Just My Luck by Adele Parks (best interesting books to read TXT) 📕

stone. I slowly move toward the kettle, fill it with water and then set it to boil.

“Why are you in my home?”

“You’re the lottery winner, ain’t ya?” I consider denying it, but what’s the point? My face and those of my family have been all over the local press and news. Around here we are celebrities. At least the children aren’t at home. At least they are safe.

“Seventeen-point-eight-million pounds, weren’t it?” asks the other guy. I don’t reply. I see the rain that has run from their clothes and bodies puddling on my kitchen floor. “That must take some spending.” He stares at me. I find myself nodding in agreement. “Them are letters asking for a cut, are they?”

“Some.” My voice cracks in my throat, I cough to clear it. We all listen to the sound of the water heating up in the kettle. Could I use that as a weapon, if I had to? Do I have that in me? It’s a crazy, drastic thought. I glance at the kitchen knives displayed in a wooden block on the surface. I quickly pull my eyes away, not wanting to draw attention to them. I’m not in a TV show. I know any weapon I try to use is most likely to be used against me.

“The thing is,” says the woman, “I came by to see you at work. I was queuing with a lot of other people actually. You ran off. You said you’d be back, but you weren’t.” She stares at me reproachfully. And even though I was told to leave, effectively sacked, certainly without choice, I feel accused, condemned and guilty.

“What did you want help with?” I ask.

“I owe money.” She glances at the floor, suggesting a sense of shame, or maybe it’s just exhaustion. “I only borrowed one hundred and fifteen quid but now they are saying I owe nearly two thousand pounds.” I notice that she’s shaking, too. “They’ll hurt me if I don’t pay.” My heart lurches in sympathy. This woman is slight, defenceless physically and most likely mentally, too. I don’t even waste my breath suggesting she try the official channels to fight back against this loan shark. That sort of justice and recourse is simply not available to some—it’s an impossible dream, like a unicorn jumping over a rainbow. The chances are the loan shark is part of her community. There would be repercussions.

“And you two?”

“We’re just here to get her and the cash home safely.” I realize that these men are as much of a threat to her as they are to me.

“I don’t have that sort of money in the house. I can’t give you it, even if I wanted to.”

He does it slowly, deliberately, so that I understand it was a conscious decision and not an unthinking reflex. The younger of the two heavy men slaps the woman in the face. His substantial paw leaves an angry print on her cheek. She keeps her eyes on me, pleading.

“I could write a check.” I move to the drawer above the one where we keep the tea towels and pull it open. My checkbook is in there because usually the only checks I ever write are ones for my kids’ school stuff: class photos or a random piece of sports kit, and normally those checks are demanded at breakfast time as one of the children is heading out the door.

The man laughs and holds his hand up as though to strike her again. Of course they are not going to take a check—it was crazy of me to suggest it. They know a check can be traced; they know I would cancel it as soon as they left. My guess is they want to be quickly in and out. I’m nothing to them, just a means to an end. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want them to hurt her, but can I really stop them? I consider walking to the cashpoint with them, but they might do much worse out there in the storm. To either or both of us. I have my phone in my hand and wonder if I can call 999. This woman may not be in a position to call out a loan shark, but I certainly am. “Please, please,” she begs, keeping her eyes on me.

Then suddenly there are car headlights on the street. The two men and I look nervously at the door. I don’t want my children walking in on this. The men don’t know who might be arriving. My husband may be returning with a gang of friends for all they know.

In a flash the older man picks up my laptop and says, “This will cover it.” The next moment he is out the back door. The second man and the woman follow him. “Don’t go with them. Stay here,” I yell after her. She keeps running. As they scarper down the back path, the front door opens wide, and Jake, Emily and Logan come into the house. They are chatting and laughing. They are wet, but on them the rain looks luminous, pearlescent. Emboldened by Jake’s arrival, I dash along the back path and scream again, “You don’t have to go with them.” I think my words have been picked up and tossed far away by the wind until the woman turns around. I feel a sense of joy that I can intervene, I can after all rescue her. Then she flicks me the V sign. “Fuck off, rich bitch,” she yells. I can hear them all laughing. For a moment, I stand on the path, rain drilling down on me, confused, and then I understand it was a scam. She was in on it with them. I go back into the kitchen, slam the door behind me, lock it and pull the bolt across.

Jake looks concerned when he sees me dripping on the kitchen floor. “What’s going on?” he asks.

“We’re moving,” I reply.

CHAPTER 27

Lexi

Tuesday, May 21

I want to