Secrets at Meadowbrook Manor. Faith Bleasdale

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.

       Chapter 8

      Gemma pulled off the wellington boots she was becoming accustomed to and adjusted the socks that nearly came off with them. She let herself in the back door, having taken a hike up to the lake to clear her head. She’d been here for almost three weeks, and although it was still overwhelming, the place was becoming familiar. As was the family. In very different ways.

      Pippa was still on a mission to make Gemma her best friend. They were spending practically all their evenings together, and Pippa was undoubtedly lovely: warm, open, friendly and interested. She told Gemma all about their upbringing at Meadowbrook, the tragedy of losing their mother when Pippa was barely a toddler, how Harriet had stepped up to the role of matriarch of the family, and how awful it had been when she had to go to boarding school. Gemma had been filled in on the history of the Singers, and it gave her a clearer picture of who she was working with; although she wasn’t sure that Harriet would be pleased at quite how much Pippa was sharing with her.

      At the same time, Gemma still wasn’t as forthcoming in return. She chose carefully what she said to Pippa – it was necessary to hold part of herself back for so many reasons. She was honest, though, as she talked her about her nan’s dementia, about Chris and also, without meaning to, she’d said a bit about her parents leaving her. Pippa liked to ask about Chris, in the way that it bonded them with his similarities to Mark. Gemma couldn’t help but be more open than she had ever intended, and she enjoyed Pippa’s friendship in a way she never had with anyone else.

      Her relationships with the rest of the Singers varied from person to person. Gus was her favourite after Pippa, but then he was the least demanding on her time. As well as the gardens and his paintings, he had Amanda and the two girls to keep him busy, so he left the details of the running of Meadowbrook largely to the others. But Gus was funnier than he appeared, and he was easy to be around. When she thanked him and Amanda for the flowers, they brushed it off as if it were nothing, rather than one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for her.

      Gemma saw him at the animal sanctuary and, of course, in the gardens with Amanda, where they always tried to involve her. Increasingly, Gemma was beginning