Chapter 44
At the top of the first flight of stairs, Marcus stopped at the large oval picture window. On his way up, Jake stopped momentarily beside Marcus to admire the view. But Marcus wasn’t admiring the view. His phone bleeped.
Jake threw up his hands. ‘Is that all you can think about?’ Someone had better be prepared, because Marcus was on the warpath and heads were going to roll, even if they were the heads of people who sat on the board of directors.
‘Meet me back at the car,’ said Jake. They left Marcus by the window, making his call, Lawrence telling him that it was on the proviso he left the building straight afterwards, and didn’t go just wandering off.
Jake caught up with Lawrence, who appeared in a hurry. Jake recalled that Lawrence couldn’t be away from his post for too long. He did not want to get him into trouble. ‘I have visited before.’
‘Yes, so you told me.’
‘I can find my way from here.’
Lawrence nodded. ‘I’m sure, but even so I must ask Martha if she’s okay to accept visitors.’
Jake raised his eyebrows. The other receptionist hadn’t said that.
‘Or you could ask Arnold.’
‘Who?’
Jake shook his head. ‘Never mind.’ He imagined that as Lawrence didn’t normally venture over to this side of the building, he probably wasn’t aware that Arnold visited Martha every day. ‘I recognise all this – the carpeted staircase and the hallway.’
Lawrence explained how the property had been kept as two separate wings. Apparently, Martha’s family had stipulated that one wing should be kept in its original condition; renovated, of course, but retaining all the original features, so that it appeared almost as it was when she used to live there as a child.
‘It helps with the memory loss to be in familiar surroundings,’ said Lawrence.
Jake nodded. He was aware of Martha’s condition. This wing was very different to the other, more clinical, wing of the house. Lawrence told him that those residents had a bedroom, and common areas, but not entire apartments like this wing.
This part of the house felt much more like a home, albeit a large country manner type of home.
Where Martha resided had the added bonus that visitors could come and go pretty much as they pleased, and take their relatives outside, in their own gardens, in the grounds, or even into Aviemore for a morning or afternoon, and a day trip further afield if they wished.
‘Is something the matter?’ said Lawrence, noticing that Jake was dragging his feet as they approached the bedroom door.
‘No.’ Jake pointed at the door. ‘Shall we?’ Suddenly he wanted to get the visit over with. He was feeling uneasy, guilty even, like somebody about to take a peek at a personal diary; a peek into a private part of someone’s life – Aubrey’s life – that they knew was strictly off-limits.
Jake moved forward, his curiosity leading the way, and stopped in the open doorway, watching Lawrence. Lawrence walked over to the two chairs by the bay window, but Martha was not in the same spot.
Lawrence turned around and looked at his watch. ‘I think she might still be in bed.’
Jake wasn’t surprised. They’d left Lark Lodge relatively early, and the journey there hadn’t been long, even though they’d got a bit waylaid by the conversations with Lawrence. Jake glanced at his hands. He did appreciate the fresh bandages.
He followed Lawrence down a hallway in the surprisingly large apartment and watched him knock softly on the door before entering. Jake had expected Lawrence to tell him to come back later. Instead he beckoned Jake inside the room, and whispered, ‘I wouldn’t normally do this, let people visit before one of our guests has been got up and out of bed, but I get the feeling time is of the essence, and you need to see her now.’
Jake nodded. ‘Thank you, Lawrence.’
Lawrence walked over to a large double bed, and spoke softly to a woman lying flat on her back, covers pulled up to her chin, eyes closed, long dyed blonde hair swept to one side, almost covering that side of the pillow.
Lawrence waved at Jake to come over.
Jake gingerly stepped into the room, expecting Arnold to be waiting for him, but there was no sign of him. Jake stopped at the end of the bed, hands resting on the top of the ornate reproduction iron bedstead.
‘I told her she’s got a visitor. Sometimes they wake, sometimes not.’ Lawrence spoke softly.
Jake opened his mouth, about to ask what was wrong with her – then he remembered. Alzheimer’s. Something was puzzling him. He thought those residents with advanced conditions were moved to the hospice. He voiced his thoughts to Lawrence.
‘Martha gets preferential treatment, at the discretion of the trustees, because her father owned this house. So she stays here, in her own place, until the end.’
