Chapter Fifteen
Monday 19th November, The Glyn, Afternoon.
On my way in the following day, Cynthia catches me as I walk down the corridor and invites me for a “quick word” in her office.
Quick word, my backside. What she gives me is an interrogation. Obviously, Raff has wasted no time telling her about my cream tea scheme. She wants to know if I have the right kind of insurance, Health the best I can get out of here is a “let me think about this and check the paperwork and get back to you.”
This, I know, means she will refuse. I was wrong about her. She’s not just a small-time jobsworth, she’s a cow! A deeply unkind cow. What would it cost her to let me invite three people out to tea? Or is she worried if someone treats poor Philomena and Jack with kindness, they’ll get used to it and expect better from her and her staff?
I go to sit with Bill in his small, cramped and lonely room.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” he asks as soon as I’ve made our usual cups of PG Tips.
“Nothing. Why should anything be wrong?”
“Because you look like you’re chewing a mouthful of roofing nails.”
Where are my acting skills? It takes me a minute to rearrange my face and produce a better smile for my grandfather.
“Okay don’t tell me. I’ll have to set Shirley and Gethin on you. They can prise information out of anyone.”
Neither of us says that I’m unlikely to be able to speak to them with Cynthia’s ban in place.
“It’s just so unfair.” I finally huff. “It shouldn’t be allowed.”
At this he chuckles.
“What so funny?” I ask.
“You,” he says with a caring, admiring expression. “You’re full of surprises.”
“What do you mean?”
“For an actress – and I really am dead proud of you – but you don’t act like an actress.”
If he means I can’t seem to hide my feelings, he might have a point.
“Another girl in your place would be happy being the centre of attention. The bright angel that turns up with treats for everyone and is charming while all the old men flirt with her. You could have been the darling of the Glyn Care Home and even got Cynthia eating out of your hand with stories about celebrities and show tickets.” His eyes travel over me as if counting my features. “But not a bit of it. No, not you. You my sweet girl would rather get yourself in trouble with a petty-minded tea lady.”
“Not all actors are vain, spotlight hogs.”
“I’m glad of it.”
Later, on the short drive home, Granddad’s observation and my own feelings come together. I’ve always had this over-developed sense of injustice, and never understood it. Now, memories scroll like a film reel across my mind. The unfairness of Mum’s affair with Horrible Howard when Dad was dying of cancer. The many times she put valentine cards on the mantel shelf, cards received from other lovers. The hours she spent in front of the mirror getting ready for a date while her husband was in the kitchen washing up.
The unfairness of it is bitter like the unfairness of the managers here at the Glyn.
At least that we can do something about. Or at least Raff can.
He applies his magic and solves the problem. I don’t know how, but Cynthia agrees to let me invite the three to tea at Kendric House.
Grandfather is so excited, he can’t wait until Saturday, the day of our cream tea outing. The only problem, aside from Cynthia, is Deniro, Gethin, Shirley and Vanessa. The looks in their eyes break my heart. Every afternoon as I walk to and from Grandad’s room, I notice them. Vanessa and Shirley are super excited, lending Philomena a hat and gloves to wear, advising her on make-up. Deniro offers them his phone so they can take pictures and videos. It couldn’t be clearer if it were written on the wall with big letters. They haven’t had an outing for so long, they feel like prisoners.
“I would invite them all but my car can’t fit them. It’s only a Fiat 500 for God’s sake,” I complain to Raff when he walks with me out of the building on Thursday afternoon.
“And it’s a lot of work to make food for this many people,” he says to make me feel less guilty.
“I don’t mind that. I can buy most of it from Sainsbury’s and anyone can slice cucumber and butter toast.”
“But do you even have enough room in your kitchen for six or seven guests?” He still sounds as if he’s trying to let me off the hook.
“Room? The kitchen at Kendric House can fit twenty. And it’s on the ground floor, so even Gethin in his wheelchair would be fine.”
At last Raff stops to look at me. “Are you sure?”
We’re in the car park now and my little Fiat stands there like a poor excuse.
“Do you have a solution? Taxi?” I ask him.
“Better than that. I can bring them in the minibus.” He points to a green Chevrolet Express, the kind that can fit a dozen people.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. It has a specially adapted ramp at the back for wheelchairs.”
“But Cynthia…”
“Leave her to me. I’ll tell her that excluding the others will cause more disturbance, and a small outing will gain her their gratitude.”
The way he seems to have all the answers shows me that he’s been thinking about the others. Like me, he too wants to give them the outing they clearly crave.
“Oh, Raff this is amazing. And if you bring them, then I don’t have to juggle preparation with coming out to fetch them. I can be in the kitchen getting things ready. Yes. Yes, let’s invite them all.”
I’m so excited about this, I turn to run back inside and tell them the good news. But before I can run into the front door, Raff catches up and grabs me round the waist.
“Wait. Let me clear it with Cynthia first. We don’t want to build up their hopes before she agrees.”
My entire body deflates, and I almost lean into him for support. It would be awful to wave the invitation under their noses then disappoint them. That would be too cruel.
“We don’t want her to think we’ve been plotting behind her back,” Raff says. “Better if I suggest it as if it’s my idea.”
“Bloody Cynthia. Why does she hate me?”
“Leave her to me,” Raff says softly. “Go home and I’ll see what I can do.”
Then we both look down and realise that he’s still holding me round the waist and I’m leaning against his chest. He steps back sharply, letting me go.
I hurry away with a curious flutter in my diaphragm. I drive all the way home on autopilot. It feels like two seconds between my standing in the car park outside The Glyn and pulling up on the gravel and weeds in front of Kendric House.
What just happened?
Probably nothing. An unconscious move? Or did he know how he grabbed me? Did he mean it? And more to the point, did I know I was leaning on him in that way?
No, I’m overthinking this. It’s probably nothing and he’s already forgotten it. Whatever it was. It’s just that, it felt…I don’t know what it felt, I’m a bit confused.
Normally, when I feel confused, it’s best to keep Mum out of my head. Unfortunately, that’s impossible if she calls, and she chooses that same moment to ring me.