‘I’ll find it. And if it’s in this direction, I’ll come and see you tomorrow. And if it’s nearer home, I’ll call you first and see if there’s anything that got left behind.’
‘I feel so much better for talking to you. Clive was very – brisk. He didn’t give me a lot of time to pack. I’m afraid I forgot my phone charger.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll sort it all out in the morning.’
Hattie noticed a message from Luke when she’d disconnected. For some reason just seeing his name made her breathe faster. She opened the message. It just said,Thank you for last night. It meant so much. L x. She didn’t reply; she needed time to think of what to say.
Images of Luke in his dinner jacket, and rumpled – was it only this morning? – when he came out to check on her came into her mind. Just for a second she let herself think about him. But then she forced herself to focus on Mary and why Clive had whisked her away so quickly and where had he whisked her to?
She rejoined the family party in the kitchen and found herself next to Tom. ‘You look a bit worried if you don’t mind me saying so.’
Hattie smiled at him. ‘I am a bit. I share a house with a quite elderly woman and her nephew has moved her into a care home with no notice at all. I don’t know where she is. Although I’m sure I can track her down!’ She laughed to disguise her anxiety. ‘I’ve just spoken to her. She sounded a bit discombobulated. Can’t blame her.’
‘Do you have any clues as to where she might be?’
‘Her home is called Whispering something.’
‘But she has a mobile phone?’
‘Yes. I’ve just spoken to her on it.’
‘Then you can track her,’ said Tom. ‘There’s an app you can get. I used it when I was on a school trip witha lot of teenagers. Obviously I deleted it afterwards but I can get you on it. Give me the number?’
‘I’m not very good at technical things,’ said Hattie apologetically. ‘Except sites like Vinted and Etsy.’
‘Me neither,’ said Jacinta, a cousin about the same age as Hattie whom she had always liked. ‘But I’m very nifty with eBay.’
‘These young people,’ said Hattie’s mother. ‘They seem to speak an entirely different language these days.’
‘I suppose it was ever thus,’ said Jacinta’s mother, who was far more relaxed that her sister. ‘I’m sure our parents said the same about us.’
‘There you are,’ said Tom, handing Hattie her phone. ‘She’s about an hour from here. And there’s the address.’
‘Thank you so much, Tom!’ said Hattie. ‘I am so grateful. I’ll go and visit tomorrow and then I can stop worrying. I’m sure it’ll be fine,’ she added, not believing it.
Hattie left just before lunch the next day. All the clearing-up had been done. Beds stripped, leftovers rearranged into Tupperware and vases found for the very many bouquets of flowers that filled the house.
‘Thank you, darling,’ said her mother, to Hattie’s surprise. ‘You were really quite helpful in the end.’
Hattie hugged both her parents and left. Even praise this faint was more than she was used to. Her goodbyes to her sister and Tom were far warmer.
She drove to Whispering Willows (which had turned out to be the name) feeling very gloomy. This was not the elegant mansion in the pictures Mary had shown her of the home she wanted to move to. This was smaller, with random additions to the original building,and a garden that no one appeared to take any interest in. But if the people were kind, and Mary was comfortable, there was no need to make a fuss.
‘We do like visitors to make an appointment,’ said the woman on the desk, who seemed flustered. ‘I don’t know where Mrs Stanely is. It’s Sunday. The chef’s not working this lunchtime and we’re very short-staffed.’
Hattie said, ‘My friend only arrived yesterday so you may well not have met her. Point me in the right direction, and I’ll go and look for her. I’m sure I can find her.’
‘I couldn’t possibly let you do that! I’d have to accompany you. But I can’t leave the desk unattended.’
Panic made Hattie uncharacteristically sharp. ‘I know you have a lot on your hands, Mrs – Wilson.’ (She thanked goodness for name badges.) ‘But I’ve come a long way to see Mrs Stanely. I’m afraid I must insist on you taking me to her. Or I’ll have to write a lot of emails.’ Hattie accompanied this with a look she had learnt from her mother.
Mrs Wilson pursed her lips. ‘Follow me, then. But you will have to sign in first.’
Apart from a smell of some sort of meal – hard to define and probably eaten several hours ago – and a very faint odour of urine, there was nothing to tell Hattie that Mary wouldn’t be happy here. But somehow Hattie knew she wouldn’t be.
They found Mary in the television room. She was sitting in a chair and looked suddenly ten years older. Her expression of relief when she saw Hattie caused tears to spring to her eyes.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Mrs Wilson. ‘But please don’t stay too long. Our residents get very tired.’
