes a big thing of it all the time. If, for example, we are going into London to see a show in the West End and she sees someone sleeping rough, which is a given, right, then she insists we give the exact money we spent on one ticket to the guy on the street. Dad says it’s a waste and that they’ll just drink it or shoot it up their arms. But he says this at the interval when we are in the bar and he’s drinking a glass of red wine, so Mum’s counterargument is staring at his glass.
“We can’t tell a
