Chapter 7
Paula stares up at the familiar building, fighting the mix of feelings bubbling up in her chest. She’s worked at the care home for close to fifteen years and it’s mostly been a happy time, a place of solace.
There were hard times, of course. Many of the residents were difficult, or rude or in pain.
And Paula had been a witness to an awful lot of loss over the years.
It was natural when you were dealing with older people, but it didn’t get any easier.
At Christmas, they’d lost three residents in one week!
Two of them, Vinnie and Floyd, were among her favourites, always joking and offering up sweets.
The third – Handsy Harry, shudder – was less of a favourite, but still, it was very difficult dealing with so much death all the time.
You’d have thought she might’ve been better equipped when she got that call about John.
Either way, her years working here have mostly been good. Mostly happy. It was somewhere Paula felt safe and normal when things were hard. But it’s starting to feel like she’ll never feel safe or normal again. Not after everything that’s happened.
Full of trepidation, Paula takes a deep breath and pushes open the glazed double doors. The familiar smell of the place hits her immediately, almost making her dizzy. It’s a mixture of musty hospital scents and lavender perfume. Paula rather likes it.
Approaching the reception desk, the young man gives her a double take.
‘ Paula? ’ He can’t hide his astonishment.
‘Hello, Sonny,’ Paula greets him shyly, feeling self-conscious.
‘What are you doing here?’ The receptionist gapes at her.
‘I’m hoping I can come back to work,’ she shrugs, still smiling.
‘But you won . . .’ Sonny waves his hands, then whispers the rest, ‘ You won twenty-one million! I saw all the newspapers – you’re loaded!’ He chokes a little on the words. ‘Don’t tell me you’d come back to this dump when you’ve got all that money in the bank!’
Paula winces at the description of her work home as a dump . Sonny has only been here a year and it’s been clear from day one that he didn’t think much of the place.
She swallows. ‘I’ve just had a bit of time off. I was always coming back.’
Sonny squints at her. ‘Didn’t your fella die, too? Or was that someone else?’
Paula raises her eyebrows. ‘Er, no, I mean, yes. That was my . . . fella. My . . . John.’
Sonny clucks. ‘Oh, that’s a shame. He seemed . . .’ – he searches for a word – ‘all right.’
‘Thank you,’ Paula replies politely. ‘Er, can I pop through to see Gary? I need to get my name back on the schedule and get my pass reinstated.’
Sonny makes an awkward face. ‘I better see if he’s available, eh?’ He waves self-importantly at the visitor area in the corner. ‘Have a seat. I’ll call through, see if he can squeeze you in.’
Paula nods, thinking how her boss, Gary, is always available.
He’s usually in that office playing Solitaire and delighted by any kind of interruption.
As Sonny picks up the phone, Paula turns away.
For a moment, the sight of this familiar, grey foyer takes her breath away.
It all feels like it’s from a different time – a different life.
She can picture John here, meeting her from work, turning up to surprise her.
She can see him vividly, laughing with residents Vinnie and Floyd, then scolding Handsy Harry for getting, well, handsy with his wife.
‘Paula!’ Gary’s voice brings her back to the now, booming happily from across the foyer.
He is as purple-faced and jovial as ever.
He approaches her, his arms outstretched in greeting.
‘Sonny says you’re coming back, is it true?
’ He doesn’t wait for an answer. ‘I thought there was no chance we’d ever see you again after your good fortune!
’ He beams and Paula wonders if he remembers her husband also died.
He continues, oblivious, ‘But if you’re sure, well, thank Christ for that! I don’t know how we’ve managed—’
He is interrupted by a loud bang behind them. The main double doors crash open and three men carrying equipment suddenly fill the small space.
‘Hey! Paula Sheldon!’ She starts at the sound of her name and is caught off guard by a flash in her face. It blinds her for a moment as the same voice shouts playfully, ‘Lend us a million quid!’
Another person yells, ‘Are you coming back to work despite your win, Paula?’ as a third asks, ‘Or are you here to donate a few quid to your old mates? Good headline either way, love!’ There is another flash, and then another.
They must’ve followed her here.
Paula’s heart gallops as Gary bundles her away into his office.
He is shouting something to Sonny who is delightedly throwing himself in the way of the photographers.
The voices fade as Gary slams his door. He regards her, his face even more purple.
He looks angry. ‘For God’s sake,’ he blusters, taking a seat across from her.
‘Are those bastards following you around?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Paula murmurs, mortification flooding in as her vision returns. ‘I got on a bus. I don’t know how they . . . I didn’t realise . . . I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault, Paula,’ he sighs. ‘But you do understand we can’t have you back right now.
Not with all this going on.’ She sees him swallow hard.
‘Of course, we can have a chat when it all calms down a bit, but we can’t have this media circus coming into the care home.
It’s supposed to be a calm, peaceful place for our residents.
Relatives would complain. Imagine if someone had seen that ruckus out there! ’
Paula is nodding and she can’t stop.
‘I understand!’ she gulps. ‘Of course I do! I’m so sorry.’ She’s standing up and Gary’s expression flickers with guilt.
‘I’m sorry, Paula—’ he begins and she holds up a hand.
‘No, no, please!’ she says, backing away. She grabs for the door handle and makes a run for the exit. Thankfully, there’s no sign of the photographers, only Sonny, back behind reception looking very pleased with himself.
She speed-walks for the door, reaching it as Sonny calls out to her retreating back, ‘It’s great to have you back, Paula!’
Work isn’t a safe place. Her home isn’t a safe place. So where is?