‘It’s honestly the sweetest thing,’ I said to the eager faces gathered round me in the Tall Trees lounge. ‘My friend Tara says it’s like a romcom. Even my teenage neighbour is gripped by it and he says he’s not interested in romance.’
‘So these people wrote each other letters in the pages of the book?’ Val said. ‘But they didn’t know who they were?’
‘Like internet dating, when people aren’t who they say they are,’ said Kenny with a throaty chuckle. ‘Catfishing they call it.’
Not wanting to think about how Kenny knew so much about catfishing, I spoke up. ‘At the beginning, he knows Elsie, but she doesn’t know who he is, so not surprisingly she is really wary.’
‘Clever woman,’ Val said approvingly. ‘Can’t be too careful.’
‘She asks him lots of questions, about conversations they’ve had, so she’s obviously sort of piecing it together.’
I looked down at the pages on my lap, where I’d typed out all the tiny, densely packed writing. It had taken me ages to get through it but I’d got there eventually and it was so wonderful that I couldn’t stop telling people about it. I’d started off telling Val as I made her tea that morning, and somehow I’d ended up in the middle of a group of chairs with residents clustered round wanting to hear the story.
‘Look, he says they can get to know each other through the pages, because he’s a patient and she’s a nurse and it’s not appropriate for them to spend time together. But before she agrees, she asks for clues about who he is and whether they’ve talked.’
‘And he says yes,’ Val put in, because she had already heard this bit. ‘So she says, tell me what we talked about.’
‘Don’t rush, Val,’ Kenny said crossly.
I laughed. ‘He tells her they talked about his uncle the first time they met, and that’s obviously enough for Elsie, because she immediately starts opening up.’
‘She knows who he is,’ Joyce said. She moved her chair a little bit closer to mine. ‘Who is he?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘I only know it’s Elsie because I recognised her writing from little notes she’s made under some of the entries. None of these letters are signed and the writing is terribly small.’
‘It might not be Elsie at all,’ a voice said from the other side of the room. I glanced over to see Helen sitting alone by the television. It was muted but she was staring at the screen anyway, though I had the impression she was listening carefully to our conversation.
‘Sorry, Helen? I didn’t quite hear what you said.’
‘I said, the notes might not have been left by Elsie at all.’
I was a bit put out by that suggestion. ‘Well, I’ve got no proof, but like I say I recognised the writing.’
‘You said the writing was very small.’
‘It is.’
‘So you might be mistaken.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Oh give over, Helen,’ said Joyce. ‘It doesn’t matter really, does it? What matters is the story.’ She turned to me. ‘So what happens once she knows who he is?’
‘This is the cute bit,’ I told her. ‘They start sharing stories about each other.’
‘Like what?’ Kenny moved his chair this time. Honestly, they’d all be sitting on my lap soon.
‘Mostly about the war actually. Elsie …’ I emphasised the name deliberately to annoy Helen who was still pretending to be engrossed in A Place in the Sun even though she couldn’t hear it. ‘Elsie talks about losing her brother. She’s still being cautious, and I can see she doesn’t want to get into trouble so she doesn’t name him in the letters, but we know that Elsie did have a brother who died.’
Joyce gave Helen a little triumphant look over her shoulder.
‘What else?’
‘Shall I read something?’ I asked. ‘It’s my favourite bit.’
‘Yes please.’ Val looked pleased and I was glad that hearing these stories from long ago was perking her up a bit.
‘It’s the chap writing here. He says he knew he couldn’t join the Army because of what happened with the seagull. He writes that it was the seagull that made him realise he didn’t want to kill anyone directly.’
I knew I was milking it, but I paused for dramatic effect and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Helen stiffen. She was definitely listening.
‘What happened with the seagull?’ asked Mr Yin slightly breathlessly.
I cleared my throat and began to read. ‘I grew up in Lytham St Anne’s …’
‘That’s a seaside resort in the north-west,’ Joyce told Mr Yin. ‘We used to go there on our holidays. My brothers would play football in the sand dunes for hours.’
I glared at her and she stopped talking. ‘Sorry,’ she muttered.
‘We lived in a big house right opposite the beach. It was a bit run-down and bits were always falling off it, because of the winds that came racing across the sea and battered the front of the house.’
‘He’s quite poetic, isn’t he?’ Kenny commented. ‘Nice turn of phrase.’
Wondering if I’d ever get to the end, I carried on: ‘One day I came home from school to find my mother in a state. She said there was a seagull in the back garden that had a broken wing and that it was hopping about and squawking. She asked me to go out with a spade and finish it off.’
Helen was sitting bolt upright in her chair, no longer pretending to watch telly. I had no idea why she was being like this, but there was nothing I could do about it. ‘I went out into the garden,’ I said, reading carefully. ‘But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bash that seagull over the head and kill it.’
