Lia's Guide to Winning the Lottery Read Online Free Page B

gave a little cough. ‘Err. . . Good evening, Mr Latimer.’ He offered my dad his hand and, aftera tiny, amazed pause, my dad shook it. ‘My name is Rafael Forrest. I’m at school with Lia and I manage the internet café on the Broadway.’
    I loved the way he said his name. Raff-ay-el, overlaid with some sort of sexy foreign accent.
    â€˜
Do
you? Impressive, that, if you’re still at school,’ said Dad, King of Sarcasm.
    â€˜I work nights,’ said Raf.
    â€˜Well, I have to say, we were all glad to see that unit open again.’
    â€˜Thanks,’ said Raf, politely. ‘You run Latimer’s Loaves, don’t you?’
    â€˜Been in my family since 1834,’ said my dad, clearly delighted to find someone who was possibly interested. ‘Opened by my great-great-grandfather. We’ve been hit recently by the credit crunch . . . and the mall . . . and all those low-carb diets, but yes, it’s a great little business.’
    I glanced at Raf to see if his eyes were glazed with boredom. Instead he looked bizarrely interested.
    â€˜It must be a challenge to work out how to compete,’ he said.
    My dad perked up immediately. ‘Well, we small businesses must stick together,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a few plans—’
    â€˜I
fainted
!’ I interrupted. ‘I
collapsed
!’ I was slightly overdramatic, to head off Dad’s lengthy explanation of the benefits of setting up a Tithe Green Retailers’ Association.
    â€˜Lia had some exciting news,’ said Raf. ‘It was too much for her.’
    â€˜She fainted? That’s not like you, Lia. She’s as strong as an ox,’ Dad beamed proudly.
    â€˜I’d better be getting back,’ said Raf. ‘Bye, Lia, see you at school.’ And he walked off, fast, into the shadows of the night, no doubt imagining me as a sturdy, bovine, cud-chewing beast.
    â€˜Well, Lia, found yourself a guardian angel then?’ said Dad with, I swear, an actual sneer. I felt like he’d tied my guts into a knot.
    â€˜Raf was actually
worried
about my safety. He actually walked me home because I
fainted
. Not that
you
care.’
    Dad scratched his head. ‘Had you been drinking? Surely not, with that very well-mannered young man – not your style, I’d have thought, but wonders never cease.’
    My parents were convinced that it could only be a matter of time before I started binge-drinking and smoking skunk. They often predicted that I’d bestarring on one of those awful reality TV shows where normal British teenagers are shipped off to boot camp in Oregon. They have to hike round the wilderness with horrible, militaristic American hippies, and are forced to share their feelings until they crack up and start wailing over letters from home and saying they were wrong and bad and they love their mummies and daddies so much. Parent porn, Jack and I call it.
    â€˜Shut up,’ I said automatically, although I was also a bit stunned by Raf’s general . . . poise, you could call it. He had the manners of someone who’d been around a long time . . . a vampire, perhaps . . . but the face . . . the stern, serious beauty of him. . .
    Fallen angel. Or just angel, as apparently the fallen ones are really unpleasant. Had to be. He’d told me that everything would be all right with my family once they heard my news. Maybe he was giving me some sort of Angelic Message.
    â€˜Well,’ said my dad, ‘you’re going to have to apologise to your mum. She’s very upset, says you were rude to her.’
    â€˜She was rude to
me
.’
    â€˜C’mon, Lia. Think about it. Keep the peace. She’s been worrying about you.’
    â€˜Oh, yeah, right,’ I said.
    â€˜What’s this exciting news, then? Talent-spotted by a modelling agency? Decided to do some work for your GCSEs? Hit me with it.’
    He was always so busy being funny, my dad, that I