‘Shall we share one? I’ve got a sweet tooth but it’s not Jurassic-sized.’
‘Thanks goodness you said that. Gran and I always do. You choose.’
He ran his finger down the menu and looked up, eyes shining. ‘Bread and butter pudding. I’ve always wanted to try that.’
I called over the waitress and we ordered. I always thought a person’s choice of dessert said a lot about them. Nik’s was straightforward and simple, whereas Pan came with me and Gran once and ordered a colourful sundae sprinkled with strawberries and hundreds and thousands. Our pot of tea for two arrived and I poured.
‘How was the fair you went to last week, for manufacturers?’ I asked.
‘Interesting but I didn’t feel inspired the way I wanted to. I’m hoping I’ll get that more from visiting toy shops and markets. What I need is inspiration to pass onto our design team.’ He stirred his drink. ‘Were toys a big part of your childhood? I was never much of an outdoorsy sort and preferred staying in with my books and puzzles or plastic safari animals.’
‘I didn’t have many when I was really small,’ I said briskly. ‘Just Teddy and some Barbie dolls from the charity shop. Then I moved in with Gran. I felt like I was living in Aladdin’s cave with the Lego, and play food, the bowling and skittle set…’ We chatted about current trends and how the toy market had changed over recent decades. ‘You should hear Oliver, my flatmate, talk about the toys his parents bought him – he even had an electric BMW for kids in the garden that he could sit in and drive at five miles per hour.’ I sipped my tea. ‘Sorry I didn’t message earlier. It’s been an especially busy week.’
‘No problem at all. I’ve been settling in. So, it’s full steam ahead for Christmas at work?’
‘Getting there… but there’s also other stuff. The phone call I got, when you left… it was my gran. She’d had a bit of bad news.’ I told him about Willow Court closing.
‘Oh, Jess, I am sorry to hear that. I feel for… Alice you said she was called? It’s more than a care home, isn’t it? Or rather, the opposite, that’s actually just what it is – her home. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to be uprooted but with you by her side I’m sure Alice will get through.’
Suddenly I felt warm from tip to toe.
‘Was your Grams in a care home, at the end?’
‘Yes. Grandpa looked after her when the Alzheimer’s started. They still had a happy life. It wasn’t advanced and medication helped. But he died, out of the blue, with a heart attack.’ Nik paused for a moment.
‘You don’t have to go on,’ I said gently as he bent down and stroked Buddy’s head that was now resting by his legs.
‘It’s okay. I find it’s better to talk rather than hold things in.’ He smiled. ‘My grandmother taught me that. There were no secrets between us. Mum and Dad wanted Grams to move in and we managed to persuade her. Grandpa’s death seemed to fasten the pace of the Alzheimer’s and after a couple of years, as a family, we found it too difficult to cope. We were lucky enough to find her a wonderful place. The staff felt like family, by the end.’
‘Willow Court’s like that.’
We sat in silence for a moment. It was ended by Nik’s gasp as the bread and butter puddings arrived. Regimented triangles of baked bread covered a dinner-sized plate, crisped to perfection on the outside and sprinkled with juicy raisins and cinnamon. Baked in custard, there was a generous dollop of vanilla ice cream on one side, and whipped cream on the other. The waitress came back with two pots, one containing a Clementine drizzle, the other made from lemons.
Nik’s eyes widened as he raised his spoon and we dug in, not speaking much until the plate was clean and then we compared the best meals we’d ever had out in our lives.
‘In Canada,’ I said. ‘With Oliver, on a hiking holiday.’ I was so unused to foreign travel that walking through airports always made me feel like a celebrity. Oliver couldn’t get over my excitement at simply checking in our luggage. ‘We were advised to order Caesar cocktails for brunch one morning. It didn’t sound very filling but the waitress winked and said to trust her.’ I shook my head. ‘The drink was just like a Bloody Mary, with a celery stalk in it, but the other garnishes sticking out of it were unbelievable… fried onion rings, slices of roast chicken, and an actual cheeseburger in a bun. It was fantastic!’ But not just because of what we were eating. Away from England, Oliver seemed somehow less tense. We’d got a bit tipsy on the vodka and tomato juice, and as we left the café he took my hand. It felt natural and made me feel toasty warm despite the stiff breeze. I’d almost wondered if we were going to share a tipsy kiss again, like when he first moved in. It was silly really, to think that about a well-established friend. In fact, we’d soon sobered up once we were outdoors, and his fingers slid away. Despite the cheeseburger and chicken, that had left me with an emptiness I couldn’t explain.
