on the cheek. ‘Give me a call soon, won’t you?’
‘Of course,’ he said, grabbing hold of one of her hands. ‘Thank you.’
Alice smiled at him. ‘Happy birthday, Dad.’
She watched as Sam wheeled her father’s chair into the lift up to his room on the first floor and waited for him to return, peeping into the main sitting room which overlooked the front lawn and wondering if she’d catch a glimpse of Rosa. Would it be too intrusive to ask for her? she wondered. Yes, it would and what would she say, anyway? Excuse me – are your intentions towards my father honourable? No, she was quite sure that he was old enough to know what he was doing when it came to the opposite sex.
At last, after settling her father into his room, Sam returned.
‘Did he have a good day?’ he asked Alice, his young face beaming at her.
‘He did,’ Alice said, knowing that Sam was referring to the mental and physical state of her father rather than whether he’d enjoyed himself. ‘He was absolutely fine. No problems at all. Just got a little tired at the end of the day.’
‘Don’t we all?’ Sam said with a smile.
‘You’ll let me know if he has another turn, won’t you?’
‘Don’t worry, we’ve got your number,’ Sam assured her.
‘My mobile and my home number?’
‘Yes.’
‘And the office one?’
‘We checked them all last time, remember?’ Sam said.
‘Oh, yes,’ Alice said.
‘He’s well looked after, Miss Archer,’ Sam assured her. ‘We’ve got him on the new dosage of medication for the MS and he’s eating well, sleeping like a log and – well, everything is absolutely normal.’
‘I know. It’s just that I want to make sure,’ Alice said.
‘And the dementia – well, he has good days and bad days.’
Alice nodded. ‘It’s so unfair,’ she said. ‘Isn’t MS enough? Why dementia too?’
‘Old age can be very cruel sometimes,’ Sam said. ‘I’ve seen so many of our clients battling no end of ills.’
Alice nodded, blinking fast so that her tears wouldn’t spill. ‘But he isn’t old,’ she said hopelessly.
‘Well—’
‘He isn’t! Not by today’s standards.’
Sam nodded. ‘You just have to take things one day at a time with ageing. That’s all you can do.’
Alice nodded and said goodbye, leaving Bellwood House for her sister’s. It was dark now but there were no lights on in the house. Alice wondered if her sister really was tucked up in bed with a hot water bottle and a box of tissues but she quickly dismissed the thought as she popped the car keys through the letterbox.
Walking to the end of the road, Alice turned left and headed towards the bus stop. Fishing her mobile out of her pocket, she texted Stella.
Had a great day with Dad. Car returned. Hope you’re feeling better. Xx
The reply took only half a minute to arrive.
Hope you topped up the petrol. S x
‘We can’t possibly go on using that room for interviews – it’s far too noisy with them digging up half the street outside,’ Larry Baxter told Alice without actually looking at her.
‘How about the old filing room?’ Alice suggested.
‘What?’ Larry snapped.
‘The old filing room at the end of the corridor. It’s only got one old filing cabinet in it and we don’t really use it anymore. It’s quiet in there too and has lots of natural light.’
Larry deigned to look at Alice for a moment but didn’t really appear to see her. ‘I’ll have to think about it,’ he said at last, scratching his bald head.
Alice shook her head. Ben Alexander had three interviewees arriving in less than an hour and they had nowhere to put them. The least Larry could do was listen to her perfectly decent suggestion or they’d end up interviewing the candidates in the canteen which would probably flout the all-important health and safety regulations.
Alice was just racking her brains for an alternative suggestion when Ben Alexander walked into the room.
‘Hello, Larry. Hello, Anna,’ he said, his all-encompassing gaze sweeping Alice oh-so-briefly. ‘All set for the interviews?’
Larry cleared his throat. ‘I suggest we use the old filing room at the end of the corridor,’ he told Ben. ‘It’s quiet and has lots of natural light.’
‘Excellent idea!’ Ben said, clapping his hands together.
‘Yes, I thought so,’ Larry said.
‘Your boss is a miracle worker, isn’t he, Anna?’ Ben said.
Alice turned round and rolled her eyes, returning to her desk where she found Larry’s empty coffee cup waiting for somebody to wash it. She sighed, thinking to herself that her situation might be more bearable if she had somebody in the office she could talk to but the only other woman who worked in her department was part time. Her name was Pearl Jaggers and she was about a hundred and twenty years old and was only interested in small talk if it was about her eleven grandchildren.
She wasn’t sure how she managed to get through the next few weeks leading up to the holiday. She endured countless cold mornings at the bus stop, her neck retreating like a shy tortoise’s into the woolly folds of her scarf. Bruce was his usual uncommunicative self and didn’t even attempt to help when a speeding car splashed an icy puddle up her legs.
Wilfred the postman was as grouchy as ever, complaining about the conditions postmen had to endure during the cold months and then promptly sneezing on her and, at work, Larry continued to ignore her and Ben continued to call her Anna. Life was perfectly normal if far from perfect.
But, finally, the great day arrived. Alice had spent the final five evenings before the holiday packing. And unpacking. She just didn’t know what to take. She’d looked up the temperatures in Kethos online and was assured that mid-April was mild but not hot. That meant you had to take absolutely everything: jeans and jumpers in case it was cool and dresses and swimsuits in case it was warm. Not that Alice had much in the way of clothes; she wasn’t the sort of woman who had an excess of anything – unlike her sister who had once bought a favourite dress in three different colours. Alice thought of her sister’s heaving wardrobe and the number of clothes which had been flung over their father’s old bed. She couldn’t help thinking that something was wrong when a person had more shoes than books in their home.
Which reminded her, which books was she going to take? She’d treated herself to a guidebook and a lovely paperback romance called Swimming with Dolphins as well as a funny little hardback she’d found in her favourite second-hand bookshop in Norwich. The book was called Know Your Gods and, as Alice didn’t, she’d bought it.
Their flight to Greece left shortly after seven and Stella refused to drive to the airport so early in the morning and didn’t want to pay the parking charges for the week either.
‘You can pay for a taxi. You are getting a free holiday, after all,’ she told Alice who swallowed hard, held her tongue and made a huge cash withdrawal from a hole in the wall.
Travelling with her sister was a trying experience. She had been the archetypal are-we-nearly-there-yet kid and she hadn’t grown out of that