“I’m glad of it.”
Later, on the short drive home, Granddad’s observation and my own feelings come together. I’ve always had this over-developed sense of injustice, and never understood it. Now, memories scroll like a film reel across my mind. The unfairness of Mum’s affair with Horrible Howard when Dad was dying of cancer. The many times she put valentine cards on the mantelshelf, cards received from other lovers. The hours she spent in front of the mirror getting ready for a date while her husband was in the kitchen washing up.
The unfairness of it is bitter like the unfairness of the managers here at the Glyn.
At least that we can do something about. Or at least Raff can.
He applies his magic and solves the problem. I don’t know how, but Cynthia agrees to let me invite the three to tea at Kendric House.
Grandfather is so excited, he can’t wait until Saturday, the day of our cream tea outing. The only problem, aside from Cynthia, is Deniro, Gethin, Shirley and Vanessa. The looks in their eyes break my heart. Every afternoon as I walk to and from Grandad’s room, I notice them. Vanessa and Shirley are super excited, lending Philomena a hat and gloves to wear, advising her on make-up. Deniro offers them his phone so they can take pictures and videos. It couldn’t be clearer if it were written on the wall with big letters. They haven’t had an outing for so long, they feel like prisoners.
“I would invite them all but my car can’t fit them. It’s only a Fiat 500 for God’s sake,” I complain to Raff when he walks with me out of the building on Thursday afternoon.
“And it’s a lot of work to make food for this many people,” he says to make me feel less guilty.
“I don’t mind that. I can buy most of it from Sainsbury’s and anyone can slice cucumber and butter toast.”
“But do you even have enough room in your kitchen for six or seven guests?” He still sounds as if he’s trying to let me off the hook.
“Room? The kitchen at Kendric House can fit twenty. And it’s on the ground floor, so even Gethin in his wheelchair would be fine.”
At last Raff stops to look at me. “Are you sure?”
We’re in the car park now and my little Fiat stands there like a poor excuse.
“Do you have a solution? Taxi?” I ask him.
“Better than that. I can bring them in the minibus.” He points to a green Chevrolet Express, the kind that can fit a dozen people.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. It has a specially adapted ramp at the back for wheelchairs.”
“But Cynthia…”
“Leave her to me. I’ll tell her that excluding the others will cause more disturbance, and a small outing will gain her their gratitude.”
The way he seems to have all the answers shows me that he’s been thinking about the others. Like me, he too wants to give them the outing they clearly crave.
“Oh, Raff this is amazing. And if you bring them, then I don’t have to juggle preparation with coming out to fetch them. I can be in the kitchen getting things ready. Yes. Yes, let’s invite them all.”
I’m so excited about this, I turn to run back inside and tell them the good news. But before I can run into the front door, Raff catches up and grabs me round the waist.
“Wait. Let me clear it with Cynthia first. We don’t want to build up their hopes before she agrees.”
My entire body deflates, and I almost lean into him for support. It would be awful to wave the invitation under their noses then disappoint them. That would be too cruel.
“We don’t want her to think we’ve been plotting behind her back,” Raff says. “Better if I suggest it as if it’s my idea.”
“Bloody Cynthia. Why does she hate me?”
“Leave her to me,” Raff says softly. “Go home and I’ll see what I can do.”
Then we both look down and realise that he’s still holding me round the waist and I’m leaning against his chest. He steps back sharply, letting me go.
I hurry away with a curious flutter in my diaphragm. I drive all the way home on autopilot. It feels like two seconds between my standing in the car park outside The Glyn and pulling up on the gravel and weeds in front of Kendric House.
What just happened?
