*
Once all five of the residents on my corridor were up and dressed and in the dining room for breakfast, I went to find Mr Yin. He was sitting in the lounge, drinking coffee and looking out of the window. ‘This building was once a hospital,’ he said.
I nodded. ‘It spooks me a bit if I think about that when I’m on a night shift,’ I admitted. ‘When it’s quiet and dark, the corridors give me the willies.’
‘The willies?’ Mr Yin raised an eyebrow. He was a clever, distinguished man who had spent his younger days jetting between the UK and Hong Kong, but sometimes my South London idioms made him scratch his head.
‘Shivers,’ I said. ‘Give me the shivers.’
Mr Yin nodded and I knew he was storing away the knowledge for another day.
‘How are your legs today? Do you want me to get a chair?’
With a sigh, Mr Yin nodded. ‘I think that would be easier.’
Some of our residents were in wheelchairs all the time, but others – like Mr Yin – only used them when they had to, so we had a line of them by the reception desk.
‘Two mins,’ I said to Mr Yin, heading out of the lounge to grab a chair. A man – my age or perhaps a bit older – was signing in at the front desk. I’d never seen him before and I wondered which resident he’d come to see. He looked a bit like Louis Theroux. All tousled hair and thick-rimmed glasses.
‘Morning,’ I said, and he looked up at me and smiled.
‘Morning.’
I got the chair, and helped Mr Yin into it, and we went out the front door and round to the side of the home. The gable end of the home was painted white – a dirty, peeling white, but plain enough to be a tempting canvas for any passing graffiti artist.
As I pushed Mr Yin round to the garden, I noticed that today some scumbag had scrawled “f*ck the govermant” in red spray paint, right across the gable end. I couldn’t say I entirely disagreed with the sentiment, but the spelling made me wince.
Some of the other residents were on the terrace.
‘Want to join your mates?’ I asked Mr Yin. ‘You can see the peonies from there and keep dry if the rain starts again.’
‘Thank you, Stephanie,’ he said.
I pushed him over and got him settled and then, just as I was about to sit down myself and have a chat with them all, Blessing leaned out of the window.
‘Stephanie, you can go and see your nan now, if you like.’
I shook my head. ‘I’m just with Mr Yin at the mo.’
‘I’m fine,’ said Mr Yin, giving me a puzzled look. ‘Unless youdon’t want to go?’ He studied me with his sharp eyes and I made a face.
‘I know I should, but it’s so hard. She doesn’t always remember me.’
‘My wife’s mother was the same. It’s very cruel.’
I looked away from him and blinked to stop the tears coming again. ‘She’s not going to be here forever,’ I said. ‘She’s really gone downhill recently. I should go.’
‘I agree.’ Mr Yin nodded. ‘You’ll regret it if you don’t.’
‘Are you sure it’s okay?’ I called to Blessing.
‘Go on,’ said Blessing. ‘I’ll send someone else out to stay with the residents.’
With a stifled sigh, I nodded. ‘Right then.’
The dementia unit of Tall Trees was at the far end of the building, behind locked double doors to stop anyone wandering off. I walked slowly towards the entrance, because much as I loved my grandmother, and lucky as I was to be on-hand and get to visit her all the time, it was hard seeing her there.
‘You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders,’ said the home’s handyman, Cyril, as I walked past where he was mending a fence. ‘When you should have the world at your feet.’
