‘This is the 20th century, not 1920’s why do I have to be treated in such an old fashioned way?’ she asks herself, not wanting an answer. Her father calls her spoilt, because of the way she acts, well, she does have almost anyone of her age could dream for, all the latest gadgets, toys and stylish clothes, yet she still asks for more. All she wants is a little bit of love these days. Sir Allen thinks this is the life, but it’s not.
He just got lucky one day, sat at the end of his bed clutching a scrap of paper, glaring at the TV of his families little London flat, waiting impatiently for the numbers of the lottery show to be read out, and he, just by chance got all of the numbers right. Sarah remembers being in the kitchen that day, baking a cake with her mum, and hearing the thumping of the stairs, and the careless swearing and screams of joy coming from that tiny room above her, little did she know that the family had won the lottery of 20 million pounds… She was only 8 at the time, and didn’t quite understand what had happened, and how much their lives were about to change. Sarah assumed that her mother was ecstatic, with the look on her face, it was fairly obvious that Helen was more than pleased with the new life she was about to have.
But, there is always a but … That night, the little girl went to bed with a grin on her face, ready for the change, ready for what life would bring to her, believing that luck is real…
… Until she woke up.
The house was pitch black, and the little alarm clock at the end of her bed read 3:23 in florescent green colours. Sarah heard a slight echo around the house, the loud noise of her father’s snoring was a comfort, but she was adamant that someone else was awake, plodding around the house. Her mind instantly set off, thinking that there was a burglar, but then again, she reminded herself ‘what have I got to lose?’ her family had just won more than enough money to buy at least 5 of her houses and the belongings inside. The 8-year-old crept to her high window, standing on her tip-toes, she peered outside.
No more noise was made from inside the house, but the suspicious little girl thought she heard noise from the outside now. Then a door a squeaked as it closed. Something was happening. The thunderous wind discouraged her, but she just hoped that nothing was wrong. Frozen in the position she had been in for the last couple of minutes, seemed like hours, but Sarah dared not to go back to sleep. Just in case.
The clock read 3:25.
Then when she looked again: 3:31.
This time she was staring viciously until it changed 3:59.
4 am on the dot. The door slammed. Loud and strong enough to make the whole house shake like the beginning of an earthquake. Sarah was scared.
She was tempted to run into her mother and fathers bedroom, but she was glued to the window, staring out into the black sky delicately studded with bright stars. The town was asleep. She could tell. In fact it was almost too quiet for her liking. Usually, Sarah would wrap the pillow around her ears to block out the racket being made outside from the ‘groups’ or ‘the guys with the hoods’ as she called them. The drunken teenagers that fall around the town at 1:15 every other night, Sarah never went without hearing them, but tonight, when they usually come, Sarah slept through it, that or they didn’t come at all, which was odd? They scared Sarah more than anything, but today, she hoped the time wouldn’t come; that she was more scared of something else. However she was merely scared of her own thought and she still had no idea what was going on.
The confused girl distracted herself from this reminder and peered down to the gravel below her window, with a clear view of her front door. That was it. She wished she hadn’t looked. But then she was relieved she did. Was it true? Did she really see right? Of course she was right. It was obvious. The answer was right in front of her, Sarah hated to believe it, but she had to. There was a tall elegant shadow looking back at the front door, carrying something, most likely being a large suitcase. Dressed in a long heavy coat and a short tidy bob making the distinct figure obvious, Sarah knew who it was. It was her mother Helen, no doubt about it.