‘It would have been kinder to put it out of its misery,’ Kenny said, folding his arms. ‘Leaving it injured would just mean it would get taken by a cat or a fox.’
‘Ah but he didn’t.’ I grinned at the expectant faces around me, and carried on reading: ‘I picked it up and took it into the house. We had a little spare room that overlooked the flat roof of our kitchen. So I put the seagull in there with some bird seed, and left the window open. I thought it would recover and fly off.’
‘Did it?’ asked Joyce.
I chuckled. ‘No,’ I said. ‘He says it stayed in the spare room for three years. Three years! Its wing didn’t heal so it couldn’t fly but our mystery man cared for it, and let it hop about on the roof every day, until it died peacefully.’
At the other side of the room, I thought I saw Helen wipe her eyes. But she had turned away from me so I couldn’t be sure. Strange woman, I thought.
‘He sounds like a real sweetheart,’ Val said fondly. ‘What a lovely chap.’
‘Did Elsie reply to the story?’ Kenny asked.
‘Yes, she did.’ I looked down at my notes. ‘She replied, saying he should be a vet.’
‘I wonder if he ever was.’ Val looked sad. ‘We don’t even know if he made it through the war.’
‘That’s why I feel this is so important,’ I said. ‘Elsie was doing a lovely thing for her patients – recording their thoughts and memories and emotions. And that’s why I want to do the same for you. Why I thought we’d do our own Tall Trees book. And I’m planning to incorporate some of the words from Elsie’s book into my mural.’
‘It’s such a good idea. I’ve already thought about what I’m going to write. I’m going to start with a message to my son and daughter …’
There was a screeching sound as an alarm in one of the rooms went off. One of the residents must have had a fall or got themselves in trouble. I jumped to my feet and put my notes and the book itself, which I’d had on my lap, on to the chair where I’d been sitting.
‘I’ll be back shortly,’ I said.
*
But I wasn’t back shortly. It was a couple of hours before I managed to get back to the lounge because one of our sweetest residents – a lady called Jill – had slipped getting out of bed and broken her hip and – we thought – one of her arms. She was very elderly and frail, and she was scared, and Blessing and I were terribly worried about her. So we phoned for an ambulance and stayed with her until the paramedics arrived, which took a while. It was a nice day but it was chilly in her room, so we managed to put a pillow under her head, and covered her in a blanket to keep her warm and I sat on the floor next to her, to chat.
To distract her, because she was in awful pain and we couldn’t give her anything to take the edge off until the professionals arrived, I told her about Elsie and her mystery sweetheart and held her hand, and then I went and fetched some paper and she very sweetly dictated some messages to her family for me to pass on. The messages made us both emotional but I felt Jill was almost enjoying it. Or rather, she was appreciating the opportunity. The thought made me feel warm inside.
When the ambulance came, the paramedics took over and I stood up, stretching out my limbs. I felt a bit tearful because I thought Jill probably wouldn’t come back from hospital. She was so frail now, like a baby bird, with a froth of fine white hair on her head. I couldn’t see her recovering from this fall. I hoped she’d said everything she needed to say.
‘Come and have a cup of tea in my office,’ Blessing said. ‘It’s always tough, but she’ll remember how kind you were.’
‘Thank you.’ That did make me feel a little better. I sat down in the chair opposite Blessing’s desk and she smiled.
‘Jill had a big family. Her daughter was here yesterday, you know? She’s almost eighty herself.’
‘Really?’
‘Really. Jill had her when she was just eighteen. She has grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and her great-great-grandson was born in lockdown.’
‘She told me about that,’ I said, thinking back. ‘She said she was pleased she’d got to meet him. She had me write some messages for her family. Can you pass them on?’
I handed over the pieces of paper and Blessing nodded, looking satisfied.
‘Of course. What a nice thing to do.’
I liked that so many of our residents had big families to visit. I always felt a bit sorry for my own nan, who only ever got to see me. And my father on the rare occasion he dragged himself over from Portugal. I wondered if Max would ever get to visit her again. Not that he’d been a regular visitor before he went to prison.
‘Do you know much about Helen?’ I asked. ‘The newish resident? Does she have family?’
Blessing made a face. ‘Not that I know of. She’s never had visitors.’
‘That’s quite sad.’
‘Perhaps her family are all in Ireland?’
‘Then why come to this home? She could have stayed in Ireland, surely?’
‘Who knows why anyone does anything?’ Blessing said. ‘How are you feeling now?’
‘I’m all right. Better than Jill.’
‘She’ll be fine. She’s being looked after. Go home early if you like, your shift will finish soon anyway.’
