Page 15 of The Lucky Winners

Sixteen Years Earlier

Beth and I had been at the Webbs’ house for a couple of days, and in that time, we’d only really spent any time with Mr Webb. His wife seemed to vanish off the face of the earth after her initial welcome tea.

‘Where’s Mrs Webb?’ I asked one day, curiosity getting the better of me as I sat with Beth at the table in the kitchen.

‘She’s getting acclimatized to you both being here,’ Mr Webb said, his frown deepening. ‘Maureen … Mrs Webb … she’s a very sensitive sort. It’s a bit of a culture shock, you see. A bit of an upheaval. Strangers being here. In the house.’

Strangers in the house? They’d voluntarily fostered us!

Mr Webb sighed, rubbing a finger absently along the wooden table. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but Mrs Webb, well, she’s been through a lot of trauma. We both have.’ He clears his throat. ‘You two girls are part of our fresh start after a difficult time with David junior.’

‘David junior?’

‘Our son,’ he said quickly, as a shadow moved across his face – regret at mentioning him, maybe, I’m not sure. I’d assumed they’d taken us in because they couldn’t have children of their own. Why else would they foster us?

‘Mrs Webb has always wanted a daughter and we would’ve adopted years ago if things had been … different. But now that David’s left home, she thought we might …’ he forced a smile ‘… make her dream of having a daughter come true.’ A small cough before he corrected himself. ‘ Daughters , I mean.’

I stayed quiet, but something about the way he said it made me want to change the subject. ‘What should we call you both?’ I asked, after a pause.

‘For now, Mr and Mrs Webb will do fine,’ he said. ‘Just give her a bit of time, eh?’

It felt weird, living with two ‘strangers’ in a new family of sorts yet having to call them something so formal. It made my skin itch. I couldn’t relax, couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

But at least Mr Webb was polite. Considerate, even.

That was more than I could say for my mum’s final boyfriend, who had barely acknowledged my existence unless he needed something – another beer from the fridge, an excuse, someone to blame.

Life back then had been a constant battle to stay unseen, to keep Beth safe, to avoid the sharp edges of my mother’s changeable moods.

This situation was different. Safer … in theory. But sometimes, the silence in this house felt just as unsettling as the shouting in my old one.

I began to worry we’d end up back at Clay Bank before we’d even had the chance to settle in. I could deal with that. But Beth? She was too young to keep being moved around.

‘We have to call you Mr and Mrs, like you’re our teachers?’ Beth remarked, surprising me. I’d almost forgotten she was listening to our conversation.

‘Now, now, it won’t be for long,’ Mr Webb said, in that calm, unflappable manner of his. ‘Just until Mrs Webb comes round a bit. Realizes everything’s going to work out here.’

I didn’t like it. The feeling there was a lot we didn’t know about our new family. But at least Mr Webb talked to us, tried to explain things. Maybe, for my little sister, this was the best we could hope for. A proper home – wasn’t that what mattered most?

Still, something about it made me uneasy, a quiet warning I chose to ignore.

If only I’d listened. Trusted that creeping unease, the way the air in the house often felt thick with something unspoken. Maybe then things would have turned out differently.

Maybe then we wouldn’t have ended up trapped.

Later, Mr Webb appeared at our bedroom door. ‘I need to pop out. Mrs Webb is home but she’s got one of her headaches and is having a lie-down, so best not to bother her if you can help it.’

I wished it was a school day and we weren’t stuck in here all the time.

For now, Beth and I were still going to the same schools as before, catching the bus each morning as if nothing had changed.

She was still at primary school and I was just down the road at the big comp.

I liked getting out of the house, stepping into a world that felt normal.

At school, I could breathe. I could pretend, just for a while, that everything was OK.

Beth sidled over and gave me an impromptu hug. ‘I love our bedroom,’ she said, looking around the pretty pink walls. ‘I like being here much better than the children’s home.’

Ten minutes later, a shrill voice called up from the bottom of the stairs, startling me as I unpacked the last of my things in our new room. ‘Girls! Why don’t you come down here?’

‘It’s Mrs Webb!’ I hissed at Beth, who was sprawled on the bed, flipping through a comic book.

‘I thought we could play Monopoly.’

Beth looked alarmed. ‘Mr Webb said she had a headache and that we shouldn’t disturb her.’

‘Well, maybe the headache has gone,’ I said.

‘Do I have to come up and get the two of you?’ the voice called again.

Beth froze and I hesitated, my fingers twisting the hem of my sleeve. There was something sharp in Mrs Webb’s voice, an edge that hadn’t been there before. Not just impatience – something harder. Colder.

