Chapter Eleven
Tuesday, 13th November. Kendric House Kitchen
“Would it be okay if I stayed until the end of the month?” I do a quick calculation in my head. “Seventeen days.”
It’s Tuesday and Haneen’s already taken her daughter to school, now she’s relaxing with a coffee before she has to go to her shop and start work.
“Of course you can.”
“What can I do to contribute? Does anyone need help with anything?” I’m not really skilled at anything except acting.
She sips her coffee and looks at me over the rim of her mug, then suddenly laughs. “Don’t look so worried. You’ll find a way when it’s the right time. I’m just glad you met your granddad.”
Granddad. Another word I’m not used to hearing in connection with myself.
Then out of the blue another question occurs to me. “Haneen? You don’t happen to know a man with lots of long hair and a beard. He’s very tall.”
She wrinkles her brow for a minute. “Not off the top of my head. Why?”
“I met him the other day when I came. He gave me directions. Then I saw him yesterday at The Glyn. He seemed like – I don’t know. An employee or maybe a resident.”
“Is he old?”
I try to picture him again. It’s hard to tell under all that hair, but no. “I’d say young.”
“Then not a resident.” She gives me a penetrating look. “Why?”
“The manager asked him to keep the garden doors shut for safety, but later I saw him and the doors were open.”
“Are you worried he might be putting people at risk? Maybe tell the manager.”
“I don’t want to interfere. It’s just I was curious.”
Again, she seems to study me. “You do care. Even though you only just met these people.”
Yes, I do, and the idea of someone putting them at risk bothers me. On the other hand, the place was stifling hot and part of me was glad to see the door open to let in a little fresh air. Before sticking my oar in, can I be entirely sure who was in the wrong?
In the meantime, I go round Kendric House and introduce myself again to everyone and ask them if they need any help – unskilled help.
Alex is in the ballroom. This is a central room the size of a theatre with very high ceilings and a hexagonal shape. A double staircase curves up from the right and left to meet in a sort of gallery on the first floor. It makes me think of period dramas where royal guests stand at the top to look down on a party.
Alex is halfway up the left staircase, cleaning a blue and light green mosaic panel about the size of a dinner plate. “I’m glad you’re still here,” he says without even looking, as if he has eyes in the back of his head.
“I might be staying for a week or two.”
“See this?” he asks wiping the tiles with a cloth. “I thought it was just a lake, but it’s another blue lady.”
I move to the side so I can see what he’s working on. “Like the one in the stained glass above my door?”
“Not like. The same. We keep finding her in different incarnations round the house. I’m starting to think she has a story.”
Despite myself I’m intrigued. “In what way?”
“Not sure. This house is full of stories and secrets.”
There’s not much I can say to this so after a moment I ask what I came to ask. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Do?” He peers closely at some speck on the wall.
“Do you need any help?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“If you have a delicate touch?”
“Which is?”
“I can explain in a minute, just let me make sure this doesn’t need retouching then I’ll tell you all about it.”
I step back. “I don’t want to take your time, I’m just asking everyone in the house if they need help. Everyone had been really helpful. I’ll talk to Llewellyn next.”
He pauses, his hand still on whatever delicate task he’s doing. After a moment he says in a different tone. “Don’t worry about it. If I need help I’ll ask.” And he goes back to whatever he was doing.
Have I offended him?
“Ok.”
He doesn’t say more and I walk away feeling a little uncomfortable.
On my way to The Glyn, I stop at a shop in the village to buy biscuits. Bill said he didn’t like chocolate bourbons, but what does he like? I wish I’d thought to ask. So to be on the safe side, I buy four packets: Digestives, Hobnobs, shortbread fingers and ginger nuts.
Before even seeing the biscuits, Bill is delighted to see me walk through the doors of the games lounge. He welcomes me with a hug. A wonderful grandfatherly hug, which makes up for the professor’s cold shoulder.
Even his friends, Deniro, Gethin, Vanessa and red-haired Shirley are all excited to see me. The only exception is Mrs Jenkins the trolley lady. When she arrives with the tea and sees me, she scowls.
“Aren’t you going to offer our guest a cup?” Gethin wheels himself closer to me.
Trolley lady says nothing, but the tea she pours for me is the same tasteless hot liquid as before. She gives me a stony glare, as if challenging me to complain to her boss.
“It’s not the good brew, my dear.” Gethin leans closer to whisper into my ear. “But we daren’t say anything. You never know she might spit in our dinner as payback.”
“Stop looking down the young lady’s blouse, you old rascal,” Deniro says sharply.
My neckline’s not particularly revealing, not unless you’re leaning over to stare. But I do up another button on my shirt, anyway.
