She listened with envy, longing but also with guilt. She loved her nan, and she hated having negative thoughts about her childhood. She grew up so terrified about losing the one person who loved her, she thought being as invisible as she could be was the best way forwards. Had she missed out on living? She was beginning to feel now as if she had, and despite her determination she was being drawn into the web that was the Singers – they were intoxicating, addictive, and she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to be a part of them. For the first time in her life, she actually wanted to try to fit in.
After they had emptied more bottles of wine, and Connor had dragged a reluctant Harriet home – he had to get up at the crack of dawn to see to the animals, after all – the party had finally broken up. Freddie started snoring on the sofa, and Gemma was yawning and having trouble keeping her eyes open, so Pippa chivied them both up to bed. It was the first time that Gemma had been reluctant to do so.
Today she was due to go to the sanctuary to see the cats, as she did every day, then she was driving to the bungalow. The sale was still going through, not exactly at breakneck speed but she needed to continue emptying and sorting the furniture and belongings out. She had so much to do that she had decided, reluctantly, to stay there for the night and visit her nan the following day before heading back. She was finding she missed Meadowbrook when she wasn’t there and as her job had an expiration date, that was dangerous. Making herself stay away for the odd night was a good reality check for her.
She pulled on some old clothes and made her way downstairs. There was no sign of anyone, although the dining room had been cleared as if last night’s dinner hadn’t happened. She wandered into the kitchen, which was again empty, and made a coffee, drinking it quickly before heading out.
When she opened the door to the cats’ home, Jenni, one of the sanctuary workers, greeted her with a big smile.
‘Hi,’ Gemma said.
‘Hi, Gemma, thank goodness you’re here.’
‘Why?’ She didn’t normally get such a warm welcome.
‘I need to give all the cats their flea treatments, and I can’t find anyone to help. Amy isn’t in until this afternoon, Connor is at the surgery, and I don’t know where Harriet is.’
‘Right.’ Gemma’s heart dropped.
Not only was she horribly hungover, but she’d also gone from five-class luxury treatments yesterday to holding squirming cats while Jenni gave them their anti-flea stuff. Not great with her hammering head. Nor were the scratches she endured, nor the shrieking yelps of the cats – although they weren’t being hurt, they obviously didn’t like being handled in this way. Only her Albert stayed still and purred.
Just as they finished, Harriet appeared.
‘Jenni, I’ve just got your text,’ she said.
Despite the late night and the drink, Harriet looked impeccable.
‘Ha, I’ve finished now,’ Jenni said. ‘Gemma helped.’ Jenni smiled again and left.
‘Sorry, I got caught up.’ Harriet looked guilty; Gemma thought she had probably ignored the text on purpose. ‘Are you all right, Gemma?’ she asked kindly.
‘I’m not sure. Some of those cats have really sharp claws.’ Gemma rubbed her arm.
‘Hungover?’
‘Yes, a bit.’ Gemma followed Harriet out. ‘You?’
‘Yes, and Connor’s not happy. I kicked off at him last night for dragging me home and I wasn’t very nice to him, which means I feel dreadfully guilty today.’
‘It was the drink talking, surely?’
‘Yes, of course it was, but I’m not sure what’s wrong with me. I love Connor, I really do, but it’s as if I, oh I don’t know, I sabotage it at times. When I told Connor how I felt about him, he said that we could never be together because he wasn’t enough for me and that I needed the big career and the bright city lights. And I don’t, I know I don’t, but I think I’ve changed my life so drastically to be here, to be with him that sometimes I feel as if I should be doing more than I am. It’s frustration with myself I guess, but I take it out on him, which isn’t fair.’
Gemma was slightly taken aback by this unexpected confession; although Harriet had been more open with her lately, this was another step.
‘Once the hotel’s up and running, don’t you think you’ll have far more to do then?’ Gemma said uncertainly.
