Chapter twenty-five #2
‘I’ll be honest, part of me thinks, why jeopardise what I’ve got – a solid career with Acorn, regular income .
. .’ He paused, and looked up at me. ‘But another part of me thinks, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The chance to be the one making the decisions, applying everything I’ve learned – and with a team of people I really believe in. Motivated, honest people I trust.’
‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Rosemount,’ I said, thinking of the stories I’d heard of failed businesses, emigrations, immigrations, lost houses, career changes, all recounted with the same ‘ah, well’ attitude by people who’d lived to tell the tale, ‘it’s that some things work out, some don’t, but you have to try. ’
I’d even managed to take that advice myself lately. I’d applied for a couple of accounting jobs, and signed up for a short course in therapeutic dog massage. I’d also Blu-Tacked the phrase Action cures fear to my desk. I told Lewis about the dog-massage course, and it raised a flicker of a smile.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘You’re right, of course.’
‘For what it’s worth,’ I said, ‘I think you’re the man for the job.’ I held his gaze. The familiar determination was slowly coming back. I realised how much he must trust me to show any sort of wobble. Poor Lewis. Who did he have to share this burden with?
‘I can’t think of anyone better,’ I said firmly. ‘Let’s go and find out how you buy a care home. No one’s going to make us sign anything. You can do this, Lewis. You just haven’t done it yet.’
I plugged my phone in; the first song that came up on my Rosemount playlist was ‘Walking Back to Happiness’, one of Eunice Stafford’s favourites.
It felt like a strong start.
Kevin Allison, a specialist business finance broker, did not know that Lewis and I were care-home-buying novices, and even if he sussed us, he barely stopped talking long enough for us to reveal our ignorance.
Once we were installed in his uncomfortable chairs, he embarked on a detailed spiel about financing plans, sweeping us through the legal requirements, the CQC inspection burden (Lewis maintained a dignified silence), staff qualifications.
I found it fascinating, so much that I forgot to be nervous, and instead asked a lot of questions.
Maybe too many questions. I sensed Lewis wasn’t quite as intrigued by asset vs share purchase nuance as I was.
‘Your main challenge,’ Kevin told us, ‘will be securing finance. Lenders require substantial deposits, much more so than for residential properties. Particularly if you don’t have previous ownership experience. Did you have a particular property in mind?’
‘No,’ I said, not wanting to commit to anything. Unfortunately I spoke at the same time as Lewis said, ‘Yes.’
Kevin raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you have a business plan?’
‘That’s underway,’ said Lewis, at the same time as I said, ‘Yes.’
We looked at each other, and I was relieved to see some of the confidence back in Lewis’s eyes. He raised his eyebrows at me, which made his moustache lift too. I had to stifle a laugh.
‘You’ve given us a lot to think about,’ I said. ‘But it’s sounding positive.’
‘I hope so! It’s a tricky sector, but a rewarding one.’ Kevin got up to escort us out. ‘We supply more and more finance for care homes – we’re currently looking for experienced accountants to join our team to meet the demand, if that’s something that you might be interested in?’
A move into care-home brokering? Hmm. But it was the first time in ages that I’d left a meeting without worrying if I’d made a fool of myself – that was surely the magic of trousers that swished in exactly the right point on your ankle.
It was only when we’d got back to the car that Lewis told me a woman had been staring at me as we’d swept through reception.
‘Short hair, pink top? She was waving at you,’ he said. ‘Didn’t you see?’
I shook my head. I’d been too distracted by calming Lewis’ nerves to notice Natasha. What a win.
Once safely back at Rosemount, Lewis and I sat down in his office, and – in a rare violation of his ‘always open’ door policy – he closed his office door.
‘Don’t want to be interrupted,’ he said. ‘Not until we’ve got a solid update to offer.’
We went through my notes and, together, drafted the business plan.
Most of it was easier than Lewis expected; he’d already got a good idea of what due diligence would turn up, and he knew the staff, and the turnover, and the CQC situation.
Running the place wasn’t an issue; finding a deposit for the mortgage was.
‘It’s going to be at least a couple of hundred thousand,’ he concluded. ‘And we don’t know the asking price yet.’
‘I’m guessing you don’t have that stashed under your mattress?’
‘I have some savings,’ he said cagily.
I flipped through Ellie’s notes. ‘Ellie’s found local council grants that we can apply for? Plus funding from charities.’
‘But how long would it take for the money to come through?’ He ran a hand through his thick hair. ‘When Eric makes a decision, he actions it. If he says it’s going on the market, he means next week.’
