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Jacob

Rita Crennick was a large woman in her fifties who greeted Jacob with a strong handshake and an accent that was British with a hint of American thrown in. Jacob had met her at Exeter St David’s Station, and she talked incessantly as they took the local train to Brentwell and then caught a taxi to the hospital. By the time they’d arrived, Jacob had heard most of her life story, as well as several times round how she had believed Nora was receiving personal care, that she received typed letters several times a year, supposedly from her mother, assuring her that everything was fine, that life was going great, there was nothing to worry about.

Several times, Jacob had to comfort her when she burst into floods of tears, proclaiming loudly about what a terrible daughter she had been, how everyone would believe she had abandoned her mother, when the reality was that her only real crime was in being ignorant of the true situation. Jacob offered his sympathies, and hoped that Nora would recover enough for them to reconcile.

Shortly before they arrived at the hospital, he was finally able to get in the question he had been dying to ask the whole way.

‘Who was Roy?’

‘Roy? Oh, you mean the dog?’ Rita chuckled. ‘We had him when I was a kid. I don’t remember him well because he died when I was eight or nine. Cute little thing, like most pugs really. Looked angry that his mouth was too small to pick up a tennis ball, and ping-pong balls were too slippery for him to hold. I do remember Mum telling me once that she had given him to my father as a wedding present.’

‘That’s … different.’

‘And I remembered Dad adored that scrunched up little thing. He was heartbroken when Roy died. I sometimes used to think he loved that dog more than my brother and me. Unfortunately he died before I ever got a chance to ask him.’

‘Your mother’s toy dog … it’s important to her. I think it’s her link to her past, to your father.’ Jacob gave a sudden shrug. ‘I mean, I’m not a psychologist or anything, but that’s what it looks like.’

‘You might be right.’ Rita sniffed. ‘I only hope she recognises me.’

At the hospital, a doctor took Rita to Nora’s room, while Jacob sat in a waiting room, drinking coffee out of a paper cup, thinking how he would prefer one of the lattes at the Oak Leaf Café or even one of Pete Markham’s morning brews, which always came with a dose of gossip and a large spoonful of optimism. He was just wondering whether it was time to make a quiet exit and leave Nora in the hands of her family, when he became aware of a nurse standing over him.

‘Well, hello. Isn’t it the milkman?’

Jacob looked up. Standing over him, wearing a Brentwell General nurse’s uniform, was Charlotte’s best friend. Jacob struggled to recall her name. ‘Chrissy?’

She grimaced. ‘A decent effort. Kelly. I bet you haven’t forgotten my friend’s name, have you?’

Jacob couldn’t help but smile, despite everything. ‘Charlotte.’

‘What on earth are you doing here? Did you slip over on some milk or something?’

Jacob shook his head. ‘I—’

‘Nurse Collins? We need you in Emergency Room Three.’

At the doctor’s request, Kelly sighed. ‘Well, nice talking to you.’ She smiled. ‘I hope they prescribe you some shoes with better grips.’

Rita was in floods of tears when she came out of Nora’s room. She explained to Jacob that her mother was still heavily sedated and hadn’t recognised her. The doctor in charge had also given her a more detailed breakdown of Nora’s condition. They went down the hall to a cafeteria, where Jacob got them some coffees that were a little better than the ones in the machine. Fighting back tears while Jacob patted her gently on the shoulder, Rita told him that her mother should have been given round-the-clock care, and that because she hadn’t been taking her medication, it was possible that her condition would only worsen.

‘If I have anything to do with it, heads at that company will roll,’ Rita said. ‘At least the council has finally stepped in. Thanks to you.’

‘I had nothing to do with it,’ Jacob said. ‘It was the police that called it in.’

‘They said that apart from one cleaning lady who was looking out for her, she had no one,’ Rita said.

‘Cleaning lady?’

‘Yes, her name was … Frog? Something like that.’

‘Toad. Clarice Toad. Wait … cleaning lady?’

‘Yes, she was only employed there to clean the halls and the lobby. According to the doctor, she’d been doing the washing and tidying up for several of the residents. She’d been taking them food, too.’ Rita started to cry again. ‘She was only supposed to hoover the landings. If she hadn’t been looking out for Mum … she could have died months ago, and no one would have known. They were sending me those fake letters, all the while my mother’s savings were slipping away.’

She sobbed. Jacob put an arm around her. Glancing up he saw Nurse Kelly Collins on the other side of the cafeteria, staring at him. He gave her a smile, then grabbed a napkin for Rita to blow her nose. When he looked up, Kelly had gone.

He helped arrange a hotel for Rita, where she would stay for a few days, then headed back to the tearoom to help Aunt Marjorie. With snow falling outside, Marjorie had closed the tearoom early, and he found her sitting at a table with Daphne, discussing the upcoming Sycamore Park Christmas festival.