Page 54 of The Lucky Winners

Fifteen Years Earlier

While I peeled potatoes at the sink, Beth sat at the table playing with one of the trinkets Mrs Webb kept on the shelves around the house – the ones she’d forbidden us to touch when we first arrived – when she said something that cut me to the bone.

‘Mrs Webb says I’m to have my own bedroom.’

Her words were tossed at me as if they meant nothing, but they landed heavy as stones on my chest.

I blinked at her. ‘What?’

‘It’s not my fault,’ Beth said quickly. ‘Mrs Webb says it’s time.’

‘Do you want your own room?’

The house had four bedrooms. Mr and Mrs Webb shared the biggest at the front of the house. David had the second biggest overlooking the back garden. Beth and I had the third and that just left the poky box room that was full of junk.

I balked at the thought of her being alone in a bedroom: she’d hate it on her own.

Beth looked at me briefly before studying her hands. ‘No, I’d rather to stay with you, but …’ her face brightened slightly ‘… Mrs Webb says I can decorate it exactly how I want to.’

The words stung more than they should have, maybe because they came so casually from Beth, and because Mrs Webb hadn’t involved me in the decision, knowing how close we were. I’d speak to David about this. He’d put a stop to it.

I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could find the words, I heard a soft chuckle from the doorway.

I looked up to see Mrs Webb standing there, leaning against the frame, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes slid between me and Beth. I knew she’d overheard us talking and was amused.

Heat rushed to my face, and I turned back to the potatoes, my throat tight. I felt as if I was in freefall. I had thought I was finally winning, that my closeness to David had changed things and that I was safe. But now I saw how na?ve I had been.

Within a couple of days, Mr Webb had cleared the contents of the box room into the garage.

No matter how Beth decorated that room, it was so poky and dark with its tiny window that didn’t even open, it couldn’t be made pretty and cosy.

I knew my sister would be instantly miserable in there and I wondered why Mrs Webb thought it a good idea.

One morning after breakfast, Mrs Webb said, in an unusually friendly voice, ‘I need your help with the move, Janey. To get things ready for Beth.’

I told myself at least she was involving me, but perhaps that was David’s influence.

Inside our bedroom, Mrs Webb handed me a roll of black bin liners. ‘Just bag everything up and move it all out. Mr Webb will move the bed once it’s all clear.’

I ripped off a bag and started loading Beth’s precious soft-toy collection from the side of her bed. ‘I can help with the decorating, too. Help Beth choose her wallpaper and paint colours,’ I said brightly. ‘I don’t mind.’

‘That’s very kind of you, Janey,’ Mrs Webb said, a strange look on her face. ‘But can I ask why you’re putting Beth’s toys in the bag?’

I stopped and looked at her, frowning. ‘You said to just load everything into the bags to move it all.’

‘That’s right,’ she said smoothly. ‘Load all of your things into the bags. Beth’s not going anywhere. You ’re the one moving into the box room.’

Later that afternoon when my stuff had been transferred, Mr Webb moved my bed in there, too. How had I ever thought Beth would be the one to move out of our shared bedroom?

I hovered around the door, watching him. The room smelt faintly of damp and had one tiny window that looked out on to a view of next door’s exterior brick wall.

Mr Webb saw me watching. He gripped the bottom of his back with both hands and slowly stood up straight, grimacing. He tipped his head, listening for Mrs Webb’s voice downstairs before speaking in a low voice.

‘I’m sorry this has happened, Janey. There are things you don’t understand about this family.

There are things even I don’t understand about this family.

’ He fell silent and stared at the wall a moment before continuing, ‘I’ll get this room nice and tidy for you, that’s the best I can do. It won’t be so bad.’

‘But why?’ I said, my eyes filling with tears. ‘Why does Mrs Webb love Beth and hate me?’

He raised a hand to quieten me. ‘It’s not that, it’s … not even about you, really. It’s about …’ He looked beyond me to check nobody was listening in. ‘It’s more about Mrs Webb and David.’

I frowned. ‘In what way?’

‘It’s complicated.’ He sighed. ‘All you need to know is that if Mrs Webb and David both get what they want life becomes easier for us all.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying, Janey?’

‘Not really.’ I stared at him, not understanding him in the least.

He pinched the top of his nose and shook his head. ‘I’ll put you a lock on the door. Don’t be afraid to use it.’