The Cat That Was Bigger Than You

by Fiona Snyckers

  A consortium of developers known as Argyle Holdings had seen a gap in the market and built an attractive, rambling retirement estate on a patch of unused land about halfway between Penrose House and Bluebell Village. The cottages and apartments featured stone cladding – a veneer that made them look as if they had been constructed from the same grey Cornish stone that the older houses on the island were made of. It was a cheap short-cut, but the residents didn’t mind because the estate immediately looked as if it had always been there, instead of standing out as a recent eye-sore.

  The developers kept as much of the natural vegetation, including the trees, in place as they could. Sunset Acres never had the bald, exposed look of a new development.

  An ornamental lake, mashie golf course, and recreation center were planned, and every unit had been sold off plan before the developers even broke ground.

  Now there was a substantial waiting list to get in. Each unit boasted all the modern conveniences, from appliances to double glazing, to state-of-the-art heating. Every room was set up for the convenience of frail or disabled people.

  The entrance to the estate was set back from the main road and carefully shrouded by trees. Fay had walked past it dozens of times, but had only noticed the signboard once or twice. You had to know it was there.

  She turned off the main road and followed the meandering path that led to the gatehouse. To anyone watching, she would have seemed like a casual visitor, but her eyes missed nothing.

  The security here was good. That was one of the first things she noticed. Bluebell Island was a place where hardly anyone bothered to lock their doors and most people left their keys in the ignition when they popped into the shops.

  Sunset Acres offered a level of security not seen anywhere else on the island. The perimeter of the estate was marked by a tall box hedge. It was a feature commonly seen on the island. What wasn’t so common was the steel palisade fence hidden in the middle of the hedge. Anyone seeking to gain access to the estate with a pair of hedge clippers would find themselves meeting a formidable barrier.

  The gatehouse was manned twenty-four hours a day and offered the only access to the estate. The guard greeted Fay in a friendly manner and asked her to sign a guest book. She told him she was visiting on behalf of the Binnie family and he phoned through to the frail-care center to confirm this. Maggie had arranged with her mother for Fay to have access.

  She walked towards the frail-care unit, taking note of the wide, level walkways that provided residents with pleasant strolls, the large duck pond with benches set around it, and the nine-hole mashie course that was clearly in high demand.

  Fay gave her name to an administrator.

  “I’m a friend of the Binnie family. They’ve asked me to speak to the nursing staff who were caring for Mrs. Sophy Binnie when she passed away last night.”

  “Oh, yes,” said the woman. “We’re all so sad about Mrs. Binnie. Her daughter-in-law told us that you would be stopping by. Matron is waiting to speak to you.”

  Fay knew that ‘Matron’ was simply the title given to the supervisor in charge of the nursing staff in British hospitals, but she couldn’t help feeling intimidated. Being sent to Matron made her feel as though she were in trouble.

  The administrator showed her to the matron’s office and left her to knock timidly on the door.

  “Come in!” The voice wasn’t exactly terrifying, but it was certainly no-nonsense. It had a certain authoritative quality.

  Fay opened the door and peeped inside.

  The woman sitting behind the handsome mahogany desk was about fifty years old. She had two name tags pinned to her uniform. One said Sylvia Sale and the other said Matron.

  “Ah, Miss Penrose. Do come in. I’ve been expected you. You have the look of your late grandmother.”

  “So I’ve been told.” Fay never knew quite what to say when people told her this, which they often did.

  “I knew your grandmother well. Her death was a great loss to the village. We weren’t contemporaries, of course, but I had a great deal of liking and respect for her.”

  All Fay could think was that Matron Sale seemed like exactly the kind of person who would have been friendly with her grandmother. They were both formidable women.

  The matron leaned forward in her chair, her eyes alive with curiosity. “Now tell me, Miss Penrose. You’re the lass that is stepping out with the young Dyer boy, aren’t you?”

  Chapter 3

  Color surged into Fay’s cheeks. “What? No. That’s not true.”

  Matron Sale stroked her chin. “Really? How disappointing. I could have sworn I heard something like that. And what’s more, I’ve seen the two of you together.”

  Fay got a grip on herself. “We’re certainly acquainted. I’m not denying that. His father is a particular friend of mine. But David – I mean, Dr. Dyer - is in a relationship with an American woman by the name of Laetitia Poynter. She’s also a medical doctor. As a matter of fact, he is in America visiting her right now.”

  Matron looked thoughtful. “Well … we shall see what we shall see, as my late mother used to say. Please, have a seat.”

  Fay sat in a chair on the opposite side of the desk, determined to regain control of the conversation.

  “Thank you for seeing me this morning, Matron. The Binnie family have asked me to enquire into exactly how their mother died.”

  “That is very understandable. It was a great shock for everyone, including our night staff. But unfortunately, it was just one of those things. Human life is uncertain, especially at that age.”

  “Were you here last night?”

