How Laura Lewis Met Richard Brown

Chapter Four

Gertie Brown was bored. She had wanted to stay in her room, but Hazel had insisted that she needed to mingle and that just sitting and reading in her room all day was not good for her mental health . Silly woman. Gertie enjoyed nothing more than dipping in and out of her various novels that were scattered around her room. It was what she enjoyed most in life — reading, immersing herself in other people’s lives. After all, what else was there really to enjoy when you were stuck in this place? Gertie knew that there was no alternative and if she could be left alone for most of the time, then she was happy. It was when people tried to interfere for her own good , that she became miserable.

That was why she now found herself sitting in the chair by the doorway in the day room. The chair that always got the draught. Gertie was convinced that Hazel had done it on purpose.

Gertie had been seated next to Sadie who, fortunately, didn’t talk much as she spent most of the day asleep. At least this meant that Gertie could sit and read her book — which she’d shoved into her handbag without Hazel noticing — in peace. The entire purpose of the day room was for socialising , but all Gertie wanted was some peace and quiet. And as for Albert, well, she would keep an eye on him all right. What, with his wandering hands and all. She was so very glad she hadn’t come across him as a young girl. Albert Greenway was no gentleman. Thankfully, he was out for the day with his long-suffering daughter. Gertie felt sorry for her.

Gertie opened her book, Thomas Hardy’s Jude the Obscure . She hadn’t read it for some time, and for some strange reason she had felt the need to pick this particular book as she’d scoured her shelves that morning.

Gertie needed to read. She had read and studied books for most of her life, and she wasn’t going to stop now. She’d tried to get the staff interested, tried to make them set up a library for the residents, but they hadn’t been interested. They’d told her that the one bookshelf in the day room was sufficient. Gertie had been about to protest, as all that housed was large-print romances. There was nothing wrong with that as such — everyone needed romance in their lives — but where was the diversity? The choice? But the look on Hazel’s face had said it all. Gertie doubted the woman had ever picked up a book for pleasure in her life.

Gertie wondered if this not wanting a library, or not discussing books, was because Gertie had been an English lecturer for forty years. By Hazel refusing to start a book club or creating a library for the residents, she took away a little piece of Gertie.

Gertie tried to forget about the constant ache in her back and the shortness of breath that had steadily become worse. She told herself there was no use in worrying or moaning, as that wouldn’t change anything. But she couldn’t help thinking about what had happened in her life, and that very little time was left remaining.

The countdown had begun.

She used to be someone. She was still someone.

She was not the smiling fifty-year-old woman in the picture stuck to her door. Gertie found it insulting. Obviously, it had been Hazel’s idea. The photographs had only started to appear outside doors after she’d been appointed manager.

Gertie sighed, tried to concentrate on the flowing and descriptive language, but her thoughts kept wandering back to the new girl. When she first saw her, stumbling into the day room, Gertie could see the aura that surrounded her. It was a black one — a sad one. Gertie knew that something bad had happened to this girl to bring her here, to this village, to this home. A black aura signified death and unresolved issues, but then coupled with this was a brown haze, which signified a lack of self-worth, yet a down-to-earth person.

What Gertie knew for sure was that this girl was not like the others. There was something about her, something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but with time she would know what secrets this girl held. Gertie knew she’d entered her life for a reason. Her turning up here was no coincidence. Gertie knew deep in her bones that somehow fate had played its cards. She would keep an eye on her. Try to read her. Then she would know.

Gertie smiled. Perhaps her days would no longer be so boring.

* * *

‘Nana, Nana!’ Henry raced towards Gertie, throwing his arms out towards her.

Gertie gently touched his face with the palm of her hand and ruffled his dark curls with the other.

‘It’s so lovely to see you,’ Gertie said, making room on her footstool, which was where Henry liked to sit. ‘Right, love. Let me see what I’ve got in here for you and then you can tell me about your day.’

Gertie began to root around in her large canvas bag which went everywhere with her. She always bought jelly babies, crisps and biscuits from the trolley that did the rounds every morning, so that she would have goodies to give to Henry when he visited.

‘Why aren’t you in your room?’ Richard asked before planting a kiss on Gertie’s cheek and taking the chair opposite hers.

‘Hazel thinks I need to socialise,’ Gertie said, handing Henry a few jelly babies. She looked up from her bag and gave Richard a wide smile. ‘Anyway, how are you, love? Busy day?’

Richard leaned back, nodded, rubbed his eyes. ‘Just the usual really. They’re a good bunch of kids.’

‘No gossip then?’ Gertie had a twinkle in her eye.

