Chapter twelve #2
‘I think so! Besides, we need more volunteers for the story project, and I need to fill up those four empty rooms. Don’t look so worried, I’ll show Carrie around, introduce her to one or two of the residents.’
‘Not Ken. Or Nigel Callaghan,’ said Pam at once. ‘Or Eunice Stafford.’
‘Noted. She’s asked if she can sit in on a session to see how it works. Do we have a volunteer who wouldn’t mind letting the journalist observe?’ Lewis tapped a spoon thoughtfully against his chin, and waited for Pam to suggest Beth.
‘Beth Cherry?’ suggested Pam. ‘She’s rota’d in for Friday.’
Even the sound of Beth’s name coming from Pam’s mouth made Lewis feel glowy, as if she’d appeared in the chair next to them. He frowned as if trying to remember who Beth was – unconvincingly – then said, ‘Oh, yes, Beth!’
‘She emailed me yesterday,’ Pam went on, ‘asking if we’d mind if she brought her dog in with her. One of the residents had talked a lot aobut his dogs – she wondered if he’d like to meet her. We’ve had therapy dogs visit before, but they need to have an assessment to make sure they’re safe.’
‘Do we know anyone who could do that?’
‘Yes, my vet George assesses the local therapy dogs.’
‘Great! Can you arrange it for when she next visits? I’ll drop Beth a line,’ said Lewis. ‘Let her know that Tomsk is very welcome. I’ve met him, he seems delightful. Huge, but delightful.’
‘I’ll call the surgery,’ said Pam, making a note.
‘Killing several birds with one stone there, Pam. Not literally of course!’ said Lewis, and topped up his coffee to prove his hand wasn’t shaking.
Delightful, he told himself, breathing deeply as the aversion therapy app instructed. Tomsk was delightful. And huge. But mainly delightful.
Carrie Clark arrived on the dot of two o’clock on Friday afternoon, punctuality which impressed Lewis.
He welcomed her at the front door, having personally double-checked every area she’d be passing through for pine-freshness, escorted her to his office where he handed her over to Gayle Burton, who’d arrived three minutes previously (being somewhat less punctual than Carrie) to run through Lewis’s checklist of topics.
It wasn’t that he was a control freak, he assured Gayle, it was just that this was the first time since the inspection that Rosemount had been featured in the newspaper and he wanted everything to be perfect. Gayle said she quite understood.
Lewis hovered in the corridor outside, keeping it free of potential disruptors like Ken or Eunice while Carrie interviewed Gayle; he could hear soft responses to questions about her own writing and what she’d learned from the life story project.
She had a very soothing voice. A scruffy young man arrived ten minutes later; before Lewis could shoo him away, he identified himself as the Gazette’s photographer, Blake, sent to take some ‘atmosphere photos’.
Lewis summoned Pam, and instructed her to keep Blake in her sights, and ensure he had minimal access to anywhere with too much atmosphere.
Eventually, Gayle put her head round the door and said she and Carrie were ready to join a session in progress.
Lewis quickly shoved his little notebook back into his pocket and led the way to the library, where he knew he’d find Beth sitting with Hugh and Kay Lloyd in the library, talking, as planned, in a photogenic arrangement by the bay window that looked out on to a less derelict area of the gardens.
Lewis was pleased to see that Pam had pulled out all the stops, with the proper porcelain, along with small cakes on a stand, a silver coffee pot and an arrangement of white roses in a rosebowl.
Good. This was exactly The New Rosemount he wanted to project.
And Hugh and Kay were the perfect couple to illustrate it.
The Lloyds were already one of Lewis’s favourite residents, two octogenarians who barely looked seventy, largely thanks to their refreshingly youthful outlook.
They’d ‘taken a step back from the rat race’ after successful careers in advertising (Hugh) and public relations (Kay), and spent their retirement travelling the world.
They’d only moved into Rosemount at the beginning of the year, selling their house in London and moving back to an area they’d always loved; as Hugh had told him, ‘Our families are both from the area, although funnily enough, we had no idea about that when we first met!’
‘None of them still around now sadly,’ Kay added, ‘in case you’re wondering about our lack of visitors.’ A flash of that mischievous smile. ‘We’re not that bad.’
Lewis could see that Hugh was in full flow, his craggy face animated with the ups and downs of one of his stories of outrageous ad campaigns and erratic celebrities.
