Desperate Measures (29 page)
It was the start of a new chapter for Betty. As they did Paula, the residents loved her, and to her surprise she found enjoyment in chatting to them. She’d expected them to be miserable, echoing her own feelings, but instead found that, for the most part, they were a lovely bunch. Three were more stoic than the others, accepting they could no longer care for themselves, but the latest resident was finding it difficult to settle in.
‘Here you are, Mrs Wilson, a nice cup of tea,’ Betty said.
‘Thank you, my dear. Do you know if my daughter has rung to say she’s coming to see me?’
‘No, I’m afraid not,’ Betty said, sad to see the hope dying in Mrs Wilson’s eyes. ‘Maybe she’ll come tomorrow.’
‘I wish that were true, but I doubt it. I…I upset her, you see, and I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me.’ Mrs Wilson pulled out a lace–edged handkerchief from her cardigan sleeve to dab at her eyes.
Betty placed the cup of tea by the side of the bed before sitting on the edge. So far Mrs Wilson had refused to get up and had remained isolated. She must be lonely, but perhaps with a bit of persuasion Betty could get her to socialise with other residents. The woman was estranged from her daughter too, and Betty felt a sense of affinity as she gently said, ‘Give her time, she’s sure to come round.’
They were words that had been said to her so many times, but Betty had all but given up hope. Now that she was involved with the residents, with their care, she had begun to feel a sense of self–worth again, but still longed to see her children.
‘I wouldn’t accept my grandchildren–shunned them, and now it’s too late to make amends. When I couldn’t look after myself, my son hoped my daughter would help, but…but she refused. He was being transferred abroad, so had to make arrangements for me to come here.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Betty said, wondering why Mrs Wilson had rejected her grandchildren. ‘I know it must have been hard for you to give up your home, but I’m sure if you give it a try, you’ll be happy here. The other residents are lovely, and really, we’re all like one big happy family. How about getting up after lunch? There’s usually a game of cards or a puzzle in progress in the sitting room, or, if you fancy a stroll, the garden is lovely. Two of our residents have taken to looking after the shrubs, and they make all the lovely flower arrangements you’ll see dotted around the house. I’m sure they’d love your help.’
‘No, no, they’re all strangers.’
‘You won’t feel like that once you get to know them.’
‘Perhaps I will get up. I…I’ll think about it, and Betty, why don’t you call me Louise?’
‘Thank you, I’ll do that,’ Betty said, relieved that the ice had been broken. Louise Wilson was such a dainty little thing, what you’d call a proper lady, but at least she had confided in her, happy at last to drop the formalities.
‘How is Mrs Wilson doing?’ Cheryl asked as she came upstairs.
‘She’s a little better. I’m hoping she’ll get up after lunch.’
‘It’s been weeks since she arrived, so I’m glad to hear it. I knew that if anyone could break through her reserve, it would be you.’
‘Thanks, but while I’ve got a bit of time, I’d better pop down to the kitchen. The new cook is doing all right, but still needs a bit of help with the menus.’
‘Betty, are you sure you don’t regret the change of roles?’
‘Not really. I love cooking, but this is so much more rewarding.’
‘That’s good,’ Cheryl said, ‘but is it too much for you?’
‘I’ve been doing it for a month, so why ask now? Don’t you think I’m up to it?’ Betty asked worriedly. ‘I might not be a spring chicken, but this is no harder than my last job.’
‘Of course I think you’re up to it. In fact, you do more than is asked of you.’
‘We all muck in, you too, and what about Val? I never thought I’d see the day, but she took over from Paula to feed Alicia yesterday.’
‘Yes, it’s wonderful, isn’t it? She’s got the administration work so organised now that it gives her a bit of spare time.’
‘Talking about time, I’d better get a move on.’
Betty went downstairs, whilst Cheryl gave a short rap on Mrs Wilson’s door before going in to see her. The room looked nice, cosy, with the elderly woman’s own chintz curtains and bedspread in place, along with a few pieces of furniture. ‘Hello, I’ve just popped in to check your blood pressure; Betty tells me that you might get up today.’
‘Yes, perhaps.’