‘Is there no way you can persuade him to wait until—’ I started, then stopped abruptly at the sound of knocking on the door.
Before Lewis could say, ‘Come in!’ Nigel Callaghan flung it open, and Eunice Stafford entered at pace, with Nigel two steps behind her.
‘Eunice has something she wants to tell you,’ said Nigel, without preamble, then turned to her. ‘Eunice?’
He folded his arms, and sat down in the chair by the door, daring her to leave.
‘Do take a seat, Eunice,’ said Lewis, in such a relaxed tone you’d imagine he and I had just been discussing holiday plans.
Eunice scowled between Lewis and me, but didn’t speak.
‘Fine,’ said Nigel, ‘then I’ll tell them. Lewis, with regard to our conversation the other day, you’ll be very interested to hear what Eunice has been—’
‘No!’ It was almost a squeak. Eunice turned to Lewis, and said, ‘I just want you to know, before I say anything else, that I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Lewis. The bike rides and getting my tea right, and just . . . asking me what I think about things. You’re a gent.’
‘Eunice?’ snapped Nigel.
She glared over her shoulder. ‘I’m not scared of you, Nigel Callaghan. I’ve spent my whole life being told what to do by men, it’s water off a duck’s back.’
‘What’s going on?’ I asked.
‘My inquiries have concluded,’ Nigel said to Lewis, as if that should mean something to him. ‘And the person you need to speak to about the ghost stories, and the missing lightbulbs, and the issues with wiring . . .’
‘Is me!’ Eunice lifted her chin. ‘Me!’
‘What?’ I looked between Eunice, Lewis and Nigel, baffled.
‘I won’t beat about the bush, my son Michael’s made an offer for Rosemount. Cash. He’s gone in with a friend of his, they’re planning to turn it into an HMO, whatever that is. Flats, I assume.’
‘How much?’ asked Lewis.
‘Not as much as you’d think,’ said Nigel. ‘Because, Eunice?’
Eunice’s face twisted.
‘Because . . . ?’
‘Because Michael got me to tell him things he could complain about. For a discount. He made the initial complaints to the inspectors, said it was dangerous. Which it was,’ she added, quickly, ‘you know David Rigg was up to all sorts. Michael said I was a whistleblower, a heroine! But then he made up some of his own, for good measure. Went overboard, if you ask me. I did tell him to stop.’
‘So those stories that were being leaked to the local paper – tell me that wasn’t you?’ Lewis sounded astonished.
Eunice nodded, and now she seemed less confident. ‘Not intentionally, mind. Michael kept asking me, was I warm enough? Did I get decent food? And I suppose I might have been a little bit, well, dramatic.’
Lewis spluttered.
‘I didn’t know what he was up to!’ she protested.
‘It was the first time our Michael had ever taken much of an interest in whether I was comfortable or not. He kept asking about hygiene, and safety, this and that and the other. I thought he was just being caring, looking after his old mum for the first time in his life.’
‘He brought in the mice,’ Nigel added. ‘From Pets at Home. And he messed about with the electrics.’
My eyes widened. ‘The electrics?’
‘He did an apprenticeship,’ muttered Eunice. ‘Years ago.’
Lewis and I exchanged looks. So poor Pam and Ellie were blaming themselves for something that hadn’t been their fault. Or the electrician’s.
‘To cut a long story short, Michael told me that if I played my cards right, and he played his, this place’d be shut and he could end up making a lot of money.’
‘Sawing off the branch while you were still sitting on it,’ said Nigel. ‘You must be so proud.’
‘Did he tell you what would happen to you, when the home was sold?’ Lewis asked.
‘If the house got sold, he said he’d buy me my own place, by the seaside.
I asked him again this week, but he’d changed his mind, said I’d be moving in with him and Mandy.
’ Eunice leaned forward, for emphasis. ‘I don’t want to go and live with Michael and Mandy.
They’ve got this penthouse flat in the middle of Jesmond with no garden and five cats and everything grey.
I can’t stand Mandy and she can’t stand me.
I reckon they’re going to shove me in the nearest, cheapest home, as soon as this place is shut down and he’s got his money, and that’ll be that. ’
‘Goodness me,’ said Lewis, which seemed quite a generous reaction in the circumstances.
‘So, Eunice, you plan to rectify this by . . . ?’ Nigel prompted her.
Eunice glared at him. ‘Did anyone ever tell you you were a bossy bastard?’
‘All the time.’
