Chapter 8
8
Tam
‘What can I get you this evening, Eleanor? Tea, a hot chocolate or some Horlicks?’
The elderly lady gave Tam a look that twinkled in amusement. ‘You won’t get me that easily,’ she said. ‘It’s a slippery slope, I tell you.’
‘So you always say,’ replied Tam with a smile of his own. ‘But have you ever tried Horlicks? I quite like it.’
‘Yes, but it’s fine for you, you’re only young. If I have it, I’ll be drooling, babbling and behaving like Betty in no time.’
‘Naughty,’ chided Tam, but he grinned. Eleanor had such a wicked sense of humour. ‘So, last chance to change your mind, or is it to be your usual eye-wateringly strong black coffee?’
Eleanor dipped her head. ‘I won’t be swayed,’ she said.
‘Fair enough.’
Tam ducked his head back through the door and headed towards the kitchen, still smiling. He always left Eleanor till last on his final nightly round of drinks. There was only an hour left to go before his shift finished and if he was lucky, he’d get to have a chat with her for a while before anyone else needed him. The residents at Chawston House were a mixed bunch. All elderly, of course, but there was no one who made him smile quite like Eleanor did. She reminded him of how his mum used to be before her stroke, so maybe that’s what it was – both as feisty as each other, both determined not to act their age, and both able to argue with themselves in an empty room.
Returning to Eleanor, Tam placed her coffee on the small table beside her chair. Eleanor had already added her nightly bribe to it, not that she needed an inducement for him to stay, but she did it just in case.
‘Jaffa Cake?’ she said, picking up the box.
‘Don’t mind if I do,’ replied Tam, watching her struggle with the packaging. Her hands were twisted now, wrecked by arthritis, but only when she gave up would Tam take over the opening of her favourite treat. He never offered. Tonight, she made it as far as the cellophane wrapper before giving up in disgust.
‘Don’t ever get old, young man, you’ll live to regret it,’ she said.
Tam, who felt every one of his forty-nine years, smiled as he ripped open the packet and offered it to Eleanor. ‘I shall bear that in mind,’ he replied.
It was one of the things which worried him, actually, living the way he did. He’d never been pernickety about his appearance, but even basic maintenance wasn’t so easy now. He worried that, like an old house, the moment he started to neglect it, however slightly, his body would wear its age far more so than it did now.
He checked his watch. ‘Just in time,’ he said, although, of course, there was no coincidence about the timing of his arrival. ‘Shall I switch on the telly for you?’
Eleanor nodded. Gardener’s World had been one of the things which had got them talking in the first place, and now, time permitting, they always watched it together. ‘Don’t tell anyone,’ she said. ‘But you’re my favourite.’
Tam glanced towards the door. ‘Don’t tell anyone, but you’re my favourite, too.’ While it was true that Tam said that to all the residents, in Eleanor’s case, he meant it. He turned on the television and perched on the only other armchair in the room. It wouldn’t do to look too comfortable.
Once upon a time, Tam would never miss an episode of Gardener’s World . Gardening had been his livelihood, and it never ceased to amaze him how much call there would be for a specific plant or a particular colour of rose if it had been featured on the nation’s favourite programme on the subject. Now he no longer had a garden. Nor a television set on which to watch it, but he still liked to keep his hand in. One day those things would change, and he wanted to be ready when they did.
Tonight, he was able to watch for a full thirteen minutes before he got called away by another member of staff. Trish was running late so he was needed to help with the drug trolley. He stuffed another Jaffa Cake in his mouth as he left Eleanor’s room and winked. ‘See you tomorrow, milady,’ he said.
Eleanor waved a hand as if to dismiss a recalcitrant servant and snorted with laughter. She was definitely one of the things which made his job worthwhile. Perhaps the only thing. She was certainly the only one who knew the truth of his circumstances.