“She’s Bill’s granddaughter,” Vanessa tuts. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Give over. As if Deniro doesn’t have a stack of Hello magazines in his room to stare at when he’s in bed.
To change to subject, I ask, “Why are you called Deniro?”
“I’m not. My name is Robert Dixon.”
“Doesn’t he look like Robert Deniro, though?” Shirley asks.
Now they mention it, he does. It’s that slightly sardonic eyebrow lift and big intense eyes and a wicked smile. Over his head, behind the window, something catches my eye. A movement, a shape.
It’s Welsh Hagrid in the garden behind a hedge and he’s looking at us. Eventually he turns away. How odd.
“Come and sit here.” My grandfather points to the chair on his other side. “You can’t trust Gethin. He might have one foot in the grave, but he’s still got some growing up to do.”
True, Gethin has been ogling my chest all afternoon, but he’s harmless. He doesn’t bother me half as much as Hagrid watching us from outside.
I move to sit beside my grandfather, and as soon as trolley lady is gone, I open my bag and bring out the biscuits hoping at least one of them is to Bill’s taste.
As it turns out, the biscuits are to everyone’s taste. They fall on them and leave the chocolate bourbons on their sad paper napkins.
Everyone wants to know about Kendric House, so I tell them what little I know about the people who live there. “Haneen and Evan are wonderful, I’m not sure the others like me much.”
A mistake. Because Bill instantly becomes worried. “Who doesn’t like you?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, really. They just don’t know me.” When he still looks worried, I tell him about my awkward chat with Alex.
Llewellyn, too, at the Business Hub, turned down my offer of help.
He just pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and became quite awkward.
Shirley, on my grandfather’s other side reaches for another HobNob which she dips into her tea.
“That’s your third,” Gethin wags a finger at her. “Don’t take advantage of the girl’s generosity.”
“What do you know about generosity?” She flaps a hand
“I’m the most generous man here.” He starts and is interrupted by everyone laughing.
“You?” Deniro asks. “You’d peel an orange in your pocket so you don’t have to share it.
When they’ve finished bickering, Bill turns back to me. “Why are you worried about this chap up a ladder? You offered help, he didn’t need it. That’s fair enough.”
“Alex had been quite friendly. But suddenly he wouldn’t look at me. He just spoke to the wall and gave me the brushoff.”
“No, my dear,” Bill shakes his head smiling.” It was you that gave him the brush off. He was trying to flirt with you and you told him you’re ging to offer the same to everyone.”
Deniro agrees. “He fancies you.”
“I didn’t want to be rude to him.”
“He’s a big boy.” Grandad pats my hand gently. “Oh my dear, dear sweet girl. this can’t be the first time you’ve had men hit on you.”
“He didn’t hit on me. Not in any obvious way. I wanted to be polite but you know at arms-length. And he helped me a lot. Now that I am staying longer at Kendric House I don’t want to be rude. Maybe I should try to talk to him.”
“Just leave it.”
“I wanted to apologise or say something to make my feeling clear.”
“They’re clear, he got the message. You forcing a conversation will only embarrass him. Just leave it. You do worry a lot. What is it? Do you think people will turn their backs on you if you upset them?”
“Men can be very strange when they like a girl.” Vanessa crosses her elegant legs; she’s wearing nude shimmer tights and nude heels. “Some are all over you, others avoid you. The ones that have deepest feelings are the ones who can barely talk to you. Isn’t that right Bill?”
“You should have seen my son.” Deniro puts his teacup down. “Confident as you like until he liked a girl then he turned into a lump of wood. I thank the lord a woman finally set her mind on him and chased him, or he’d still be a bachelor.”
“See, it’s what happens to some of us,” Gethin explains. “When we see a beautiful woman and we’re not allowed to fancy her. We get all tied up.”
“When have you ever been tied up?” Shirley slaps his hand away from the HobNobs.
Just then, there’s a little commotion outside the door in the hallway.
Trolley lady, on her way back from dispensing dishrag water, has stopped to remonstrate with another woman.
“You’ve always been a thief.” Trolley lady is actually quivering with rage. “I’m going to report you, and you know what that means.”
The lady with fluffy white hair, I remember from earlier because she tried a couple of shortbread fingers. She’d thanked me and gone to another room. Now she’s red faced and clearly upset.
“How dare you accuse me of stealing?” Despite the strong words, her voice shakes.
“I dare. You’re a greedy pig is what you are. Give’m back.” She tries to take something from the lady who steps back through the doors into the room where we’re all sitting. Her movements are awkward because she’s also trying to hold on to her walking stick.
