A Place of Hope

by Anna Jacobs

  When the doorbell rang, Emily went to answer it. She didn’t open it wide, just stood in the narrow gap and said curtly, ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m from the local council. We have reason to believe that you’re concealing a runaway lad who is in care. We need to speak to him at once.’

  She didn’t hurry to answer, wondering what best to say. As she opened her mouth, she heard someone coming towards her and turned as Chad joined her.

  ‘Do you have ID?’ he asked the visitors, his voice cooler than she’d heard it before.

  Both men began to fumble in their pockets.

  Chad waited beside Emily, his face expressionless, his arm round her waist.

  ‘You’re just wasting time!’ Mrs Corrish snapped. ‘You know perfectly well who I am and you must have realized I’d bring back people with the right to search for Toby.’

  Emily studied the men’s IDs and nodded. ‘Do come in.’

  They entered the hall, but Chad stepped in front of Mrs Corrish, barring the way. ‘You haven’t shown us any ID yet, nor do we know what right you have to enter this house.’

  Her face went bright red. ‘That must be obvious. I’m Toby’s carer.’

  ‘So you say. I thought you were the group supervisor.’

  ‘It’s the same thing.’

  ‘It doesn’t sound the same to me. And we still want to see some form of identification.’

  ‘I don’t need to produce ID since you know who I am.’

  ‘We’ve not seen any official proof of the position you claim to hold.’

  Oliver came down the stairs and walked across to join the group. His words showed he’d been listening. ‘You do need to produce some ID, Mrs Corrish. My client doesn’t take kindly to people pushing their way into her house, as you tried to do last time.’

  She fumbled in her handbag, muttering to herself, then went through the bag again. ‘My ID card is at home. Kevin Hansford will vouch for me.’ She indicated the worried looking man standing in the hallway.

  ‘That’s not good enough, I’m afraid.’ Oliver smiled at her and closed the door in her face, ignoring the yells, the sound of the doorbell and then the knocker. He turned to the two men. ‘Mr Hansford. Mr Pointer. Nice to meet you again.’

  He offered his hand and they could do nothing but shake.

  ‘I think it’d be better if Mrs Corrish joined us,’ Pointer said. ‘She is, after all, Toby’s carer.’

  ‘Supervisor, not carer,’ Oliver corrected. ‘He seems to me to be functioning at a high level for someone with Down syndrome and I’m sure he looks after himself physically.’

  ‘You know him?’

  ‘I’ve met him here a few times. Miss Penelope used to have him round to tea.’ He looked at Kevin. ‘Toby was always very hungry, and sometimes upset by the way Mrs Corrish had been treating him. As his social worker, I’d have expected you to do something to change his situation.’

  ‘I wasn’t aware till recently. But I’m working on it now, which is why I’m here. Um . . . you’ve seen him since she died?’

  Emily spoke. ‘Rachel and I have. He was hungry and very upset when we saw him. We gave him food. But he ran away when Mrs Corrish came to the house. He seems terrified of her.’

  ‘You don’t know where he is now?’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘Mrs Corrish is sure he’s hiding here. We really do need to see him and get his side of the story.’

  ‘After which you’ll send him back to that woman while you look for new accommodation? He’ll only run away again, and I don’t blame him.’

  Kevin sighed. ‘You know what it’s like.’

  ‘You two can look round the house, but not her,’ Oliver said.

  ‘She isn’t coming inside without a police warrant after her rudeness to me last time,’ Emily put in. ‘And I sincerely pity anyone in her care.’

  ‘She claims that you’re suffering from dementia and have also escaped care,’ Pointer said, staring at her as if it was true.

  Emily looked at him in astonishment. ‘How would she know anything about me? I’ve only met her twice and until recently, I lived in the south.’

  ‘She says your nephew is looking for you because he’s worried about your safety.’ His eyes flickered to Chad then Oliver.

  ‘I can’t think how that woman ever got in contact with my nephew. I’ve certainly not told her anything about my family.’

  Both visitors looked surprised.

