Читать книгу Secrets at Meadowbrook Manor - Faith Bleasdale - Страница 12

Gemma sat cross-legged on her bed with her books and notes spread out in front of her. She had been at Meadowbrook just under a week, but she was already fretting that her focus wasn’t what it should be. Not least because she was going home tomorrow. She had toyed with the idea of splashing money she barely had on a second-hand car, but when she broached the subject with Pippa, she insisted that she borrow her car. Pippa said to think of it like a company car, yet another perk of the job.

She had to go to the bungalow, where she was reluctantly going to stay until Sunday evening to start sorting through some of her nan’s belongings. The process from her nan going into the home to her putting the bungalow on the market and now it being under offer seemed to have taken ages, but with the sale going through, she needed to be on top of it all.

Gemma wasn’t looking forward to going back. It was as if she had slightly lost herself in her new life, during the past few days at Meadowbrook, and now she was going to be reminded of her reality.

She was also cross about the way she was conducting herself. The way she was with Gus, showing him her vulnerable side. And Amanda had been so open and lovely that Gemma had told her more than she intended to. Nothing bad, just about her nan, but that was personal, and she was trying to be purely professional. She was terrified of being too open, of crossing the line, and in order to keep the lines clear she had to hold herself back. If she started letting them see her, too much of her, who knew where it would end? She couldn’t take that risk, although already she feared she was.

She was here to do a job, not make friends, but with Pippa’s insistence on them becoming “great pals”, Freddie’s attempts to loosen her up, and her fondness for Amanda and Gus, it was already proving difficult. Even Harriet seemed to be blurring the lines, by asking her questions about herself that Gemma didn’t really want to answer. Nothing awful, just about her upbringing and her schooling, friends, that sort of thing. But although to most people that would seem normal, Gemma wanted to keep all that to herself. She needed to keep her professional head on; she needed to keep her barriers up. She couldn’t afford to forget why she was here.

She was reading about hotel management, hoping her text books, whilst factual, would help her to put some of the nuts and bolts in place, when there was a knock at the door. She scooped the books up and shoved them under the bed.

‘Come in,’ she trilled.

The door opened and Pippa appeared. As usual, she looked effortlessly gorgeous, even in jogging bottoms and a sweatshirt, and she always seemed to be smiling. Although she had been warned that Pippa had a temper, and could be stubborn, Gemma had never seen any evidence of this. She hoped she never would.

‘We missed you at dinner tonight,’ Pippa said, striding into the room and sitting cross-legged on Gemma’s bed.

Earlier, Gemma told Freddie – or rather mumbled to him – that she wouldn’t make dinner as she had work to catch up on and she’d grab a sandwich later. The reality was that she couldn’t face it. She was feeling emotional, so it felt safer to be alone. And she was used to being on her own every evening, since her nan had gone into the home, so being with people, anyone, was taking some getting used to. She knew she was too hard on herself. She expected to know what to do, how to handle the family, but she didn’t and that frightened her.

‘Sorry, but I really wanted to get stuck into work as I’m off for the weekend.’

‘We’re going to make such a winning team, I just know it.’ Pippa looked at Gemma expectantly.

‘Oh yes,’ Gemma said, trying to muster up some enthusiasm. ‘I totally agree.’

‘And we’re going to be the best of friends,’ Pippa continued, grabbing one of the pillows and hugging it to her chest. ‘I mean, I haven’t had a proper girlfriend for years. Mark, my ex-husband, didn’t like me having friends, so I lost touch with all of them, and then I did get back in touch with one, Bella, but she went out with Connor. And he broke up with her because he was in love with Harriet, and she was so upset she couldn’t see me anymore, so I lost her. And of course I have Harry, I suppose, but she’s my bossy older sister, so you can be my first post-divorce, real non-family friend.’

Gemma was a little taken aback, although she had come to expect these outbursts from Pippa, which could sometimes be hard to follow.

‘Well, of course, but you are also my boss,’ she pointed out. Arm’s-length, she warned herself.

‘I hate to think of myself like that, as a boss. I’d rather think we’re partners, and in the spirit of partners we can of course be friends. I really enjoy our chats, don’t you?’

‘Um, yes.’ They were a bit one-sided though, Gemma thought wryly.

‘And I am so glad that I divorced Mark. It’s taken a while, but I am so much happier now. I didn’t realise how unhappy I was until it was over, and I’ve got Harriet to thank for it really, although we almost fell out over it. We did fall out for a while, actually. The thing is, Mark wanted to get his hands on Daddy’s money, and he was plotting with Freddie’s ex-girlfriend.’ A sad look passed over Pippa’s face, and her eyes filled with tears.