Working in a residential care home was not a career move Tam had ever seen himself making, but then a lot of the events of recent years weren’t what he’d foreseen either. Bankruptcy being one of them. He shouldn’t have been so trusting, he knew that now. But hindsight was a wonderful thing, and it was very easy to be wise after the event. Going into business with his best mate had seemed like one of the most logical decisions he’d ever made, at first anyway. His horticultural business had started off small, selling to just a handful of garden centres, but as it grew it had made sense for him and Chris to work together – more manpower, for one thing. But he should have realised that Chris wanted different things than he did. And, when it inevitably fell apart, Chris hadn’t been the one to take responsibility – that had been left to Tam. Chris might have walked away with a bankruptcy label around his neck too, but even that hadn’t bothered him. He was free to carry on, to start up a new business any time he liked. It had been Tam whose conscience wouldn’t rest. Tam who sold his house and everything he owned to pay off his creditors, and even that wasn’t enough. They were small businesses like his; it wouldn’t have been right to let them down. It was the only time in his life he’d been grateful for his divorce – had he still been with Sandra the devastation caused to their lives would have been unimaginable. As it was, Tam had lost everything apart from his integrity, and yet on most days he still thought he had done the right thing.
The job at Chawston House had come about through a friend of a friend, and Tam had jumped at the opportunity – he couldn’t afford not to. It had been a lifeline for a drowning man and without it, things would have been so much worse. And it wouldn’t be forever. In another year or so his debts would be clear and then he could start thinking about saving for his own future. Perhaps he’d even be able to rent a flat, or afford the deposit, at least. After that, who knew? He still had another fifteen to twenty years ahead of him before he could even think about retiring. Not that he wanted to, he still had far too much life to live, but what he couldn’t get his head around was that those years might be spent working at Chawston House, or somewhere similar. The cold wasn’t the only thing which kept him awake at night.
Once Tam’s shift had ended, he finished handing over to Trish and then it was only a matter of minutes before he walked out, bag slung over his shoulder, into the night air. It was nearly eight, time for relaxing and settling down for a few hours before bed. Not for Tam, though; he still had a few things to do before he could turn in.
One good thing about his shift pattern was the opportunity it gave him to have an evening meal. It was a perk available to all staff who were on duty at that time, but not many took advantage of it. Most of them went home to cook, but without that luxury Tam ate whatever was on the menu. Tonight, it had been sausages and mash, with cabbage that was more mush than cabbage had any right to be, and carrots as hard as bullets, but he had eaten it all without complaint. Breakfast and lunch he had to provide himself, but it was surprising how little he could get by on.
Food was something Tam had stopped thinking about – in any pleasurable way, that was; it had simply become fuel. But in every other regard Tam took care of himself as best he could. It had taken quite some time, of trial and error, awkward confrontations and a few heated discussions, but eventually he had found a small gym where the staff were a little more relaxed about security. He was pretty sure they knew why he was there, but he was just as well dressed as any other member and unfailingly polite, so mostly they didn’t give him a second glance. He was able to shower, wash his hair and, importantly, have a shave every night. There was never the opportunity in the morning, but he was lucky – his ginger hair was inclined to curl and his five o’clock shadow was barely noticeable, so he was able to get by with just a cursory wash and brush-up.
His evening ablutions completed, Tam headed towards a small car park where he had been staying for the last few nights. It was nudged in between the buildings down a small side street and wasn’t far away from his work. It was quiet enough, and there was a streetlight too, for which he was always grateful. There was a downside to that, of course, but so far he hadn’t incurred any unwelcome attention.
More than once he had thanked his lucky stars for having had the foresight to buy an estate car and, opening the boot, he clambered inside the spacious interior. His boots came off first, then his jacket, and once he’d stowed both carefully away, he took his uniform from his bag and laid it out so he could fold it ready for the morning. Placing it on the passenger seat ensured it never got creased. He had already changed into his tracksuit at the gym, so now it was simply a matter of climbing inside his sleeping bag.
Five minutes later, with a library book in hand, Tam settled down for the night.