Eve
My feet barely touch the floor as I serve breakfast, and it’s not helped by the fact that I have a clear view from the dining room to the garden bed where Angus is working with a shovel. I’m grateful, at least, that it’s cold out and he’s wearing several layers of fleece. If this were a shirt-off kind of day, I’d have barely been able to restrain myself. Clem sits up at the table with the residents, buoyed by her night with her grandparents. With any luck, her mood will extend into the school gates and through the day.
I collect an empty toast rack from the center of the table and am about to head back to the kitchen when I catch the tail end of a conversation among the residents.
“—apparently, he just wandered into Bert’s room,” May is saying to Gwen and Clara. “Who knows why his door was unlocked…”
My ears prick up. “What did you say, May?” I ask. “Who wandered into Bert’s room?”
Bert whacks down his spoon. “Well, it wasn’t Elvis Presley. Now, can everyone just stop talking about it?”
“It was Luke,” May whispers. “Apparently, his door was left unlocked and he got disoriented and walked into Bert’s room in the middle of the night. Bert woke the whole place up with his shouting but by the time Rosie got there, Luke was gone. We all went looking for him and Laurie found him in Anna’s bed.”
It takes everything I’ve got not to drop the jug of milk in my hand.
“Does Eric know?” I ask.
Clara nods. “Bert told him the moment he walked in. Rosie’s in his office right now.”
“Eric’s here? I didn’t see his car?”
“He has a new one,” Clara says. “That shiny silver one, out front?”
I blink. “That’s his?”
Clara shrugs. “The retirement world clearly pays well.”
I run down the hall and don’t bother to knock on Eric’s door, just fling it open. “It wasn’t Rosie!” I say. “It was me!”
It’s not until I’m standing there that I realize I have no idea what Rosie has told Eric, what lie she might have spun or angle she might have played—an angle that I might have just ruined. I lift my chin, trying to look confident, but Eric’s eyes focus on my shaking hands. “Come in, Eve,” he says. His face is red and cross. “Shut the door.”
Both Eric and Rosie remain silent as I sit in the empty chair.
“So you unlocked the door?” he says.
I steal a glance at Rosie. “Yes.”
Why?”
“The thing is,” I start, “Anna and Luke love each other. I found a letter, you see, in Anna’s notebook—it says Anna promised to be with Luke until the end. And then, a couple of weeks ago, I found Anna by the window and—”
Eric strums his fingers on the desk. “Can you excuse us, Rosie?”
Rosie leaves. I want to slump, but I sit tall, as if pulled skyward by an invisible string.
“Eve—”
“I’ve Googled it!” I get to my feet. “Research shows that people with dementia do much, much better when surrounded by those they love. A lot of people with dementia are old and don’t have any loved ones left, but Anna and Luke do. They have each other. So, to separate them is just … tragic. Can you imagine if the love of your life were in the very next room, but no matter how you tried, you couldn’t get to her? Wouldn’t you be suicidal?”
“So you just decided to take it upon yourself to unlock Luke’s door last night and see what happened?”
I pause. Last night. He only knows about last night.
“Well, yes.”
Eric stands and walks around the desk, stopping right in front of me. “Do you understand how serious this is? If Luke had become agitated or confused, our residents could have been in danger. If someone were hurt, Rosalind House would have been liable. I have enough people breathing down my neck without having to worry about this.” Eric sighs, stares off. “Let’s say your theory is correct—Anna was blissfully happy with Luke. Why would she try to kill herself?”
My mouth is open, ready to counter any argument he might have … but this is the one piece of the puzzle I still haven’t figured out. If they didn’t start locking Anna’s door until after she tried to kill herself … why did she do it?
“Exactly,” Eric says when I come up with nothing. He wanders back to his side of the desk. “I’ll have to let the families know what’s happened,” he says. “If Anna’s family is concerned that she’s been taken advantage of, they might ask for a medical examination for Anna to establish if she was overpowered or forced. Next time you think about helping her, think about sparing her the trauma of that sort of examination, if you know what I mean.”
I feel the sting of his words, but I take the “next time” as a good sign.
“It goes without saying that this is a one-time warning. And I’d be very sorry to lose you.”
“I’d be very sorry to go,” I say.
As I turn to leave, I notice Angus through the window, digging in the garden. And I realize I’m telling the truth.
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