by Katie Ginger
Before Grandad Nigel had come here, they’d looked at other care homes that were unbelievably quiet, more like libraries than places to live, but Cherry Wood was different. Noise, chatter, discussion and, most of all, laughter was actively encouraged. At this time of night, most of the residents were gathered in the large open-plan TV room watching the six o’clock news. Tom needed to hurry if he wanted to get changed before meeting Nell for dinner. After a quick glance at the numerous chairs all filled with older people, some more lively than others, he spied Grandad Nigel, with a blanket over his knees, next to Enid.
Enid, though aged, didn’t look like Godzilla. She was small and a little hunched in her chair with a head of fine, wispy white hair, but there was a vibrancy and life to her voice and a cheeky laugh that carried across the room. Tom could see exactly why Grandad Nigel liked to sit with her. Hiding the flowers behind his back, Tom made his way over.
‘Hello, Tom, love,’ said Enid, as her eyes turned up to meet his.
With a flourish, he pulled the small bouquet from behind his back. ‘I bought you some flowers, Enid, I hope you like them.’
‘Cheeky bugger,’ shouted Nigel, not quite realising how close Tom was. Only a short time ago he’d gone completely blind, but his eyesight had been failing for years. A smattering of wiry grey hair stubbled his chin and Tom made a mental note to get him a new electric razor for Christmas. His old one wasn’t picking up everything and as it was the safest thing for him to use now, he needed a decent one. His grandad had always been proud of his appearance – of his tall, lithe frame that Tom himself had inherited – and Tom wanted him to continue feeling that way. ‘Don’t you listen to him, Enid. They’re from me actually. Paid for with my own money. I told him to get them for you as he’s a florist. After all, you don’t keep a dog and bark yourself.’
Tom bent down and squeezed his grandad’s shoulder. ‘All right, old man, I’m only teasing. I think Enid knew they were from you really.’
Enid gave Nigel a loving smile and Tom wished with all his heart his grandad could see it. Her voice was loud and cheeky and didn’t look like it belonged to her slim figure. ‘I knew they were from you, you silly bugger.’
‘If Tom was going to deliver flowers to anyone,’ Nigel continued, ‘it should be that lovely girl, Nell, he’s friends with. He’s like a lovesick pup when she’s around but he won’t do it. I don’t know why. I’d be perfectly happy to have her as a granddaughter-in-law.’
‘Only because she brings you treats,’ Tom countered. ‘And if you start this again, Grandad, I’m going, and I won’t give you the massive bar of Dairy Milk I snuck in for you.’
Nigel’s eyebrows raised quizzically. ‘Hand it over, boy, before they see you.’ Tom did as he was told and watched Nigel’s tired old hands, shaking with age and exertion, unwrap it and break some off for Enid and then himself. It wasn’t that he wasn’t allowed chocolate. It was that the piggy old boy didn’t want to share any with the other residents. Other than Enid, that was. ‘Oh, lovely,’ Nigel said, savouring the taste. The smell made Tom’s own tummy rumble.
‘Is there anything you need for tomorrow, Grandad? If not, I’ll be off.’
‘Got plans, have you?’
‘Yes,’ Tom said, repressing a sigh. He’d told his grandad several times already that he was having dinner with Nell tonight, but his memory wasn’t what it used to be, and he didn’t need teasing all over again.
‘Get on with you then. And no, I don’t need anything else, thank you, boy.’
Grandad had always called him boy which was quite funny really considering he was now a grown man of 35. Tom gave Nigel’s shoulder another squeeze, bid Enid good night and made for the door. On his way, Tracey, the manager of the care home caught his attention with a wave.
‘Hi Tom.’ Tracey’s permed curls bobbed about as she cheerfully manoeuvred her plump frame nearer to him. ‘Are you still okay to help put up the Christmas decorations next week?’
‘Yes, that’s fine.’ He was quite looking forward to it. The residents of the home would enjoy it and it would be nice to spend a whole Sunday with Grandad.
‘We haven’t got much so it shouldn’t take long. And there’s no budget to buy new ones for this year but we’ll just have to manage. The residents do love a bit of festive fun.’
