“No. Why would I? He made it very clear he doesn’t want me. He’s not a family man.”
“The professor isn’t, but his father might be.”
Something bubbles on the stove making the lid on the saucepan jump. Haneen gets up to check.
While she stirs the food, tastes the liquid and adds a little more salt, I think about what she said. An old man who doesn’t even know I exist. An old man in a care home, probably too frail and senile to be able to cope with a surprise new relative. And even if he could, would he want to?
I’ve had one rejection today, I’m not ready for another.
“It’s too much to expect him to care about this biological granddaughter that’s just come out of the woodwork.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Why don’t you find out?”.” She replaces the lid on the saucepan and moves the pot to a smaller burner. An Aga is a complicated thing to cook with, so it’s fascinating to watch her “Why don’t you ask the professor where to find his father.”
When I don’t answer, she says, “You may as well try, now that you’re here. Once you go back to London, you might regret leaving this last stone unturned.” She gives me a very pointed look. “You wanted to find a family, didn’t you? He’s family.”
Chapter Ten
Monday 12th November, 3pm
The Glyn Care Home is the most boring building in the world. A white two-storey oblong like two cartons of cigarettes stacked on top of each other. In the middle of green hills and woods, it screams cheap hotel.
A woman in a nurse’s uniform opens the door and welcomes me with a smile. When I ask for Mr William Jones – yes, my grandfather has the same name as his son – she leads me towards the heart of the building. On the way we pass a wide lounge. There are twenty men and women watching television. Or at least they sit in front of the TV which is running an old episode ofColombo. Some of them are just dozing in their chairs and who can blame them? The room is too warm and carpeted to within an inch of its life, so everything feels muffled and stuffy. I look around trying to see where my grandfather might be, but the nurse shakes her head.
“Bill doesn’t like to sit here. We’ll find him in the games lounge.”
Just then, I see him. Not my grandfather but Welsh Hagrid. Long hair, bushy beard, denim overalls and a wax jacket. He’s talking to a woman in a red suit and patent leather heels.
No, not talking. Arguing. At least she is. The woman, clearly a manager, is reprimanding him. “How many times have I told you to lock the terrace doors?”
The nurse with me has to stop because they’re in our way. She looks around awkwardly, probably doesn’t want me to witness this argument.
“Go and lock it, right now,” the manager demands in a strident voice. “We don’t want the residents wandering outside.”
His own answer is unruffled. “Some people like stepping outside for fresh air after lunch.”
“It’s not about what you think they like. They’re frail elderly people with dementia.”
“But the terrace is safe—”
“No, it isn’t,” she interrupts.
Through the window I can just see the terrace. It’s a plain space surrounded by railings except where the steps lead down to a garden.
“They could trip on the stairs,” the manager says.
“They’re only two steps and pretty safe.”
“And if they go wandering into the grounds and get lost.”
“It’s just the garden. The rest of the grounds are separated by the new fence.”
Beside me, the nurse is fidgeting with embarrassment. Her movement must attract his attention because he glances up and sees me.
“Don’t argue with me. They could trip and fall, land into wet flowerbeds and catch cold. It’s a health and safety disaster waiting to happen. Keep the doors locked,” she snaps before swivelling on her heals and marching away.
If he’s offended at the way she spoke to him, he doesn’t show it. He just turns towards the offending glass double doors, opens them and walks out, locking them behind him.
Through the glass, I can see a wide green lawn with seats and benches. Now the rain has stopped and the sun’s come out it’s a bright and fresh autumn day. Just then, Hagrid looks back and meets my eyes for an instant. There’s a touch of surprise then recognition.
