Chapter twenty-four #2
‘Oh, Lewis, no! Some of them have been here for years! They don’t have family to help them. What about the Memory Ward residents? It’ll be so distressing for them!’
‘Believe me, no one is more devastated about this situation than me,’ he finished. ‘In an ideal world, I’d fix the problems and we’d all stay here forever. Me included.’
‘They ought to come and see it, instead of sitting in their offices, looking at their calculators. You’ve turned this place around.’ Pam blew her nose loudly. ‘It’s never been better, in all the years I’ve worked here. Cleaner, happier, safer, more fun. None of this makes any sense to me.’
Or me, thought Lewis. But it was what it was.
He knew he was putting off talking to the rest of the staff, but he went up to the hospital for visiting hour to check up on Linda Horrobin, and then spent half an hour with Kay Lloyd.
She was subdued but ‘bearing up’. Already there was a crop of sympathy cards covering the sideboard and tables like roosting birds, tucked between the framed photographs and Staffordshire pottery ornaments that filled the Lloyds’ stylish display units.
Any word of medical troubles went through the home faster than a summer breeze through net curtains, and the residents were of the generation that liked to keep a stock of suitable cards in a bureau, just in case.
Their son Jonathan, a grey-haired man a few years older than Lewis, had arrived just after his father had passed away, and then stayed in Rosemount’s guest room, overnight.
He had then had to fly back to London for work; he was something senior in a bank, he couldn’t easily take time off.
But he’d be coming back, Kay said, to finalise the funeral arrangements.
‘It means a lot to us both that you were there with Hugh, at the end,’ she said, taking Lewis’s hand. ‘He thought you were a good chap. His words. He used to say, I’d have Lewis crewing for us, wouldn’t you? That was his highest praise.’
It should have made Lewis feel better, but it didn’t. He decided not to share the news with Kay that she too would soon have to find a new berth. Not today.
Lewis was heading back to his office, ready to pull up stumps on one of his worst days ever, when Ellie ambushed him by the open door of the library.
She looked flushed and her hair, usually neatly swept into two plaits, was in a rough ponytail.
‘Isn’t it your day off, Ellie?’
‘It is, but Pam phoned me. I had to come in – is it true? That Rosemount’s going to close?’
Lewis cast a cautious glance over her shoulder; there were a couple of people in the library – Nigel was talking to Eunice, by the window, and Stan was deep in conversation with a striking widow called Belinda.
He frowned. This was supposed to be done according to guidelines, but it was a bit late to be berating Pam for breaking a professional confidence. If anything, it had saved him a job he hadn’t been looking forward to.
Had it come to this, Lewis thought, disappointed in himself. Have my standards slipped so much already?
‘Do you want to come into my office?’ he said and she set off at a trot.
Once inside, Ellie didn’t waste any time.
‘First off, you need to know that no one blames you for anything that’s going to happen to Rosemount,’ she said. ‘We can see you’ve done everything you can to try to save this place.’
Who was ‘we’?
‘That’s very kind of you, but I . . .’
‘We think you’ve been hung out to dry,’ said Ellie fiercely. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if David Rigg was behind this.’
Always David Rigg, thought Lewis. Even now.
‘And if I sent head office an anonymous email about the mould it was only to draw attention to his bad management, and that was ages before you arrived,’ she said in one hurried breath.
‘Anyway, I’ve been doing some research.’ She brandished a sheaf of papers.
‘About what we could do to save this place. It’s like you say, there’s always something you can do. ’
Lewis nodded warily.
‘So, go with me on this,’ she said. ‘I’m in a WhatsApp group for care-home nurses, and one of them works in a community care home – one like this, that was bought out when the owners wanted to sell up. It’s like a community pub but a residential home.’
‘Safeguarding adults is a bit more complicated than pulling pints and running a darts competition once a week.’
‘The community don’t do the nursing, they just organise it.
And fundraise for it. I’m not saying it’s easy, I’m just saying it’s a thing.
