Did I Mention I Won The Lottery? Read online

  Having spent a few wonderful hours in the estate agents she ended up having to hurry along the busy streets to the bank, arriving with cheeks flushed from the joint effects of the champagne and the bitter wind and with the glossy brochures of three beautiful houses tucked under her arm. She was taken into a small side office for her appointment and sank into the chair opposite Luke Brady trying to catch her breath. She had never meet Luke Brady, in fact judging by his age and the spots still scattered across his chin, Luke was undoubtedly still at school when Rebecca had opened her account here several years before.

  But he smiled politely and tried to look interested in the middle aged woman with the wind blown hair and red cheeks sitting opposite him.

  ‘Hello Luke,’ began Rebecca. ‘I take it you are the manager here?’

  ‘I’m your account manager,’ offered Luke smoothly as he straightened his tie. ‘How can I help you today Mrs Miles?’

  Rebecca smiled to take the sting out of her words. ‘Then I think there’s been a slight misunderstanding Luke because I asked to speak to the manager.’

  Luke’s own smile dropped. ‘Mrs Miles…’

  ‘Luke,’ interrupted Rebecca gently ‘I want to speak to the manager of the bank. Today, now. That’s why I’ve travelled from Darlington and that’s why I’m here. To speak to the manager. Please get him for me.’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t…where are you going?’

  ‘The manager Luke. Now, or I will be taking my deposit, my multi million-pound deposit to another bank.’

  ‘Mrs Miles I really can’t … multi-million … please wait!’

  He leapt to his feet as Rebecca sank gracefully back into the chair.

  ‘I’ll just get him!’ he squeaked and shot out of the door.

  Five minutes later Rebecca was upstairs in a much larger office with a coffee in her hand and an older man sitting at the desk opposite. Rebecca had nothing against young men. She had nothing against young men called Luke. But she had no intention of trusting 15.7 million pounds into his hands.

  ‘So I understand this is a lottery win Mrs Miles?’

  ‘Please call me Rebecca. Yes, it’s a lottery win and it should be arriving on Friday morning. It’s an account I use very rarely and I just didn’t want any problems, you know? 15.7 million pounds…’

  ‘Is a lot of money and of course you did the right thing. Now,’ he said efficiently, turning to the screen before him, ‘you obviously won’t have had time to decide what you want to do with it all yet but I imagine you’ll want to make some initial purchases so we need to make sure there is an up to date debit card on the account and we’ll upgrade the limit on your credit card of course and issue you with a new platinum version.’

  Rebecca felt a moment of sorrow for the plain little non platinum card that had made this trip possible.

  ‘I see that the account is in your name only, are you happy to leave it this way? I can see you also have a joint account with us in the name of yourself and Mr Daniel Miles.’

  When Rebecca had taken out the account the children had been small and she and Daniel had been happy. It had never occurred to Rebecca to open an account at a different bank.

  Rebecca chewed her lip. She could imagine the conversation, the bank manager phoning and asking Daniel if he had decided what to do with the 15 million pounds in the account, Daniel wondering what he was talking about, Rebecca explaining that she hadn’t told him yet because … actually Rebecca wasn’t really sure why she hadn’t told Daniel yet but the news needed to come from her and not the bank manager.

  She cleared her throat and leant forward ever so slightly to meet the gaze of the bank manager. His name badge gave no first name.

  ‘Mr Dickinson, I need to know that until I say otherwise the money will stay in this account. I will be moving it into our joint account, of course I will!’

  Of course she would, thought Rebecca firmly. Why wouldn’t she?

  ‘But until I do I need you not to...well I don’t want you discussing the money with anyone. I mean, no-one must know. If Mr Miles phones you…’

  Rebecca shook her head, why on earth would Daniel suddenly take it upon himself to phone the bank and ask if there was 15 million pounds in his wife’s account?

  She sighed, ‘I’m sorry, I’m not being clear, what I mean is…’

  Fortunately, Mr Dickinson interrupted her, raising his hand and smiling reassuringly at the thoroughly confused Rebecca.

  ‘You have our absolute assurance Mrs Miles that your account is totally confidential. No details will ever be revealed to anyone, even Mr Miles.’

  Rebecca smiled and sat back in her seat. ‘Good,’ she said simply. ‘That’s good.’

  She left some time later with a selection of brochures regarding investments, wills, inheritance tax and savings accounts, a vastly increased limit on her little credit card, a new card ordered and with her account upgraded to an all singing all dancing executive status.

  She had seen Mr Dickinson eye the property brochures she had placed on the desk and he added a leaflet about house conveyance and legal fees. She had been escorted to the door and her hand gripped firmly as he assured her of their best attention at all times and finally Rebecca was walking back towards the hotel, the light already fading and the wind colder than ever as she pulled the trench coat around her shoulders and picked up the pace. Stopping only briefly to grab a handful of glossy magazines, the sort that Rebecca normally considered far too expensive for her purse, she was soon back in the wonderfully heated lobby of Quebecs hotel with one of the bell boys catching her eye the moment she entered the door and pressing the lift button for her floor.