  ‘You should ask her how she came by this information,’ Oliver said. ‘This is starting to look like harassment by the nephew. For your information, my client was in hospital after an accident that left her in a coma, but she is not suffering from dementia and never has been. She’s now fully recovered from the accident and—’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Let me finish. Fully recovered and in view of her nephew’s . . . concerns about her health, has voluntarily been checked by a geriatric specialist, who also found no signs of dementia.’

  Kevin looked even more unhappy. ‘I’m sorry to be troubling you, then, Miss Mattison, and I do apologize for the misunderstanding.’

  ‘Ms Mattison.’

  He smiled wryly. ‘Sorry. Ms. My partner prefers that form of address, too. I usually remember.’

  ‘What on earth does that matter?’ the official said. ‘We need to see Toby. Surely we don’t have to get a warrant to search the house for him?’

  Oliver waved one hand in a gesture of encouragement. ‘No need for a warrant. Go ahead and look round.’

  He looked even more suspicious. ‘Don’t you want to accompany us?’

  ‘Why should we? I trust Kevin and I’m sure he’ll keep an eye on you, Mr Pointer. I gather Miss Penelope showed you round once or twice, Kevin.’

  ‘Yes. It could be a lovely old place if it was looked after. That barn is wonderful.’ He looked at Emily. ‘If you’re sure it’s OK? Right then. This way, Mr Pointer.’

  ‘Shouldn’t someone go with them?’ Rachel worried once they’d left.

  ‘No. Let them fumble their way round. It’s a confusing house.’ Oliver grinned. ‘I don’t care if they get lost.’

  ‘Someone should keep an eye on Mrs Corrish,’ Chad said.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Oliver said. ‘But I’d love a cup of coffee.’ He moved to stand by the window. ‘She’s on the phone. I wonder who she’s speaking to.’

  ‘Probably stirring up more trouble,’ Rachel sighed. ‘It’d be nice simply to settle down for a while and deal with this house. Emily and I both love those renovation programmes on TV. And antique shows.’

  ‘I have a few pieces of antique furniture. They belonged to my grandmother,’ Oliver said. ‘They’re in storage because my wife preferred modern stuff, but I couldn’t bear to part with them. I’ve been going to get them valued.’

  ‘I could do that for you and—’ Chad stopped, looking surprised. ‘I keep saying things that make me suspect I have some connection with the antique business. It’s as if I’m looking through a curtained window and the curtains are growing more transparent all the time. But I don’t feel I have a wife. Not now, at least. I don’t get the faintest sense of any emotional attachment to a woman in my previous life.’

  ‘Let’s hope you’re right about that.’ Emily smiled at him. ‘I wonder how our visitors are getting on.’

  ‘I should think they’re very hesitant to poke around too much without the Corrish woman to urge them on,’ Oliver said smugly. ‘Kevin’s a great bloke, really. Just a bit hamstrung by lack of facilities for someone like Toby. And his partner’s been unwell for months. She’s due to have a baby soon and there are complications.’

  ‘Poor thing. I was sick all the time when I was pregnant, which is why I only had one.’ Rachel shuddered at the memory, then shrugged her shoulders. ‘As if you want to know that. Going back to Toby, perhaps if he could get a job he might be better off? Why hasn’t he done that, or at least worked in a sheltered workshop? He knows his tasks here well enoug
h, so could obviously learn a simple job.’

  ‘Lack of work round here, or sheltered workshops. I wonder . . .’ Oliver looked thoughtful.

  ‘Wonder what?’

  ‘If he knows anything about gardening. Or would like to learn. I could do with some help to keep my place in order till I sell it.’

  ‘And I could do with some help to get this place in order.’ Emily’s voice softened. ‘I’d be happy to employ him. Giving people hope, Penelope said. I’d like to do that, Oliver. I’d like it very much. Maybe if you help us, I could start with Toby.’

  ‘You can’t do anything till we’ve sorted out the legal situation for yourself.’

  She sighed. ‘No. I keep forgetting that.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘I wonder what those two are doing.’

  Kevin led the way round the house, hesitating at the back when he found the outer doors locked. ‘We’ll have to go and get the keys.’

  ‘Someone should have come with us,’ Pointer said sourly.