I also found some charities that own independent care homes.
I’ve printed out the details, here, have a look.
Could we do that? If we got some funding from somewhere?
I mean, are there grants available to set up a community care home?
Does the council have any historic bequests we could access?
Can we do a crowdfunder?’ Ellie paused, indicating she’d reached her main question, the big hurdle.
‘How much do you think we’d need to raise? ’
Lewis had to hand it to Ellie, she’d covered a lot of ground in a very short amount of time. Maybe there was a career in detective work in her future.
‘I don’t know exactly,’ he said honestly. ‘I could take an educated guess based on similar properties, but there’s the issue of the CQC inspection hanging over it, and reputational damage. That can affect price considerably.’
He didn’t say as much to Ellie but the speed with which Eric had moved from ‘there are problems’ to ‘it’s for sale’ made Lewis wonder if he had, perhaps, had an approach on the quiet from someone who wouldn’t have the overheads of staffing and renovations to consider.
A property developer, in other words. Someone who could put the rooms with existing plumbing and original Georgian windows to a very profitable new purpose.
But Ellie was still talking, and she deserved his full concentration.
‘Roughly how much, though?’
He guesstimated a figure that, he could tell from Ellie’s flinch, was more a lot than she’d anticipated.
‘Maybe less. But that’s what it would cost to buy,’ he said gently. ‘You’d still need to find additional funds on top for renovation and staffing. It’s not a cheap business to run.’
Ellie set her chin. ‘But it’s possible?’
‘It’s possible,’ Lewis agreed because it was, he supposed, possible.
What was wrong with him? Negativity had struck him down like a bad cold. It wasn’t just that Eric’s reaction had disappointed Lewis, it had undermined his core faith, somehow. People, positivity, that good would out, despite everything.
‘We’d need some proper legal and financial advice,’ Ellie continued.
‘Which I get will be expensive, but I was looking at the life stories file – sorry, I know it’s not what it’s for – and Vincent Greville and Esther Hope were both solicitors, and they’ve got relatives who are too – could they advise?
And Beth Cherry’s an accountant. Could she help? She sorted out my mortgage for me.’
‘We could ask,’ said Pam, who had let herself in, mid-presentation. Lewis’s open-door policy in action. ‘I’m sure she’d want to help. She popped by with her dog the other day to see Bill. She’s such a thoughtful young woman.’
‘Yes, maybe I should call Beth?’ suggested Ellie.
The way Pam and Ellie tried not to exchange glances confirmed that this had been pre-discussed.
Lewis pinched his forehead. They kept saying ‘we’, as if the crew of HMS Rosemount could somehow plug the big hole in her side, and carry on steaming, despite the icebergs still blocking her path.
A crew with Captain Lewis in charge, even though Captain Lewis worked for Eric Alexander, and would probably be deployed to any other care home in the group in a matter of weeks.
If he wasn’t sacked, pending the reports.
Lady Longhampton arched her eyebrows at Lewis from her gilt frame by the fireplace. What was it Stan had said? You only regretted the things you didn’t do. Because they showed up your own cowardice, as much as the lost opportunity.
‘I’ll phone her,’ said Lewis, and felt a flicker of his usual get-up-and-go in response.
Beth was gratifyingly quick to agree to drop by for a quick chat.
‘I wanted to see you anyway,’ she said, which made him feel happy and worried at the same time.
He explained the situation and she listened with the same concentration that he’d seen her show to the residents while they told their stories; always the same, whether they were about gold medals or scout badges.
Lewis had to remind himself that Beth did this to everyone, or else he’d have lost track entirely.
The only time she seemed to pull back was when Lewis moved on to the practicalities of Ellie’s suggestions, and asked whether Beth would advise them on the accounting requirements.
‘God, no,’ she said, sitting back in her chair as if pushed. ‘It’s a specialist field, charity finance. We had someone at work who did nothing but that – it’s one of those areas that you don’t want to get wrong. Most people who set up charities get into all sorts of pickles.’
