Seven short stories: A dying mother battles to secure a daughter’s inheritance. The daughter of another family seeks peace as her mother’s dementia escalates. A grandmother makes an astonishing decision. Events lead a young woman to doubt the youthful, emotional connection she had with her vibrant grandmother. An elusive memory frustrates a mother of twins. An elderly lady gets the better of a young couple. Suddenly a child’s future is under threat.
Hopefully the story situations will resonate ― because of familiarity, or because there’s a sense of that’s what it can be like for some people, or because I never thought of that or because of unfinished business.
Winfreda turned to writing in retirement, after a long career in the helping professions followed by many years working in public sector environments in Scotland, Northern Ireland and Australia. Fiction is her joy as a writer using the pen-name of Winfreda Donald. Her reading is wide-ranging with a preference for family-oriented stories, some adventure, historical fiction, biography and works around the lives of authors and the art and science of creativity.
Time with family and friends is treasured.
Excerpt from Memory Rings True:
In this story about a ring, my Grandma plays a special part and I've woven her uniqueness through the fictional sections.
Not all parts are true but they could have been. Several of the incidents happened almost like they are told even though very differently separated in time.
There was a ring. There was a reiki session and Grandma did appear to me as I've recounted in the tale.
A singular and very dear lady.
MISCELLANY: Where is home and other stories
Suddenly Grandma appeared, like in a waking dream. I was calm but also excited to see her. She was half-turned-away, looking back over her left shoulder. My concentration was fully on her, willing her to turn around but she did not. And would not, I could tell. Her blue hat had a narrow turned-up brim. She was so clear and very, very real; but only shoulders and head, that was all. She looked around fifty, stylish as always. But her expression puzzled me ― not happy, not angry, not sad; no sense of disapproval. . . . Could it be disappointment? Disappointed in me ― or someone else ― or an event? Something was not quite right. This wasn’t the Grandma I knew. She would never leave anyone wondering about anything. It felt very odd.