‘That’s good,’ Cheryl said as she wrapped the band around Mrs Wilson’s stick–like arm. The reading was a little high, but not enough to cause concern. Cheryl’s voice was gently cajoling as she now said, ‘I see you’ve finished your tea. Would you like to get dressed? Betty and Paula are a bit busy, but I can give you a hand. We could go downstairs together.’
Mrs Wilson hesitated, but then with a small sigh she said, ‘Yes, all right.’
‘As it’s such a lovely day, we should make the most of it. Perhaps take a stroll in the garden?’
‘Oh no. I’m rather unsteady on my legs and if I hadn’t had a fall, my son wouldn’t have put me in this…this place.’
Mrs Wilson made her admittance to the home sound like punishment, but it was the usual initial reaction. It was hard for the residents to give up their homes, to lose their independence, and that was why she’d been determined to make her nursing home special. ‘You’ll be perfectly safe. I’ll be with you, and the paths are smooth, but if you’d rather go to the sitting room, that’s fine.’
It took some time, but at last Mrs Wilson was dressed, and, after taking her cane, she clung on to Cheryl with her other arm. Slowly they descended the stairs, and as they reached the hall, Betty appeared, obviously pleased to see that Mrs Wilson was up.
She hurried forward, saying, ‘Louise, how lovely. Let me take you to the sitting room.’
Cheryl smiled. So for Betty it was Louise now, and it was wonderful that she’d broken through Mrs Wilson’s reserve. Whilst waiting to find a suitable replacement for Tina, it hadn’t taken long to see that someone like Betty would be perfect. Though at first her kind and cheery manner might have been false, the residents hadn’t noticed, all responding well to her. In just a short time, Betty had taken them under her wing, surprising Cheryl when one day she’d asked to be an auxiliary. A replacement cook had been found, one almost as good as Betty, and the nursing home now ran on well–oiled wheels.
Cheryl crossed her fingers, hoping that nothing would happen to change it. If things carried on like this, she would at last be able to relax, safe in the knowledge that her nursing home was the success she’d hoped for.
On Friday night, Paula went to meet Lucy. She loved her job, but it was nice to have a change of scene, to meet up with someone nearer her own age. Cheryl was lovely, but still older, and though they were close they had little in common really. Cheryl’s world was the home, the residents, and though Paula had grown fond of them too, she liked a break now and then. Not only that, Lucy still worked at the laminating factory and she loved to hear the latest gossip.
They would meet as usual in a coffee bar in Putney, one they had found was easy for them both to get to by bus; as she walked in, Paula saw that Lucy was already there. The jukebox was playing, but above the sound of Mungo Jerry singing ‘In the Summertime’, Paula said, ‘Watcha, Lucy, how’s it going?’
‘Hi, Paula.’
‘I’ll just grab an espresso. Do you want another one?’
‘Yes please.’
There were a few blokes sitting at tables, one of them giving a soft wolf whistle as Paula went up to the counter. She tensed, but ignored them, and after getting the drinks took a seat opposite Lucy.
‘Still off men I see,’ Lucy drawled.
‘Don’t start. Now tell me, what’s the latest news on Greta?’
‘Word must have got around and some of the older women have gone a bit sniffy with her. Bitches.’
‘So you were right. She is pregnant.’
‘Yes, poor cow, but I hope her bloke does the right thing and marries her.’
Paula took a sip of her coffee, wanting to ask, but wondering how to make it sound as though she wasn’t really that interested. She tried to sound nonchalant, tacking the important question onto the end. ‘Any other news? How’s Doreen, and what about the lovebirds?’
‘There’s nothing new. As far as I can tell, Doreen’s fine, but as you know, she keeps well out of my way.’
Lucy picked up her cup, whilst Paula inwardly fumed. No mention of Keith and Maureen, but she didn’t want to give the game away by asking again.
‘Oh, Paula, you should see your face.’
‘I dunno what you mean.’
‘Blimey, girl, you must think I’m a right mug. It’s Keith and Maureen you want to hear about, not Doreen or anyone else,’ Lucy teased.
‘No it isn’t.’
‘All right, so you don’t want to hear that things aren’t going so smoothly now?’
‘Since when?’ Paula squeaked, then kicked herself for giving away her interest.
‘See, I knew you liked him.’
Paula slumped. ‘All right, you’ve got me. I don’t suppose there’s any harm in admitting it now.’
