âIâve been there. . . I think youâd like it.â
âYouâre forgetting one thing, Lia,â said Jack.
âWhat?â
âWhat about Shazia? Her dadâs never going to let her go on holiday with all of us, is he? Howâre you going to buy him off, Lia?â
Oh. This was a problem. Shazâs dad used to be quite normal about religion â i.e. not very interested â butthen a few years ago he started going to the mosque a lot more and ratcheting up the Islamic rules they kept at home. He was always threatening to move Shaz to an all-girls school, and about a year ago she started wearing a headscarf. We never really talked about it. Shaz was mega-sensitive about Islamophobia â she was constantly lecturing Jack because his dad read the
Daily Express
â but Iâd always assumed that she found it a real pain. You canât imagine someone as stroppy as Shaz wanting to hide under a scarf. I had no doubts that when she was eighteen sheâd just do her own thing.
âIâll have to sort it out somehow,â I said. âMaybe we can pretend itâs a girls-only trip. Or go to a Muslim country â Morocco, maybe, or Turkey.â
âDubai,â said Raf, dreamily. âThe worldâs only six star hotel is in Dubai.â
âYouâre going to be spending Liaâs money for her, are you?â asked Jack. âBecause, as her manager, I can tell you that if sheâs going to fork out for a six star hotel, the guest list will be strictly limited. Just Lia and me â and Shaz, if we can persuade her.â
Raf finished his latte and stood up. âIâd better be going. Bye, Lia.â
I watched him walk away. âThanks a
lot
, Jack. Iâvebeen trying to get to know him all year, and you have to be completely obnoxious.â
âYou have?â Jack speared his last rasher of bacon, and plunged it into his mouth. Heâd have to learn some table manners if we were going to hang out at six star hotels. Although Iâm not sure if theyâd even serve a Full English in Dubai.
âDonât waste your time with him, Lia. Heâs clearly gay.â
âNo heâs
not
.â
âHe
so
is.â
âYouâre just a homophobe. And heâs
not
.â
âSo you fancy him?â
âThatâs my business.â
âYeah, right, Lia. Donât bring him on our holiday. Anyway Iâm going. Thanks for breakfast.â
Jack gave me an eggy kiss on the cheek and left. I went to the counter, asked for the bill, which came to £15.75 â the prices went up with the polka-dot tablecloths â and pulled out my purse.
Nothing there.
I might be a multi-millionaire, but I was just as skint as I had been the night before.
Chapter 6
How good are you at making decisions? Because youâll need to improve
. . .
âThe most important question for you to think about,â said Gilda, âis whether you go public or not.â
Gilda was my Winnerâs Adviser. She was about Mumâs age but a bit curvier, and she had a nice friendly smile. Plus she had eight million pounds for me. I liked her right away.
Anyway, when she started going on about publicity I was kind of surprised. Surely the most important question was how I was going to break it to my family that my money was mine. Only mine. And then there was the question of how to move things on with Raf, after our promising start. If only Jack hadnât put him off. Maybe I could pop round later and find out. . .
Also, how quickly could I move out of this shabby maisonette, and into my own plush apartment?Could I leave school right away? Was that leather jacket still on the stall? And should I pick chestnut highlights or go the whole hog and opt for the Japanese straightening treatment, to eliminate my messy curls forever? Obviously that wasnât the
most
important question, but it was what Natasha and I had spent forty