‘Yes, of course, but I need to stop stuffing up with Connor. He won’t put up with me if I turn into a harridan at regular intervals. Anyway, I’m not sure why I’m telling you this …’
‘Because I’m here.’
‘Yes, you are here, and so that makes sense. Yes, you seem to be becoming the unofficial Meadowbrook agony aunt.’ Her phone beeped as Gemma felt startled at her words. ‘Right, I’m needed in the office. See you Sunday night – dinner in the pub as usual?’
Gemma nodded. It cheered her up that for the first time as an adult she had a usual.
‘Oh, by the way, thanks for getting Edward here last night. He seemed all right.’
‘I thought so.’
‘I mean, a bit old for her, but then she does like the older man, but not like Mark so, well, fingers crossed …’
She was just about to leave to drive back to Bristol, when the door opened and Fleur appeared.
‘Ah, Gemma, you’re here,’ Fleur said happily.
She was such a pretty girl, Gemma thought, and confident. If Gemma ever had a child, she would want her to have Fleur’s confidence rather than Gemma’s lack of it.
‘Hi, Fleur. I was just about to go. I’ve got to go home for a bit.’
‘Oh, I’m staying all weekend, so I thought I would spend a bit of time with the cats. I do love cats.’
‘Me too.’
‘Dad says the pigs are the best listeners but I think cats are.’
‘I agree, and I also find them quite calming.’
‘You know I get lonely here sometimes and the cats make me feel less so,’ Fleur almost whispered.
Gemma glanced at her; her eyes were downcast.
‘What do you mean? You’ve got your family, Hayley, everyone.’
‘I know, but here’s the thing,’ she sighed. ‘I love being here, more than at home really. My stepdad is so strict, and he always moans about me making a mess, even though I think I’m normal, and Mum always fusses around him, so I prefer it here but then I miss my friends. I wish I knew people my own age here and then I could spend more time here. Does that make sense?’
Gemma nodded. She remembered being a teenager, lonely, insecure. She found it hard to make friends everywhere, so she knew Fleur was nothing like her, but she also knew how much of a struggle being a teenager could be.
‘You know, I reckon if you just went to the village, you’d soon find some people your own age. I mean where do teenagers hang out?’ Gemma asked.
‘Parks, bus stops probably! Parker’s Hollow isn’t exactly full of stuff to do.’
‘Well, not that I’m recommending hanging out at bus stops, but you know if you spend a bit of time in Parker’s Hollow, you might be surprised by how many people your age are in the village.’
‘You know I might just do that. I hardly ever go into the village. Thanks, Gemma, thanks for listening and not telling me I’m being silly.’
‘I don’t think you are.’
As Fleur hugged her, Gemma grinned. Maybe Harriet was right: she was the unofficial agony aunt of Meadowbrook.
Being at home, which she no longer thought of as home, was becoming increasingly depressing – from the moment she pulled up in Pippa’s car and saw the “Sale agreed” sign, to when she opened the front door to a blast of cold, empty air and beyond. She picked up the post, which had piled on the threadbare doormat, and took it through to the kitchen. Although the weather was spring-like, the bungalow was cold and she indulged herself by flicking the heating on for an hour. It was good for the place, anyway, to air it, even if it wasn’t her home anymore.
She sorted the post into piles. Bills, junk
mail and a letter from an old friend of her nan’s who wrote occasionally and, Gemma realised with a pang, didn’t know her nan was in a home now. She ought to reply to her explaining, so she placed that with the bills. She would also read the letter to her nan, which might give her some comfort.
She searched on the Internet for a local firm who would remove all the furniture and dispose of it however they saw fit. Sadly, most of their furniture had seen better days. The sofa was sunken with age, a bit like her nan. The upright chair was OK but dated, the coffee table scratched and old-fashioned, and the sideboard, which was from the Fifties, was possibly the only thing of interest.
