‘We’ve got an offer, doll. Not quite full price, but it’s a decent one.’
‘Gav, that’s great!’ Eve was balancing her mobile under her chin as she stacked yoghurts into a shopping trolley, grabbing some basics before she had to pick up Daniel from school. The supermarket was busy and, as she tried to hear what Gav was saying, she impatiently navigated her trolley around a woman who was blocking the aisle while she studied the small print on the back of a carton of custard.
‘We’re talking ten grand below the asking price.’ Gav’s voice was tinny: he must be in his car, talking on speakerphone. ‘But they’re cash buyers and there’s no chain. Think you should accept.’
Eve wasn’t sure how Flora was going to take this news, but it would be such a relief to get her flat sold. Whatever equity was in it, would inevitably be swallowed up by the fees for Three Elms, but at least it would see them through the next few years. Eve had no idea what would happen when the money ran out, but at the moment there was no point thinking that far ahead. Flora had no substantial savings, so Eve was making weekly online transfers to pay the care home fees and the amount in her savings account was disappearing faster than water spiralling down a plughole. She didn’t resent it, but she really needed to shift that flat.
‘Thanks, Gav,’ she said. ‘I appreciate it. Can you accept it for me?’ She ended the call and put her mobile back into her pocket. However much he irritated the hell out of her, there was no denying the man was a master of his craft.
She still couldn’t work out how he did it. Gav wore shiny, grey suits with tight trousers that weren’t quite long enough to cover his white socks, and he slicked his dark hair back from his forehead with so much moulding wax that he looked like an Elvis impersonator. He was five foot nothing and strutted like a Bee Gee, loudly addressing women – even those he hardly knew – as doll, babe and princess. Yet, he somehow sold more properties than the rest of the staff put together, and Eve was glad she’d taken him up on his offer of handling the sale.
‘No offence, love, but you’re too close to it to do a good job yourself,’ he’d said, when she explained why they were putting it on the market. ‘It’s your mum’s place so you’ll want people to love it when you’re showing it. How will you react if they laugh at the pictures of kittens she’s got on the wall?’
He’d had a point. Flora’s décor was tired and old-fashioned and it wasn’t going to charm any potential buyers. And it was good of him to say the agency would take on the flat in the first place: it wasn’t the sort of high-end property they usually listed on their books.
After finishing the shop and picking up Daniel from school, Eve drove to Three Elms.
‘I don’t want to be here again!’ he yelled from the back seat as she pulled into a parking space.
‘I know, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘But we won’t be long. I just need to speak to Granny about something.’
‘I hate this old people house!’ shouted Daniel, hurling his water bottle through the gap in the front seats. It struck the dashboard and bounced off into Eve’s lap, the top popping off and water soaking into her skirt.
‘Daniel, stop it!’ said Eve, frantically wiping the material. ‘Shit. Now look what you’ve done!’
‘I don’t care, I hate it here! Shit, shit, shit.’
‘Too bad, we’re going in. And don’t say shit.’
‘You said it?’
‘That’s different.’
Flora was in the lounge, sitting with a group of other residents. Eve was surprised to see her mother was deep in conversation with the woman beside her; both were nodding enthusiastically, then Flora threw back her head as she laughed.
‘Hello Mum,’ said Eve, bending down to kiss her cheek. ‘You look like you’re having a good time.’
As she turned and saw her daughter, Flora’s face fell, the sparkle going from her eyes. ‘I’m not,’ she snapped. ‘I hate it here, Eve. It makes me so unhappy. I don’t know why you make me stay in this place.’
The woman next to Flora was glaring at Eve as well. ‘Me too,’ she said. ‘This is no kind of life for any of us.’
Before Eve had a chance to say anything, there was a tap on her shoulder, and she turned to find Mrs Donaldson, the manager, standing behind her. ‘Glad to catch you,’ she said. ‘Can I have a word?’