Something about it all didn’t sit right. Mr Webb had been clear that his wife shouldn’t be disturbed while he was out. He’d also as good as said that she didn’t really want us there.

But when she called yet again, more insistent this time, Beth – who loved Monopoly – tossed the comic aside. ‘Can we go down and play, Janey?’

In the living room, Mrs Webb was already setting up the game. Her face stretched into some semblance of a smile that made my skin prickle.

‘There you both are! We’ll have some fun, shall we? Nothing like a good game to pass the time.’ She motioned for us to sit.

Beth immediately plopped down on the carpet, choosing her favourite playing token: the iron. I lingered a little longer by the doorway, eyeing Mrs Webb carefully.

‘What’re you standing there for, big girl?’ she said. ‘Are you waiting for Christmas?’

Beth laughed, and Mrs Webb joined in. Too quick. Too bright. The sound rang false, like a note played out of tune.

I thought about the woman in the car ride from Clay Bank – stiff-backed, silent and nervy, barely sparing us a glance.

Now, with her husband gone, she was warmer, her voice syrupy, her laughter just a little too loud.

Only minutes ago, she’d sounded different.

Sharper. Impatient. Almost … threatening.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were standing in front of someone wearing a mask. And I didn’t trust what might be underneath.

I sat on the floor next to Beth, studying Mrs Webb. The way her long fingers hovered over the game pieces just a little too long before she set them down. The way her laughter almost felt too precise.

Our mum had laughed without thinking, on the spur of the moment.

I could still hear it – warm and bubbling, the sound of home.

We’d had good times, as well as bad. The memory ached inside me, sharp and sudden.

I pushed it down and watched as Mrs Webb smiled again, her gaze moving towards the door, as if she was checking that we were still alone.

‘I’ll be the banker,’ she said, her voice cheerful but strained. ‘Janey, you can go first.’

I threw the dice, but couldn’t shake the unease that had settled on my chest. I thought Mr Webb might be annoyed if he was to return home now … but Mrs Webb had insisted we come downstairs with her. Her eyes were on me, watching with too much intensity. I moved my counter and handed Beth the dice.

Mrs Webb leaned back on the couch and smiled at Beth. But her gaze soon shifted back to me. ‘You two know about keeping yourselves safe, don’t you? Did they tell you how to keep safe at the children’s home?’

I shrugged. ‘We learned about stranger danger at school. Stuff like that.’

‘It’s not just strangers, though, is it? It’s easy to assume people are nice … but sometimes that’s just what they want you to see. But there are two of you and you should always stick together. Always look out for each other.’

I froze, my heart beating faster. Why would she say something weird like that?

My mind returned to what Mr Webb had told us. Don’t bother her. She’s busy . Maybe that was his way of warning us off being around her. It suddenly felt like we were playing a different game, something far more dangerous than Monopoly.

Beth, oblivious to any sinister undertones, laughed as she bought a property. ‘I’m gonna win, I’m gonna win!’

Mrs Webb chuckled at that, a low, rumbling sound. ‘I like a girl with confidence,’ she said, her eyes darting between us. Then she leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice. ‘But don’t get too cocky, Beth. Things can change very quickly in this game, and suddenly you’re way out of your depth.’

There was a glint in her eyes as she said it, something sharp and wary. Like she wanted to see Beth flinch. Her voice was smooth, but a warning wrapped in silk lay beneath it.

A door slammed, making the three of us jump. Within seconds, Mr Webb stepped inside the room clutching a full shopping bag. ‘What’s going on here? Didn’t I tell you not to bother Mrs Webb, girls?’

Mrs Webb scrambled to her feet, scattering the board.

Her movements were sharp, almost frantic, and her new, easy manner had vanished, replaced by something much colder.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, as if she didn’t know what to do with them.

‘It was Janey, David. She insisted I join them in the game because she was bored.’

I sat up straight. ‘What? That’s a complete lie! I never said that – I didn’t even want to play!’

Mr Webb caught my eye and shook his head, indicating I should keep quiet.

‘Go back to your room, girls,’ Mr Webb told us. ‘I’ll be up later to see that everything is tidy and put away.’

Back upstairs, my stomach churned. Were we being tested?

I couldn’t work Mr and Mrs Webb out. One minute they seemed like a regular, ordinary couple doing the right thing in fostering two orphaned sisters to keep them together, and at the next, one of them would say something that made me want to grab Beth in the middle of the night and run.