Lia's Guide to Winning the Lottery (30 page)

‘Duck!' yelled Jasper as the block flew through the air, missing my head by a millimetre.

‘George! I've told you not to do that! No!'

The little boy was laughing his head off.

Nick viewed him with suspicion. ‘Jasper, I know you don't like me saying this, but I think you should get George checked out. . . I mean, I don't want to
believe there's something badly wrong with my own grandchild, but I don't think he's normal. Ever since he hit Rafael in the eye with his damned bricks, he's been trying to blind everyone else.'

‘Nonsense,' said Jasper. ‘He's just upset because you were ignoring the baby monitor. Where the hell is Rafael, anyway? Lia, I can't believe my father was trying to tap you for money. He can't set up any kind of business for at least another year, you know. He's been declared bankrupt, and there are rules against him asking for investment when he owes thousands to all sorts of creditors, particularly the Inland Revenue.'

Nick looked a little shifty. But he rallied quickly. ‘The infernal tax collectors!' he said. ‘Now, they are the real bloodsuckers! Taking money to pay for fripperies like universal education for the unwashed masses . . . benefits for the undeserving poor. . .'

‘That'd be you, then,' said Jasper, putting the little boy down so he could cannon into Nick's knees. ‘You're living off benefits at the moment. And education for your son, whose expensive private school is yet another one of the organisations to which you owe money. Where
is
Raf? There's no one at the café. That's two shifts he's missed.
The police were asking about him. I'm worried.'

I was worried too. ‘He was at my house this morning – my sister, she'd gone missing and Raf found her in the street. The police said they wanted to talk to him – they wanted to know about the office above the shop.'

Jasper shook his head. ‘That's not good . . . not good at all. Was he all right?'

‘I don't know . . . he went off.'

‘Dad – would he go to your bedsit, do you think? Should we go there?'

‘He never ever comes to see me,' said Nick gloomily. ‘It's your fault. You've stolen my son.'

‘Oh, come off it, Dad. The poor kid's my brother, even if you kept us apart all these years.' Jasper turned to me. ‘Raf's told you his story, no doubt. How Dad got the au pair pregnant, packed her off back to Spain, and failed to tell anyone – including my mum – that he was supporting her and her child, until Raf was seven and his mother was killed in a car accident, and suddenly he had to be brought back to England.'

‘Oh! No—' I said, but Jasper was in full flow.

‘And Dad still blames Mum for reacting to this by divorcing him, which anyone in their right minds would do. And she was perfectly entitled to this house.'

Ah, I thought, the evil woman! A long time ago!

‘And how lucky for me and Sylvie and little George that Mum was prepared to move upstairs and make room for us when Dad's business went bankrupt and I was out of a job. And lucky for Rafael too that she didn't mind him coming to stay with us. I know it's not easy for him – and God knows, it's not easy for any of us, with George's sleeping problems—'

Little George gave a joyful cackle, and ran his scooter over Jasper's foot.

‘Argh. . . But at least it's better for Raf than staying with Dad in his bedsit and having to listen to him going on and on about himself and his own problems the whole time. No wonder Raf's eaten up with anxiety. No wonder he tried to kill himself.'

He tried to kill himself? Oh God . . . is that what Olivia meant. . .?

‘So,' I said, ‘where is he now?'

Chapter 34

You need to work out which instincts to trust.

Nick and Jasper were useless, really. They called the local police, who said they'd taken his details and were planning to contact Raf's family, but they hadn't questioned him because of his age.

‘We will be doing so in due course.'

‘So where is he?' demanded Jasper.

‘We have no idea. He said he was going home.'

Jasper put the phone down. ‘Sounds like the policeman just wanted to give him a scare.'

‘Jesus,' said Nick. He'd sat down on the sofa and was turning George's wooden block over and over in his hands. ‘He'll be with his friends,' he said. ‘He tells me he's made lots of new friends at his school. He seems quite happy there, working hard, much less worried. Who would he be with, Lia?'

I shook my head. ‘I don't know. Look,
I'd better be going. He'll turn up, I'm sure of it.'

‘Lia—' said Nick, but Jasper said firmly, ‘Thanks, Lia, for coming over. I'm sure Rafael will be in touch soon.'

I fled down the path, headed back to the Broadway. My mind was thinking furiously, about Raf, about who he was, where he could be.

The last person I needed to bump into was Georgia.

‘Hey, Lottery Girl,' she sneered. ‘Looking for your little sister? I hear she's gone missing.'

I was not in the mood. ‘Leave me alone, Georgia.'

‘Bet she gave you a scare.'

Hang on a minute.

‘No, Georgia,
you
gave us all a scare. You made that phone call, didn't you?'

‘What phone call?'

‘Spare me, Georgia. Save it for the police.'

‘What do you mean, the police?'

‘Well, you can't really go around threatening to kill people and trying to get ransom money without getting the police involved.' I looked at her face – half defiant, half scared – and took a risk. ‘They know it was you, you know. They can trace calls.'

‘What! What! It wasn't me. It was Alicia's phone!'

I shrugged. ‘Whatever. Don't tell me. Tell the police. Natasha's fine, by the way.'

She realised just too late. ‘You bitch! You didn't know a thing, did you? Jammy cow!'

‘Not difficult to guess, Georgia. I look at Facebook, you know, I know how your small mind works. Now, excuse me, I'm looking for someone.'