Jake nodded. It made sense. She certainly wasn’t dying of old age, but she was dying. Jake noticed her eyelids start to flutter open. This was the first time Jake had actually seen her face. The previous afternoon when he’d visited, she had been asleep, her head tilted on one side, resting on the wing of the chair, which meant that Jake had been unable to see her face through the fountain of long blonde hair that partially covered her face.
He turned to Lawrence. ‘I’ve seen her somewhere before. Before my last visit.’ Jake searched her face, trying to track down the memory. He knew he’d seen photos of her, but it was more than that; he knew he’d seen her in person before. He watched as her eyes opened. First, she looked up at the ceiling, and then she turned her head left and right. Finally, her bright blue eyes, not dulled by time, travelled down the bed to settle on Jake.
‘There you are,’ said Lawrence, offering words of encouragement. ‘I’ve brought you a visitor, Martha.’
‘Martha.’ Jake’s hand tensed around the cold iron metal. ‘I’m afraid you were sleeping when I visited before.’
She was trying to lift her head off the pillow. Lawrence slipped another pillow under her head.
Jake heard the old lady’s tremoring voice say, ‘Ralph – is that really you?’
Lawrence shook his head, and replied, ‘No, Martha, this is—’ Lawrence let out a chuckle and looked up. ‘Say, what is your name, son?’
‘Jake. It’s Jake.’
‘No, you’re Ralph,’ Martha said, starting to get agitated.
Lawrence said, ‘I think it might be best if you return another time. It wasn’t a good idea visiting when she’s barely woken up.’
But she was asleep in her chair the last time , Jake felt like saying.
Jake had no choice but to follow Lawrence out of the bedroom. He took a backward glance, and caught Martha, eyes wide, holding out a trembling hand. He felt terribly sorry for her. She wasn’t that old – in her late sixties, if that.
Back in the lounge, Jake caught sight of the two chairs by the window. He walked over to the window again, expecting to see Arnold sitting in a chair.
He sat in a chair, closed his eyes and rubbed his temples with his fingertips. All he’d wanted to do was hand the two envelopes back, but their contents, the photos, had just raised more questions. He heard Lawrence’s voice in the room next door.
‘That’s right, Martha, you rest a while. You’ve had quite enough excitement for one morning, haven’t you? One of the nurses will be along soon to get you up and give you breakfast.’
This was followed by some low, incoherent mumbling, and calm reassurances from Lawrence. ‘I’m sure he’ll come back soon.’
Jake felt a hand on his shoulder. He stopped applying pressure to his temples and opened his eyes to find Lawrence hovering behind his chair. He looked concerned. ‘Are you alright, son?’
No, I’m not , thought Jake.
Lawrence sat in the chair next to him.
‘When I visited before,’ Jake whispered urgently, ‘her husband gave me these,’ he thrust the envelopes towards Lawrence. ‘She was sitting in this very chair. Her husband was already here, and he must have got her out of bed to see … me.’ Jake caught Lawrence shaking his head.
Lawrence frowned. A rarity with his easy-going, good-natured personality.
Jake noticed. ‘What is it?’
‘You met her husband?’
‘That’s what I just said.’
‘Well, that’s just not possible.’
‘How come?’
‘I’ll have you know that I do not snoop on our guests’ personal lives, but obviously everyone knows Martha – the daughter of the owner and benefactor of Cedar Grove. And I know for a fact that she never married.’
Lawrence said, ‘Whoever visited couldn’t have been her husband.’
Had he said they were married, or was it just something Jake had inferred? Jake realised, now he thought about it, that during the conversation with Arnold over the phone, and when he’d met him, he couldn’t actually remember Arnold saying Martha was his wife – not once. Jake rubbed his temple again, still as confused as ever. ‘So, who was the guy visiting Martha?’
‘Ah, I remember now. Old Arnold,’ said Lawrence. ‘He visited often.’
‘Yes, Arnold Wright.’ Jake looked at him hopefully.
‘Now I’m with you.’
Thank you, god , thought Jake. Things were finally making some sense.
‘Little guy with white hair. Used to be one of her neighbours, I believe, before she moved here. The nurses chat. He had a bit of a thing for her, apparently.’
‘Yes.’ Jake couldn’t hide his relief. Out of interest, Jake asked, ‘Did she have any other visitors?’
‘I don’t know, as I’m on the other reception. But I can tell you this; I’m going to be pricking my ears up if I hear of any tall, slim well-dressed older gentleman visiting Martha.’ He winked at Jake knowingly.
