How Laura Lewis Met Richard Brown

Chapter Seven

Gertie held Laura’s hand and closed her eyes. It was nice to sit and feel another person’s touch, their warmth, their skin. That’s what she missed living in this home. Although hands and fingers and arms touched her on a daily basis in the rigmarole of helping her to put her stockings on, to wash her hair and to help her navigate her way from bathroom to bedroom to day room, that touch was merely a practical one. Needs must and all that. There was just something more personal about someone holding your hand. Simply sitting and thinking, not having to talk. That was the problem with Cedar House. Too many people who liked the sound of their own voices but not others’. They spoke at you, not to you, and Gertie knew that there was something different about this girl. She wasn’t like the others with their inane chatter and who were permanently glued to their phones.

Gertie squeezed her eyes tight and tried to get a read on this young woman. That black aura still hovered around her body, and this troubled Gertie. Perhaps this girl needed to hold Gertie’s hand. Perhaps she needed this connection with another human being just as much as Gertie did.

Then the spell was broken.

‘How can I help, Gertie?’ Laura asked. ‘Do you want to talk about what happened? Would that help?’

What would help, Gertie thought, was going back in time, so that Sally was still alive. But that could never happen. So, instead, she began. ‘It’s my grandson, Richard — you haven’t met him yet. He has a little boy. Henry.’ Gertie felt her heart swell as she said her great-grandson’s name.

‘I bumped into them on my way in,’ Laura said. ‘Well, I didn’t know it was them at the time. The man was tall, rugged-looking with dark curly hair, and the little boy had black hair.’

Gertie nodded, the corners of her mouth lifting as she attempted to smile. ‘That’s my boys. I think the world of them — and now he hates me.’ On the last word, Gertie began to sob once more.

‘Oh, don’t think that way, Gertie.’ Laura rubbed the old woman’s back in a comforting way. ‘I just think you’re both very upset, that’s all.’

‘Richard was upset? In what way?’ The words rushed out of Gertie’s mouth, her hands twisting in her lap.

Laura opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Her eyes flickered upwards to the ceiling before focusing on Gertie once more. ‘He seemed preoccupied. He nearly bumped into me.’ Laura gave a chuckle.

Gertie saw through Laura’s white lie. Her grandson had been upset and he had obviously caused Laura some distress.

‘He apologised?’ Gertie asked. ‘For nearly mowing you over, I hope!’

‘Yes, yes, of course he did,’ Laura replied quickly. ‘It was a near miss. I wasn’t looking where I was going either. No harm done.’ Laura said all this with a shrug of her shoulders.

After a beat, Gertie nodded. ‘So, he looked preoccupied then?’

‘Yes, as if he had a lot on his mind.’

‘It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have said anything.’ Gertie shook her head.

‘Gertie, what happened between the two of you?’ Laura asked. Her tone was gentle, as if teasing the words from Gertie’s mouth.

Gertie felt Laura’s eyes on her, probing but kind. She took a deep breath. ‘I told him that he needs to be happy, to move on with his life.’

Gertie watched the puzzled expression play across Laura’s face. She knew that she had to make this young woman understand. To understand that her grandson was desperately unhappy because he was living in the past. No one else in this home would listen to her. Gertie took a deep breath in before she finally spoke. ‘His wife died three years ago and today would have been her thirty-fifth birthday.’

A gasp escaped before Laura clamped her hand to her mouth. ‘Thirty-five. The same age as me.’

‘It was cancer, the aggressive kind. It took her quickly. Too quick. Henry was just a baby.’ Gertie shook her head.

‘No wonder he was so upset today.’

‘He was upset, but that’s not the real reason.’ Gertie took a ragged breath. ‘He was upset because I more or less told him that it was time to move on.’

‘Oh.’

Gertie could see the accusation in this young woman’s eyes. ‘You think I was too harsh?’ Gertie asked. ‘That I should just let him wallow in self-pity and grief?’

Laura pressed her lips together. She said nothing.

Gertie knew that this young woman, with her perceptive stare and clear blue eyes, had a lot she wanted to say. And probably none of which Gertie wanted to hear. ‘That’s why I’m so upset,’ Gertie continued. ‘I shouldn’t have told him that it was time to move on. He’s clearly still not ready. But the truth is that I think he needs help. Some kind of counselling.’

Laura’s features softened, transforming her entire face. She gave Gertie a brief smile, but not before Gertie noticed a flicker of emotion in her eyes that she wasn’t quite able to place.

‘I think that he probably knows you’re right, but hearing these thoughts is often different to thinking them. The change needs to come from within him,’ Laura said gently.

‘He’s always so sad, and it breaks my heart.’

