Did I Mention I Won The Lottery? by Julie Butterfield Page A

the internal glass door, standing where
she could see across the lobby and into the TV lounge where Gwen
was waiting, sitting with her wheelchair turned towards the main
door.
    Rebecca waved
as one of the staff came to let her in and in seconds she had her
arms around her mum breathing in the familiar perfume that Gwen
hadn’t changed in 30 years.
    ‘Oh Rebecca my
darling, it’s so good to see you,’ and then Rebecca had to submit
to the inspection of half a dozen elderly ladies as they all came
wandering in to say hello to Gwen’s lovely daughter and stroke her
cheek and say how she hadn’t changed and ask after the
children.
    Eventually it
was just her and Gwen and Rebecca wheeled her mum towards the
French windows, firmly closed against the cold day but still
allowing a beautiful view of the large gardens behind the
house.
    Gwen hadn’t
gone into the home unwillingly, although Rebecca often wondered if
she had still been living in Leeds whether Gwen would have remained
at the sheltered home for longer. They had taken a great deal of
time and effort before finding Parklands but the minute Gwen
arrived on an inspection visit she had turned to Rebecca and
nodded, saying ‘this is the one’.
    It was a little
faded and in need of some upkeep. The heating was a nightmare to
get going and the plumbing sometimes shook the whole of the house.
Everywhere was in need of a lick of paint and it had been Rebecca’s
long held concern that it was struggling to keep its doors open in
the current financial crisis. But Parklands had kept going despite
everything. If the heating played up the residents were wrapped in
snuggly warm blankets with lots of hot water bottles; the plumbing
may shake the building but it always eventually produced hot water
and the staff looked after their charges with a care and courtesy
that brought relief to Rebecca’s heart every time she visited.
There was an air of gentility and grace about the place which had
immediately attracted Gwen. It was a lovely old house however much
the paint was peeling and the residents appreciated the spacious
rooms with their intricate architraves as much as the beautiful old
gardens, extensively planted with sweet smelling roses.
    ‘So how are you
my darling?’ Gwen grasped her daughter’s hand and looked into her
eyes.
    Rebecca grinned
back. ‘Good mum, really good.’
    ‘Hmm, you
certainly seem a lot happier than the last time I saw you. Have you
left him?’
    ‘Mum!’
protested Rebecca. ‘Of course I haven’t. But things are -
better.’
    She couldn’t
tell Gwen, just as she hadn’t told Sarah. She had to tell Daniel
first. It was their money. She would tell Daniel and then she would
tell Sarah and Toby and Gwen. And Carol and Susie. She would hand
in her resignation and she would move back to Leeds. If not to the
house she was going to see this afternoon, then another beautiful
million-pound property somewhere in the area. She would move back
to Leeds, visit her mum more and be able to see her old friends far
more frequently. She smiled at her mum who was watching her
shrewdly.
    ‘Yes things are
a lot better mum and I think they’re going to carry on getting
better.’

    After several
very pleasant hours with her mum, countless cups of tea and a round
of ham sandwiches, Rebecca kissed Gwen, said goodbye to all the
other residents, thanked the staff as she always did for their
marvellous effort, noticed that Mrs Wendover the manager was
looking even more tired than usual, prayed that Parklands would
last a little longer for Gwen’s sake and climbed into the taxi that
had arrived to take her to see Beech Grange. She was meeting Annie
there and she had brought the glossy brochure with her which she
pulled out of her bag as they drove. The kitchen looked amazing,
with a vast array of surfaces, a never ending choice of cupboards
and large French doors opening into the garden. It had a huge
central table, ideal for cosy meals with friends and against