Shocked, I look around. Surely someone will stop her, but no one reacts.
Trolley lady follows her in. “Give’m, I said.”
The lady holds her hand behind her back, but she’s visibly scared. I get up and start towards them, hoping to say something to divert the argument.
“What’s up?” Welsh Hagrid suddenly materialises from somewhere.
“Flaming Philomena,” trolley Lady spits. “She broke into the supply cupboard.”
“Never.” Philomena shakes her head so much I’m worried she might make herself dizzy.
Hagrid looks from one to the other. He actually towers over both women.
I hurry over in case he and trolley lady gang up on the frightened Philomena. At the very least, I’m a witness.
“They’s for managers only,” trolley lady continues. “She’s always stealing food.”
“No.” Philomena sees me and points with her hand. The one closed over whatever it is she’s been accused of stealing. “She brought them as a gift.”
“Show him.” Trolly Lady lunges forward, but Hagrid lays a hand over her arm, stopping her.
“Make her open her hand.” Trolley lady fumes.
There’s no need. Philomena has her palm open on a broken fan-shaped shortbread biscuit from the packet I brought. I hadn’t seen her take any, in fact I hadn’t noticed her at all, or I would have offered
“I didn’t steal anything,” she says, voice wobbling.
“She’s telling the truth,” I tell them. “I brought these for my grandfather and he offered them around.”
Welsh Hagrid’s eyes settle on me for a moment, then he tugs on the sleeve of trolley Lady. “Come, Mrs Jenkins. Let’s leave them.” It’s the same calm uninflected voice I heard him use before.
Mrs Jenkins gives me a venomous look. “Shouldn’t be allowed, people bringing biscuits and demanding more tea.”
Even though it’s none of her business, her strong accusation makes me answer. “I paid for these myself.”
“What if everyone starts wanting the same? We can’t provide. You must tell Cynthia.”
Hagrid has an unreadable expression as he ushers her out of the room.
“It’s not cheap that stuff,” she continues to grumble. “If she wants to treat her relative, then take him out.”
She drags her trolley behind her and moves out of sight. Hagrid lingers and watches me take Philomena and lead her towards our table. Good. Let him see that this scared old lady isn’t completely friendless.
Everyone welcomes her warmly. Deniro moves his seat to make room for her.
Shirley hands her own teacup to Philomena.
When I turn to find Hagrid, he’s gone. “Who was that man?”
Deniro glances towards the door. “Do you mean Raff?”
“Does he work here?”
“He’s a handyman and sometimes helps out.”
“Raff’s alright,” someone else adds
But I’m still watching the door, expecting him to come back.
“What’s the matter?” Granddad Bill asks.
I turn back to them. “I don’t know. I met him when I first arrived and he seemed nice, helped me find Kendric House.”
He must hear the unfinished thought and prompts, “But…?”
I twist the hem of my jumper, unsure how to explain my worries. “Yesterday, I overheard the manager tell him to keep the terrace doors locked for safety. He did lock them while she was there, but later, I saw him again and he had the door open.”
“Oh, Cynthia is a killjoy. Some of us like stepping out on the terrace.”
Deniro is watching me. “You don’t trust him?”
“I’m probably being silly. All that hair makes him a little scary.” I laugh to diffuse the little tension that still clenches my shoulder blades together. It’s not easy to explain why he seems to prey on my mind so much.
The others find it funny and keep questioning me. I can’t help feeling they’re not taking this seriously at all. Yet, without any evidence one way or the other, I can’t make them see it my way. An hour later, when I say goodbye, Deniro jokes, “Mind you don’t run into that hairy Raff on the way.”
Philomena holds my hand and mumbles, “Thank you, dear. You’re very sweet.” Her eyes shine with tears.
She reminds me of a physics teacher at my school, unpopular not only because everyone hated physics, but because she was a bit clumsy and tended to knock into things. People ridiculed her. Teenagers can be so cruel, and bullies pick on the weak especially if undefended.
In no time, that poor teacher became everyone’s favourite target. My friend and I once walked in on a girl in year six shouting, actually shouting at her, threatening to report her. When the girl saw us, she stopped and eventually walked away. The expression in the teacher’s eyes was very similar to Philomena’s.
Welsh Hagrid, Raff, making trolley lady walk away was a little like that bully schoolgirl walking away when she saw we had turned up.
I hope they won’t come back later when Philomena is alone.
Even worse, now Raff knows I’m Bill’s granddaughter and Jenkins is angry about me buying biscuits, they might be unpleasant to him. That’s the thing I was worried about before when Haneen suggested I complain to the manager. Sticking my oar in might cause more trouble than help.