Jake could only marvel at his own short-sightedness. It hadn’t occurred to Jake, when he’d showed Lawrence the photograph, that Aubrey had just lost his anonymity. Jake tried not to think about that. If and when Aubrey next visited his sister, he could bet Lawrence would be watching very closely, and that after more than forty years of carefully guarding his secret, the truth would be out.
Jake tried not to think about that right now. ‘About Arnold – I need to see him,’ Jake persisted. ‘Can you give me an address, or do you know when he plans to make his next visit? You see I need to talk to him about …’ Jake decided not to mention the photos again. ‘About something.’
‘Look, I’m really sorry but …’
Jake anticipated what he was going to say about confidentiality. ‘I know, I know, you can’t give me that information, but it’s really important that I—’
‘No, I can tell you – that’s the thing.’
Jake looked at him perplexed.
Lawrence seemed to be choosing his words carefully. ‘Arnold passed away.’
‘He died?’ Jake thought of that vibrant man who had been sitting in Lawrence’s seat just yesterday. Jake shook his head in wonder at how precarious life was; one moment you’re here, the next you’re gone. Eleanor brushed past him in his memory. ‘He was a picture of health yesterday – what happened? Was it an accident?
‘Yesterday?’ Lawrence repeated. ‘Hold on, I think we’re talking at cross purposes. I assumed you were talking about a visit you made here a while back.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He took sick and died suddenly within a short time of being admitted here,’ said Lawrence. ‘The name escaped me because he was only here a short while, and it was some time ago now.’
‘Some time ago?’ Jake said with a start. ‘How long, exactly?’
‘I’d have to check on my computer – my memory is definitely not what it used to be. A year – give or take; it was around the time I started my new position on reception. Unfortunately, that’s when Martha started to go downhill. Ironic, isn’t it? He was the healthy one visiting her, and then he goes just like that,’ Lawrence clicked his fingers, ‘and she’s still here.’
Jake felt sick to his stomach.
Lawrence looked at him. ‘Hey son,’ he put a hand on Jake’s arm, ‘you’ve gone awful pale all of a sudden.’
Jake got up from his chair on unsteady legs. ‘I want you to go look on your computer – I want to see …’
‘Now look,’ Lawrence got out of his chair. ‘I can’t be showing you confidential records.’
‘Please, Lawrence, this is really important – matter of life and death because …’ Jake really didn’t know how to say this without sounding completely insane. ‘I think I had a conversation yesterday, right here in this room, with a dead man.’
Lawrence stared at him a long moment. Finally, he said, ‘I’ll go and call up the record.’
Jake, who had been holding his breath without even realising it, breathed out and took in a couple of rapid gulps of air before following Lawrence to the door.
Lawrence opened the door and then abruptly halted, sending Jake careering into his back. For an instant, Jake thought he had changed his mind.
Lawrence turned around. ‘Come with me.’
‘Where are we going?’ Jake asked as he followed Lawrence down the hallway in the apartment.
‘Back to her bedroom.’
‘Oh, I thought you said we should return another time, and not visit when she’s barely woken up?’
‘I’ve changed my mind.’ Lawrence looked at his watch. ‘The nurses normally do their rounds now. I’m sure I heard someone else walk into the apartment.’
Jake hadn’t. He’d been too busy getting over the shock that Arnold had passed away.
They returned to her bedroom, pausing by the open door. ‘Ah, good. There’s a nurse in the room giving Martha her daily meds. Let me check that you can stay and see her. I’ll come and get you when I’ve found the record. It’s just she doesn’t get a whole lot of visitors now, not since Arnold …’ he trailed off.
Jake nodded and watched from the doorway as he had a word with the nurse. She beckoned him inside room as Lawrence stepped out. Jake glanced at Lawrence as he walked along the hall and disappeared down the stairs. Jake turned into the room and shut the door. Visions of Arnold leaping out of the chair the previous day and scaring him half to death, with an unrepentant expression on his face that said he knew exactly what he was doing, nearly sent Jake flying out of the room in the belief that with Lawrence gone, Arnold would reappear. Jake decided against closing the door to the apartment. Instead he left it wide open in case he needed to make a quick exit in fright. He was relieved to leave the sitting room and walk down the hallway to Martha’s bedroom.