‘No youngsters allowed, so we’ll pick him up at two-thirty.’
‘No.’ Beckett shook his head, disconcerted. ‘We can’t leave him here.’
‘Yeah, you can.’ Sofia grinned, reappearing with a mug of tea. ‘He’ll have a great time. I reckon Doreen could out-insult him any day of the week. Especially when it’s fish pie.’
‘No, he’s not safe.’
‘Which is why we have trained, experienced volunteers.’
‘He has significant cognitive impairment, some apraxia, other issues…’
‘Did you fill in the form online?’
‘No, because I had no intention of him coming here.’
‘Hang on.’ She called across the room. ‘Bill? Can you come and help Beckett sort a form for Marvin, please?’
Sofia nipped past us and went to give Gramps his tea.
‘Sorry,’ Beckett said, face creased with anxiety as Bill approached. ‘He can’t stay without someone who can manage his needs. I’ll let him finish his drink and then we’ll go.’
Bill gave Beckett a patient stare. ‘I worked as a geriatric nurse for thirty-six years. In the seven years since retiring, I’ve volunteered with a dementia charity, a stroke support group, in five different nursing homes and here. I can manage his needs.’
‘Sometimes… he can’t feed himself properly.’
Bill nodded at a woman in a wheelchair, her limbs and neck painfully contorted. ‘That’s what we’re here for.’
‘We can’t afford this,’ Beckett said. ‘I’m in between home carers at the moment, so barely managing to work… I… Thanks for the offer.’
Bill grinned. ‘There’s no charge, pal.’
‘What?’ Beckett frowned as he scanned the room, which was now filling up with more elderly and in some cases very infirm people. ‘You do this for free?’
Bill put a hand on Beckett’s shoulder as his tone grew serious. ‘I’ve spent enough time with families going through what you’re facing to know what a lifeline a few hours off a week can be. Take your lovely friend here out for a nice wee lunch, aye?’ He held out a twenty-pound note, which was a sweet gesture, but would definitely limit us to a ‘wee’ lunch. ‘Marvin will be in safe hands with us. I’ll see to it personally.’
Beckett looked at me, as if hoping I’d be able to come up with a better excuse.
‘Gramps loves it here. What’s the worst that can happen?’
‘If I answer that, they’ll definitely not let him stay.’ He shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching. ‘Okay. We can try it, I suppose. Thank you.’
They spent a couple of minutes completing the necessary information online, then Beckett politely declined the money Bill was still trying to thrust into his hand.
‘Call me, if there’s the slightest bit of trouble. He can be really?—’
‘Offensive, ornery, shaky, confused, incontinent… I know, buddy. So, no, I won’t call unless it’s a full-on emergency. What happens at Long-Life Lunch Club stays at lunch club. Now get out of here – it’ll be two-thirty before you know it.’
‘Why don’t we find a café with free Wi-Fi nearby?’ I asked as Beckett hovered in the car park, as if staring hard enough would enable him to see through the church walls.
We quickly checked Google Maps but Beckett rejected the few places within walking distance.
‘If we’re treating ourselves to lunch, let’s do it properly. I’m not wasting almost three hours just anywhere.’
‘Where, then?’
‘Can you take a pram on the tram?’
‘I’ve got the papoose in my bag. I can switch.’