‘That must be hard for you,’ Laura said. ‘For you to see him like that. Must be hard for any grandmother.’

Gertie squeezed Laura’s hand once more. ‘Did you know I brought him up?’

Laura shook her head. ‘No, I didn’t know that.’

‘Richard’s mother died when he was a baby. It was a car accident.’

‘Oh, that’s awful. What was your daughter’s name?’ Laura asked. She knew that asking the name was important.

‘Her name was Joanna and she was my daughter-in-law. She was with her husband, Thomas, my son, when the car was hit by a drunk driver. They didn’t stand a chance.’ Gertie watched as Laura raised her hand to cover her mouth for the second time that evening.

‘Oh, Gertie, I don’t know what to say.’

‘No one ever does, love,’ Gertie said, followed by a huff of air.

‘It must have been such a difficult time for you.’

‘It was. I’d done my time changing nappies and doing the school run, but he was my flesh and blood so what else could I do?’ Gertie smiled, a smile that contained all the memories of the past. Of happier times. A contented smile.

‘You’ve had a remarkable life,’ Laura said.

‘I’m still having one,’ Gertie replied quickly. ‘What I want is to make my grandson happy.’

Laura opened her mouth to speak, but before she could reply she was distracted by a commotion outside the day room. Gertie sat up straight and leaned her head towards the door.

What on earth was going on?

Laura jumped out of her seat when she heard a loud crash and the sound of a walking stick repeatedly hitting the drinks trolley.

‘I need to get out of here. I have a plane to fly. My men are depending upon me.’

Harold’s voice was growing louder and more insistent with every word. If Laura didn’t interfere soon then someone was bound to get hurt.

Scurrying out of the room, she entered the hallway to a scene of absolute pandemonium.

Cerrie had been pushed up against the wall, hands raised in the air as if she’d been arrested by the police. Looming over her was Harold Biggins, a former RAF pilot who was clutching his walking stick as if for dear life. However, instead of it being firmly planted on the floor to help with his stability, he was waving it in front of Cerrie’s face.

Laura took a moment to process all this information. Experience while working in Accident and Emergency had taught her that confronting an individual who was already anxious and ready to strike was not a good idea. So, instead, she took the soft approach.

‘Hello, Harold,’ she said.

Harold turned around to look at the newcomer, alerted to the fact that this woman might be able to help him. He lowered the walking stick. Laura watched Cerrie deflate as she stepped to the side, out of harm’s way.

‘Can I help in any way?’ Laura asked, taking a step towards him.

‘I need to get to my plane. My men are waiting for me,’ Harold yelled, his face now resembling a ripe tomato.

‘I’ve told him no—’

Laura’s hand shot out, palm facing forward, to stop Cerrie as she began to shout.

‘I’ve just had a phone call from your commanding officer. He’s told you to stand down. No flights are planned for today.’

Laura watched as Harold’s face lost its determined look. His eyes flickered from where Laura stood, over to Cerrie, and then lost focus.

Laura’s stomach twisted. It was fight or flight.

‘Well, I might as well go and have a rest then,’ Harold said eventually. ‘So I’m ready for the next time they call me up.’

Laura nodded. ‘Thank you, sir.’ With an inward sigh of relief, she watched the frail, old man, who still had a steely glint in his eye, walk down the corridor towards his room. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy towards him.

Now that the situation was over, she turned her attention back to Cerrie, now fidgeting with her hands, a flushed expression on her face.

‘Thanks for that,’ Cerrie mumbled, not quite able to meet Laura’s gaze.

Laura took a step towards her and offered a smile. She remembered what it was like to be a nursing student and being faced with challenging circumstances.

‘Thank you,’ Laura said, taking the girl by surprise. ‘You handled that well. You stayed calm. Tried not to confront him. Just remember that sometimes it’s kinder to play along if it’s in the best interest of the patient.’

Cerrie nodded vigorously and said that she would.

‘I don’t know about you, but I could do with a cuppa after that,’ Laura said, giving Cerrie a flash of a smile.

Cerrie smiled back. ‘I’ll go make us one.’

‘Me, too, dear, if you don’ t mind.’

Laura turned around to see a smiling Gertie standing by the door to the day room.

‘Poor man. Makes you think, doesn’t it,’ Gertie said with a shake of her head.

Laura and Cerrie nodded in unison.

‘I’ll go and make us that tea,’ Cerrie said.

‘And biscuits.’ Gertie shouted this at Cerrie’s retreating back before her face suddenly turned serious. ‘I’ll have to introduce you to him, you know,’ she muttered.

‘Harold?’ Laura asked. ‘I’ve met him a few times. He’s a nice man.’

‘No, not Harold!’ Gertie said impatiently. ‘Richard, my grandson. You’re going to love him.’