‘Well then, from what I’ve seen, I reckon he’s gonna be footloose and fancy free again soon.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘’Cos Maureen has got her eye on someone else and is making it a bit obvious.’
‘Really! Who?’
‘A new bloke who started a couple of weeks ago. He ain’t bad looking, and seems interested in her too. If he asks her out, I reckon she’ll chuck Keith. When that happens, I’ll tip you the wink and you could sort of accidentally bump into him, if you know what I mean.’
‘No, I wouldn’t have the nerve to do that, and anyway, if Maureen chucks him he’ll be gutted. Even if he did ask me out, he’d only be on the rebound.’
‘So, you’re just gonna let him go?’
‘Keith’s in the past now. I’ve moved on,’ Paula lied. ‘And as you once said, there’re plenty more fish in the sea.’
‘Yeah, well, he ain’t much of a catch, that’s for sure. I don’t know what you saw in the ugly git anyway.’
Paula’s neck stretched with indignation. ‘He might not be much to look at, but he’s a lovely bloke. Looks ain’t everything, you know.’
‘Whoa, I was only saying.’
‘Oh, sorry, Lucy. I didn’t mean to get on my high horse.’
‘That’s all right, now come on, let’s talk about something else. Tell me more about the nursing home. Has the new lady settled in yet? And how are the other patients?’
‘They’re not patients, they’re residents,’ Paula corrected her.
‘They’re all unable to take care of themselves; some ain’t in the best of health, so why not call them patients?’
Paula frowned. ‘Yes, I see your point, but Cheryl prefers to call them residents. She reckons it makes them feel less helpless, more capable.’
‘I like the sound of Cheryl more and more. Is she straight?’
Paula laughed. ‘You’re impossible, and yes, as far as I know, she’s straight. Anyway, from what you’ve told me, Myra would go potty if she could hear you.’
Lucy’s expression suddenly turned to one of sadness. ‘I…I think she’s gonna leave me.’
‘Oh no. Lucy, I’m so sorry, but what makes you think that?’
‘It’s been coming on for a while. All the signs are there, and I think it’s someone she met at art classes on Friday nights. She…she’s probably with her now.’
‘But you’ve been together for three years. Surely you’re mistaken?’
‘I hope so, but if I’m right and she leaves me, I…I dunno what I’d do.’
Paula had never seen Lucy showing vulnerability before. She was usually so hard faced, her feelings never on show. ‘Why don’t you have it out? Talk to her?’
‘I’m too scared to do that. I’m hoping that if I say nothing it’ll all pass, that it’ll all go away.’
‘I wish there was something I could do to help.’
‘Thanks, love, you’re a nice girl,’ but as though she regretted showing her vulnerability, she forced a cheeky smile. ‘In fact, it’s a shame you prefer men.’
Paula went along with her. ‘Even if I didn’t, what makes you think I’d fancy you?’
‘What, with these looks! How could you resist me?’
‘Well, yes, you do bear a passing resemblance to Julie Andrews.’
‘What, her who played Mary Poppins?’ ‘Yes, but I can’t see you in that role.’ ‘Me neither, and anyway, I ain’t got the voice. The looks, yes, but not the voice. Mind you, I’d be great playing the chimney sweep and I could do a better cockney twang than that American geezer who took the part.’
‘I can’t argue with that.’
Lucy leaned forward. ‘Paula, I know you’re trying to cheer me up, and thanks, but if it’s all right with you, I think I’ll go home.’
‘Of course it’s all right with me, but will I see you next week?’
‘It depends on how things go with me and Myra. I’ll give you a ring.’
‘It’ll be fine, I’m sure it will.’ ‘I hope so, love, I really do hope so.’ Together they left the café, Lucy to walk to a bus stop in one direction, Paula in the other. It saddened Paula to see Lucy so unhappy but, unbeknown to her, despite her own troubles, Lucy was thinking about Paula too, and an idea she had in mind.
In August, Richard took a call from his son.
‘Dad, I’ve got a bit of news,’ John said, ‘but I’m not sure how Mel will take it.’
Richard balanced the receiver on his shoulder, signed the letter that had been put in front of him and, as his secretary left the room, he concentrated on the call. ‘Why, what is this news?’
‘We’ve put off saying anything but, at four months, Ulrika is really starting to show. She’s pregnant, Dad. We’re having a baby.’
