From a Safe Distance

by Bishop, Julia

  Max smiled. ‘What shall we do for the girls, then?’

  This was always Vee’s worst time of year. “You’ll know what to do”, she had said. So Max had to make sure he did. In St Peter’s churchyard, he knelt down, trying to tidy up a bit. Then he placed a pot of primulas next to her stone. He must have said something out loud, because the next moment, a familiar voice said calmly: ‘Who’s that then, Max?’

  He was caught off guard by his former colleague. ‘Oh, hello Sue. You made me jump! This is – a friend.’

  She read Vee’s inscription but it obviously meant nothing to her. ‘My dad is just down there. I come here about once a fortnight.’

  It was strangely refreshing to be able to talk shop for a few minutes, although he needed to get back home, not just for Helen and the Vee Project, but because he had a nagging feeling about Sandra.

  ‘Fancy a drink?’

  ‘Another time, thanks Sue.’

  Max realised he had overlooked something. When Vee started having disciplinary hearings and when they put verbal warnings on her file, Sandra had not been involved. She couldn’t have been: Vee was still working in Forest House. She and Sandra had not even met then. This led him to consider a more sinister possibility. Sandra’s role would still be to make life as unpleasant as possible for Vee, yes, but what if she wasn’t pulling the strings? So who was then? This made sense: Sandra was a good choice of protagonist, given her prejudice, and Vee was put in Alder House for a reason; she was a thorn in Squaremile’s side. With the lure of promotion, Sandra could give full vent to her spite to make sure Vee left. Of course the management could not have anticipated her suicide, but it was clear they’d closed ranks. There was just one thing Sandra could not see: she would be a convenient scapegoat if her behaviour was questioned.

  He had to put this to Helen before Tuesday. Today was Friday. Sunday was Helen’s birthday. The girls were coming tomorrow. It would have to be tonight. If a social worker was coming to the meeting, at least they wouldn’t be outnumbered, but in that connection, he had to make an urgent phone call. When Helen came home at six o’clock, he explained his ideas.

  ‘I think you’re right’, said Helen. ‘But does it make that much difference in the end?’

  ‘Yes, because it means we can’t rely on anyone. But don’t worry. We’ll show them.’

  ‘Max, where’s the report?’

  ‘Oh it’s here somewhere.’

  ‘I want to read it through again before we need it.’

  They kept everything to do with the report at home to avoid prying eyes, and never let one word slip about it at work. He sat at his computer and declined the offer of a cup of coffee. He too was finding it a real effort to concentrate; it was no longer an act of escapism to write his notes. The student doctors had packed up and gone home. Recent developments had to be recorded accurately and the stage set for Tuesday. Things were moving. Helen looked over his shoulder and he had to remind her that she was not allowed to read any of his own work yet.

  Is it in this pile?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The report!’

  ‘Helen, do you have to have it right this minute?’

  She looked at him, surprised. ‘No, I s’pose it can wait. Max, are you OK?’

  ‘I’ll be fine. Look, I’m sorry. This whole thing must be getting to me. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s there, look, where you left it.’

  ‘Max … I don’t think I can go through with this.’ Her words landed like a bomb.

  ‘But … are you sure?’ Max spoke quietly now, remembering her situation. ‘Only we’ve worked so hard to get this far … and it’s all set up. I won’t be able to do it on my own.’

  He moved away from the computer and put his hands over his face. He felt old and tired, they were both trying to do too much, Helen might be seriously ill and he kept seeing Vee. Sunset and champagne. He was struggling.

  ‘Vee’s not around any more, is she?’ he said, leaning against the desk. ‘She can’t do this. You said you’d help me, try and put things right. People who find themselves in Vee’s position in the future will thank you if you can just hold on. Please, darling.’

  She knew he was right, but knowing that didn’t suddenly make her feel better. He knew he had to change the subject. He tried to smile. ‘Bet you’re looking forward to this afternoon, though, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes! Grace said she’d be here about three but Anna wasn’t quite sure.’

  ‘Helen?’ He looked up.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’ll let you decide if you want to tell the girls today, but they’ll have to know soon, won’t they? Think about it. Now come here.’ He stood up and stretched out his arms.