‘My God, that’s terrible.’ Gemma instinctively reached out to give Pippa’s arm a squeeze. And poor Freddie – he didn’t come across as the sort who would let anyone mess him around, but then it just went to show …

‘He was controlling and pompous, and he put me down a lot actually.’ Pippa had tears in her eyes.

‘Pippa, my ex-boyfriend was a bit similar,’ Gemma said without thinking. ‘I mean, he put me down all the time. Chris liked to tell me what to do. In the end he finished with me, because he thought that we’d move into my nan’s house when she went into the home. When I told him I had to sell it to pay the fees, he dumped me.’

OK, so much for arm’s-length, but she found she couldn’t help herself. She was not only angry, but also feeling something akin to relief. She’d never told anyone about Chris, apart from her nan, but her nan hadn’t seemed to understand.

‘Oh my God, I knew we had so much in common. Although, of course, you didn’t have Harry to save you. You see, Harriet found out about the plotting, but Fred and I refused to believe her, which caused a rift between us. Poor Gus was stuck in the middle. It all worked out in the end, though. Gwen videoed them together and proved it to us, but it was a pretty horrible time, I can tell you.’

‘It must have been. Imagine losing your father then having your husband turn on you too,’ Gemma said, feeling bad for Pippa, Freddie and herself. ‘I do understand. I lost my nan and then Chris – well, not exactly the same but similar.’

Gemma felt tears pricking her eyes as she looked at Pippa. She had felt so browbeaten, so hurt, so many things. It felt that only now, at Meadowbrook, was she beginning to process them.

‘It’s so weird how similar, really! And poor Fred was upset too. Well, actually, his ego was bruised mainly. He didn’t love Loretta, that’s his ex, as much as I thought I loved Mark, but actually I let Mark control me for so long I didn’t know myself anymore.’

Gemma nodded. God, it sounded so much like Chris, but without the big house, the inheritance or the brother.

‘Thank you for being so understanding. I guess I’ll let you get on.’

Pippa looked as if she would like an invitation to stay, but Gemma suddenly felt exhausted and needed to sleep.

‘I really need to pack. I know I’m only off for the weekend, but I need to make sure I have the essentials.’ She tried to sound light-hearted. ‘And thanks again for lending me the car.’

‘Well, we’ll see you for dinner Sunday evening? We usually all go to the local pub, so I hope you’ll join us. About seven?’

‘I’ll be back before then, so that will be lovely.’

Gemma knew better than to try to get out of it – it seemed that being with the family was part of the job description. It really was a wonderful job, good pay, great living conditions, but it was also the strangest job she’d ever had, and one she really didn’t know if she understood. No, she definitely didn’t understand.

After Pippa finally left her room, Gemma started to pack. She threw some of her clothes into a holdall; she didn’t worry about looking good back home, so she took her old clothes rather than the nice ones Pippa had lent her.

She thought that when she got her first paycheque she might go and treat herself to some new clothes. Having worn those that Pippa had passed to her, she was beginning to enjoy looking better than she usually did. Surely, it was better late than never? She was twenty-eight, not twelve, but so what? She did feel a bit of a new lease of life coursing through her veins. Was that the Meadowbrook effect?

She left early and the house was quiet. She walked quietly to the front door, where a bunch of flowers caught her eye. They were just the sort her nan loved, wild garden flowers, and there was a note attached. She picked it up.

Gemma, Amanda and I remembered you saying your nan loved her garden flowers, so we picked these for her. I do hope she likes them.

Love,

Gus and Amanda

Bloody hell, she thought as she wiped the tears from her eyes. She felt as if she were being drowned in kindness, and she didn’t quite know how to handle this alien feeling.

Driving Pippa’s shiny Mini Countryman was also a new experience, she thought as she pulled herself together. If she didn’t stop being so emotional then Harriet would definitely fire her. She was pretty sure of that. She felt a rush of freedom as she drove away from Meadowbrook and also some relief, as she didn’t have to worry about what she did or said for a while. She programmed the sat nav as she wasn’t sure of the best way to get home and as it’d been a while since she’d driven, she felt nervous as she negotiated the traffic.

When she told Pippa she was going home for the weekend, Pippa made it clear that she was more than welcome to stay at Meadowbrook at the weekends. In fact, she said she’d rather have her there as the house felt less empty. And Gemma would be grateful not to go back to the bungalow. It reminded her too much of the past. It had been her home, but now it belonged to no one. Her nan was never coming back to live there, and although she used to wonder if her mum would come back and find her, she never had. She used to worry that if they moved or even went on holiday – which was a week in a caravan every summer – her parents wouldn’t know how to find her.