  ‘We’re disturbing their day. They’re not going to be happy to see us. Why should Toby come here anyway, now the old lady is dead? He doesn’t know these new people.’

  ‘But that lawyer said he’d seen him here.’

  ‘Yes, and that Toby ran away.’

  ‘Mrs Corrish is a hard worker. She keeps the group house immaculate.’

  ‘She’s more concerned with that than with letting the occupants move in and out of society.’ Kevin sighed. ‘It’s not easy, but Toby—’

  ‘She says he’s a trouble maker.’

  ‘Toby? No, he isn’t. He’s a nice young fellow who wants something more stimulating to occupy himself with.’

  Pointer scowled. ‘Well, this isn’t getting that door open.’

  ‘I’ll go back and ask for a key.’

  Left on his own, Pointer began to walk up and down the barn-like room. When a breeze ruffled his hair, he swung round, expecting to see Kevin returning and the door open. But the door was still closed.

  Another breeze lifted the debris in the corner and swirled round him, throwing dust in his face.

  ‘What the hell—?’ He edged backwards, annoyed with himself for feeling nervous, but unable to help it. This place made him feel uneasy.

  When a faint glow began to shine in a corner where there were no light fittings, he turned and fled back to the main house, nearly bumping into Kevin and Chad a short distance down the connecting corridor.

  ‘Something wrong?’ Chad asked.

  ‘No. Just . . . Well, it felt a bit spooky in there. Why would there suddenly be a breeze? And a light.’

  ‘I can’t imagine where the light came from, but I know what you mean,’ Chad said. ‘The old barn has definitely got a spooky atmosphere. A lot of these old places are like that. Anyway, I’ll open the doors for you and you can look round outside.’

  ‘You could show us round.’

  ‘If you want. But I don’t know the place very well myself, yet.’

  Pointer moved outside, waiting for Chad to join him. ‘You’re a friend of Ms Mattison, are you?’ Chad didn’t seem to have heard, was wedging the outer door open with a big stone.

  Kevin said in a low voice, ‘I can show you round the outhouses, Mr Pointer. I’ve been here before. No need to trouble anyone.’

  ‘You stay there by the door, Kevin. Just in case Toby tries to slip back into the house. I’m ready, Mr . . . what is your surname?’

  ‘Oh, just call me Chad.’

  Pointer frowned at this. He didn’t intend to let any tricks like those just played spook him. They must have been tricks. Things like that couldn’t happen without human assistance.

  The social worker shrugged and leaned against the outer wall, raising his face to the weak sunlight.

  Pointer followed Chad around the back yard, opening every cupboard door in the old buildings, looking round suspiciously every now and then.

  But there was no sign of Toby.

  ‘Satisfied?’ Chad asked. ‘There are no other buildings.’

  ‘I suppose so. But Mrs Corrish won’t be. She’s convinced Toby came here, says there’s nowhere else he could go.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know about that. I’ve only just arrived.’

  ‘Close friend of Ms Mattison, are you?’

  ‘None of your business.’

  Pointer blinked his eyes in surprise, saying nothing else as they went back inside.

  Chad locked the outer door. ‘Let me show you out, gentlemen. I think you’ve disturbed Ms Mattison enough for one day.’

  Mrs Corrish bounced out of the car and hurried across to them as they came down the steps. ‘Well?’

  ‘No sign of him,’ Kevin said.

  ‘Did she show you round?’

  ‘No. We went round on our own, then Chad joined us for the rear part.’

  ‘They’re making fools of you. Don’t listen to a word she says. I have it on very good authority that she’s losing her marbles, which is why they’re so protective of her. As for this Chad person, he claims to have lost his memory and says he has nowhere else to go. He’s using that as an excuse to cosy up to her. He wants to get his hands on all this.’ She waved her hand at the old pub.

  Kevin frowned. ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘A friend of mine told me. Miss Mattison’s relatives are worried about her. My friend is helping her nephew and sister by keeping an eye on things. He’s a private investigator, that’s how seriously they’re taking this. It seems Miss Mattison was all set to sell this place at a profit till these people intervened. She’d have had enough money to be looked after comfortably for the rest of her life. Why would she change her mind about that so suddenly?’ She answered her own question. ‘It’s these people she’s met. They’ve persuaded the poor old thing to act against her own interests. You should do something about that. You’re a social worker.’