‘I’d have loved that! Nothing beats a burger. I had an amazing one in Germany the other week, stacked with avocado and bacon, and topped with a fried egg. I didn’t think I was going to be able to eat for a week afterwards.’
I groaned. ‘I feel like that at the moment. Thank goodness we shared that dessert.’
‘Grams wouldn’t have approved,’ he said, a twinkle in his eye. ‘Grandpa had high cholesterol and she became fanatical about low-fat baking. It’s amazing what she could do with a banana… I mean…’ I chuckled as his eyes crinkled in that appealing way again.
I looked at my watch. ‘Where has the time gone? I’d better get going, Gran will wonder where I am. I imagine you’re itching to get back to your flat and properly examine your new camera?’
‘It’s certainly a beautiful piece, yes – although the block of flats I’m staying in is very quiet.’
The waitress came over and Nik asked if I minded him paying – a way of thanking me for helping him find the camera he’d been coveting for a long time. We finished our drinks and headed back outside into the cold. A wind had got up and Nik turned up his collar. Easily chatting, we made our way back up the high street, stopping for him to gaze thought he window of the umbrella shop. We stopped at the junction, Buddy’s tail going into overdrive as he recognised Willow Court.
‘Right, well, I’d better get to the station,’ he said.
It was only five o’clock. I felt sorry for him going back to an empty flat.
‘This might sound odd, but you’re more than welcome to come with me. Gran and her friends love visitors – but I completely understand if not. In fact, you could probably find a fireworks display near you, I can look on my phone or—’
‘Would it be odd if I said yes? I’d love to, Jess. Thanks. For me travel is as much about the people I meet, as the places, but only if you’re sure – I don’t want to intrude.’
‘Not at all – but I warn you… Gran will expect a scene by scene description of the latest developments in Neighbours.’
We smiled at each other and crossed the road, me feeling excited in a way I hadn’t for a while.
6
‘You managed to find the camera shop okay, then,’ I said as we reached the other side of the road.
‘I asked for directions at the station.’
‘Real human contact?’ I grinned. ‘I’m impressed. Most people use Google Maps.’
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small flip phone. Tiny. Basic.
‘I can only phone or text. I’m not a fan of social media. I leave Junior Magic’s staff – that’s the name of our company – to deal with our online platforms.
I gasped. ‘Haven’t seen one of those for years.’
‘It’s on loan from a museum,’ he said, eyes dancing.
‘Well, they do say size isn’t everything,’ I said, loving the banter. ‘How on earth do you manage without the weather app?’
‘Rain or shine, it doesn’t bother me. I like both.’
‘The calculator?’
‘I’m good at maths.’
‘And obviously you prefer real cam
eras instead of phone apps.’
‘That way I get to put photos in albums. My nephew has got heaps of shots on his phone. Over a thousand. Yet he never looks at them.’
I tilted my head. He was only in his thirties yet his ethos was similar to Gran’s. We rang the buzzer and Lynn let us in. She straightened her glasses as I introduced her to Nik. He shook her hand whilst I signed us in.
‘I haven’t had time to talk to you Jess, not properly, since that email was sent out,’ she said. Her dark eyes looked sunk into her normally sunny round face. As well as working all hours she had a little one at home. ‘It was nothing to do with me. If I’d had my way I would have told each of the residents face-to-face, separately and with relatives present, and—’
I rested my hand on her arm. ‘No one blames you, Lynn and I know it’s not easy for you, either, losing your job.’