Tom glanced around at the plain cream walls of the care home. The boring magnolia paintwork was broken here and there with some drab, unspectacular paintings, but apart from that there really wasn’t much life to the decor. Some Christmas decorations and greenery would really brighten the place up. ‘We’ll make the place look great; don’t you worry. See you next week.’
As soon as Tom began the walk down the entrance ramp, he made an involuntary grab for the handrail. Once again, his eyes needed time to adjust to the light. His body wanted to move normally but the message sent from his eyes to his brain was that he wasn’t quite ready to keep going. By the time he got to the van and had the headlights on, he’d reassured himself he was okay to drive, but maybe he’d walk to the Langdon Mansion Hotel anyway. He was probably just overtired and had strained his eyes at work. Yes, that’s definitely what it was. It couldn’t be anything else.
Chapter 4
‘Those pants are literally the ugliest pair of undercrackers I have ever seen.’ Nell stretched out the pair of bright white sculpting knickers in wonder. She could feel the tension in her biceps as she pulled the sides apart to the width of a human body. How anyone could fit themselves into these elasticated torture devices was beyond her, and her arms were on the verge of giving way with the effort. ‘Proper Bridget Jones style. They look so painful, and considering you’re shoving your giant hooves into three-inch diamante-encrusted heels, that’s saying something.’
Cat giggled and sipped a gin and tonic, examining her feet which were undeniably wide for such a petite frame. ‘Mum said I have to wear shapewear knickers on the day. They squeeze all the fat from my bra-line down into my ankles. Between those and the boned corset I’m going to need an external lung. Do you think anyone would notice if I hid an oxygen cylinder under my wedding dress?’
It was entirely possible Cat would strap the one she carried in her gigantic midwifery kit to her thigh. She did that sort of thing. Or at least, used to when they were at university together. But back then it had been more moving temporary traffic lights and stealing cones than adhering things to her person.
Nell looked over the top of the thick waistband. ‘Seriously though, they don’t look very romantic or remotely comfortable. How do you even get them on and off? You’ll be sweating like a pig from the effort.’
Cat sighed and watched the ice cubes bob in her drink. ‘I’m not allowed to be comfortable, apparently. It’s my wedding day. I have to look nice. Comfort doesn’t come into it.’
‘Is that what you want?’ Nell asked gently. Cat shrugged in response.
When she didn’t answer, Nell was dragged into her imagination, running through a scene where she dressed on the morning of her own wedding. In front of an antique full-length mirror that she didn’t currently have, in a giant house she didn’t yet own, she slipped an enormous but beautiful and comfortable wedding dress over flattering silky underwear. Once dressed, she held out her hand like a princess in a Disney movie and admired the ring on her finger. Nothing flash, nothing fancy. Just a small, shining diamond set on a simple gold band. Perfect.
She longed to fall as madly in love as Cat. She didn’t entirely mind being single, but it would be nice to meet that person destined for her sooner rather than later. All her previous relationships had been fairly short-term because once the mad, initial romance wore off, they’d fizzled out, unable to live up to her expectations. One day though, ‘The One’ would walk into her life.
A waving hand in her peripheral vision brought Nell out of her dream. Thankfully, she’d had a last-minute booking and had one lovely old couple staying in the hotel. ‘Evening, Mrs Limstock,’ Nell called. ‘Is there anythin
g I can get you?’
‘No, we’re fine, thank you, Nell. Having a lovely time.’
‘I’m so pleased to hear it. But do let me know if you’d like anything at all. I can make you another drink or find you some nibbles if you’re hungry.’
‘No, no. Honestly dear, we’re fine.’
Relaxing back into her chair, Nell picked up a cup of tea and took a sip. She was meeting Tom at the Langdon Mansion Hotel as soon as this planning meeting was done and would have a drink there. The lovely Zoe was covering reception for the night. ‘What does Kieran say?’ Though he was incredibly happy at the prospect of gorgeous, outrageous Cat becoming his wife, surely even he couldn’t stand idle while Cat’s mum railroaded her into having the wedding of her dreams, rather than Cat’s.
Cat ran a hand through her long, pink hair. ‘I haven’t actually told him about it.’
‘Why not?’