  ‘It’s none of my business. Ms Mattison isn’t my client. But she doesn’t seem like a “poor old thing” to me.’

  ‘You’re a typical bureaucrat. Close your eyes and stick to the regulations. Don’t lift a finger to stop people robbing an old woman blind.’

  Kevin moved a few steps away from her, throwing her a look of disgust.

  Pointer glanced from one to the other, shaking his head. ‘Well, there’s not much more we can do here if there’s no sign of Toby. As Kevin has pointed out, he is our client, not Ms Mattison.’ He turned to the social worker. ‘I have other work piling up. Let me give you a lift back to the offices.’

  As they drove out of the car park, Kevin twisted his head to look behind. Mrs Corrish was on the phone again. Who was she ringing and about what?

  Who was telling the truth here?

  He sat lost in thought, thanked Pointer for the lift when they got back, and decided to make a couple of phone calls himself.

  Not till later, though. After he got home. After he’d thought this through.

  You could sometimes achieve a lot more by acting informally than formally.

  Twelve

  George and Marcia arrived back at his mother’s house and went upstairs to freshen up before joining her for tea.

  His mobile phone rang as he was about to go back down. ‘I’ll take this call first.’

  ‘I’ll wait for you.’

  He was already speaking, his back turned to her and didn’t seem to have heard what she’d said. Marcia hesitated then stayed where she was. It was hard to find out exactly what he was doing, so she eavesdropped whenever she could.

  ‘This Mrs Corrish actually rang you?’ George sounded surprised. ‘She’s been inside the place?’

  He fell silent, listening intently, nodding occasionally. ‘Good, good. Looks like she could be useful, then.’

  Whoever it was certainly had a lot to say, Marcia thought, keeping very still and trying not to attract her husband’s attention.

  ‘Mmm. Well, thank you for calling so quickly. We must make sure my aunt doesn’t mess things up this time, poor old thin
g. She doesn’t realize how the coma has affected her judgement and brain. She had no idea how to deal with business matters even before this, so I’m trying very hard to protect her now that she’s so vulnerable.’

  He listened again. ‘Are you sure they’re all staying with her? The lawyer as well? Why on earth would he do that? I don’t like the sound of it. They’re taking advantage of her. If you can find out anything about them . . . Well, I’ll pay whatever it takes within reason, but I’ll want daily updates.’

  He ended the call and turned to see Marcia still standing in the doorway. ‘I thought you’d gone downstairs.’

  ‘I couldn’t help overhearing and I am involved in this, so I need to know something about what’s happening.’ She took a deep breath and burst out, ‘You’re going too far, George. Your aunt isn’t losing her memory and judgement, you know that.’

  He grabbed her by the shoulder and squeezed hard. ‘Did we not agree that I would deal with the business side of things?’

  ‘You’re hurting me, George.’

  ‘I will hurt you if you interfere. My aunt has no need of all that money and would just waste it. It’s family money. Penelope was my relative too.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Well, my mother’s first husband’s relative, which amounts to the same thing, since the old hag had no children to leave it to. The money should have gone to my mother, or at least have been shared with her, and then naturally it would come to me.’

  ‘But George—’ She whimpered as his fingers dug in.

  ‘Stop interfering!’ He held on for a moment longer, tightening his grip.

  Marcia was betrayed into a yelp of pain. ‘George, stop hurting me. Please. I won’t interfere again.’

  Only then did he let go, gesturing with one hand towards the door.

  Rubbing her shoulder and trying to fix a smile on her face, she left the bedroom.

  Downstairs, Liz had heard her son’s voice as he answered the phone. She’d intended to switch on the radio, because she hated eavesdropping. But what she heard stopped her in her tracks, one hand stretched out towards the set.

  She froze as his words sank in, and her hand went up to press against her mouth, holding in a cry of protest. She wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t heard their conversation herself. Not George. Not her son.