‘Yes, of course. Daniel, sit here next to Granny for a minute.’ As she followed Mrs Donaldson back out into the corridor, Eve tried to remember when she’d paid the fees. She was sure she’d settled up for last week; well, almost sure. The invoice had been sitting on the kitchen worktop, and it wasn’t there anymore. Although that could mean it had fallen onto the floor; oh bugger, maybe it was in the recycling box? She sometimes got a bit gung-ho when tidying up the chaos in the kitchen.
‘I’m sorry if I’ve got behind with payments…’ she began.
‘We have a problem,’ interrupted Mrs Donaldson. ‘Your mother is drinking.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Drinking alcohol. She has been in an unstable state in the evenings, and the cleaners have found a number of wine bottles hidden under her bed.’
Eve frowned. ‘No, you must have got that wrong, Mrs Donaldson. My mother doesn’t have any alcohol in her room. I brought in a bottle of wine last weekend, but we had a glass together then I took the rest home. She’s never been a big drinker.’
‘She must have been acquiring it elsewhere then,’ said Mrs Donaldson. ‘Because this is more than the odd bottle, and I can assure you that your mother is definitely what you might call “a big drinker”. The other day she was tiddly by teatime, and ended up singing the EastEnders theme tune at the top of her voice in the lounge, when the rest of the residents were trying to watch the programme on the television. We had to take her out. Then, late last night, she was found in Mr Barclay’s room, sitting on the end of his bed, drinking his whisky.’
Eve wanted to laugh. ‘Well, lucky old Mr Barclay! If he didn’t mind, that’s not a problem, is it? I would have thought you’d encourage residents to socialise with each other.’
‘Mr Barclay was asleep in his bed at the time.’
‘Ah.’
‘So.’ Mrs Donaldson puffed out her chest and glared at Eve. ‘We need to look at some damage limitation. I can’t allow you to bring in alcohol for Mrs Glover, because she is clearly not to be trusted with it.’
‘This is ridiculous,’ said Eve. ‘I’m sorry if she got a bit unruly, but she’s a grown woman. You can’t stop her from enjoying a glass of wine every now and then.’
Mrs Donaldson’s eyes narrowed. ‘Please don’t tell me what I can and can’t do in my own establishment,’ she said. ‘I have to consider the general well-being of all our residents and this is not the sort of behaviour we can tolerate in a reputable home like Three Elms. If the issue can’t be addressed, we may need to rethink our ability to provide accommodation for Mrs Glover.’
Eve glared back, her hands clenched into fists by her sides. The words were undoubtedly designed to sting, and they had the desired effect. How would she go about finding another care home for Flora? It was hard enough trying to settle her into this one; her mother would never cope with another move – nor would she, come to that.
‘Right, thanks for telling me about this, Mrs Donaldson. I will deal with it.’
‘I’d be obliged if you would.’ The woman was stony-faced. ‘If this continues, I will be forced to take further steps.’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ said Eve. ‘I’m sure we can sort it out.’ The cheek of the woman; what was she going to do, lock Flora in her room and take away her chocolate digestive privileges? ‘My mother is going through a difficult time at the moment, as I’m sure you’re aware.’ So, you, Mrs Donaldson, could be a little more understanding. Eve watched as the care home manager walked away towards the reception area. This wasn’t fair: it was bound to take time for new arrivals to get used to their changed surroundings at Three Elms and Flora can’t have been the only resident to have struggled to settle in. However, it was worrying if she’d developed such a penchant for Pinot Grigio.
She marched back into the lounge and hustled her mother and Daniel out into the corridor. Had Mrs Donaldson’s criticism really just been aimed at her mother? Despite the fact that she’d known nothing about Flora’s drinking until a couple of minutes ago, Eve felt like a schoolgirl who’d been caught having a fag in the toilets at break.
‘What’s all this about you getting drunk?’ she whispered in Flora’s ear. Daniel had been scuffing the toe of his shoe against the doorframe and now started bunny-hopping away from them towards the dining room at the far end of the corridor. ‘Daniel! Come back here!’ Eve hissed.