  They embraced silently. Her hair smelt good. ‘I love you, Mrs Greenwood.’

  Anna arrived about two hours after Grace and they spent the evening talking, laughing and eating. Helen was more relaxed than he’d seen her for a while; he put this down partly to the relief she felt at the prospect of being back in charge of Sycamore soon (her deputy would probably be grateful too), and also to the presence of her clever girls. He just hoped she wasn’t over-compensating.

  ‘Hey girls!’ she exclaimed at the table; ‘You’ve both got too thin. Come on, you need some proper food. I remember what it was like to be a student.’

  ‘Did you meet any dinosaurs?’ Anna laughed.

  ‘Less of that, thank you!’

  ‘Mind you, some of our professors – I reckon they dust them off each day when they bring them out of the cupboard!’ Anna helped herself to more vegetables.

  ‘Tell us about Oxford again, Dad.’ Two years older than her sister, Grace had always been the quiet, studious one. Her finals were approaching.

  ‘I shouldn’t think there’s much difference in university life wherever you go’, replied Max. ‘It’s what you make of the experience that counts. You have to strike a balance between working and having fun. But you know all this; I’ve said it before.’

  ‘Yes, but what Grace meant was, tell us again what you got up to as medical students!’ Anna smiled with mischief in her eyes and nudged her sister.

  ‘Oh, no!’ Max exclaimed. ‘That’s off-limits, especially while we’re eating!’ Everbody roared with laughter.

  Later, Helen was about to open the kitchen door when she overheard Anna talking to her father as they prepared to wash up.

  ‘She doesn’t look well, Dad,’ she said quietly. ‘She seemed to be putting on a jolly act just now for our benefit, but she’s pale and … I was shocked by the look in her eyes. Is she in pain? What’s wrong with her?’

  ‘Oh, she’s been overdoing it lately. The truth is … we need that holiday, but we’re working on a special project right now and we’re determined to see it through. You know what your mother’s like.’

  ‘Am I allowed to know what it is?’

  Just then, Helen heard Grace coming behind her with a load of crockery, so she went in first.

  ‘I see Dad’s given you the rest of the night off,’ Grace said to her mother, as Anna cleared some space. ‘You should make the most of it.’

  Sunday came and with it gifts for Helen. The girls brought their parents breakfast in bed, complete with a single red rose in a vase. They sang “Happy Birthday” as they came in, then left them to it. Dr Conway’s painkillers were now only slightly more effective than the old ones, but at least these days Helen didn’t have to hide what she was doing from Max. When Grace and Anna returned, each held a small parcel and card.

  ‘Hope you like this, Mum,’ said Anna. It was what they call a “vest” nowadays: a sleeveless sun-top.

  ‘It’ll be lovely for hot days. Thank you, darling. And what’s this? French recipes. Ah, thank you Grace.’

  ‘Talking of which,’ said Max, ‘we’re going to Lisette’s for Sunday lunch, so we’d better start getting ready. Oh, and one other thing – I’ve paid for your present, Helen, but it won’t be delivered until August.’

  �
��Oh, I see. Aah! I see! At least I think, hope, I do!’ She leant over and kissed him sharply and loudly. Both girls were smiling; Max had told them about this present when they wanted to know what to buy for their mother, but had sworn them to secrecy.

  ‘I’m assuming,’ Helen went on, in a rising intonation, ‘that the vest might come in particularly useful in connection with this mysterious gift?’

  ‘I’m not saying any more.’ Max dramatised his reply. ‘I know we’re not supposed to keep things from each other, but – ’ then he spoke in his normal tone, ‘I’m making an exception in this case.’

  Helen laughed.

  One of Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos was playing quietly as they entered Lisette’s. Their coats were taken away.

  ‘Ah, Dr Grainwood. ‘ow nass to see you egen!’ They were shown to a large, oval table next to the window and the waiter who recognised Max checked they were comfortable and gave them their menus. ‘An’ zees must be your waf: ‘appy birsday, Madame! Are zeez your dotteurs?’

  ‘Yes, thank you!’

  ‘But Madame does not look old eneurf!’

  Helen beamed at him. The table was beautiful, decorated with green and white flowers on a white damask cloth. The cutlery caught the light. Max whispered, ‘Happy Birthday darling’, in Helen’s ear, then announced, ‘Have whatever you like, ladies!’

