Secrets at Meadowbrook Manor. Faith Bleasdale

35

      

       Chapter 36

      

       Chapter 37

      

       Epilogue

      

       Acknowledgements

      

       Keep Reading …

      

       About the Author

      

       By the Same Author

      

       About the Publisher

       Chapter 1

      Gemma Matthews rang the buzzer, rubbing her gloved hands together and stomping her feet to try to ward off the cold. She had taken the bus, but still had a twenty-minute walk to get to the residential home. Despite the fact that she did the journey frequently, it was still a difficult one, in more ways than one.

      The door was opened by Sarah, one of the carers at the home.

      ‘Gemma, come in, come in,’ she said, kindly, grimacing as a blast of cold air shot through the door. ‘Blimey, it’s freezing.’

      ‘Hi,’ Gemma said, still able to see her own breath. ‘How is she today?’ Gemma’s voice wobbled, as it always did when she asked after her nan.

      ‘Not too bad, love,’ Sarah replied.

      Gemma nodded and made her way in.

      The warmth of the nursing home hit her as soon as she closed the door behind her. She wrinkled her nose at the familiar smell; the aroma she now associated with old age. Kenworth House was a residential home specialising in taking care of dementia sufferers. Unfortunately Gemma’s nan was one of them, and she’d been here almost a year, ever since Gemma became unable to care for her at home. She signed in at the big marble reception desk, her signature like a spidery mess across the page. If it wasn’t for the smell, Gemma would think she had walked into a five-star hotel – the home was grand and expensive, which was reflected in its interior. Although Gemma knew they were struggling to afford to keep her nan here, she was determined. She had never been so determined about anything in her life, and now it seemed that determination had paid off.

      She took the stairs up to her nan’s room on the first floor. Out of habit, she knocked on the door before opening it straight away. She took a breath; every time she walked through this door, she had no idea what would greet her. Would her nan recognise her? Would she welcome her even? One thing she had learnt about dementia was that it was riddled with inconsistency.

      ‘Hi, Nan,’ she said as breezily as she could, going straight over to where her nan was sitting. She bent down to kiss her cheek, breathing in the familiar lavender scent that characterised Gemma’s childhood, her family.

      Her nan was staring out of the window, something Gemma often found her doing. She had a lovely view over the grounds of the home, which were vast with beautifully kept sweeping lawns, and flower beds ready to spring into colour. Her nan had always loved gardens, and Gemma was glad that she had this view.

      ‘Gemma?’ her nan asked uncertainly as she turned to her. Relief flooded through Gemma; it was a good day.

      ‘Yes, Nan, and I’ve brought you some flowers.’

      She took a bunch of wild flowers out of her bag, and put them under her nan’s nose. Her nan smiled as she smelt them. One of her passions in life was gardening – her nan’s not Gemma’s. Gemma remembered how weekends would be spent with her nan digging, planting or weeding while Gemma would read a book outside if the weather was good, watching her, being close to her.

      ‘And of course your favourite wine gums.’

      She handed them to her. Gemma liked bringing wine gums; when she was a kid, her nan would bring home packets from the post office on a Friday, and it would be a treat that Gemma looked forward to. After a fish and chip supper, they would share the wine gums. It was nostalgic but the only way Gemma felt she could cling to her past.

      ‘Thank you, love,’ her nan said with a slight smile.

      ‘Let me put the flowers in water,’ Gemma said quickly.

      Her nan’s room was large, with a plush beige carpet, a bed, with an old-fashioned eiderdown covering it, and two chairs arranged around a small table. When her nan first moved in, Gemma had brought her favourite pictures to put up, including her wedding photo and a photo of her and Gemma when they were on holiday. The rest of the room housed a few of her books, which sat on a small shelf, although they were largely unread.

      Gemma picked up the vase with the flowers from her last visit, which she deposited in the bin before going to the sink to rinse the vase and fill it with fresh water. She arranged the flowers, put them on the table and then sat in the chair next to her nan. She was bursting to tell her her news, but she had learnt that in order not to startle her nan, she needed patience.

      ‘So,’ she asked slowly, ‘how are you?’

      ‘Oh I’m just grand, love,’ her nan said with a smile. Her hands shook slightly as she gestured for Gemma to open the wine gums.

      The door opened and Sarah came in.

      ‘Can I get you ladies a nice cuppa?’ she asked.

      ‘Yes please,’ Gemma replied. ‘Tea, Nan?’

      ‘That would be lovely, thank you,’ her nan said.

      As Sarah disappeared, Gemma took a wine gum and smiled.

      ‘Nan, I have some news,’ she started.

      ‘Oh yes?’

      Gemma saw the woman who had brought her up, the woman who was the rock in her life, until the cruel illness descended on their lives, ruining everything. Her face was the same, but her brain wasn’t. When, like today, her nan recognised Gemma, she felt as if she’d won the lottery.

      ‘You know I told you that I was going to apply for a new job?’ Her nan shook her head, and Gemma felt angry with herself. She should never ask her if she remembered anything. ‘Sorry. Anyway, I applied for a new job. As a hotel consultant to set up a new hotel in a gorgeous, gorgeous manor house.’ Her words wanted to rush out of her mouth, and Gemma told herself to calm down. But she had never felt this excited before.

      ‘Oh yes?’ Her nan seemed to be following this.

      ‘Meadowbrook Manor. It’s in a small village in the Mendips. Anyway, the family are turning the house into a small hotel, or that’s the intention, and they’ve offered me the job of helping them to open it.’

      Technically, only one of the family had offered her the job, Pippa Singer; she hadn’t met the others yet, which was a little strange. Or even seen the house in person, which was stranger still, but Pippa had insisted that she was perfect for the job without her even visiting and after only one interview. Gemma had jumped for joy when she phoned to tell her. No one had ever called her perfect before – no one apart from her nan.

      ‘Well that sounds lovely, what good news.’ Her nan’s eyes shone. She gave Gemma’s hand a squeeze. ‘I’m very proud