  Rebecca ran a bath and relaxed up to her neck in bubbles until she felt the warmth return to her bones and the stress of the day seep out of her skin. Wrapping herself in a fluffy white towel that felt like a cuddle from a loved one, she rubbed her hair dry and ran a brush through it before she gazed critically into the bathroom mirror. She had been pretty once. Now, like most 45 year olds, it was all a little loose. Her hair needed a good cut and not the trim she usually did herself over the sink. It had lost a lot of the rich auburn colour of her youth and was more of a non-descript brown at the moment. Her neck was definitely starting to sag and the laughter lines round the corners of her hazel eyes were more pronounced than they had been a few years earlier. But she wasn’t too bad for her age she mused. Nothing that a visit to the hairdresser and the beauty counter at Boots couldn’t sort out. She shook out all the creams and potions she had bought the day before and tried to remember the benefits of each one. She opened one pot and inhaled the contents. It smelled divine, she could feel it working its magic before it even touched her skin. It was rich and creamy and yet light as a feather. For someone who normally bought her moisturiser from the supermarket with the weekly shop, it was quite a change and closing her eyes she stroked the soft cream across her cheek and relished the feel of it sinking into her tired pores. She dabbed some serum around her eyes, a different cream on her hands and elbows and a squirt of a new perfume across the hollow of her neck. Satisfied, she wandered to the sitting area and took the room service menu from the table. A few minutes later she had ordered a bottle of excellent white wine - at least the person who took her order said it was excellent – together with a fillet steak and salad. She had been asked if she would like some strawberries to follow, the kitchen had received some fresh in that day and Rebecca had decided yes, she would very much like some strawberries to finish her meal. And when the waiter delivered it to her door what seemed like only minutes later he reported to the kitchen staff what a very pleasant lady was in the Robinson suite - and that wasn’t just because she had tipped him £20.

  When Rebecca’s eyes were drooping, in part due to her busy day and in part due to a large glass of white wine, she had gathered all the glossy magazines and house details into a neat pile on the coffee table and slid into the bed with its turned down corner and its wonderful deep nest of a quilt an
d had the best night’s sleep she had slept in many years.

  Chapter 5

  Rebecca ordered room service again for her breakfast. She was making the most of these few days and it was such a change to have her meals delivered to her door each day. She had it set down in the sitting area and then curled up on the settee tucking into her croissants as she took another glance at the estate agents brochures. She had said no to a glass and chrome house which was sleek minimalist and totally impractical. She had said no to a mock Georgian new build that looked exactly like a mock Georgian new build. She had said no to the seven bedrooms overlooking the golf course - she couldn’t imagine anything worse. And she had said no to the farmhouse that came with 17 acres and several barns.

  But she had said yes to the three houses before her. One in particular had caught her eye. It was further out of Leeds than she was thinking but built of the most wonderful mellow old stone. It was set down a long drive for privacy and despite the fact that it had several reception rooms and the most glorious, great big kitchen, it had a warm welcoming air to it that had immediately taken Rebecca’s fancy. There seemed to be a lot of pale cream settees scattered around that Rebecca felt would not suit the average family with children and dogs and a plethora of muddy feet. But Rebecca didn’t have to worry about those things anymore and although she also felt it might be a little large for just her and Daniel, she couldn’t wait to visit. There were two more, similar in style that she would visit tomorrow but this was the one that interested Rebecca. She glanced at her watch. She had decided to get a taxi to her mother’s residential home. It was easily reached by bus but Rebecca had elected not to wait at the bus station in the freezing cold and instead she retired to the bathroom to have another deep luxurious bubble bath as she closed her eyes and dreamt of a beautiful honey stone house within driving distance of Leeds.

  When Rebecca got out of the taxi she knew Gwen had remembered her daughter was visiting that day. Rebecca opened the main door to the house and then rang the intercom on 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 one wall were double glass doors that opened onto an adjoining garden room with a wood burning stove and a collection of lovely deep settees. Rebecca hugged herself, she could just imagine a day like this, with a fire crackling, the smell of casserole in the air, a bottle of wine in the fridge and her friends and family sitting round the table.

  Rebecca looked around the whole house before she spoke to Annie. She looked in every bedroom and every cupboard. She checked every bathroom and looked behind every door. She even looked round the garden and the tennis court at the very bottom hidden behind the apple trees and the garage which was big enough for 4 large cars. She looked in the wood store and the greenhouse where the current gardener propagated the plants. She looked inside the double range oven and opened the double doors of the American fridge freezer. She flicked the switch that dimmed the lights and she flicked the switch that drew the curtains. She flicked the switch that turned on the surround sound and the one that turned on the garden lights. She looked at the state of the art alarm system and the array of switches that set the individual temperature in each room. She looked at everything that Annie showed her saying nothing more than the occasional ‘that’s nice’ and ‘oh yes I see’.

  Rebecca had made up her mind seconds after stepping into the lovely hallway and seeing the warm and welcoming house stretch out before her. But she let Annie show her all these things partly because Annie was enjoying it so much and partly because it gave Rebecca’s reeling senses time to organise themselves. And when they had finally done the whole tour and they were back in the hallway next to the lovely staircase that curved upwards, Annie turned to her with a slight edge of desperation to her voice and demanded, ‘So, do you like it?’

  Rebecca looked down the hall into the lovely bright kitchen and then turned to smile at Annie.

  ‘Oh yes, I like it. I’ll take it please.’

  Annie’s eyebrows shot up to lose themselves in her hairline.

  ‘You’ll take it,’ she repeated.

  ‘Yes, I’ll take it,’ answered Rebecca, as casually as though she had just chosen a new set of towels.

  ‘When can I have it?’

  Rebecca wondered if she should take Annie’s arm, she looked very pale.

  �
�Well, when did you want to...’

  ‘Oh straight away. No point hanging around once you’ve chosen is there? How soon can these things be organised?’

  ‘Well, I think a couple of weeks if everyone is...’

  ‘Oh and I’d like the furniture as well.’

  ‘The furniture?’

  Poor Annie really did look as though she needed to sit down. Rebecca had realised as she followed Annie on her tour, that this house was the product of a great deal of time and effort. It was co-ordinated in a way that only the truly gifted can make a house look and although Rebecca was sure she could manage the same look given time, why bother? She loved the look, pale cream settees included and she had decided it would be far easier to just buy the whole thing as it stood.

  ‘Right,’ said Annie, ‘well of course I’ll have to ask them…’