Next to him, Kay sipped her coffee, and now and again leaned forward with a dry aside that Hugh acknowledged with a pretend-annoyed gasp.
They had the smooth chemistry of a long-established double act, something Lewis thought was quietly marvellous.
‘What a beautiful room,’ whispered Carrie, so as not to disturb the conversation, and Lewis nodded without speaking; his attention had swung like a magnet to Beth, engrossed in her conversation with the Lloyds.
She was curled into the winged armchair, one long leg tucked underneath her, leaning on her elbow; the sun was glowing on a hank of wheat-coloured hair that had fallen from her bun.
Though Beth’s face was hidden, Lewis could see her encouragement reflected in Hugh and Kay’s animated expressions; Beth, he thought, was the kind of person it was easy to confide in.
‘Shall we?’ Carrie whispered.
‘Let’s wait till they get to a natural pause,’ Gayle whispered back, and then Hugh said, in a louder punchline tone, ‘And then it turned out we’d boarded completely the wrong boat!’
‘Lulu was terribly nice about it,’ said Kay. ‘And of course we replaced the whisky.’
Lewis was about to cough and announce himself but suddenly Beth leaned forward. ‘So what would you say the secret to a happy marriage is, Kay?’
‘Gosh, is there one? Apart from patience and selective deafness?’
‘What was that, darling?’ Hugh put a hand up to his ear.
‘Oh, and a sense of humour.’ Kay nudged her husband, then looked back at Beth. ‘I think marrying your best friend is a good start.’
Hugh squeezed Kay’s hand, suddenly serious. ‘Hear hear.’
Lewis seized the moment. ‘Beth! Can I interrupt?’
She turned and saw it was him, then smiled because it was him; in that second, Lewis felt physically lighter, as if the invisible hook in his heart was lifting him off the ground.
‘Hello there, Lewis,’ said Hugh. ‘Just in time, too – we’ve been horrifying poor Beth with tales from the unreconstructed seventies and eighties.’
‘You have, darling,’ Kay pointed out. ‘I’ve been trying to balance that with some stories of great feminist achievements despite all that. Right, Beth?’
‘Sounds fascinating!’ said Lewis. ‘I wonder if you’d like to share some more with Carrie? She’s from the Longhampton Gazette and she’s writing a feature about our Story sessions.’
Carrie introduced herself, and Hugh patted the seat next to him. ‘Pop yourself down here, Carrie. I was just about to tell Beth about the time I flew Concorde to New York and had an argument with Tim Rice about cricket before we’d even got our seatbelts on.’
‘Start by explaining who Tim Rice is, darling,’ said Kay.
Carrie indicated Blake, who was standing back behind the chairs, lining up a shot, with Pam hovering anxiously a few steps away. ‘Do you mind if Blake takes some photographs while we chat? Just casual ones, with that big window in the background.’
Lewis was already moving an unphotogenic Zimmer frame out of shot, so missed what happened next, but he heard a cup clatter on its saucer, some gasps and a flurry of apologies.
When he turned around, the white roses were streaked with coffee, Beth was mopping at her skirt with a napkin, looking flustered, while Blake helped himself to a large slice of Battenburg.
‘Would you excuse me a moment?’ Beth scrambled to her feet, grabbing her bag from beside the sofa, and hurried out of the room.
Carrie looked between Hugh and Kay, Gayle and Lewis, confused. ‘Was it something I said? It is OK to take photographs, isn’t it?’
‘Hugh? Kay? Do you mind?’ Lewis turned to the Lloyds, but Hugh was already adjusting his tie and smoothing down his silver hair.
‘It’s fine,’ said Kay. ‘But is Beth all right? That coffee was hot!’
‘I’ll see if she needs a cloth,’ said Lewis, signalling Pam to take over.
Beth was already at the end of the corridor by the time Lewis pushed open the double doors of the library.
He followed her – not too closely, not wanting to chase her – but she didn’t stop at the ladies’ lavatories, as he’d expected she would; instead, Beth turned that corner and headed even further away, down towards his office and the reception area.
‘Beth?’ he called out, concerned, and she stopped, just outside his office.
He quickened his step, and caught up with her. If she’d gone to his office, he reasoned, she must want to talk to him. If she just wanted to sponge her skirt, she’d have gone into the ladies’.
‘Is everything all right?’ he asked, and when she didn’t reply, he pushed open his office door, gesturing for her go in first, and she slid inside.
Lewis hovered for a moment, then followed.
