Did I Mention I Won The Lottery? Read online

  For a moment she saw a little glimmer of fear in Daniel’s eyes. It had been years since he had bothered to accompany Rebecca when she visited her mum but he lived in terror of the day when he might be expected to join her.

  Gwen’s opinion of her son in law had never been particularly high, even when Rebecca had loved him with all of her heart and he had carried the children on his shoulders around Gwen’s garden. ‘Weak’, she would mutter to herself but in Rebecca’s hearing, ‘weak chin, mark my words he’ll let you down’. But Rebecca had told her mother firmly that Daniel was a good husband and Gwen, for her daughter’s sake had kept her opinions mainly to herself. When Daniel began to change and a bewildered Rebecca struggled to find the old Daniel inside the dour man he had become, her mother had never said I told you so, she had merely taken her daughter in her arms and held her tight.

  It was to Daniel’s real chagrin that shortly after they moved to Darlington Gwen had become increasingly more frail and a little forgetful until after a nasty fall in the shower followed by a kitchen fire when she left a tea towel sitting next to a pan of boiling water, the decision was made that Gwen would sell her house and move into sheltered accommodation. She was there for 2 years before reluctantly having to accept that she now needed to spend most of her days in her wheelchair and she moved on again, this time into a residential home, a small private one on the outskirts of Leeds set in an old manor house with a lovely large garden at the back and security gates at the front. That such huge sums of money were spent every week on Gwen’s care hurt Daniel to the core. The fact that it was Gwen’s own money made no difference to Daniel. It would have come to Rebecca as an only child and now it was being eaten into on a huge scale every week, month and year that Gwen stayed there. He hated visiting her. Hated the scrutiny of her sharp, bright eyes.

  ‘How bad is she?’ he asked nervously.

  ‘She’s okay, but I need to visit her. For a couple of days. I’ll see Sarah while I’m there as well.’

  Daniel nodded, patently relieved that he was not included in the visit and Rebecca couldn’t help the little twist of shame as she counted the lies she had told over the course of the day.

  ‘Right,’ he nodded his head in the nearest to sympathy that he seemed capable of these days. ‘Well I suppose it won’t hurt to get a takeaway once in a while. I’ll go choose shall I?’ and he stalked back into the kitchen, leaving Rebecca sitting in her chair counting the hours to her 10.25 train the following morning, her first class seat and the luxurious room waiting for her at Quebecs.

  Chapter 4

  The train was precisely 2 minutes late and at 11.51 Rebecca arrived in Leeds station. The hotel was only a few minutes walk away and Rebecca had very little luggage. She paused at the taxi rank before grinning to herself and continuing on her way. She had won the lottery, not lost the use of her legs and she walked past the rows of waiting taxis and set off in the direction of her hotel. Within 5 minutes she was walking through the main door, held open for her by a smiling concierge, and towards the reception desk.

  ‘Hello, I have a room booked for later, I wondered if I could leave my bag here while l shop a little?’

  Her voice little more than a whisper, Rebecca looked uncertainly at the receptionist.

  ‘Of course, no problem.’

  Taking Rebecca’s name, she consulted the register, ‘You’re booked into the Robinson suite. Check in is at 3.00pm, we’ll have your bag in your room for when you return.’

  Rebecca nodded her head, ‘Right. Good. Thank you. Thank you very much,’ and smiling she turned to walk back through the lovely glass door and out into the bright but cold air of Leeds.

  15.7 million pounds. Like a little mantra inside her head the number seemed to fit in with her footsteps as she walked towards the nearest shopping area. 15.7 million. Oh my God, she had won 15.7 million and it would soon be in her bank. Where should she start?

  A few hours later Rebecca sat in a small café and sipped at a caramel macchiato as she rested her weary feet. If she was going to spend 15.7 million pounds she would have to change her tactics. Despite a first class rail ticket and a luxury hotel plus a few hours of good old fashioned shopping, Rebecca hadn’t even made a dent in her new fortune. Her credit card, her trusty companion, had started to shout with glee when it was taken from her purse but even so, she had spent very little.

  She had visited Boots and allowed an enthusiastic young assistant show her a selection of creams and potions especially for the ‘more mature skin madam’. Rebecca had nodded in agreement when asked if she could feel the softness of the cream on the back of her hand, agreed enthusiastically when asked if she approved of the aroma and casually handed over her credit card when asked if she would like try its powers for herself. Then she had walked past Topshop, continued past Dorothy Perkins, completely ignored Primark, winced at the doorway of Harvey Nicholls, paused at the entrance of Wallis and finally spent over an hour in Debenhams designer department. She emerged laden with several bags and the beginnings of a new wardrobe including a pair of scandalously high shoes, a new handbag and a fantastic trench coat that Rebecca considered to be criminally expensive but which would certainly keep out the freezing Leeds air.

  And now she was worn out and although there was a wonderful trickle of guilt travelling down her spine, when she added everything together she had hardly spent anything. Not when she had over 15 million to dispose of.

  She had spoken to Sarah the previous evening.

  ‘I’m going to hit the shops before I meet you,’ she had confessed to her daughter and Sarah had laughed her lovely rich laugh.