Richard smiled and shook his head. ‘Gossip there is plenty of, but as you very well know, I can’t share it.’ Richard used his index finger to touch his nose and gave an exaggerated wink. He had to stop himself from laughing at the expression Gertie was pulling — that of a sulky toddler.

‘But I did bring you this.’ Richard held out a battered paperback.

Gertie reached out hungrily to take the book. She gasped in surprise.

In her hands was a limited-edition copy of a collection of poems by Emily Dickinson.

‘I know how much you love her poetry and I also know that you don’t have a copy. So, I ordered this one online for you.’

Gertie’s reaction was all that Richard needed to know that he had chosen the right book.

‘Thank you, Richard.’ She reached out to take his hand.

Richard held her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, alarmed that he could now feel the delicate bones underneath her thin skin. He leaned back a little in his chair and took in her features. Had she lost weight? Her cheekbones seemed a little more prominent, but it was difficult to tell. When you saw someone nearly every day it was hard to spot those subtle changes. Her cardigan didn’t appear loose fitting, but then she always wore so many layers it was difficult to tell.

‘I can see you looking at me, you know,’ Gertie said, her tone light but her green eyes accusing.

‘I just worry you aren’t eating enough. You need to eat and drink properly.’

Gertie shot him a warning look while raising her hand. ‘Richard Brown, you may be a teacher, but I know my own mind and my own body. I’ve been eating and drinking for the past eighty years.’

Richard sighed and decided to drop the subject. Not that he didn’t still feel uneasy. He was sure she’d lost weight. He would collar a member of staff in the office before they left, just to have a quick chat, to be on the safe side.

‘Are there any more jelly babies, Nana?’ Henry asked eagerly.

Gertie looked at Richard.

‘Just a few more, little man,’ Richard said. ‘We had tea at Tracey’s.’

‘We had chicken nuggets,’ Henry said, taking the jelly babies from Gertie’s outstretched hand.

‘How is Tracey?’ Gertie asked.

‘She’s fine.’ Richard shrugged. ‘She never changes.’

‘She’s a remarkable woman. She’s had to put up with such a lot these past few years. But sometimes . . .’

Richard waited for Gertie to continue. ‘But what?’ he asked, when Gertie remained tight-lipped.

‘Well, you know that she visits me?’ Gertie shifted herself back in her chair and rested her hands in her lap. ‘Well, there are some days that all she talks about is Sally. What Sally would be doing now if she was alive . . .’

Richard shook his head and placed a finger to his lips to silence her. He didn’t want to talk about Sally in front of Henry.

Gertie clamped a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. ‘I’m so sorry, Richard — I didn’t think. I’ll tell you another time.’

‘It’s okay,’ Richard told her. ‘She’s exactly the same with me and I find it hard to stomach sometimes. It’s not natural.’

‘No, love, it’s not. Life, sadly, has to carry on.’

That it does , Richard thought. Life could be so cruel. His gaze landed on Henry, a little boy who no longer had the love of his mother, but who did have Richard and lots of people who loved him. There was Gertie and Tracey, and Sally’s brother, Jack, and his wife, Megan. There was a lot to be said for that.

‘We can stay for another half hour, but then we’ll have to make tracks,’ Richard said, changing the subject.

‘That’s fine. I’m tired anyway, love. I need an early night.’

A sense of unease grew once more in the pit of Richard’s stomach. He had a nagging feeling that Gertie was keeping something from him — and his gut instinct was nearly always right.

* * *

Richard hesitated at the office door. Hazel was chatting on the phone and Henry was pulling at his arm to leave. It wasn’t Henry’s fault. He’d had a long day and just wanted to go home, have supper and go to bed after a bedtime story.

Richard knocked gently on the glass door, hoping to alert Hazel to the fact that he wanted to chat to her.

The office chair spun around so that she faced him, a scowl plastered on her face and a warning finger raised.

Richard felt his pulse quicken as he tried to steady his breathing. This woman annoyed the hell out of him.

Henry tugged once more on his arm, whingeing. ‘Daddy, can we go now?’

Richard was about to tell him one more minute when, to his astonishment, Hazel stood and slammed the office door shut. Richard was left standing open-mouthed.

Resisting the urge to yank the door back open and tell her what a rude woman she was, and that actually he wanted to talk about his grandmother who he was worried sick about, he took a deep breath and headed for the main door, pressing hard on the buzzer to be let out. A small smile escaped him, knowing that this small act would annoy her. He would speak to another member of staff during his next visit, but his sense of unease remained.