‘Used to be,’ she said. ‘Now, what is your name please?’
‘My name?’
We keep a log of visitors to Cedar Grove.’
Jake hesitated. He did not want to get into a conversation about what happened last Christmas when she found out who he was.
The receptionist looked up, pen hovering over her note pad.
‘I’m Jake Campbell-Ross.’
Their eyes locked for a moment. Jake anticipated that she’d say something, but to his relief she did not. Jake watched her write his name in the book.
She closed the notepad and walked around the desk, extending her arm towards the door. ‘This way, if you please.’
Jake walked out of the room ahead of her, bemused by the old-fashioned turn of phrase.
‘So, what exactly is Cedar Grove?’ said Jake, pausing while she closed the reception door. ‘I assumed that it was a new housing development.’
‘Yes, I suppose people would think that with the billboard advertising the place.’
She led the way back along the corridor towards the main entrance, her high heels clicking on the polished parquet floor. They mounted the left-hand staircase and headed towards the majestic landing window.
‘This is a hospice,’ she said, glancing back at Jake as she passed the window.
‘A hospice?’ Jake stopped halfway up the stairs and looked through the impressive landing window onto the beautiful grounds below – grounds that, according to a billboard, would soon be littered with houses and apartments. He wondered if the owner was in the process of selling. Jake intended to take acloser look at one of those billboards on his way out.
Jake turned away from the window and walked up the remaining flight of stairs. The receptionist was already at the top, arms folded, waiting for Jake. She led Jake along the galleried landing, passing numbered doors. ‘We cater for a variety of different …’ she paused, ‘circumstances.’ They stopped at the last door.
‘Circumstances?’ repeated Jake.
She nodded. ‘All terminal, I’m afraid.’ She knocked on the door softly.
‘It must cost a fortune.’ Jake muttered to himself.
‘Yes, I expect the running costs are quite high.’
‘No, I meant looking after the … sick people.’
‘Residents; we like to call them residents. And it doesn’t cost them a bean.’
‘They don’t pay?’
She put her hand on the doorknob. ‘Cedar Grove is a charity, Mr Campbell-Ross.’ She opened the door and ushered Jake inside. ‘I’ll leave you now,’ she said, ‘but remember that this resident tires easily, so don’t be too long.’ She closed the door.
Chapter 30
Jake stood just the other side of the door, uncertain about what to expect or what he was doing there.
At first glance, the room appeared empty. It was not how Jake would have imagined such a room would be – clinical, like a hospital. In fact, the room was just how Jake had imagined it would be before the receptionist had said the wordhospice; it was totally in keeping with what Jake had seen so far of the house. The delicate rose print wallpaper, large oak furniture and soft-cushioned, old-fashioned sofas and high-backed chairs harked back to another era and suggested that the benefactor had donated the property lock, stock and barrel. The charity on the receiving end had had the sense not to change a thing, which strangely pleased Jake. He didn’t see a bed, so he guessed this was more like an apartment than the single bedroom he’d been anticipating.
He didn’t know why he felt so relieved that they’d clearly kept so much of the original interior; after all, the property had nothing whatsoever to do with him, although he felt he had been there before. Not in this room, but he had walked up the staircase; he was sure of it. He’d had the strongest feeling of déjà vu.
He vividly remembered looking out of that same picture window overlooking the grounds. There was something else; Jake was almost certain he had been there with his mother. Beyond that, he drew a blank. With many childhood memories, it was difficult to distinguish the real from the imagined, but Jake felt certain about his memory of the beautiful arched window.
He wondered how long Cedar Grove had been a hospice. If it had not been a hospice all those years earlier when he was a child, then whom had his mother taken him to visit there? Jake was very interested to find out what connection his mother might have had to the fine old house and its generous benefactor.
Jake’s eyes roved to the far end of the room, where two high-backed red leather chairs were positioned in front of a latticed, leaded window overlooking the grounds. One of the chairs was occupied.