Her eyes glistened. ‘Yes. Like family, they are, your gran and the others. Some nights I’ve not slept for worrying over their future. But in some ways… it’s a relief. We’ve had real trouble, over the last few months, recruiting quality staff. It has meant standards have slipped further. Those of us who love it here can only do so much. Without investment in Willow Court’s facilities and team over the last couple of years this place just hasn’t been hitting the mark, especially in the nursing wing.’ She sighed. ‘And not just there – Betty got served fish fingers with beef gravy a few weeks ago, in the canteen. She didn’t mind but that’s not the point. Then I had to get rid of a new member of the team who would leave Phyllis in her room for too long and she missed her lunch several days in a row. Our mantra is that dignity and respect should be at the heart of everything. Anything less simply isn’t good enough.
‘And I’ll miss Alice, that’s for sure.’ She pulled her ponytail tighter. ‘The closure is out of my hands so all I can do is focus on making the next few weeks feel as normal as possible for everyone whilst they plan for the next stage of their lives. Stress won’t do any of the residents any good. And it’s about giving them as big a say as possible about their future. The ones with dementia problems…’ She bit her lip. ‘This whole process could be especially distressing for them, if it’s not handled properly. That bloody email wasn’t a great start.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘Sorry for my French but I’m still fuming about it.’
‘That’s one thing I’ve treasured about this place,’ I said. ‘You’ve always worked so hard, Lynn, to consider people’s feelings.’
‘It has a lovely atmosphere,’ said Nik, looking around.
‘Some of my colleagues, like me, have worked here for nigh on twenty years. In many ways it’s become like a home from home. We’ve talked about what’s happened and reckon the problems started when we moved from being just residential to the extension being built. The owners were ambitious – too ambitious, perhaps – and the council just didn’t come through with the extra funding that was needed to support their new nursing ideas so the company cut corners.’ She sucked in her cheeks. ‘You just can’t do that when it comes to the people with more complex health needs.’
‘It sounds like you’ve been soldiering on for a while,’ said Nik.
‘It must have been tough – the solution being out of your hands,’ I added.
Colour flooded into her pasty cheeks. ‘Thanks for being so understanding. Not everyone’s relatives and friends are. Today I’m emailing out links to the directories for local homes for residents and their relatives to trawl through.’ She rubbed her forehead. Another member of staff called her name and she left us.
I smiled hello to familiar faces in the lounge, to the left. The dining room was to the right. In the middle were a reception desk and the office, plus a small huddle of residents. Betty stood, as usual, wearing her raincoat and carrying her handbag, with fluffy slippers on her swollen feet.
‘It’s not fair,’ she said and glared at us. ‘They’re letting you strangers in but won’t let me out. I’ve got things to do – my Jim will be waiting for his dinner, after a hard day in the video store. And the kids need bathing and bed.’
Nik studied her for a moment. ‘Count yourself lucky,’ he said conspiratorially, ‘it’s cold and damp out there.’
Betty’s face softened for a second, and she stared up at him. Then she reached into her bag. It was empty apart from a doll. She took it out and tucked it under her arm. The staff had given it to her to see if it helped. Betty hadn’t been without it since. With a blank expression she wandered into the dining room, telling no one in particular that strangers had been let in again and turning back once to glance at Nik. He and I walked along the corridor, to the left, past artificial plants and colourful paintings. We reached Gran’s room. I knocked gently and we went in. The carpet could have done with a vacuum and a shelf on the wall looked dusty. Things hadn’t been quite as spick and span as normal, throughout Willow Court, this last year. Gran was asleep in her chair, by the window. Nik and I laid our coats on the bed. I squeezed her arm. She twitched and woke up.
‘Gordon Bennett, I must have dozed off.’ She noticed Nik and sat more upright. ‘Jess, you could have warned me you were bringing a friend! I’d have at least put on a slash of lipstick and my smart striped blouse.’
Nik leant downwards and grasped her hand. ‘Great to meet you – and I love those red trousers. It’s my favourite colour.’
‘You’re Australian? The passenger Jess sat next to on the aeroplane? Just what this place needs – a good-looking sort who can tell us all the gossip about our favourite Aussie soaps.’