‘I just didn’t see the point. He’s busy with work and when we talk about wedding stuff, I want it to be fun and nice. If I told him about Mum, he’d get cross, and I don’t see the point in starting World War Three before we’ve actually made it down the aisle.’
This was exactly what Nell had expected. She didn’t have time to disagree with her though, as the woman herself walked in. Brenda’s coat rested over her left arm while in her right hand she waved a plastic folder – the dreaded wedding file. From the corner of Nell’s eye, she caught Cat leaning forward.
‘Before she can hear us, I’ve booked the caterer for tomorrow. Mum’s got a thing so we can meet him on our own.’
Nell watched her normally crazy, vibrant friend shrink back into her chair. ‘Hi, Brenda,’ Nell said, standing for the obligatory air kiss.
‘Hello, darling.’ She pretended to kiss Nell’s cheeks then turned her attention on Cat. ‘Come on sweetheart, stand up and give me a kiss.’ Reluctantly putting her gin glass down, Cat stood and did as she was told before flopping back down into the chair. ‘So, where are we with the wedding plans? I’ve brought my file. Where’s yours?’
Cat, who had by now picked up her glass again, took a big slurp and pointed at Nell: her walking, talking wedding file. Nell grinned while Brenda pinned her with a death stare. Unsure what else to do, she wiggled her fingers in a wave. It didn’t go down well.
‘Huh.’ Brenda adjusted her shirt. ‘It’s a good job I’m here, isn’t it? How you think this wedding is going to organise itself I’ve no idea. Especially as you’ve set such an impossibly short timescale.’ Cat glanced at Nell in defeat. ‘I hope you’re going to make this place extra Christmassy, Nell. I know you love Christmas, but we want something really classy, don’t we, Catherine?’
‘Yes,’ Nell began. ‘Cat and I talked about it the other day and I’ve been making a list of supp—’
Brenda thrust out a hand to silence her and nearly hit Nell in the nose. ‘I’ve timetabled that for later. Right now, I wanted to talk to you about the flowers, darling.’
Though thankful that Brenda had removed her hand (it smelled of floral hand cream), Nell shifted warily. Tom doing the flowers was a given. It always had been. And it was what Cat wanted. She’d said she didn’t want anyone else touching her wedding bouquet and had been clear on that from the start, but Brenda had reservations. Both Nell and Cat had reassured her time and again that Tom, who really had a gift, was the man for the job. Casting a glance at Cat, Nell knew that as the fight seemed to have gone out of her at present, it fell to her to fight Tom’s corner.
‘Are you absolutely sure you want Tom to do the flowers?’ Brenda began without even opening the folder. ‘I know he’s your friend but—’ Cat opened her mouth and Brenda threw out a finger to silence her protests ‘—a male florist? Is he really going to be any good? Generally, men know nothing about flowers or how to arrange them. The last time I asked your dad to put some flowers in a vase it was a disaster. He didn’t even—’
To Nell’s amazement Cat interrupted. ‘Tom’s amazing, Mum. You loved your birthday flowers, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘They were from Tom’s.’ Brenda’s expression perfectly mirrored that of someone who’d misjudged a fart. ‘He’s great and I’m sticking with him. He knows what I want and, more importantly, he knows what I hate. It’s fine.’
Seeing the matter was closed, Brenda flicked open the folder and began thumbing through pages, letting out a sigh that said, ‘Fine, but if it all goes wrong, I told you so’. Nell and Cat both enjoyed the small victory.
A furry grey face and a pair of bright cat’s eyes appeared at the window and Nell went to open it and let the poor creature in. A rush of cold air flew into the room. It was usually a little colder and windier down on the seafront and tonight was no different. The wind had been growing to almost gale force all day and whipped the fallen gold and red leaves around the streets and the pale grey sea into a frenzy.
‘Nell,’ Brenda moaned. ‘Do close that window, please? It’s absolutely freezing.’
‘I’m just letting the cat in.’
‘What cat? You haven’t got a cat now?’
The small, skinny, grey furball hopped in through the gap and jumped onto the floor with an elegant leap. ‘No, I haven’t. I don’t know who this boy belongs to. He started coming in about a week ago and I’ve been all around the block, but no one knows who he is. I think he’s a stray.’