  “No. One of the privileges of being matron is that I don’t work the night shift anymore. My job is largely administrative and supervisory. I have contact with the patients and their families every day, but I no longer do actual nursing. Paperwork and people management are what my job consists of. I left here at about five-thirty yesterday afternoon, as usual. I had seen Mrs. Binnie during my rounds over the course of the day. She was in good spirits and her health seemed to be improving. She was looking forward to getting back to her cottage. She has – had – one of the two-bedroom units with a lake view.”

  “You do ward rounds?”

  “Not as a nurse. It’s more of a public relations exercise. I make sure that all the patients are having their needs met and that they are satisfied with the level of care they are receiving. Sunset Acres is not cheap. I need to make sure everyone believes they are getting value for their money.”

  “And do they? Generally speaking?”

  “Generally, yes. I mean, there are always some complaints. This patient doesn’t like frosting on the carrot cake we serve at tea, or that patient claims that a nurse was rude to her. I investigate every complaint and try to resolve it. My chief concern is that the standard of nursing care should be excellent. The other issues are less important, but they contribute to the patients’ and families’ levels of satisfaction so I do everything I can to make sure the unit is running smoothly.”

  “Who was on duty last night? Who would have had access to Mrs. Binnie’s ward?”

  Matron picked up a clipboard and consulted a form. “The night nursing staff consisted of Meredith Disick and Rowan Court. They are both registered nurses with experience in large hospitals. It was Meredith who found Mrs. Binnie in distress and tried unsuccessfully to revive her.”

  “I’d like to speak to her, if I may.” When Matron nodded and made a note, Fay continued. “What about others who had access to the ward, besides the nursing staff? There must be support staff here.”

  “The cleaning staff went off shift at five o’clock. They left just ahead of me. Aside from them, there’s Mrs. Tribble from the library who brings a selection of books for our residents to choose from every day. Many of them are avid readers. For the frail-care unit, she pops the books into a trolley and wheels that around from ward to ward. She usually arrives around seven in the evening and stays for about an hour.”
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br />   “Who else?”

  “Well, there’s young Penny Sweet from the candy store in the High Street. She also wheels a trolley around, but it’s loaded with candy, potato chips, newspapers, magazines, soft drinks, and so forth. It is very popular with the patients.”

  “We have that in America too. We call them candy-stripers.”

  “Yes, this is similar. Mrs. Tribble and Miss Sweet are both volunteers who have had training in interacting with patients. When they come into the unit, they wear a red-and-white striped pinafore over their clothes so the patients can identify them. I modelled that on the American candy-striping system.”

  Fay remember how amused she had been to discover that the local candy store was run by a family called Sweet. At first, she had thought it must be a brand name for advertising purposes, but it was their real name. The Sweet family had run the candy store for generations. Somehow, it fitted perfectly with everything else on Bluebell Island.

  “What about the Dyers? Do they do ward rounds in the evenings?”

  “They do, indeed. Young Dr. Dyer likes to see his patients first thing in the morning before the surgery opens, whereas Doc Dyer prefers to come in the evenings. The new locum doctor also prefers the evenings.”

  “That’s Dr. Farlow, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right.”

  Fay added this name to the list of people who had legitimate business in the frail-care unit after hours.

  “What about the patients themselves? Do they tend to wander around at night?”

  “Not really. If they are in frail-care or high care, they tend to be bed-bound. Some of them can go to the bathroom by themselves, but they don’t tend to wander around. They all have buzzers next to their beds that they can use to call the nursing staff.”

  “But still – it must happen from time to time that you find patients somewhere that they are not supposed to be?”

  “Oh, definitely. Whenever you are treating the elderly, you will always get some who are confused or disoriented. But the point about Mrs. Binnie’s death is that she wasn’t interfered with in any way. She died of a heart attack. When Meredith heard her gasping in bed and went to investigate, she was alone in the room.”

  “Was that unusual – that she was alone?”

  “Not really. She was in a two-bed ward. It just so happened that the other bed was unoccupied that night. In the high-care unit, all the beds are in one ward, but in frail-care we try to give our patients as much privacy as possible.”

  “I’d like to talk to the nurse who found her and tried to resuscitate her. I’m sure the family would too.”

  “She’s still here,” said Matron. “She was so upset by what had happened that she didn’t go home at the end of her shift. I think she’s speaking to the family now.”

  Matron Sale buzzed the receptionist and asked her to send Meredith Disick to her office when she was finished speaking to the Binnie family.

  A couple of minutes later, there was a knock at the door and a woman entered. She was in her late forties. Her uniform was immaculate, and every hair was in place, but she looked exhausted. She shook hands with Fay and said she had been told to expect her.

  “I’ve just been speaking to the family, but they want me to talk to you as well, which I’m very happy to do. I know what an upsetting time this is for everyone.”

  She took a seat and looked expectantly at Fay.

  “It’s upsetting for you as well, Nurse. It can’t be easy to deal with what you went through this morning.” Fay took a breath. “Can you tell me how often you generally check on the patients during the night?”

  “We check their vital signs when we come on shift at seven o’clock. So, every patient has their temperature, pulse, and blood pressure recorded between seven and eight in the evening.”

  “And Mrs. Binnie’s vital signs were normal?”

