Did I Mention I Won The Lottery? (6 page)

‘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 of 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.

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 and had the best night’s sleep she had slept
in many years.

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’.