‘Well,’ Brenda bristled, ‘you should take him to the vet or the RSPCA or something. He might be diseased.’
‘He looks perfectly healthy to me,’ said Cat, brightening a little as she patted her lap and the cat leaped up and made himself comfortable. ‘He doesn’t have a collar or anything, does he? And he is quite skinny, poor thing. What have you been calling him?’
‘Mr Scrooge,’ Nell answered with a grin.
For the first time since her mum’s arrival, Cat smiled. ‘Why Mr Scrooge?’
‘Because its Christmas time soon and apart from me, and now you, he hates absolutely everyone. Even Tom. He’s a right old grump and as I’m getting into the Christmas spirit early, I thought it suited him. I don’t know what he’ll be like when I put the tree up.’
‘You’re not going to keep him?’ asked Brenda, horrified.
Nell quite liked having Mr Scrooge around. She had been keeping an eye out for any lost cat signs, but nothing had been put out. She certainly wasn’t going to send him back out into the cold until she was sure he had a home to go to. Nell had already conjured up several scenarios where the cat’s owner – tall, dark and handsome – followed him into the hotel and when he and Nell locked eyes, they instantly fell in love … but so far, it hadn’t happened.
‘Nell?’ Brenda barked as she once again fell into a dream. ‘Are you going to keep it?’
‘I don’t know yet, I might do. I’ll put some posters up and see if anyone claims him. If they don’t, why shouldn’t I?’
Brenda shook her head, her perfectly curled hair holding resolutely firm. ‘What about your guests?’
‘Apart from Mr and Mrs Limstock, I haven’t got any, so it doesn’t really matter right now.’
Cat was the first to reassure her. ‘Things will pick up soon, Nell. Have you upped your advertising like we discussed?’
‘Yeah, as much as I can afford to.’ Nell plonked down into the armchair again. ‘I’ve got a few regulars that have booked again off the back of an offer I emailed out, but no new people. I’ve got a meeting with a firm tomorrow to see if I want a proper marketing plan made up. The thing is, I know what the problem is. It’s the Langdon Mansion.’
Brenda’s head popped up from the file. ‘Oh, it’s lovely there. Very, very expensive. I’ve been told the accommodation and food are absolutely exquisite. And the service—’
‘Mum!’ Cat shouted. ‘You’re supposed to be supporting my friend.’
Brenda adjusted her shirt again. ‘I’m sure this wedding fair will be absolutely marvellous, Nell, if you’ve organised it properly.’
Only Cat saw the almost imperceptible raise of Nell’s eyebrow. ‘I’m doing my best, Brenda. I’ve got all the stall holders sorted, I’ll mention it at the business forum soon and I’ve been marketing it online and all around the local area. Hopefully, people will come.’
‘I’m sure I’ll be able to swing by,’ said Brenda. ‘I might even be able to get some of my friends to come.’
Nell knew that the reason she might attend was more to make the place a socially acceptable choice to all her well-to-do friends who thought of Holly Lodge as a poor substitute for the Langdon Mansion. A flash of annoyance stiffened her spine but with tension radiating off Cat, Nell kept her mouth shut. She took a chocolate biscuit from the plate she’d laid out for them and Cat did the same.
‘Should you be eating that, sweetheart?’ asked Brenda, looking at her daughter from the side of her eye. ‘You want that corset to do up. And I hate to say it, but you’ve been filling out a little recently. I can see it on your face.’ She gently cupped her daughter’s face and affectionately tapped the end of her nose. Cat lowered the biscuit as Nell gulped in a breath ready to fight her friend’s perfectly normal-size corner – and then Cat put the whole biscuit in her mouth in one go. An act of defiance Nell admired and copied, earning her the evil eye too.
After Brenda had harrumphed and turned back to the depths of her file, silence descended, the only noise the blissfully warming crackles of the fire and the slight rattle of the old sash windows in ancient wooden panes. Nell was beginning to worry her outfit for tonight wasn’t going to keep her very warm, but she wanted to look nice and that won over comfort. Before long, Brenda was mumbling to herself, listing all the things they still needed to organise and sort out, Cat stroked Mr Scrooge who had become a tight ball of fur on her lap, and Nell waited for her next set of instructions.