She turned back to Lewis. ‘Ellie says you’re trying to come up with a plan to stop the home being sold. I can tell you exactly how much Michael and his business partner have offered, if it helps.’
‘That would help,’ said Lewis.
‘And if you need another investor, I’ve got some money of my own.
’ Eunice’s chin hoisted again. ‘I had a little win on the Premium Bonds that I never told anyone about, back in the eighties. It’s been sitting in a bank account ever since, ticking over nicely.
I’d rather chuck it in the canal than let Michael get his paws on it now. The sneaky sod.’
‘I’ve got a nest egg I can throw in too,’ said Nigel. ‘If it would help. At my time of life it hardly seems worth making sensible financial choices.’
I looked at Lewis, who seemed stunned.
‘Really?’ he said. ‘You’d really do that?’
I was reminded of the last scenes in It’s a Wonderful Life when the whole town turns up with nickels and dimes to save the Building and Loan.
(I’d had to extend my frame of cultural reference into Classic Cinema lately.) Of course they’d do this for Lewis.
He was the James Stewart of care-home managers.
‘Christ, yes,’ said Nigel. ‘I’m done with moving.
And I don’t have any family to live with.
Most of us here are in a similar situation.
I’ve spoken to a few people, on the quiet, and they’d rather invest a few bob to see the place stay as it is, under different management.
You seem like you’d make a decent fist of things, why not? ’
‘You’ve done your best for us from the start, Lewis,’ said Eunice. ‘For us. You’ve cared more about whether I’m happy than my own family has. I’m sorry I’ve been part of this trouble you’re in, I was misled. If I can do anything to put that right, I will.’
I thought Lewis was going to cry. Oh, wait. He was. He got a perfect white handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose noisily.
‘Pull yourself together, man,’ said Nigel.
‘It’s a wonderful gesture of confidence,’ I said. ‘And it’s warranted, Lewis.’
Lewis looked at me, as if the doubts he’d shared with me in the car had been answered.
I smiled, encouragingly, and he nodded.
Nigel cleared his throat. ‘And I’m afraid the ghost story was my fault. A misinterpreted comment to that journalist. Thought it might generate interest, not drama. Apologies.’
Lewis made a choking noise.
‘Right.’ Nigel slapped his thighs to indicate that the matter was now closed. ‘Let us leave you to it. Eunice? I believe you’re interested in joining a poker circle.’
She gave me and Lewis a shifty glance. ‘Maybe.’
He made a gallant ‘after you’ gesture at the door and the pair of them departed, leaving me and Lewis to stare in shock at each other.
Had Eunice and Nigel just saved Rosemount?
‘It might not be enough,’ he said.
‘But Nigel says others feel the same. What if we put it to the residents as a proposal? Fees up front? Or something?’ My mind was shuffling figures around, trying to create a framework. ‘At least let’s try.’
‘Is it ethical, though?’
‘Is it ethical to sell a care home to a fraudster?’ I prodded the desk. ‘Call your boss right now. Ask him to delay the sale till the end of the month, so you can put together an alternative proposal, for the sake of the residents.’
‘But . . .’
‘Tell him,’ I said, thinking of the impromptu movie screening in Iris’s room, and Eunice shrieking with joy on the tandem, and Minnie Little pottering in the garden she’d always wanted and never had, ‘tell him that if he really cares about the reputational damage Rosemount is supposedly inflicting on his other homes, the optics of selling off a care home for flats to a man who abuses pet-shop mice will be much, much worse. And, and, hint strongly that one of our residents is well known in television documentary circles. That’s before you get on to the CQC to tell them about potential sabotage. ’
Lewis picked up the phone, then hesitated. A slow smile spread across his face, reaching his eyes.
I was on a roll. ‘And you can tell him that the residents feel that . . . what?’
He was gazing at me with an admiration that made me feel deeply, but not unpleasantly, self-conscious.
Lewis had beautiful eyes. Kind, and emotional. The eyes of a farmer who let arthritic hounds sleep in his kitchen instead of in a stone-flagged kennel.
‘I couldn’t have done this without you,’ he said simply.
‘Oh, you would,’ I said.
But Lewis shook his head. ‘I’ve got to make a call. Can you hang around for ten minutes?’
I lingered outside the door, and from the first words Lewis spoke to Eric, I could tell he’d switched into his business mode. His tone was confident, assured. ‘Eric, glad I’ve caught you. There’s something I need to speak to you about as a matter of urgency.’
I loved it when Lewis talked like that. Although I’d never have told him.