Gemma emptied it of old books, photo albums, and other bits and pieces, boxing them up accordingly. She wouldn’t give the photo albums away, of course; they were all she had left of her childhood, her mum’s childhood and her nan. There were her nan’s wedding photos – when she got married, her nan looked a lot like Gemma – and then her mum’s baby photos. She was a cute blonde child, and Gemma wondered how she managed to turn into an adult who would abandon her only child. She wiped tears away, furiously. That was the problem with coming back – emotion got the better of her. She put the albums with the pile of things she was keeping. It was still a very small pile.
She went up to the loft and dusted off some old suitcases. Thankfully her nan wasn’t much of a hoarder, so the loft was pretty empty, and she packed the things she was keeping. She would take them back to Meadowbrook, she decided; then she could get the rest of the house cleared. She needed to say goodbye to it once and for all. She didn’t want to keep coming back and revisiting the emptiness of her life now, without Nan in it.
Her poor nan, she thought as she sat down in the chair, hugging an old patterned cushion to her chest. It wasn’t much to show for a lifetime, was it? She always worried that her nan, who had been in her late forties when Gemma was born, had given up her life to bring Gemma up, and she’d settled for taking care of her grandchild rather than following her dreams. She never remarried after her grandfather died, and when her mum skipped off into the sunset when Gemma was four, her nan devoted her life to her.
Gemma had asked her once if she had prevented her from doing things with her life, and her nan had laughed and said no. She said she loved her grandfather and when he died she didn’t need to meet anyone else. She said that she was happy working part-time in the local post office so she could take care of Gemma, and she said that she missed her daughter but she didn’t know what had gone wrong with her. She put it down to a broken heart and said that one day Gemma might understand that her mum couldn’t cope without him, but that was as far as their discussion ever went. It was painful for them both, in different ways, Gemma guessed, but she never shook the guilt that she had somehow ruined her nan’s life, although she knew they loved each other very much.
It had, in many ways, taken going to Meadowbrook and seeing the Singer family interact for her to see how families worked. And hers, although very different, far too small, too insular, too isolated, was at least full of love. And when she felt jealous about the siblings, about the house, about the life they had, she remembered how much her nan loved her, and she realised she was so, so lucky to have had that. But now it was gone.
She took an afternoon nap in her old bed; her emotions, as well as her hangover, getting the better of her, and when she woke it was dusk. She felt lonely, she was alone, and she missed her nan even more keenly when she was at the bungalow. She wondered if she always would, but the problem was that in some way she was still here, although in others she wasn’t. Dementia was cruel not only to the sufferer, but also to those who loved them.
She was alone. She always thought she would be all right on her own. When Chris dumped her, when friendships slid away because she was too afraid to let anyone fully into her world, she thought she would be OK, but now she wasn’t so sure. Because she didn’t feel very OK and she didn’t know what the hell to do about it. Was it time to let people in? Or had she, in fact, already done so? If, or when, her job at Meadowbrook ended, she knew she would still like to have the Singers in her life. She had come to rely on their friendship, and she had a suspicion that they, especially Pippa, may feel the same about her. At her – real – age of twenty-eight, had she finally realised the value of friendship?
Chapter 19
‘That colour really suits you,’ Pippa said as they made their way down to the pub for their Sunday evening supper.
Gemma basked a little in the compliment. She had felt emotionally drained when she left her nan that afternoon. It had been one of her quiet visits; she wasn’t confused, just not really there. It was as if someone had turned the lights out inside her. The flowers, roses that Edie had cut for her, didn’t even provoke a reaction, the wine gums went unopened and the letter that Gemma read to her nan didn’t even warrant a flicker of recognition in her eyes.
She didn’t speak, she seemed to look right through Gemma, and it had been like talking to a shell as she read the letter and told her all about Meadowbrook and the mix-up with her birthday. She had held her hand, but it was cold to the touch, and as she said to one of the home’s many staff, it was as if her nan had left her body. The carer explained, kindly, that that happened sometimes, that patients would recess into the deepest parts of themselves. Apparently, her nan had been like this for a couple of days. She was relatively healthy, in body but not in mind, and it was heartbreaking to see someone you loved, or even anyone for that matter, this way.
