Diary of a Lottery Winner's Daughter Read Online Free Page B

just hoped that by the time we all got back to school it would have blown over.
    The last night of the holiday was much better. We had a barbecue and Dad put some music on and showed us how to dance - which meant that really he was showing us how not to dance - but we didn’t tell him that. Chelsea was even in a good mood which was a huge relief; only I couldn’t help worrying that it was because she was planning her revenge on Sophie.
    By bedtime we were all finally in the holiday mood, which was a pity because we had to get up early the next day and pack up to go home.

Saturday 28th August
    In the car on the way home, Mum and Dad were talking. I think they thought we were asleep. Spencer was sitting on one side of me with his head back, snorting occasionally and breathing out salt and vinegar crisp smells. Chelsea was on the other side, her head at an uncomfortable angle and dribble coming out the side of her mouth. Not her most attractive look. I had my eyes shut so that I didn’t have to see these things. Typical. They had the window seats and I was stuck in the middle with nothing to do and the battery on my MP3 player had run down. Bored, bored, bored.
    ‘I think they’re getting too old for these caravan holidays,’ said Dad.
    ‘I know what you mean,’ said Mum,’ but it’s either that or going to stay with my parents.’
    There was a silence while they thought about that and I smiled to myself. Not that there’s anything wrong with Grandma and Grandpa exactly. They live in Norfolk, though, which is miles away, so we don’t get to see them much. I always get the feeling that they don’t approve of Dad. I think it’s got something to do with the fact that we live in a council house. Whatever, they don’t come and visit us because there’s no room. At least, that’s their excuse.
    ‘It’s not even as though camping is a cheap holiday any more,’ Dad complained. ‘There’s the price of petrol for one, then what they charge to sit in a field is just daylight robbery, if you ask me. Not to mention what we paid out in food and tea trying to keep warm on the sea-front. And the only thing the kids wanted to do was put money in those machines . . . ‘
    Then they were quiet for a bit, and I wondered if I ought to say something so they knew I wasn’t asleep because I felt like I was eavesdropping on a private conversation. I didn’t bother though, because then they started talking about stopping somewhere on the way home so Mum could buy her weekly lottery ticket. In fact, it nearly turned into an argument, because Dad didn’t want to stop with a great big caravan stuck on the back of the car, but Mum insisted and said if he went to the Tesco outside the town he’d be able to park easily and she needed a few things for next week’s packed lunches and she didn’t want to go out again once she got home. I could practically hear Dad grinding his teeth but he didn’t refuse like I know he wanted to. Mum and Dad hardly ever argue. They know when to give and take.
    But Dad was obviously annoyed, because he started going on about what a waste of money the lottery was and how people were fools for doing it because they were never going to win and it just raised false hope in people. He said it was always the poorest people who spent the most on it because they were the most desperate. He hated it when he heard people say,’ Oh well, when I win the lottery . . . ‘ because he wanted to shout at them that they were never going to win it and they should be spending the time they were thinking about what they’d do with the money they were never going to have by thinking about how they could improve their lives ‘in reality’. He was definitely off on a rant.
    Mum said she agreed with him, but the problem was she had these numbers every week and she just knew that if she stopped doing it her numbers would come up. Dad said that’s how they got you, and how would she ever know the numbers had come up if she