Richard grinned. ‘That’s wonderful, John.’
‘Yes, we’re chuffed, but as I said, I’m not sure how Mel will take it.’
‘She’ll be pleased for you.’
‘But, Dad, the baby will be born in January.’
Richard understood now. If their baby had been full term, it would have arrived in January, and though John’s would be a year later, the reminder might still upset Mel. Still, there would be no hiding it from her, so trying to sound more assured than he felt, he said, ‘It’s been eight months now since we lost our baby, and I’m sure Mel will be able to cope.’ ‘I hope you’re right, Dad. It would be awful if this set her back again.’
‘Leave it with me. I’m off home now and I’ll break it to her gently. I’m sure she’ll be all right, and don’t let it stop you coming round on Sunday as usual.’
‘All right. We’ll see you then.’
‘Have you told Anne?’
‘Not yet, but I’ll ring her later.’
‘Auntie Anne. I’m sure she’ll be chuffed.’
‘Yes, I think you’re right. See you, Dad.’
‘See you, son,’ Richard said, and replaced the receiver. Bloody hell, he was going to be a grand father: the thought made him feel both sad and old. He had hoped to be a father again, and though he’d hidden it well from John, this bit of news had come as a shock.
Would John tell Betty that she was going to be a grandmother? Richard doubted it, and though he’d managed to quash it until now, guilt rose. Yes, Betty had deserved to suffer, but it had gone on long enough. He’d have to talk to Mel, bring up the dreaded subject–try to persuade her that it was time to tell John and Anne the truth.
In the nursing home, Nora, the cook, flopped onto a chair by the long, wooden, well–scrubbed table. She had time for a small break, but when all the crockery was returned there’d be a stack of washing up to do before she was finished for the day.
Nora liked this job, everyone was so friendly, but it really was hard work. She could do with a hand, if only someone to take on the never–ending piles of washing up. Everyone mucked in, she knew that, but it only extended to work upstairs. At least they had a daily cleaner but, with this house being the size it was, the kitchen only got a good going–over once a week, with everyday tasks left to her. With residents and staff, working here was like cooking three meals a day for a huge family, and the problem was she wasn’t used to coping on her own. Her last job had been in a café, and though there had been a lot more meals to cook, she hadn’t had to clear up afterwards, since that and the washing up had been left to other staff.
‘Hello, Nora,’ said Betty as she came in to place a small stack of trays, heaped with crockery, on the table. ‘I’ll be back with the rest in a minute.’
Nora heaved herself up. Her feet were playing up today, spilling over the side of her usually comfy slippers. ‘I’ll get the washing up done and then I’ll be glad to get off home. At least it’s Friday and I’ve got the weekend off.’
‘What’s wrong, Nora? You seem a bit out of sorts. Are your feet playing up again?’
Nora liked Betty, finding her a comfortable, homely sort of woman who was easy to talk to. ‘Yes, but keep it to yourself. I don’t want Cheryl thinking I can’t do the job.’
‘You’re doing fine, but maybe you could do with a bit of help down here. Why don’t you have a word with Cheryl? I’m sure she’d be sympathetic.’
‘No, no, if she thinks I can’t manage, she might replace me.’
‘Cheryl wouldn’t do that.’
‘At my age it isn’t easy to find work and I can’t afford to risk it. Don’t worry, I’ll manage.’
‘I’m sorry I can’t give you a hand, but until the residents are settled for the night, we can’t leave them for long. I know Paula and I take it in turns to have breaks, but this is a busy time of the day.’
‘I don’t know how you do it. I might moan now and then about my workload, but I’d rather do this than look after that lot.’
‘Oh, don’t say that, Nora. They’re lovely–well, most of the time–and you can’t help growing fond of them.’
‘Privileged, that’s what they are. They live in this lovely house, are well cared for, which is more than you can say for most old folk.’
‘They have to pay for their care, Nora.’
‘They’re still lucky. Take me for instance. I’m not rich, and when I can’t take care of myself any more, I won’t end my days in a place like this.’
‘Haven’t you any family?’
‘No, since I lost my husband, there’s just me.’
Val suddenly rushed into the room, her face as white as a sheet. ‘Betty, come quickly, you’re needed upstairs.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘It’s Alicia. Cheryl has called the doctor, but…but I think it might be too late.’