‘Honestly, these people! I knew they’d tell you about that.’ Flora sniffed and threw back her shoulders. ‘Interfering so-and-sos.’
‘But Mum, you can’t get drunk here!’
‘Why not? Anyway, I’m not getting drunk. I’m just having a little drink in the evenings. There’s nothing wrong with that.’
‘There is, if it upsets the other residents.’
‘Rubbish. I don’t upset anybody. Anyway, a drink is the only thing that makes my life bearable. It just shows how desperate I am – how unhappy!’
Eve reached out her hand, but Flora shook it off. ‘It’s all your fault,’ she said. ‘You’ve forced me to come to this awful place and you’re keeping me here against my will. The only thing that keeps me going – the only thing that cheers me up a little bit – is having a glass of something in the evening. Now you’re telling me I can’t even do that.’
‘I’m not saying that, I’m just suggesting you stick to one small glass!’
‘It’s not fair!’ yelled Flora. ‘You’re horrible!’
‘Shh, don’t shout at me. Where are you getting the wine from?’
‘None of your bloody business.’
‘Okay, we’ll talk about it later. Anyway, you seemed to be having a good time in the lounge just now, when we arrived? It was good to see you chatting to a few other people and laughing.’
‘I make an effort,’ said Flora with another sniff. ‘But this is not how I want to end my days. And here you are, accusing me of being an alcoholic!’ Her lip was wobbling and her eyes were already full of tears.
‘I’m not, Mum. I never said that.’
There was a thump from the end of the corridor, and Eve looked round to see Daniel had kicked over a wastepaper basket. ‘Stop that! Come here and play on my phone,’ she called, digging the mobile from her pocket. ‘Listen.’ She turned back to Flora. ‘We just need to keep everyone happy. I don’t mind bringing you a bottle of wine every now and then. But you’ve got to promise me you’ll just have one glass a night, and think about other people.’
Flora had stopped crying again and was standing with her hands on her hips. ‘I hate this place, Eve. You have no idea how miserable my life is.’
‘You didn’t look miserable when I saw you in the lounge a few minutes ago. In fact, you looked like you were having a good time.’
They glared at each other. Eve had never thought of her mother as manipulative, but right now it suddenly felt as if she was being played. Was Flora really as unhappy as she claimed, or was she turning on the tears for Eve’s benefit?
Daniel stuck his head under her arm and held out the phone, its screen covered in a garish green cartoon. ‘Look Granny, I’ve got my own Very Hungry Caterpillar who can skate on a pond.’
‘Lovely,’ said Flora, peering down at him.
Behind her mother’s head, Eve could see a large cork noticeboard covered with bits of paper. There were cleaning rotas alongside emergency contact numbers and information sheets for visitors. Right in the centre of the board was an A3 poster, with red lettering and a border of galloping reindeer.
‘Look, what’s that?’ Eve said, desperate to change the subject. ‘A concert?’
She took Flora’s arm and turned her around, so they were both looking at the poster. ‘A joint Carol Concert will take place in December, featuring the residents of Three Elms and the children of St Barnabas Primary School,’ she read. ‘Rehearsals to be held each Tuesday afternoon. That looks interesting. Why don’t you take part?’
‘Why would I want to do that?’ snorted Flora, peering at the poster.
‘Well, it might be fun. You’ve got a lovely voice – it’s wasted on the EastEnders theme tune. It looks like the children are going to come into Three Elms every week and practise carols with you all. Then you’ll put on a performance for friends and family. What a wonderful idea!’
‘Sounds bloody dreadful,’ said Flora. ‘Can’t imagine anything worse. Why would I want to spend my time with a load of horrible children? I can’t stand them.’
Daniel looked up from Eve’s phone. ‘That’s okay, Granny. Some days I don’t like you either.’