A LUCKY accident

It was a big decision – perhaps a stroll would help Betty make up her mind

- Linda Lewis

No arguments, Mum. You’re coming to stay until you’re better. I’ll pick you up at…’ Paula paused and I imagined her juggling appointments in her head, ‘…around two.’

When I’d called to say I’d hurt my wrist, I knew she’d ask me to stay with her and David.

She’s been wanting me to move in with them ever since my Frank died, three years ago. The problem is, I’ve lived here for 29 years. I’m not sure I’m ready to leave.

I’m 72, which in the eyes of my 39-year-old daughter makes me an old woman. But I know plenty of people, some much older, who live on their own. They enjoy it too.

Sometimes I wake up expecting Frank to bring me a cup of tea. At times like that, moving in with Paula makes sense. I’ve stayed there before, but only at Christmas, when David’s at home and the children aren’t at school. Even Paula’s committees take a break.

I had three hours before she was due to arrive, so I decided to take a stroll around the park, blow the cobwebs away.

On my way, I met Molly Simpson. ‘What happened, Betty?’ She nodded towards my left arm.

‘Had a bit of an accident,’ I explained.

‘Poor you. Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘No, thanks, I’m fine. I’m going to stay with Paula.’