Jake opened his mouth, about to ask what was wrong with her – then he remembered. Alzheimer’s. Something was puzzling him. He thought those residents with advanced conditions were moved to the hospice. He voiced his thoughts to Lawrence.
‘Martha gets preferential treatment, at the discretion of the trustees, because her father owned this house. So she stays here, in her own place, until the end.’
Jake nodded. It made sense. She certainly wasn’t dying of old age, but she was dying. Jake noticed her eyelids start to flutter open. This was the first time Jake had actually seen her face. The previous afternoon when he’d visited, she had been asleep, her head tilted on one side, resting on the wing of the chair, which meant that Jake had been unable to see her face through the fountain of long blonde hair that partially covered her face.
He turned to Lawrence. ‘I’ve seen her somewhere before. Before my last visit.’ Jake searched her face, trying to track down the memory. He knew he’d seen photos of her, but it was more than that; he knew he’d seen her in person before. He watched as her eyes opened. First, she looked up at the ceiling, and then she turned her head left and right. Finally, her bright blue eyes, not dulled by time, travelled down the bed to settle on Jake.
‘There you are,’ said Lawrence, offering words of encouragement. ‘I’ve brought you a visitor, Martha.’
‘Martha.’ Jake’s hand tensed around the cold iron metal. ‘I’m afraid you were sleeping when I visited before.’
She was trying to lift her head off the pillow. Lawrence slipped another pillow under her head.
Jake heard the old lady’s tremoring voice say, ‘Ralph – is that really you?’
Lawrence shook his head, and replied, ‘No, Martha, this is—’ Lawrence let out a chuckle and looked up. ‘Say, what is your name, son?’
‘Jake. It’s Jake.’
‘No, you’re Ralph,’ Martha said, starting to get agitated.
Lawrence said, ‘I think it might be best if you return another time. It wasn’t a good idea visiting when she’s barely woken up.’
But she was asleep in her chair the last time, Jake felt likesaying.
Jake had no choice but to follow Lawrence out of the bedroom. He took a backward glance, and caught Martha, eyes wide, holding out a trembling hand. He felt terribly sorry for her. She wasn’t that old – in her late sixties, if that.
Back in the lounge, Jake caught sight of the two chairs by the window. He walked over to the window again, expecting to see Arnold sitting in a chair.
He sat in a chair, closed his eyes and rubbed his temples with his fingertips. All he’d wanted to do was hand the two envelopes back, but their contents, the photos, had just raised more questions. He heard Lawrence’s voice in the room next door.
‘That’s right, Martha, you rest a while. You’ve had quite enough excitement for one morning, haven’t you? One of the nurses will be along soon to get you up and give you breakfast.’
This was followed by some low, incoherent mumbling, and calm reassurances from Lawrence. ‘I’m sure he’ll come back soon.’
Jake felt a hand on his shoulder. He stopped applying pressure to his temples and opened his eyes to find Lawrence hovering behind his chair. He looked concerned. ‘Are you alright, son?’
No, I’m not, thought Jake.
Lawrence sat in the chair next to him.
‘When I visited before,’ Jake whispered urgently, ‘her husband gave me these,’ he thrust the envelopes towards Lawrence. ‘She was sitting in this very chair. Her husband was already here, and he must have got her out of bed to see … me.’ Jake caught Lawrence shaking his head.
Lawrence frowned. A rarity with his easy-going, good-natured personality.
Jake noticed. ‘What is it?’
‘You met her husband?’
‘That’s what I just said.’
‘Well, that’s just not possible.’
‘How come?’
‘I’ll have you know that I do not snoop on our guests’ personal lives, but obviously everyone knows Martha – the daughter of the owner and benefactor of Cedar Grove. And I know for a fact that she never married.’
Lawrence said, ‘Whoever visited couldn’t have been her husband.’