  It was a different experience for Helen to come here in daylight. In the evening at one time there used to be candles on every table, until they were deemed a fire hazard. The soft light would flash on the waiter’s cufflinks as he poured the wine. She didn’t know why, but when they poured wine in a restaurant, it always sounded more inviting than when it was poured at home. When the waiter moved away, the only thing visible would be his white sleeves. Helen recalled Max’s farewell dinner here with Chris and Sue. From time to time a door at the back of the room would open, allowing delicious smells to escape; then it would swing shut again with scarcely a sound. Today, she could see this door beyond the other tables. It was painted black, for the evening effect, and the surrounding decor was also dark. Now her head was pounding again, clamping her brain. She recalled Vee’s description of the black corridors in her mind …

  ‘Helen!’ Max was staring at her.

  ‘Sorry. Miles away.’ She fiddled with her bag, then put it on the floor. They ordered.

  ‘What’s everyone having to drink then?’ asked Max.

  The conversation dealt with driving lessons for Grace after her exams, the accidents her mother and father had had, and what was currently regarded as a “good” car.

  ‘What about greenhouse gases?’ said Anna. ‘Everybody’s worried about pollution, but most people just carry on as if cars make no difference.’

  ‘Can’t save it for the debating society, then?’ Grace pretended to be annoyed.

  ‘Yes, actually.’ Anna was sometimes sharp, not out of anger, but from a desire to proceed with what she wanted to say. ‘But Dad, this is serious. The planet is dying. We’re so wrapped up in our own little worlds, each of us, that we forget we depend on this one world for our very survival.’

  The family fell silent. Max gave his daughter a look which said, “Not now, Anna.” He winked at Helen. ‘Everyone got something in their glasses? Good. Here’s to a wonderful wife and mother!’

  ‘You’re not having any wine, Mum?’ Grace was surprised.

  ‘Thought I’d give it a rest.’ She had to take some more painkillers, urgently.

  ‘But it’s your birthday! You usually have a drink when you’re out. There’s nothing wrong, is there? Are you on antibiotics or something?’ Grace was like a dog with a bone.

  ‘No, nothing like that. Just didn’t want any.’ Helen knew this wasn’t convincing, and she caught Max’s eye as he tried to finish his pâté.

  The rest of the meal passed without further embarrassment and Helen managed to get to the ladies to take her pills. The girls left together for the station that evening and the house was suddenly quiet.

  ‘Don’t worry, Helen.’ Max tried to console her, knowing the sadness in her silence. He washed up some cups. ‘It won’t be long before we see Grace again. Her Finals aren’t far off, so she’ll be busy … ’ he put his hands on Helen’s shoulders and could feel the tension.

  ‘I will tell them,’ she said, ‘when I get the chance and when I know more about it.’ She picked up a tea towel.

  ‘Then we’ll have a graduation to go to – and something nice after that to look forward to.’

  ‘Oh, Max. Thank you for a lovely birthday. But I never miss those girls as much as when they’ve just left.’

  ‘Look, I know you’re tired darling. You didn’t eat much, either. Why don’t you have an early night?’ He turned to face her. ‘When is your scan?’

  ‘It’s on Wednesday. And I’ve decided to keep going with our project. I must.’

  Max grabbed the tea towel, threw it aside, and embraced and kissed her. ‘I can see where Anna gets it from.’

  ‘There’s one thing I need to do first. I need to see my Mum. I haven’t seen her for about three months, except for that concert, but everything was alright then.’

  27

  The Boardroom (1)

  The room was full of morning sunlight. Dick Montgomery, resplendent in light grey suit, white shirt and royal blue bow tie and handkerchief, was at the head of the table, flanked by Sandra and Jack: a Squaremile triumvirate under the window. Along the table was a row of water jugs and glasses and as each person took a seat, a copy of the report in its red cover would appear in front of them among their papers. On Sandra’s right sat a lady in her thirties with intricately braided hair, and at a separate small table just behind and to the right of Dick Montgomery sat his secretary.

  Helen and Max walked in.

  ‘Ah, do sit down,’ said the Chief Executive. Max and Helen sat on opposite sides: he was next to Jack, on Dick’s left, facing the lady they didn’t know.