She was standing by the window, her back to him, and he could see her shoulders were shaking with each deep ‘calm down’ breath. Before he could worry about whether to take a step nearer, she turned, and said, ‘Sorry about that. Lewis, I . . . I don’t want to be in any photographs.’
‘OK.’ The emphatic way she said it made his mind scrabble for reasons. Was she hiding from someone? A stalker? An abusive partner? ‘That’s no problem. But is there something we should know? For your security?’
Beth’s gaze darted up and down, and her cheeks turned a self-conscious crimson.
She gave a nervous laugh. ‘This is going to sound ridiculous, but I’m trying to make a case for flexible working, and I probably shouldn’t be volunteering during office hours.
My new boss is trying to herd everyone back into the office. ’
‘I see,’ said Lewis, with some relief.
‘I mean, it’s not a problem, my being here, I’ve done everything I’m supposed to today but he’s a bit tricky. Been brought in to take the business to “another level”.’ Her fingers hooked in the air, and he noticed her hands were trembling.
‘I’ve had a tip off from my outgoing boss that everyone’s unofficially under assessment, and I need to demonstrate how I’m “adding value to my role”,’ she went on, and Lewis suspected nerves were making her gabble more than she meant to.
‘So, if you know of any businesses that need accountancy support, tax advice, that sort of thing . . .’
‘But you can’t have anything to worry about, surely,’ he said. ‘What with you having the highest score in your accountancy exams?’
‘What? Oh, sorry, that. Ha. No, that doesn’t count with Christian, I don’t think. He’s more of an “only as good as your last review” type of guy.’
Lewis wondered if he could pretend he needed some accountancy support; the idea of Beth going through Devin’s year-end projections might make them more interesting.
‘You have my sympathies,’ he said, wanting to make her feel better, somehow.
‘That’s pretty much my working life too – only as good as my last inspection.
And since I only work with care homes that have failed their last one badly enough for me to be there in the first place .
. .’ He shrugged. ‘Then it’s on to the next! ’
‘So you’re basically a Mary Poppins for care homes?’ Beth seemed temporarily distracted. ‘Parachute in, fix it, then move on?’
Lewis nodded. ‘Basically. I’m hoping that I might be allowed to stay put for a while in one place. See the project through a bit further.’
Eric had been dangling it for a while; a permanent regional role for Lewis, instead of dropping him in to fight fires across the portfolio.
When you didn’t have a family, it was assumed you could be deployed anywhere, at any moment, and Lewis was tired of rented houses with neglected gardens and inadequate curtains.
And also dealing with frazzled staff, furious families, dysfunctional businesses that he had to unscramble like Rubik’s cubes, with ruthless niceness.
‘I hope you stay here a while,’ she said. ‘You’re already making a difference. I’d love to know what else you have planned. Oh!’ Beth put a hand to her mouth; she had lovely pale-pink nails. ‘I never thanked you for the box of stationery! Where on earth did you find such perfect notebooks?’
‘Oh, just online.’ Not strictly true; Lewis had scoured the internet until he’d found stationery worthy of Beth’s attention, creamy white paper, linen-bound in sugared-almond covers. And pens, in lots of colours. ‘They’re OK?’
She grinned. ‘They’re almost too nice to write in. Thank you – you obviously understand how important stationery is to the creative process!’
When Beth smiled, a shy smile that reached her blue eyes, everything else in the room shrank and blurred apart from her.
Lewis had forgotten this feeling, if he’d ever known it, this floaty sensation, exciting and comforting and precarious, at the same time.
He’d seen how losing love could dismantle the sturdiest character, and he’d packed his life full of commitments and responsibilities to stop that happening, but now he didn’t have a choice: Beth’s smile surrounded him, and disorientated him completely.
Beth’s smile abruptly vanished. ‘Gosh, I should go back and apologise for running out on Kay and Hugh like that.’ She bit her lip. ‘I don’t want Hugh to think his story was offensive in some way. He’s very anxious not to be cancelled. Well, he says he is.’
Lewis jumped up. ‘Let me deal with the photographer. I’ll take him out to the garden, distract him until you’ve said your goodbyes. I’m sure he’s got everything he needs by now.’
‘Thanks,’ said Beth. ‘I’m so sorry for the dramatics.’ She reached out and touched his arm. ‘I’m honestly not normally like this.’
‘Me neither,’ said Lewis without thinking, but she was already shouldering her bag, and fortunately didn’t hear.