  “They were better than they had been, but she still had a slight temperature and her pulse was somewhat rapid. Her blood pressure was slightly high too, but that’s a long-standing condition that she was on medication for. We all believed that she was getting better. What happened this morning came as a terrible shock.”

  “I’m sure it did. And after you’ve recorded their vital signs, how often do you check on them again during the night?”

  “If any patients buzz us, we respond immediately, but apart from that we go around every two hours or so. Each nurse has their own routine. Rowan Court was the other nurse on duty last night. He and I work well together. He usually deals with the male patients and I deal with the women. Mrs. Binnie fell asleep at about eight-forty-five last night and called me at around two in the morning to help her go to the bathroom. I was a little surprised because she had been going independently before then. But the patients sometimes get disoriented during the night. They wake up and think they’re in their own cottages and get confused when they can’t figure out where the bathroom is.”

  “Do you think that could have been a sign that she wasn’t completely well?”

  “In hindsight, yes. But she didn’t complain of feeling ill at the time. I guided her to the bathroom and waited outside the door. Then I guided her back to bed. She seemed to fall asleep quickly after that.”

  “You aren’t aware of anyone else who entered her room during that time?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “What was your first sign that something was wrong?”

  “It was close to five-thirty when I heard thumping noises and gasping sounds coming from one of the wards. I rushed along the passage to have a look. Mrs. Binnie was clutching her chest and gasping for breath. I did everything I could to stabilize her and then to revive her when she went into cardiac arrest. Rowan and I worked together with a defibrillator to try to get her heart going again.” Meredith swallowed hard. “But it didn’t work. There wasn’t even a flicker of response. We recorded the official time of death as five-forty-six.”

  “How often do you have deaths in this unit?”

  “Well … we’re a frail-care unit on a retirement estate. Death isn’t exactly uncommon around here. A lot of our residents are extremely elderly and those that come into frail care are often very ill. For some of them, we provide hospice care to help them to pass on as gently and painlessly as possible. We’ve had two deaths this month already, excluding Mrs. Binnie. Both patients were very elderly, and their deaths were expected.”

  “What do you think happened to Mrs. Binnie?”

  “I think it was a combination of her illness and the medication she was taking. I think the two together were too much for her heart. She had chronic high blood pressure that she had been taking tablets for over many years. It was usually well controlled, but her blood pressure had gone up since her illness. The Binnie women tend to be long-lived, but there’s a history of heart disease there too. I just confirmed that with the family. Mrs. Binnie had been somewhat overweight her whole life. I’m afraid her heart was a ticking time bomb. We’re all terribly sad and sorry about it, but there is nobody to blame – nobody to point fingers at.”

  Meredith’s words stayed in Fay’s head as she went back to Penrose House for lunch. She felt as though she had discharged her duty. She had promised the Binnies that she would ask all the right questions of the relevant people, and she had. Now it was time for Maggie to come to terms with the first real heartbreak of her nineteen years.

  “I don’t see anything suspicious about the death of your grandmother, Mags.” Fay tackled the difficult subject as they were about to sit down for lunch. “I didn’t get any bad vibes from Matron Sale or Nurse Disick. They seem to be conscientious and dedicated women. Sometimes things happen that we have no control over. And sometimes the first step to healing is to accept that.”

  Chapter 4

  Fay was woken the next morning by someone pounding on her bedroom door.

  She sat up in a hurry, sending cats scattering in all directions.

  “What is it? What’s happening?”

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p; Morwen burst into her room in her pajamas and robe.

  “Another patient has died at Sunset Acres.”

  “What?”

  “Maggie just phoned me. She said she was trying to call you.”

  “My phone is on silent. What happened?”

  “A woman called Iona Busby died of heart failure a couple of hours ago. She was being kept in the frail-care unit for observation after a minor procedure that Doc Dyer conducted on her yesterday. She was young, Fay. Like, in her early sixties. Everyone is freaking out.”

  Fay swung her legs out of bed and reached for her own robe. “What does Maggie want me to do?”

  “The whole family want you to go down to the retirement estate and find out what’s going on. Someone tipped them off about this. They’re convinced this has something to do with their mother’s death.”

  As Fay threw on yoga pants and a jacket and slipped her feet into a pair of trainers, she couldn’t help remembering her glib words to Maggie yesterday at lunch. She had assured her that her grandmother had died of natural causes and that the only thing to do was to accept it.

  That might still turn out to be true, but another death at Sunset Acres could not be ignored.

  Fay left the house in a hurry. Morwen agreed to go back to bed for a couple of hours. The night sky was still inky black. Heavy cloud cover meant that no stars or moonlight were visible.

  It was a short walk from Penrose House to Sunset Acres – less than half the distance to the heart of the village. It was a walk Fay had come to know like the back of her hand. She felt as safe walking it as she did in her own garden. Usually.

  Today, in the claustrophobic darkness of the pre-dawn, she couldn’t help feeling uneasy. It was as though something evil were abroad. Who would knowingly cause the deaths of two elderly women? It didn’t seem possible that someone that malevolent could live on Bluebell Island. It was only when Fay heard what sounded like a heavy body moving against the hedge next to her that she remembered that the island had other problems too.