Same Day, After Dinner. Kendric House.
At about 7:30 that night, I get a call from Raff. “Are you okay?”
“Of course, Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You never came.”
Oh Gosh. We’d arranged to have a game of charades with the Squad after their tea. It clean went out of my mind after Owen’s call this morning.
Subconsciously, I think I’m also trying to avoid Cynthia. The urge to challenge her would be too strong and that might escalate matters and make them worse. Also, if I went to visit Bill and everyone, we’d have to talk about the next tea party. After what’s just happened, would having everyone over again be appropriate? It’s a shame to stop the teas, I’ve just ordered a few more varieties, Even white oolong for Alex which took a lot of searching, let me tell you, before finding an online shop that sells it. I had high hopes for the next tea party too, but not if it’s going to get Evan and Haneen and everyone at Kendric house into so much trouble.
As for Christmas dinner, that won’t happen with the house closed up and everyone homeless. We might need to beg The Glyn for Christmas dinner.
No, of course not. But the Squad had better inform Cynthia they’re staying so they can be included.
It’s too late to tell them, now, people at The Glyn tend to go to bed early. “I’ll explain when you come over?” I say to Raff.
“I’m on call tonight.” He reminds me.
Another thing that’s slipped my mind today. Raff has to cover two nights a week in case of emergencies. It’s a bit of a cheek because it should be a member of the care staff not theuntrained handy man. Cynthia justifies it by saying they need someone strong enough in case a resident has a fall and needs to be carried back to bed.
“Can you call me when you’re alone tonight and can speak without being overheard?” I need to tell him before my visit with Bill and the Squad tomorrow afternoon.
Besides, it’s better they don’t find out the full story. Maybe just tell them it’s a dispute between the owner and his brother, no mention of the care home role. They’re angry enough at Cynthia; it’ll just add fuel to the fire. I myself am having trouble not going round to confront that bloody cow for throwing a spanner in the works.
Not even a spanner, a hand-grenade, a bomb that’s likely to blow up all of Kendric house and its community. Just when the Squad is rebelling against Jenkins and Cynthia, telling Bill that his son might be made homeless because of them isn’t a good idea.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tuesday 11th December, The Glyn, Afternoon
Good idea or not, Bill can tell within minutes of my arrival that something is wrong. In spite of my brightest smile.
Honestly! I must not be a good actress, after all, if my fake face doesn’t fool anyone.
He keeps giving me concerned looks and finally comes out and asks, point blank. “What’s happened? Why are you so upset. You haven’t even enjoyed your tea.”
“That’s right,” Gethin says. “You normally have this way of closing your eyes when you take a sip of PG Tips, not today.”
“As if you’re only drinking it to keep up appearances.” Shirley agrees. “And you haven’t heard a word I said.”
“That’s because you’ve been banging on about Christmas for the last two hours.”
“Don’t start bickering you two,” Bill tells them before turning back to me. “Are you going to tell us?”
In the end I give them an edited version with no mention of Cynthis. I just focus on Owen Kendric and his threats, the community at the house and the legal implications.
“I don’t understand,” – this from DeNiro – “why is the surveyor coming. What’s it got to do with him? It’s Evan’s house. Surely he can’t force entry.”
There’s a chorus of agreement from everyone except Bill who is looking very thoughtful. After he moment, he taps me on the hand. “You had better leave before Mrs Jenkins comes. I don’t want you having words, and you look like you’re spoiling for a fight. We’ll see you tomorrow. But come earlier, come right after lunch.”
I don’t know why he’s keen to get me out. My impression of the Squad is that they’ve abandoned the strategy of ‘anything for a quiet life’ and embraced the ‘let’s upset the apple cart’ ideology. So, something is up.
The next day, as soon as I arrive, with a bag full of goodies, Bill pushes himself up from his chair. He’s dressed in a suit and has a coat folded nearby which he grabs. “You have your car don’t you?”
“Yes, why?”
“Let go and talk to Mr Kendric.” He threads his arm into the sleeve of his coat.