But the minute she got back to Meadowbrook, changed her clothes, put on the lovely new sweater that Harriet had given her, straightened her hair and applied make-up, she became a different person. She was full of grief for her nan, that wasn’t going to go away, but she had learnt to push it into the background – she had to, otherwise she would go insane. She was actually excited to be back at Meadowbrook, relief intermingled with happiness.
‘Thanks, I love it,’ Gemma replied as Pippa linked arms with her. She had long since given up trying to keep her at arm’s-length, of course.
‘Keep up, you two,’ Freddie shouted from where he, Harriet and Connor were striding ahead. ‘I’m so hungry.’
‘Oh for God’s sake, Fred,’ Pippa complained, but they picked up their pace.
They reached The Parker’s Arms just as Gus was parking his car. He and Amanda got out.
‘My nieces?’ Freddie asked.
‘No, simply had to watch something on TV – Game of something.’ Gus looked perplexed.
‘Thrones, Gus, Game of Thrones,’ Amanda said, sounding a bit exasperated. ‘Honey, you’re going to have to stop being an old man, and come to terms with the fact that Fleur is growing up and this is just a horrible teenage, hormonal phase.’
‘Oh boy, don’t mention the word hormones around me.’ Freddie shuddered.
‘She’s full of bloody hormones,’ Amanda said pointedly.
‘I’m sorry.’ Gus held his hands up. ‘I don’t understand teenage girls, and I was just getting really close to my daughter and then suddenly she’s replaced by a monster who doesn’t want to talk to me, answers questions with not even one word but abbreviations, and certainly doesn’t want to be seen with me.’
Gemma’s heart went out to him; he looked so lost. But then, she knew, after her conversation, so was Fleur.
‘It’ll pass,’ Harriet said, and Amanda gave her a grateful smile. ‘We went through it and we came out the other side. Just be as understanding as you can. Being a hormonal teenage girl sucks in many ways.’
‘Please stop saying that word,’ Freddie shouted. ‘You’re nearly putting me off my food.’ He opened the door to the pub and they all followed him inside.
The pub was half-full, as it was normally on a Sunday evening, but as their group walked in, it seemed to go quiet. Everyone turned to stare at them, no one greeted them and, Gemma noticed, as they went to find a seat, all the tables had reserved signs on them.
‘What’s this?’ Connor asked
. ‘Don’t tell me that we need to book now?’
Steve and Issy behind the bar looked uncomfortable as they refused to look directly at Connor. Or at any of them.
‘We’re full tonight,’ Steve said, concentrating really hard on a glass he was polishing.
‘You don’t look full,’ Freddie objected.
‘Well we are,’ Issy snapped. She didn’t seem her usual happy self.
Suddenly, the other customers in the pub became very interested in their own drinks.
‘Hold on—’ Freddie started.
‘No, Fred, if they say they’re full, they’re full.’ Connor took hold of his arm. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
Both Freddie and Harriet looked as if they were going to object, but Connor managed to steer them both out through the door by practically pushing them.
‘What the hell?’ Freddie asked.
‘I don’t know, but arguing wasn’t going to help, I could feel it,’ Connor said sensibly. ‘Whatever is wrong with Steve and Issy, we don’t want to push them.’
‘But I’m hungry,’ Freddie reiterated.
‘There’s a vegetable lasagne in the fridge at the house. Come on, we’ll heat that up and perhaps sort out what on earth is going on,’ Pippa said.
‘Who wants a lift?’ Gus asked as he and Amanda made for the car.
Everyone apart from Gemma ran to get in, but Freddie and Harriet won.
Secrets at Meadowbrook Manor Page 15