Page 48 of The Lucky Winners
Don’t takewhatout on the girl?I wondered.
The next day, I was in the garden, pulling weeds from the patch of soil Mr Webb had given me.
‘It’s your own space, Janey,’ he’d said, his tone softer than usual. ‘Up to you what you grow here when you’ve cleared it. But it’s your responsibility to keep it tidy.’
The ground was stubborn, with roots buried deep, but I worked at it with my hands and a rusty old trowel I’d found in the shed. There was something almost soothing about it – the dirt under my nails, the smell of earth and grass. It made mefeel like I was planting something of myself there, too. Like I was leaving a mark, however small.
‘We just had some bad news,’ Mr Webb mumbled, almost to himself. ‘Some very bad news. Things are going to change around here.’
My mouth felt dry. ‘How?’
He shook his head, not really hearing me. ‘There’s a big problem coming. We didn’t expect it and we’re going to have to make some decisions.’
Decisions about what?
He didn’t look at me, just kept wiping his hands on his overalls, his expression blank and grim. Whatever glimmer of warmth I’d seen in him earlier was gone. As if someone had snuffed it out, like a candle.
Over the next week the weather was warm outside, but the inside of the house grew colder as if an invisible frost hung in the air. I wondered if it was anything to do with the bad news Mr Webb had mentioned. I wondered if they were going to send us back to Clay Bank.
Sometimes I’d catch myself staring at the job boards in the corner shop, half hypnotized by ads for cleaning work or café shifts. I didn’t have much – no car, no connections – but I had two hands and a determination to get Beth out.
If I could save a bit, just enough for a deposit somewhere small … It wasn’t much of a dream, but it was mine. And it was real.
Once I heard the Webbs talking in hushed tones in the kitchen, but the only words I caught were ‘She’s the one we have to watch,’ and ‘We need to keep them safe.’
The unease in my stomach grew bigger, but I didn’t dare ask.
One evening, when Mrs Webb was out, I was helping Mr Webb tidy the shed. He was quieter than usual, hismovements slower. ‘You know,’ he said, not looking at me, ‘you and your sister came as a pair. Maureen always had her heart set on a little girl with blonde curls. We liked the fact you two would look after each other … if there was ever a problem, I mean.’
I blinked, unsure what to say. But I felt the lightness in me drain away as I touched my wiry dark hair. They’d wanted Beth more than me. ‘What kind of a problem?’
He glanced at me briefly. ‘It’s not your fault, Janey. It’s just how it is. We thought all that was behind us, see? But now … now everything’s going to change and this is not the best place for you to be. It’s not going to be safe.’
‘Why not?’ I said quietly.
They’d changed their mind about keeping me. They just wanted my sister.
Mr Webb didn’t answer and went back to coiling more twine.
I swallowed hard, forcing the lump down my throat again. I’d always suspected it would happen. But hearing it out loud made my chest ache.
They were going to send me back to Clay Bank and keep Beth. They were making excuses by saying things were changing and it wasn’t safe for me here.
I went to my patch of soil and knelt on the damp earth, pressing my fingers into it. I heard Beth singing through the open window.
I dug and dug with my bare hands. Deep down where the woodlice and worms and the ugly things that people didn’t like to look at lived. I dug deep enough to find a place of my own. I imagined it was deep enough to disappear.
I could feel it now – the resentment hanging over me like a shadow. Beth flitted around the house, sunny and sweet, and I was the outsider.
I felt invisible in this strange family, like a shadow that didn’t belong.
That was until the next morning at breakfast when everything changed.
The house hummed with the usual quiet routine – the tinging of cutlery against plates, the familiar chink of cups on saucers.
Mrs Webb buttered her toast slowly and deliberately while her husband read the paper, his coffee steaming beside him. The scent of bacon lingered in the air, mixing with the sweetness of jam from Beth’s half-eaten slice of toast.
Then the front door opened and all movement stilled.