But of course she finally had to accept that they never had and never would. Who knew if they were even still alive? Gemma often wondered what happened to them. Had her dad met someone else and got a new family? Likely. Had her mum recovered from what her nan referred to as her “troubles” and also gone on to find happiness? Probably. Did they ever think about Gemma? Doubtful.

When Gemma told her the whole story, one of her college friends Jane had suggested that they try to find out what happened to them, using the Internet, but after initial attempts hadn’t yielded any results, Gemma got cold feet. She suddenly realised that having been rejected when she was a child was bad enough. She wasn’t sure if she could cope with being rejected again.

Over the years, she had also asked her nan if she knew, but her nan was as much at a loss as she was, or so she said, and Gemma had never had any reason to doubt her. She said that her father had panicked, he was young and he felt trapped, so he fled just after she was born. Her mother, Sandie, nan’s daughter, had to be a mum to Gemma, apparently, but she was sad all the time and one day she left too, when Gemma was only four. She hadn’t been in touch since. Her nan was upset about it, she missed her only child, and was happy to talk to Gemma about her, but as far as she knew, she’d never tried to find her, either.

It was funny, well not funny but strange – when Pippa talked to Gemma about growing up without a mum, Gemma wanted to relate to her. But she held herself back, because she also spoke about her wonderful father, with a love and respect that sparkled in her eyes, and Gemma couldn’t understand that at all.

She’d been away less than a week, but the bungalow felt cold and unlived-in as she walked through the front door. She flicked on all the hall lights and made her way to the kitchen. She sighed as she looked at it through fresh eyes. There was such a stark contrast with Meadowbrook. She was angry with herself for thinking that; she might not have grown up with the luxury of Meadowbrook, but she was always comfortable and fed, and she never thought of the bungalow as lacking until now. She was a grown-up; she had always been grateful for what she had, and she needed to remember that. This was her home, and she had been lucky to grow up here with love and warmth.

However, this would be someone else’s home soon and she wouldn’t belong anywhere. Trying to stave off self-pity, she went through the mail, putting the bills in one pile to deal with and junk mail straight in the recycling. There was nothing personal, except an envelope from her last employer with her final payslip – it was higher than she’d expected as she hadn’t taken all her holiday, but it still wasn’t anything near what she was earning at Meadowbrook.

She made herself a cup of tea, glad she had stopped at the petrol station to get some milk, and studied the kitchen, making mental notes as she waited for the kettle to boil. She decided she would keep the appliances for now, because she wasn’t yet sure how often she would be coming back, but she could pack any personal items she wanted to keep and then the rest would go to charity, or be thrown away. She set to work and for a while, lost in the task at hand, she forgot to think about anything. She blanked all feelings of sadness, of worry, of loneliness out of her mind as she put things in boxes and tried to think about nothing.

After making progress in the kitchen and living room, she headed upstairs. She stopped briefly by her nan’s bedroom. The door was ajar and the emptiness of it winded her. The bed stripped, the bedside table devoid of its usual glass of water, reading glasses and book. Even the wardrobe and the chest of drawers were empty. Gemma had packed her nan off with as much as was familiar that she could fit into her new room at the home. The rest she had taken to the local charity shop – there was no point in having it hanging around. But it made her feel empty; there was no sign of her nan in her room anymore.

She hurried to the bathroom, where all that remained was an old bar of soap. Sighing, she made her way to the spare room, which had been her mum’s room when her father left and her mum came back here to live with Gemma. But there were no traces of her now. The walls were an old cream, the curtains red, and the small queen-size bed was devoid of bedding. It had been a dumping ground for ages, and there were piles of boxes and bags that Gemma would have to go through at some point; but she couldn’t face it yet.

Her room was the last room. The smallest room in the house. At one point, when she was about eleven or twelve and it was clear her mum wasn’t coming back, her nan tentatively suggested she move into the bigger room and Gemma could decorate it as she liked as her birthday present. But Gemma couldn’t bring herself to do so. It was as if she still believed her mum would come home one day, so she had stayed in her small boxroom with the single bed. It was a nice room though – it faced the back garden and was light. She had painted it a pale blue colour, duck egg it was called, and she had a white wardrobe and bedside table that she’d got from IKEA. Before Meadowbrook, Gemma thought it was all she needed, but now, well, now she wasn’t quite so sure.

