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Jerry was out watering his garden when Mary went past the next morning.
“Your roses are looking beautiful,” she called to him. “What are they called?”
“Lovely Lady,” he told her. “They’re smashing, aren’t they? Almost match your hair.” He gave one a gentle stroke. “I grew them for my late wife. Picked her a bunch every an- niversary to tell her I loved her.” He gave Mary a sad smile. “Where are you off to so early?”
“I thought I’d get in some laps at the pool before I start the day. What about you? What are your plans?”
“I’m going to pop over to Glenda’s after breakfast. She has a bathroom cabinet that’s squeaking a bit, needs a bit of oil- ing, I think.”
“You know maintenance can do that? I’m happy to call them?”
“No, no. It’s no bother. I fixed Lois’s kitchen hinges yes- terday, took me five minutes. I’m happy to do it. Besides, it’s the least I can do when Lois irons all my shirts for me.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink. “I might get a piece of Glen- da’s famous baking if I time it right.”
Mary laughed. “You might have them duelling at dawn if you’re not careful, Jerry.”
He looked a little baffled. “Pardon me? Goodness, you don’t think Glenda thinks ...? Cripes. I hadn’t thought ...”
Mary laughed. “You’re a bit of a catch, Jerry. There are not many single men in the village, and none as well dressed as you.”
“And all my own teeth,” Jerry said, pretending to bite her. “No, I’m sure you’re imagining things. Now go have your swim.” He gave the hose a flick in her direction and she gig- gled, jumping back.
“See you later,” she called, heading over to the pool.
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Mary didn’t learn to swim until she was almost eleven. She’d been too embarrassed to admit she didn’t know how but her gran had realised and insisted she learn. ‘We live on an island, surrounded by water,’ she’d told Mary. ‘And there’s nothing better for the mind than swimming.’
She was right. Swimming was Mary’s time to stop thinking and just breathe. She loved the peacefulness of being under- water, her focus only on getting to the end of the pool and
then back again. Having access to the Palms pool was a great perk of the job.
She put the bag with her clothes and towel on one of the loungers, and went over to the pool edge, pulling her goggles over her eyes.
“Bloody hell,” she spluttered as she emerged from her dive in. The pool was normally overly heated for the seniors, but this morning it was stone cold. Mary had gotten used to the pleasant warmth and the cold was jarring.
She did a fast ten laps and then hopped out, shivering. Through the window into the office she could see Bright hunched over his computer, so she wrapped her towel around herself and headed inside through the side door.
“Morning,” she called. “I just thought I’d let you know the pool is freezing cold. I’ll put a notice on the door but could you get someone to have a look at it?” Mary’s hair was drip- ping unpleasantly cold rivulets down her back so she took her towel off and gave it a vigorous rub. When she looked up, Bright was staring at her and she wished she was wearing something sexier than her practical blue Speedo.
He cleared his throat. “Um ... I was just checking the secu- rity footage. Have a look at this.”
Mary hovered behind him over the computer, hoping she wasn’t going to drip.
“See here?” He pointed at a grainy black and white image. “I had a security team set up a few cameras. This one was placed where you can see Fran Gardener and Bets Jackson’s clotheslines in the same shot.”
A man in a floppy pointed hat with a pompom on the end was reaching up to remove a sock from Bets’ clothesline. Bright flicked to the next image which showed the man, head bent, walking away.
“Unfortunately, there are no clear shots of the culprit’s face.”
“Is that a Santa hat?” Mary asked, leaning closer. A drop of water fell from her hair onto Bright’s arm. It rested there, between two blondish hairs, accentuating the tan of his skin. She took a quick step back, annoyed at how her heart had started beating faster and worried he might somehow be able to hear it.
Bright stared down at the drop of water for a second, then cleared his throat again. He reached up to enlarge the image and the drop slipped slowly down his arm.
“It looks like it could be.” He leaned closer to the screen. “It’s someone feeling festive then. Do you think they’re a resident here?”
“I think they must be.” Mary refrained from leaning in for a better look. “The way they’re kind of stooped? Looks like an elderly person to me.”
“I guess we’ll have to see if they come back. I’m puzzled though. What would you do with a bunch of odd socks?”
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“Hello, love.” Helen put her head around her office door a little later, as Mary was sorting out the events schedule for
the following week. “Viv and I would like to put our names down for the shopping trip tomorrow if it’s not too late.”
Mary had completely forgotten about the shopping trip. She’d planned the craft-making session for the afternoon and had promised Ada she’d call in again too.
“I’ll add you both to the list,” she said smiling brightly. “We’ll try to head off around nine, if everyone is ready.”
“There’s always someone who’s not,” Helen said. “You need to say nine sharp, rather than ‘around nine’, then there’s no excuse if they get left behind.”
Mary sighed. Helen was right. Sometimes it was impossi- ble to please everyone.
“I’m heading to the media room and I was wondering if you had any new magazines? The ones in there have been there for weeks,” Helen said.
“I’ll bring some right over.”
There was a box in the library where the residents donat- ed magazines they’d read and Mary had noticed there was a good pile, so she abandoned her planning for now.
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The Natty Knitters were set up in a corner of the lounge. Dougal was hunched in front of the TV on the opposite side watching the cricket.
“Keep it down over there,” he bellowed. “I can hardly hear the commentary over the sound of those bloody needles.”
“Thanks for the magazines, love.” Helen bent to reel in a
ball of blue wool that had unravelled under her seat. “Have you done all your Christmas shopping?”
Mary wished she had more Christmas shopping to do. Apart from Patsy, she didn’t really have friends who ex- changed gifts. The Christmas cards had been sent last week and the coconut ice for the residents was already done. She envied people with large families and wrapping-pa- per-strewn living rooms on Christmas Day.
“Pretty much finished,” she said, smiling at Helen. “Are you planning on finishing yours tomorrow on the shopping trip?”
“I’ve just got to get something for my brother and sister- in-law and something for Viv. That’ll be tricky if she’s on the trip, won’t it? I’ll have to get someone to distract her, I think.”
“Will we be able to call in to the hardware store on the way back?” Bets asked. She was sitting beside Helen, knit- ting something grey and speckled. “There isn’t one at the mall.”
“That should be fine.” She might have to move the craft session to later.
A buzzing noise and then a loud pop made them all jump.
The TV screen flickered twice and then went blank.
“What’s happened to the bloody cricket?” Dougal threw his hands up.
Helen got up to investigate. “If you just ...”
There was a flash, the screen blinked again and the TV came back on.
“For crying out loud, that’s not the Black Caps.”
There was a smiling woman with a neat bob and pink lip- stick, holding aloft a purple drink bottle that had a strange screwtop attached. ”... and with every bottle and set of three Flavour Infusion Pods, we’ll throw in an extra pack of limited edition cranberry flavour.”
“That’s perfect.” Helen put one hand over her heart. “I’ve been telling Viv she needs to hydrate while she’s out walk- ing, but she’s not all that keen on the taste of water. This would be the perfect present. Quick, Dougal, write the num- ber down.”
“I was watching the bloody cricket,” Dougal grumbled to nobody in particular.
“Mary, do you have a pen, love?” Helen asked.
“I’ll take a screenshot for you.” Mary took out her phone and took a photo just as Dougal realised he was sitting on the remote control.
He changed channels and the cricket came back on. “I’ve missed the beginning of the next innings now.”
“You were the one sitting on the remote,” Helen retorted, but she was looking very pleased.
CHAPTER 13
It is a tradition in Japan to eat KFC for Christmas. Orders must be placed two months in advance.