So, picture this: a modest lot in a tiny Norfolk village, the Thompsons Mum, Dad and their three kids living a simple, hardup life. Theyve got a few grandkids already, Lily and Ben, the two little ones from Toms side, so the house is always buzzing. One day they decide to take in an old lady, practically a stranger, a distant relative they barely knew. Shes blind, a bit feebleminded, and honestly seems to have slipped out of her own head a long time ago. Its a crazy thing to do, but they go for it.
Theyre not city folk, just rougharoundtheedges countryside people, not the most educated but goodhearted. Instead of sending her off to a care home, they bring her over to their little cottage on the far side of the village, because she cant look after herself at all.
They give her a fresh set of clothes, a clean handkerchief, a proper spoonful of food, and a proper bed. They hang a rug with deer on the wall even though she cant see it and try to make her comfortable. Life goes on: theyre eating cabbage soup, porridge, the occasional packet of instant noodles, sipping tea with a spoonful of sugar, helping her to the loo, changing her duds when needed, and listening to her scatterbrained ramblings in that thin, frail voice of hers.
One afternoon, old Florence Mirza thats the name they gave her, just because it sounded proper blurts out, Theres a thief in the shed! So they rush over, and sure enough, a drunk neighbour is rummaging through the shed, snatching potatoes and cabbage. What a coincidence, right?
A while later she warns, Dont let Rinat go into town! The car will crash! The simple folk trust her, so they stop their sons friend from taking a ride. That friend ends up in a nasty accident, and Rinat wouldve been in the car too if theyd let him go. Its like a little miracle.
She keeps spouting nonsense, though she cant even bring a spoon to her mouth properly. Then she starts begging for a lottery ticket. Her dad drives into the nearest big town, buys one, and guess what? They win a massive pot somewhere between three and five hundred thousand pounds, they say vaguely, just a heap of money. The Thompsons cant quite grasp the exact figure, they just say a lot.
With the winnings they splurge on a brandnew dressing gown for Florence, a tin of biscuits, a gorgeous quilt, and a pretty scarf. Sure, she cant see, but they reckon she sees the world another way, so why not make everything beautiful around her? Everyone dotes on her.
Even though shes forever babbling, forgetting things, cant feed herself, and needs help to the bathroom, she always has a warm smile. She sits on that lovely quilt, in a clean gown and bright scarf, looking like a little doll, rolling her prayer beads, murmuring something gentle in that thin voice, and just nodding her head as if shes content. Its a weird, sweet little saga, isnt it?