‘Oh no,’ Betty cried, rushing from the kitchen.
Alone now, Nora shook her head. It was all right for Betty to say you grew fond of the residents, but it would be hard for them if this one died. Mind you, as they were all so old, it would be something they’d have to get used to.
At nine o’clock, still reeling with shock, Val walked through the basement kitchen to the small sitting room, Paula, Betty and Treacle following behind. She had managed, just, to hold herself together until now, but at last allowed the tears to flow
‘Oh, love, don’t,’ Betty cried.
‘I…I can’t believe she’s gone.’
Paula was crying too, her voice strained. ‘When I walked in with Alicia’s tray, I…I thought she was asleep.’
‘She’s been going downhill lately,’ Betty consoled, ‘and Doctor Harman has been called twice. There was a time when she would potter in the garden with Elizabeth, but she’s hardly left her room for the past few weeks.’
‘She…she seemed fine at lunch time,’ Paula sobbed. ‘She didn’t eat much, but when I looked in later, she was having her usual afternoon nap. Oh no! You don’t think she was…was already—?’
‘Dead,’ Betty finished for her. ‘I don’t know, but you heard what the doctor said. Alicia died quietly, and peacefully, in her sleep. She was eighty–two, a good age. Her heart just failed, and there was nothing he, or anyone else, could have done to save her.’
Val sniffed, managed to stop crying, then said, ‘Come on, Treacle, I expect you’re hungry and, come to that, none of us has had any dinner.’
‘We didn’t get the chance of a break, but I’m not hungry. What about you, Paula?’
‘No, no, I don’t want anything.’
As Val went into the kitchen, she was still fighting to control her feelings. Unlike Alicia, she wasn’t old, but the thought of ending up dying alone horrified her. Would she always be living like this? A spinster–without a family around her? Stop it; stop thinking like that, she told herself. You’ve got Betty, Paula and Cheryl, who were as good as kin. Val gave Treacle a bowl of food then, going back into the sitting room, was unable to help voicing her thoughts. ‘I know the residents are old, but when I took the job, I…I didn’t think about this side of it.’
‘It’s hard, but I suppose losing them is inevitable.’
Paula sobbed, ‘I can’t do it, Betty. I can’t face this again.’
‘Paula, there’s a call for you,’ Cheryl said as she walked into the room. ‘Someone called Lucy.’
Paula ran a hand across her face. ‘I…I was supposed to have met her this evening, but…but with all that’s happened the time flew and now it’s too late.’
‘Go and speak to her. I’m sure she’ll understand.’
Val watched Paula leave the room, knowing the devastation on her face was a reflection of her own. Betty seemed to be fighting tears now, obviously holding them back to comfort both her and Paula.
‘Paula was wonderful–you all were,’ Cheryl said. ‘I know it took longer than usual, but you managed to get everyone settled. I’ve left them in Jane’s capable hands now.’
‘Do you want anything to eat?’ Val asked. ‘I’m afraid the food that Nora left for us is ruined.’
‘Oh dear, you didn’t get your dinner breaks and must be starving.’
‘No, we’re not hungry, but what about you?’
‘Sit down, Val. I’ll make myself a sandwich in a minute,’ said Cheryl.
‘I don’t know how you can eat,’ Betty muttered.
‘I’m upset about Alicia, but as a nurse I had to learn to cope with the loss of patients. If I hadn’t, I couldn’t have functioned and the other patients would have suffered.’
‘But surely it’s different now? Alicia had become like a part of the family, and…and,’ there was a gasp, Betty finally breaking down, ‘it reminds me of when I lost my mother.’
Val moved to her side, laying a hand on her shoulder. ‘Don’t, you’ll start me off again.’
‘Remember that Alicia was happy here,’ Cheryl urged. ‘She enjoyed pottering in the garden, until lately when she became very tired and spent more time in her room. After being such an active lady it must have been hard for her and, rather than lingering, she slipped peacefully away in her sleep.’
‘Yes, yes, I suppose you’re right,’ Val murmured, ‘but even Treacle seems to be feeling it. He’s off his food too.’
‘Let’s take him for a walk,’ Cheryl suggested. ‘The fresh air will do us all good.’