  ‘Oh God mum, it’s about time! Make the most of it. When are you going to see Granny?’

  ‘Well I think I’ll go on Thursday, I’ve got a few things to do Wednesday.’

  ‘What kind of things?’

  Sarah was intrigued and Rebecca couldn’t really blame her. When did Rebecca last have anything interesting to do.

  ‘Oh nothing special. I need to go see the bank, you know what they’re like these days. They want to give you a personal service and your own account manager and it must be 8 years since I stepped foot in the place.’

  Sarah had chortled at the thought of her mum having a personal bank manager.

  ‘Sounds like fun! Then we’ll meet Tuesday evening, I’ll treat you to a pizza.’

  Rebecca had smiled, ‘That would be lovely my darling but it’s my treat and maybe we should go somewhere a bit more upmarket?’

  ‘Don’t be silly Mum, there is nothing more upmarket than a pizza!’ and laughing they arranged to meet at their favourite restaurant on The Headrow.

  Rebecca looked at her watch. It was 3.20 and she decided to go back to the hotel and deposit her shopping bags. She still had several hours before she met Sarah. Perhaps she would have a bath. If the bathroom was anything like the picture on the web site she couldn’t wait.

  The picture didn’t do the bathroom justice and Rebecca had to hold in a little squeak as the polite young man who showed her the room threw the bathroom door open with a flourish. It was bigger than Rebecca’s bedroom at home and was nothing short of palatial, full of marble, fluffy white towels, exquisitely presented toiletries and a bath that just invited her to jump in. The bedroom was large, the settee soft and plump, the bed a field of soft goose down. Rebecca simply nodded her head.

  ‘Very nice,’ she whispered then cleared her throat ‘Yes very nice thank you.’

  She pushed a note into the hand of the young man and then waited until she estimated he had reached the lift before whooping and throwing herself on the bed. Is this what happened when you had 15.7 million pounds, a bed that reached up and enfolded you, making you feel that you never wanted to leave it and a bathroom that looked like a film setting? Rebecca smiled, this was going to be good.

  Wednesday morning found Rebecca dressed in one of her new outfits and sitting in the hotel as she waited for the Lottery advisor to arrive. She was in a small alco
ve above the main reception area, away from the hustle and bustle. A superb stained glass window that stretched the height of the wall allowed a rainbow of light to dance across Rebecca’s face as waited. A small settee and a couple of large comfortable chairs were set around a table decorated with an artful arrangement of flowers. She had ordered a coffee and explained that she was expecting guests. The answer as usual was ‘no problem’ and an assurance that the visitors would be taken to Rebecca as soon as they arrived along with a fresh pot of coffee. If you had enough money were there ever problems wondered Rebecca? If you were staying in the lap of luxury and made a request, did there ever come a time when the staff simply shook their heads and said, ‘sorry Madam, we just can’t do that’?

  She smiled as she thought back to last night. She and Sarah had enjoyed a lovely evening. They had met at the little Italian restaurant on The Headrow they always visited and eaten pizza as Sarah brought her mum up to date with the latest ups and downs of student life. If she had wondered why her mother could afford to be so generous she hadn’t said anything as Rebecca ordered not only a bottle of wine with their meal but then insisted on treating Sarah to several cocktails before ordering a taxi home for her daughter and pushing the money to pay into her protesting hand.

  She had wanted to tell Sarah what had happened. She wanted to wrap her arms around her daughter and tell her that all her problems were over. She didn’t have to worry about paying back her student loan. She could resign from her job in the local pub and her job in the corner shop, both of which she kept so she didn’t have to constantly ask Rebecca for help. She had wanted to tell her daughter everything, but she hadn’t. How could she when she hadn’t told Daniel yet? He must be told first, after all it was their money. So she had said nothing but hugged her daughter tightly and said goodbye.

  ‘Rebecca?’ A tall, thin young man stood before her, an attractive blonde woman at his side, both looking enquiringly at Rebecca as she sat lost in her daydream.

  ‘Yes, that’s me.’

  Rebecca jumped to her feet nervously, almost knocking over her coffee cup. Artfully rescued by the waiter who had accompanied her guests, he ushered them all into seats and then produced another pot of coffee, extra cups and a plate of pretty little cakes before smiling politely and withdrawing.

  Rebecca’s heart was hammering so loudly she felt sure that everyone in the room must be able to hear. What if it had been a mistake after all? What if she had misunderstood something and there was no money, that 15.7 million was not about to be placed in her bank account? How would she explain the mountain of debt now sitting on her credit card? How would she manage to pay it back, what on earth would Daniel say?

  ‘Well Rebecca, congratulations! You’ve won 15.7 million pounds on our lottery. Well done!’

  The voice was discreet enough not to draw any attention but to Rebecca it sounded like a trumpet being blown.

  ‘Really?’ she whispered, ‘I’ve really, really won?’

  15 minutes later even Rebecca had to admit that there was no mistake. Alan had examined her ID and lottery ticket, double checked her bank account details, confirmed that there was to be no publicity and finally declared that the amount of 15.7 million pounds would arrive in Rebecca’s bank on Friday morning, first thing. He advised Rebecca to see her bank manager and made an appointment for her to see an investment specialist who could answer any questions she had about the handling of a large win.