She had never been ambitious – she was too afraid to be so. She knew that she needed hours of counselling to unravel her feelings, but she was too scared to take chances. She just wanted to be safe. Her nan made her feel safe, or as safe as she could feel having been abandoned by her parents. This bungalow made her feel safe. Doing her hotel course was the biggest move she had made, but then she’d had to give it up to look after her nan, so she almost felt she was being punished for having tried to change things. And even working in a job she hated was what she thought she needed, deserved. But now her nan was gone, she didn’t have the safety net anymore, which is why she had taken the huge risk of the job at Meadowbrook. And yes, it was wonderful, but it was also more terrifying than she ever imagined.

She lay on the bed, trying to contain her fears, trying to hear her nan’s voice tell her that she could do this, and the tears that came were welcome, because she needed to feel something, even if it was sadness.

Gemma slept fitfully in her small bed, mainly because she had got used, in such a short time, to Harriet’s king-size bed, and she woke herself up a number of times by almost falling out. She put the hot water on, made a cup of tea and then when she was confident the water would be hot enough, took a wash in the over-the-bath shower. She felt as if she were betraying her nan somehow by comparing everything to Meadowbrook, but she couldn’t help it.

The thought hit her: what if this didn’t work out? What if after the month they asked her to leave? Then she would have to get another job, and she knew any job she got wouldn’t pay anything near what the Singers were paying her. She might be able to rent a small bedsit and all luxury of Meadowbrook would be forgotten. Even the comfort and space of the bungalow would be out of reach. The idea was absolutely horrifying.

She needed to make a success of this – her future, and her nan’s immediate future, depended on it. And that was why she had never taken risks before. They were bloody, bloody terrifying.

Pushing her fears firmly away, she got dressed and left the house. She drove the twenty minutes to Kenworth House, for her weekly visit, basking for once in a warm car rather than the usual bus and the walk.

As she made her way up the tree-lined drive to the Victorian building, she marvelled, again, at how you would never know on appearance that this was full of old people. The grounds were well kept, the house itself impressive. A little smaller than Meadowbrook and filled with lost lives, which is how she thought of it. Most of its residents had problems remembering who they were, or who their loved ones were. It was so incredibly sad for everyone concerned. Gemma had researched as much about dementia as she could, and her only conclusion was that it was cruel. Horrible and cruel.

Gemma waited for the door to be opened, then she chatted with staff who were now familiar, checking that all was OK, or as all right as it ever would be. As she made her way to her nan’s room, she was comforted in the fact that she knew she was well looked after. Although it was expensive, the fact that her nan’s bungalow was in a good location and had bags of potential meant that they’d been offered the asking price, and she would be able to stay here at Kenworth for years if necessary.

Gemma didn’t want to think about her nan dying, because when she did, she would be all alone.

She held her bony hand as her nan sat on the high-backed chair, which had been positioned so she could look out of the window. Gemma sat next to her, gazing at the trees and the grounds through the rain-splattered windows. The wild flowers had been arranged on the table in front of them, and they looked far more beautiful than Gemma’s normal offerings, sparking a smile in her nan, which was priceless.

‘The job’s interesting,’ Gemma said.

Filling her nan in on the Meadowbrook saga was cathartic. Speaking aloud, voicing her fears and hopes, seemed to be helping her more than getting tangled in her own thoughts. And although her nan was largely unresponsive – almost completely today – she felt as if she were being listened to. And, at least they were together.

‘The family are so kind to me, Nan, but I wished I felt that I deserved it. I know you always told me I did, but well, you are the only person who ever knew me properly, and I always struggled to believe in myself, didn’t I?’ Tears glistened in her eyes and she wanted to keep them in check.

Suddenly, and without warning, her nan grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She didn’t speak, but the intensity in her eyes did, and Gemma felt safe again. It was brief but it was there.

Sarah put her head round the door and said it was time for her nan to go to the communal room for the afternoon’s entertainments. Her nan responded to Sarah more than she had Gemma, by giving her a smile and a nod, which cut to the quick, although she knew she wasn’t supposed to take it so personally. Gemma reluctantly stood. She bent down and kissed her nan’s leathery cheek.

‘I love you, and I’ll make you proud of me, you’ll see,’ she said, feeling her emotions on the verge of failing her.

‘Oh, love, I’m already proud of you.’

Her nan’s voice took her by surprise. For a minute she wondered if she’d imagined it, as she looked at her nan to see the same unreadable expression on her face.

Gemma kissed her cheek again, leant down to hug her, breathing in the smell of her perfume – lavender – and enjoying the warmth of her frail body. Then Gemma left the home, walking into the cold air, basking in the warmth of those words as if it were a beautiful summer’s day.