‘But do you know anyone who specialises in it?’ He paused. How much would a consultation with a specialist cost? ‘Could you speak to them off the record, maybe? As a favour?’
Beth’s brow creased. ‘I could. But it might be a bit awkward. I’ve just handed in my notice.
My line manager has said I don’t have to come in again – not that I’ve done anything, I’ve accrued a lot of holiday.
’ She added that, as if he might think she’d been committing some murky accountancy crime that made her unsafe to be around.
‘Should I be commiserating or congratulating?’ he asked.
‘Congratulating. It’s time for a change. Pastures new.’ She said it firmly, as if she was still trying to convince herself. ‘But if Rosemount is sold . . .’ She bit her lip, then burst out with, ‘It’s so unfair. Where will you go? What will you do?’
‘I don’t know, to be honest. I’m more concerned about the residents.
’ Until now, Lewis hadn’t really thought about himself; he knew that would sound pious if he said it aloud, but his brain had genuinely stacked the immediate problems ahead of his own.
He’d never considered the possibility that he wouldn’t turn Rosemount around, but he wasn’t so sure now what his options were.
There was the very real possibility that Eric might sack him for the public failings here, and, in any case, Lewis wasn’t sure he had the energy to launch into another recovery mission.
Rosemount had taken more out of him than any other project.
He forced out a positive smile. ‘I’m sure something will turn up. If anyone will have me – I hear I’ve been running over residents like skittles!’
Beth looked aghast, which hadn’t been his intention.
‘It’s outrageous, it really is. I’ve never met anyone who puts as much effort into improving other people’s lives than you.
Her cheeks flushed a deeper pink. ‘And I include myself in that. I wish I’d taken you up on that tandem ride sooner – I can’t put my finger on it, but I’ve felt so invigorated ever since.
I feel more . . .’ She struggled for the word, then made a punching motion with her fist. ‘Motivated.’
‘Good,’ said Lewis. ‘That’s the magic of cycling.’
‘No,’ said Beth. ‘I think it’s the magic of you. You and your positive energy.’
Their eyes met, and he knew this was his chance, but it felt wrong to take it.
What had followed that transcendent moment had been awful, the exact opposite of the joy he’d felt flying through the air with her.
How could he turn Hugh Lloyd’s tragedy into a moment for himself? It was wrong on every level.
But Beth was still gazing at him, now with the beginnings of a smile on her lips, as if she too wanted to say more than she thought was strictly appropriate in the circumstances.
I can’t, thought Lewis, agonised. A man has died.
But that man was Hugh Lloyd, said a voice reminded him. A man who celebrated life with every cheesy Disney song in his body.
The moment stretched between them, until eventually Beth said haltingly, ‘I do feel terrible, though, that I might have delayed you getting help to Hugh and Linda.’
It punctured the moment as precisely as a pin in a balloon. Quite rightly, of course.
They looked unhappily at one another. Lewis recovered first.
‘Please don’t think that. Any responsibility is mine. I’ve nearly finished the incident report form and I’m sorry, but I’ll have to get a statement from you.’
‘I’m happy to provide a statement,’ said Beth.
‘I’m happy to tell anyone who wants to know that you have moved heaven and earth to make Rosemount as good as it can possibly be, and that you’ve only ever had the interests of the residents and their families at heart.
You are a manager in a million, Lewis. You don’t deserve to be made a scapegoat for someone else’s negligence. ’
Lewis didn’t think he’d ever seen her look so beautiful and grim at the same time. There was a determination to her expression that he hadn’t seen before, and it was oddly exciting that he was causing it.
Beth picked up her bag. ‘I’ll make some calls. I’ll find the right accountant to advise you. It would be an absolute outrage if this home is sold for flats. We owe it to everyone here to maintain continuity for them. Let me see what I can do.’
And she left in a rush, moving across his office in that silky undulating way that made every step look like sculpture in motion, and Lewis’s miserable week took an unexpected leap towards something better.