‘Who?'

‘None of your business.'

‘It's Raf, isn't it?' Her voice was mocking. ‘Raf the vampire. How much did you pay him to go out with you?'

I swung my bag (Fifty pounds. Top Shop. Leather slouch.) at her. ‘Take it back!'

‘No! It's true! He never looked at you before!'

‘He did!'

‘He never! Anyway, who wants him? He's weird. He never talks to anyone, and he spends all his time hanging out with dead people.'

‘He doesn't . . . he's completely normal . . . he's . . . what do you mean?'

She cackled. ‘You don't even know that he hangs out at the cemetery. Alicia and I have followed him there loads of times. He's strange, I'm telling you. He just sits there, staring into space. Or sometimes he
reads.
'

Georgia made it sound as though reading was one of the most disgusting things anyone could do in a public place.

‘Bye, Georgia!'

I sprinted in the direction of the cemetery. It was only when I got to the cemetery gates that I slowed down and wondered if I should call Jasper . . . but I didn't have his number . . . or Shazia . . . or Jack. What if Raf was . . . but I couldn't even think about that. What if . . . what if I couldn't find him? I had to find him. Oh God. I vowed that if he was all right, I was going to buy him a phone with a secret tracker device, so I could always locate him.

The old cemetery hadn't been used for years. It was overgrown and neglected, big cracks in some of the granite tombs. Crumbling angels with blank faces adorned some graves, but most were just engraved with names and dates disappearing under years of rain and grime. This wasn't a grand impressive graveyard, full of important people. This was where ordinary Londoners came to fade away. It wasn't a place for guided tours or romantic walks. It was dank and depressing and miserable.

It was a place of whispered rumours, of paedos and perverts and black masses. Ghosts and ghouls and
phantoms lived there alongside the glue-sniffers and junkies. It made me shiver. It made me scared.

But Rafael was most probably hidden away somewhere here, and he might need my help.

I scrambled through brambles, pushed aside ivy, winced as a nettle brushed my ankle. My eyes darted everywhere, looking for signs of him. What if he wasn't here? What if Georgia had tricked me . . . tracked me here?

And then I realised that someone
was
following me.

It was just a small rustling noise. But it stopped when I stopped. And then it started again. A crackle, a shadow, a glimpse of someone lurking in the bushes.

I shrieked and ran, stumbling over stones, leaping puddles, dodging trees and statues. And someone was running after me . . . the rasp of heavy breathing, a face glanced out of the corner of my eye. I'd lost all sense of direction . . . I fumbled for my phone – tripped, fell – the phone flew out of my hand. . .

‘Lia!' Raf appeared from nowhere, catching me as I crumpled. ‘What's going on? Lia?'

‘Someone's . . . someone's chasing me. . .'

Raf held me tight. ‘It'll be some girl. They seem to come here all the time. I try and ignore them.'

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Alicia's skinny bum disappearing into the undergrowth. I hugged Raf even closer.

‘Are you all right?'

‘I'm fine,' I said. How stupid did I feel? I'd come to rescue him, and I'd ended up having to be rescued myself. From Alicia, for God's sake.

‘I didn't know you came here,' said Raf. ‘It's great, isn't it? So quiet, and history everywhere. All these names, all these people, all these stories. I come here a lot.'

‘You do?'

‘It's my sort of place.' He shot me a glance. ‘You think I'm mad, don't you?'

‘No. . .' I said, because I couldn't really say yes. ‘Raf, I talked to your dad and Jasper. They said you tried to kill yourself. I was scared . . . I was worried.'

He seized my shoulders.

‘I didn't really. . . Look, it was a difficult time. I couldn't remember ever not being at a boarding school. I was institutionalised. And my dad used to come and talk to me about all his money problems . . . everything he was worried about. He was really down. His girlfriend had left him and he wasn't coping. You've met him. He's kind of . . . he takes over
your mind. I got to a point where I couldn't sleep. Still can't, most of the time. I get anxiety attacks. It's . . . it's humiliating, Lia. I feel like I'm having a heart attack. I have to breathe into a paper bag. Then I worry about it happening where people can see – I avoid people, most of the time.'

‘That time in school . . . when you wouldn't talk to me. . .'

‘I
couldn't
. I probably would've passed out. When you fainted at the café – I felt like we had something in common. That you'd understand. . .'

‘Yes, but
Jesus
, Raf, you took an overdose? You wanted to die?'

‘No . . . not really. I didn't think I would die exactly. I just didn't care if I did or not.'

I tried to ooze silent sympathy from every cell of my body.

‘I took some pills – they'd given me stuff to help me sleep – and I washed them down with some vodka. I just thought I'd take a chance, that's all. I didn't really care about the result.'

‘You could have
died
.'

‘I was lucky, I suppose.'

I was trembling. Raf had gambled with his life. Just a few more pills, another sip of vodka. . . What if
he got sad again? What if he felt so lonely, or desperate or so reckless that he didn't care about the future?

‘Do you think . . . would you ever. . .'

‘The strange thing is,' he said, ‘that when Dad did lose everything, and I had to leave school and we ended up staying in some revolting hotel place – truly disgusting, Lia, there were bed bugs in the mattress and it stank of dead mouse – it was actually easier than worrying about it.'