  ‘You have invited somebody from Social Services, Mrs Greenwood. Is he or she coming?’ Dick raised his eyebrows at her and tapped his pen lightly on the table.

  ‘I hope so.’ Helen was not particularly worried, although she had no idea who was coming. Max knew.

  Dick looked ostentatiously at his watch. ‘We shall have to start soon.’ He probably had plans for lunch at some club. Then the door was pushed open and a briefcase appeared, followed by its owner, a tall man in his forties who was slightly out of breath. Max had phoned to ask for him specifically, and nobody else, and again to make sure the faxed report had reached him.

  ‘Sorry I’m a bit late,’ the man said. ‘Traffic.’ He decided to sit next to Helen, by the door. She gave Max a look of muted surprise.

  ‘We were just about to begin,’ said Dick. ‘Our esteemed Director of Care has been unavoidably detained, I’m afraid. He sends his apologies, but I’m sure we’ll be able to manage without him. Now, do we all know each other? This is Jack Marshall … ’ He went round the table. ‘ … This is Janice Olubi, from Union HQ – and what is your name, please, social worker?’

  ‘Jim Gates, sir.’

  Dick Montgomery was having the “headmaster effect” all over again.

  ‘And I’m a Care Manager,’ Jim added, carefully correcting Dick. Max tried to avoid eye contact with Jim.

  ‘I see, I see. Gates … why is that name familiar to me?’ Dick paused. No answer was forthcoming, as nobody wanted to cause Dick embarrassment. ‘Anyway, we have a lot to discuss, so let us proceed. You all received a copy of the agenda, I trust?’

  Everyone murmured and, rustling, put the piece of paper on top of the report.

  ‘As you can see, we have two main items: one, the issue of whether or not there has been neglect of residents in our care and two, whether the Centre discriminated against Ms Victoria Gates, member of st – ah! That’s where I’ve heard the name!’

  Dick Montgomery put down his paper slowly, folded his hands so that the thumbs protruded at the top and peere
d at Jim over his glasses. ‘Bit of a coincidence, wouldn’t you say? Are you related to Ms Gates, Mr Gates?’

  Jim stayed calm. ‘Yes, sir. She was my sister.’

  ‘Ah, now,’ said Dick, leaning forward. ‘I don’t think this is in the book. What do you think – Dr Greenwood, Ms Olubi?’

  ‘It is not usual practice,’ said Ms Olubi, with her Nigerian intonation. ‘And I find it strange that it should be Mr Gates when it could have been anybody.’

  ‘Good point, my dear, good point.’ He paused. ‘Can you cast any light on this, Dr Greenwood?’

  Helen narrowed her eyes at Max across the table in the heavy pause which followed. It was the sort meant for confessions.

  ‘Sir. I take full responsibility. I contacted Jim directly. It is his sister we’re talking about, after all, and I thought he – .’

  ‘– I wanted to find out what happened to Vee here,’ Jim interrupted, to Max’s relief. He went on: ‘I wanted to know what went wrong, who was involved, why, and I wanted some kind of closure. I was glad Dr Greenwood got in touch.’

  There was another pause. Dick began fiddling with his pen again. He looked at each person in turn. Then he threw himself back in his chair and dropped the pen on the folder.

  ‘Well? What shall we do?’ He put his hands behind his head.

  ‘Sir,’ said Helen, ‘we need a care manager to be present for Item 1, if nothing else – the neglect.’

  ‘Alleged neglect,’ Dick replied.

  Helen continued, ‘But the point is, if we don’t let Jim stay, we’ll have to postpone the meeting.’

  ‘That is a valid observation, Mrs Greenwood. How do the rest of you feel?’ Dick looked at his watch again.

  ‘Oh, let’s just get on with it, shall we?’ Sandra was impatient. ‘Some of us have more important things to do than sit around here all day.’

  ‘Right then,’ Dick went on. ‘Are we all agreed that Mr Gates should stay?’ There were nods and murmurs. ‘I’ll take that as a yes. So, we will break for coffee at eleven. The staff lounge is at your disposal and now let’s press on with Item 1. You have all read the report produced by Mrs Greenwood?’ Again there was a murmur of assent.