Relief infused me. Her smile had returned. She’d looked even frailer since Willow Court’s closing date had been announced. I’d checked with Lynn who said she’d not been eating so I’d called in with her favourite chocolates, but spied them on her bedside table unopened. We walked along to the dining room, nearing the nostalgic school dinner smell that always hung there. Gran waved at Pan and went ahead to join her friends at one of the rectangular tables. Betty accosted Nik.
‘It’s not right that you’ve been let in. I’ve got things to do out there.’
‘How old are your children?’ he asked and gently pulled up the strap of her handbag that had slipped off her shoulder.
She scratched her spiky, cropped grey hair. ‘Ten and eight. A right pair of rascals, they are. I need to get them bathed and to bed.’
‘They are lucky to have a mum looking after them so well,’ he said. ‘What are their names?’
‘Lily and Roger. No one’s children look smarter than mine, in their Sunday best…’ She stared into the past, smiling, rocking to and fro on her heels. I left to say hello to Pan. Alf and Glenda were on Gran’s table as well. Nik was chatting to Lynn now. I couldn’t wait to introduce him to everyone and beckoned for him to come over.
‘Alice tells us you’re from Australia,’ said Alf, interested eyes peering upwards. He squinted and ran a hand over his bald head, noisily breathing. ‘Your ancestors all convicts, then?’
‘Alf!’ Gran gave a glare harder than Betty’s and I waited for Alf to spout the Flat Earth theory that Australia didn’t really exist. Pan couldn’t help laughing. Glenda tutted.
‘Some people say those convicts never arrived and were really murdered,’ Alf continued.
‘Alf’s a fan of conspiracy theories,’ I said to Nik in a low voice.
‘I heard that, young lady,’ he said. ‘You make that sound like a bad thing, when the alternative is to believe that codswallop that man actually walked on the moon.’ He shook his head.
I’d learnt the hard way not to argue these points. He’d done his research and the detail of his viewpoint could go on for hours. A friend of his visited a couple of weeks ago and said Alf had always been interested the popular conspiracy theories, like the ones surrounding the murder of John F. Kennedy, and that his interest in theories had got much stronger since his wife had died.
Nik sat down opposite Alf, to the left of Gran. I sat at the end of the table, in between the two men, my
leg accidentally brushing against Nik’s. For some reason I felt very aware of his physical presence.
‘In answer to your question, Alf,’ he said, ‘no, not convicts – my very law-abiding grandparents, on my mum’s side, emigrated from Finland.’
‘That explains your Viking height,’ said Glenda coyly.
Glenda flirting?
‘Probably, although there’s Greek heritage going right back. Must be why I love olives.’
‘I went to Australia once, with work,’ said Glenda.
‘What was your line of business?’ he asked.
‘I was personal assistant to the owner of a shipping insurance company,’ she said proudly. ‘Our client there lived in the famous Eureka Tower. The view was quite spectacular.’
‘Very exclusive. Lucky you.’
‘But Finland’s beautiful,’ I said. ‘All those lakes and forests… why did your grandparents want to leave, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘Grams hated the cold. Winter temperatures can easily drop to minus thirty. A good summer’s day might hit twenty – low by even the UK’s standards. She was always catching colds.’
‘I had the pleasure of working with Hugh Jackman once,’ said Pan, in her Received Pronunciation tone. ‘He had a lovely accent like yours.’ A firework went off, outside, and Buddy jumped. Pan stroked his head and murmured comforting words. He’d settled at her feet. Buddy always seemed to know which residents were most vulnerable. He’d only just stopped going straight over to Alf each time we visited, as if sensing the widower had gradually become stronger. Alf had moved here after losing his wife eighteen months ago.
‘Couldn’t function after my Maisie went,’ he’d said one day, when Pan was talking about her late husband. ‘I swear, overnight, my heart failure got worse. She helped me get dressed on the days I was feeling dead tired and breathless. And she was a bloomin’ good cook. But most important of all, Maisie was the best company and I loved the bones of her. I’m man enough to admit I get lonely, but she and I always had an agreement – we’d never be a burden to the kids. So moving here was a non-brainer…’
The Winter We Met Page 4