Val nodded, scrubbing at her face, and Betty did the same. ‘Paula might want to come too.’
‘I’ll grab a sandwich while we’re waiting for her,’ Cheryl said, going to the kitchen.
Cheryl forced down her feelings as she buttered two slices of bread. Alicia had been one of their first residents, and it had been awful to lose her, but as the only one who hadn’t broken down, she had to hold herself and the others together. Mentally she calculated, sure that everything that could be done, had been done. Doctor Harman had been called and had been wonderful–though he too was upset that Alicia had passed away. Alicia’s son had been informed, the poor man dreadfully distraught when he arrived at the home. The death certificate had been signed and then given to the son to enable him to make arrangements for his mother’s funeral.
What they needed now was closure. The other residents still needed care, and she hoped Betty and Paula would be up to it after their weekend off.
But when Paula came back downstairs, Cheryl couldn’t help but worry. She was so young, with none of Cheryl’s training, and though her eyes were now dry, she looked ready to break down again at any moment. ‘I’m just going to eat this sandwich and then we’re all going for a walk. Do come with us, Paula.’
‘I can’t. I know it’s late, but my friend Lucy is on her way to see me. I tried to put her off, but she said it’s urgent. You…you don’t mind, do you?’
‘Why should I mind? This is your home, Paula, and you’re welcome to invite anyone to it.’
‘I won’t bring her in. We’ll probably go for a walk too.’
Cheryl nodded and, as Paula went through to her bedroom, she sat down at the table, quickly eating her sandwich. What they needed was something else to think about, to focus on. She’d thought about a few things that could make the home run more smoothly: maybe they could sit down and thrash them all out. A lot would depend on the costs but, if put in place, there would be vast improvements.
Paula called goodbye as the others went out for a walk. She wasn’t in the mood to see Lucy, but there’d been no putting her off. Lucy had been sympathetic about Alicia, but sounded agitated, insisting that she had to see her. Perhaps Myra had left her and she needed support. Mind you, in this state, Paula doubted she’d be much help, but at least they could cry on each other’s shoulder.
A look in the mirror showed a wan face, devoid of make–up, but what did it matter? She felt that losing Alicia was her fault, tears now flooding her eyes again. Yes, she had looked in on Alicia that afternoon, but had only poked her head around the door. If Alicia had still been alive, and she’d looked properly–seen that she was ill, maybe, despite what Betty said–the doctor could have done something to save her. She’d wanted to be an auxiliary, had loved the job, but now felt hopeless, useless. Once Cheryl found out, she’d probably sack her, but at this moment, Paula knew she would welcome it.
Only fifteen minutes later there was a knock on the basement door and, surprised that Lucy had arrived so quickly, she went to answer it, saying as she pulled it open, ‘That was fast. Did you get a taxi?’ Her eyes rounded with shock. No–no, it couldn’t be!
‘I put my foot down ’cos Lucy said you might need a cuddle.’
‘Keith!’
‘I was waiting with Lucy in the café, but you didn’t turn up.’
‘With…with Lucy,’ she stammered.
‘She told me to come with her, said that if you saw me again, I might still have a chance. If I have, I’d love to give you that cuddle,’ he said, opening his arms. ‘You look like you need one.’
She stepped into them, sobbing, ‘Oh, I do, I do.’
It was wonderful to be held, comforted, and for a long time they remained outside, arms locked around each other, until at last, Paula stopped crying. In his arms she felt no fear, just happiness, and didn’t want to let him go. ‘Do…do you want to come in?’
‘Yeah, if you like.’
Paula knew how awful she must look and guessed that her eyes would be puffy from crying. She said hastily, ‘Sit down, I won’t be a tick.’
She dashed to the bathroom and quickly splashed cold water over her face, but saw little improvement. Keith was here. He was really here, wanting to know if he still had a chance. At last Paula smiled. Lucy had done this, brought them together–if she’d been there, Paula would have hugged her.
With little she could do to improve her appearance, she returned to the kitchen, finding herself shy as she walked in. ‘Err…can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?’
‘Coffee would be great.’
Aware of Keith’s eyes on her, Paula felt self–conscious as she made the drinks, her hands trembling as she placed them on the table. She avoided looking at him as she sat down, only saying, ‘So…so you’re not with Maureen now?’