  Alan had also explained that people often worried about the wait, those long days before the money reached their bank account. What if something happened to them, would their family still get the money?

  ‘And will they?’ asked Rebecca curiously. ‘Still get the money, I mean?’

  ‘Oh of course! You’ve won the money Rebecca, we don’t take it away if your circumstances change. But always remember the money is yours and until you make a will no-one is automatically entitled to any of it.’

  ‘Mine.’ Rebecca twiddled her fingers as they rested in her lap. ‘Surely it belongs to my husband as well?’

  ‘Oh no,’ interrupted the blonde who had said very little up until now and whose name Rebecca couldn’t remember. ‘It’s your money Rebecca, it’s not a matrimonial asset so it’s actually entirely up to you to decide what you want to do with the money.’

  ‘Oh.’ Rebecca bit her lip. ‘Not that I wouldn’t … well you know I’m not asking because…’

  ‘Like I said,’ the blonde added firmly, ‘it’s your money, entirely yours and entirely up to you what you do with it Rebecca. You and no-one else.’

  They left shortly after and for a while Rebecca remained on the settee in the corner.

  When the waiter arrived to ask if she wanted anything else she started to wave him away and then jumped to her feet with guilt.

  ‘Oh I’m sorry, how much…’

  ‘It will be added to your account Madam. No problem.’

  Of course there wasn’t a problem, giggled Rebecca, she had just won over 15 million pounds, what could be a problem?

  After going back up to her room to splash cold water on her face and slip on her trench coat, Rebecca set off into Leeds once more. The bank was only a few streets away and she had a couple of hours to while away. She wandered along, her mind whirling as she went over and over the meeting she had just had. There was absolutely no doubt any more. No mistake, no possibility that she had gotten anything wrong. Rebecca Miles would soon have millions of pounds in her bank account.

  She stopped in front of a window and stared. Five minutes later she was still staring. Could she? Could she really?

  She opened the door and looked around to see if anyone was free.

  ‘Can I help?’

  An older lady, smartly dressed in a trouser suit with her hair neatly set, smiled in Rebecca’s direction.

  ‘Yes you can.’ Rebecca walked over and sat at the chair in front of - she leaned forward to read her name badge - in front of Annie’s desk.

  ‘I am thinking of buying a house in this area and I would like you to show me what you have.’

  Having answered a few basic questions for Annie, how many bedrooms, reception rooms etc. they had arrived at the matter of the budget.

  ‘And how much do you have to spend?’ asked Annie.

  Rebecca shrugged. How much did she have to spend? 15.7 million pounds actually. Not that she would spend all of that on a house.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she confided, ‘I suppose it depends on the house.’

  Annie nodded. ‘Yes I understand but if you can give me a starting figure, just so I know what we’re looking at?’

  Rebecca chewed on her lip. How much? She had 15.7 million pounds. How much did someone spend on a house when they had 15.7 million pounds?

  ‘Well, I suppose a million?’ she offered nervously.

  Annie stared at her for a fraction of a second and Rebecca pushed her hair behind her ears. ‘Maybe a couple of million?’

  Annie’s eyebrows shot upwards and although her manner had been exceptionally pleasant ever since Rebecca arrived, Rebecca wondered if she detected a tiny little change in her demeanour.

  ‘Right. A couple of million - do you mean 2 million?’

  Rebecca nodded uncertainly. ‘Well - yes.’

  She wondered if that was enough. Obviously 2 million was enough to buy a house. It was more than enough. But was it enough to spend when you had won 15.7 million? Did people with that kind of money only spend 2 million on a house? Or did they spend less? Suddenly Rebecca wished she had waited a little longer before making this visit. She almost wished Daniel was here, at least he would be able to make a decision.

  Before they left Leeds they had lived in a beautiful stone terrace north of the city. Their money had bought a lot more in Darlington and they had moved into a 4 bed executive detached which Rebecca had hated from the moment she crossed the threshold. In Leeds, although within easy reach of the centre, they had lived in a small village surrounded by good friends. The sort o
f friends who invited you round on impulse for a Sunday afternoon barbecue. The sort of friends you could ask at the very last minute to help you out by collecting your children from school, who sat in your kitchen until late as you chatted and put the world to rights and emptied several bottles of wine.

  She had friends in Darlington, she loved Carol and Susie, their neighbours Elaine and Dave were okay but it had never been the same and her heart had always ached to come back to Leeds.

  ‘Yes 2 million,’ said Rebecca firmly, ‘more if you find the right house but let’s start with 2 million.’

  Once Annie learned that it was a cash purchase with no existing house to sell, Rebecca had quickly been upgraded to a seating area at the back of the shop where she could spread out the brochures that Annie produced across the polished coffee table. A glass of champagne had even been forthcoming as Rebecca reduced the selection down to three possible houses. She made arrangements to see one tomorrow after visiting her mum and the other two on Friday morning before she left Leeds, although the thought of sitting on the train back to Darlington was already depressing Rebecca.