‘That’s kind of you, thank you,’ I said. ‘I’ll just grab my bits from the lounge and then get off. I’ve got some preparation to do for my grant meeting anyway.’
I hurried off back to the lounge. The chairs had all been put back to how they were and two of the other carers – Franklin and Vir – were supervising a very rowdy pub quiz. I couldn’t see the book or my notes anywhere.
Joyce and Mr Yin were poring over their answer sheet, their heads close together. I tapped Joyce on the shoulder.
‘Where did the book go, do you know?’ I asked.
She looked startled. ‘I thought you took it?’
‘I’ve been with Jill this whole time.’
‘It’s not there now.’
‘I know that,’ I said patiently. ‘The chairs have all been moved. I just wondered if you saw where someone put it. Did Franklin put it aside?’
Joyce shook her head. ‘It wasn’t there when they came to set up for the quiz. I know that for sure because Vir stacked all the chairs up to carry them and I thought how strong he was. He wouldn’t have been able to stack them if the book had been there.’
‘Did you see where it went, Mr Yin?’
He looked at me, his brow furrowed. ‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘Because after you ran off, there was a kerfuffle.’
The word sounded lovely in his accent. I smiled. ‘What sort of kerfuffle?’
‘Someone saw a mouse,’ Joyce said. ‘And let me tell you, Val pretends to be all strong and bolshie, but she was up on her chair, holding her skirt above her knees before I had time to catch my breath. Kenny had to help her down because he was worried she was going to break her ankle. He got Cyril’s stepladder in the end. And that funny woman from the end room – Marge is it? She was shrieking.’
‘Where did the mouse go?’ I asked, looking around me gingerly. I wasn’t a fan of rodents myself.
‘No idea,’ said Joyce. ‘I’m not even sure there was a mouse. No one else saw it, and I know they move fast but there were a lot of us in here at the time.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘So, there was the mouse kerfuffle and then after that the book had gone?’
Joyce gave me a hard look. ‘Are you implying that the mouse kerfuffle was a distraction so someone could take the book?’
I actually hadn’t been implying that at all, but now she’d said it, it made total sense.
‘Who else was in here when the mouse appeared?’
‘Just us,’ Joyce said. ‘All of us who’d been listening to you talk. Marge. And that Helen woman of course. She’s the one who saw the mouse in the first place. She must be really scared of them because she just vanished.’
‘Hmm,’ I said.
‘Hmm?’
‘Oh nothing. Sorry to interrupt your quiz. I’m sure the book will show up.’
Joyce looked like she was going to question me further but then Mr Yin nudged her. ‘How many actors have played James Bond?’ he hissed.
Joyce narrowed her eyes. ‘Just on screen or on radio, too?’
Leaving them having a fierce whispered argument about 007, I headed out into the hallway and leaned against the wall. To my surprise, I wasn’t panicking. Yes, I’d lost the book and yes, Finn had told me to pretty much guard it with my life. But I had a suspicion Helen was behind all this. She clearly had a problem with the book, or with me, or – I thought suddenly – perhaps it wasn’t me but my project? I thought about Blessing saying that Helen didn’t have any visitors. Perhaps the idea of people leaving messages for their loved ones was making her feel bad because she didn’t have any family to write to.
‘Oh, bless her,’ I said, feeling guilty. She was prickly and a bit strange, but I resolved to be nicer to her. Starting right there and then, in fact.
I headed for Helen’s room and knocked on the door. She was sitting at her little table in the window. Her room looked out over the road, instead of the garden but I knew some people liked that – they liked watching the passers-by and the traffic trundling along the street.
On the table next to her was the book. She looked up at me as I entered, and then at her hand, which was resting on the cover. I thought she looked as though she’d been crying, but I couldn’t be sure.
‘I’ve got your book,’ she said. ‘There was a bit of confusion in the lounge earlier and I took it for safekeeping.’
‘A kerfuffle.’
A flash of amusement crossed her face. ‘A kerfuffle, indeed.’
‘Did you read it?’ I asked. ‘The book?’
She screwed her nose up. ‘Sure, what would I want with that sentimental nonsense?’
There was a small, slightly awkward pause.
‘Can I take it?’
She pressed her hand down on the book, like she was welding it to the table, but then she let go and I darted forward, picked it up and clasped it to my chest.
‘Thanks for looking after it,’ I said.
She closed her eyes briefly, as if she didn’t want to see me, then turned her attention to the view out of the window once more.
‘They’re doing a quiz in the lounge, if you fancy it?’ I said.
‘Thank you, but no. I have things to do.’
‘Well, if you change your mind, you know where we are.’
She didn’t reply.
With the book still clutched in my arms, I left her to it.