“He turned up last night, just before we shut,” she said. “Dead lucky — another few minutes and I’d have been gone, Billy would have been upstairs with the telly on loud and that matey there would have been sleeping on the doorstep.”
“Sleeping?” said Jack. “I’m afraid, in that blizzard — dying more like.”
“Billy brought him in, warmed him up, gave him the sofa.”
“So — doesn’t he want to go home?”
“That’s the thing … we don’t know what he wants.”
“What do you mean?” said Sarah.
“He hasn’t said a word since we found him.”
“You don’t even know who he is?”
“Nope. All we do know is — he’s from the home — you know, Broadmead up past the station?”
“Ah,” said Sarah.
“It’s stamped on his nightshirt.”
Ellie moved away down the bar to serve someone and Jack turned to Sarah: “What’s Broadmead — some kind of nursing home?”
She nodded: “Private place; specialises in dementia care.”
“You know it?” he said.
“Yes. You remember Beth, from the choir?”
Jack nodded — he sang occasionally in the village choir and Beth was one of the livelier members.
“Well, her grandmother’s up at the home. I’ve gone visiting with her a couple of times.”
“Ellie, why haven’t they sent someone to pick him up?” said Jack when the barmaid returned.
“Don’t know, Jack. Rang them a few times but no answer. Phone lines down maybe?”“So what’s going to happen to him?” said Jack.
Ellie shrugged. “I guess when Billy’s got some time later on he’ll drop him back up there in one of the Land Rovers.”
Ellie was called away again to serve a customer, and Jack led Sarah to a seat by the fire.
“You seem pretty concerned, Jack,” she said, sipping her drink.
Jack swallowed some of his pint and put the glass back on the table. He thought for a moment.
“Yeah — I am. I just feel it isn’t right for the guy to be sitting out here without the proper people looking after him. Know what I mean?”
He watched as Sarah looked across to the old man then back again.
“And I also feel responsible — I mean; I should have searched for him longer last night, poor guy.”
“You did all you could,” she said. “But maybe there is something we can do now.”
“How so?”
“I’m sure Billy would let us borrow the Land Rover after we’ve had our lunch. It would only take ten minutes for us to run the old man up to the home.”
Jack nodded. Great idea …
“You’re right. I could drop you on the way back, and then bring the Land Rover back here.”
When Billy brought over their plates of roast lamb, Jack and Sarah talked through the idea with him. Billy agreed immediately and handed the keys to Jack, then put his hands on the table and leaned in with a mock serious expression: “Just don’t put it in a ditch, eh Jack?”
“Well if I do, Billy, you’ll be the first to know about it,” said Jack, laughing. “And I’m sure I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“I’ll stand you a nice whiskey when you’re back, mate,” said Billy, giving Jack a hearty slap on the back before heading back to the bar.
“You two,” said Sarah.
Jack grinned at that — and then tucked in to his lamb and roast potatoes.
“Eat up — we’ve got work to do.” he said.
6. Home Sweet Home
Sarah waited until Jack signalled that the Land Rover had heated up then, with Ellie’s help, shuffled the old man into the back seat with as many blankets as they could find.
As she and Jack drove through the deserted High Street, she realised it no longer had the chocolate box sunny charm she’d felt in the morning. To the west of the village she could see the heavy dark clouds they’d been warned about on the weather forecast.
“Look. More snow on the way, Jack,” she said.
She saw Jack peer through the window at the ominous sky, then without taking his eyes off the road again: “Don’t worry, we’ll have you back home in an hour or two no problem. This thing will drive through anything.”
Sarah looked at the frail old man wrapped up next to her and squeezed his hand tight.
So far he’d said nothing, just stared out of the windows, his pale blue eyes so sad it made her heart move for him.
“Soon have you home,” she said, putting both her hands on his.
Even wrapped up as he was, his thin white hands, mottled with brown spots, were ice cold.
“This the place?” said Jack as they pulled up at a gated entrance.
Sarah leaned forwards and looked over his shoulder through the windscreen. Snow had piled up against the high stone walls but she could just read the words ‘Broadmead Grange Nursing Home’ on the snow-covered sign.
And as she peered up the long drive — deep with snow and flanked by bare oak trees — she remembered how forbidding the place had seemed when she’d been up here with her friend Beth.
“From the look of it, nobody’s been in or out all day,” said Jack as he gunned the engine and they crept down the drive.
They rounded a curve and the house came into view.
Dark brick, heavy stone pediments and faux battlements — like a Victorian hunting-lodge, Sarah thought.
Or a haunted castle in Transylvania …
As they pulled up by the front door, she turned to the mysterious passenger at her side. His gaze was fixed on the house.
“Look,” she said, in the cheeriest voice she could conjure up.” You’re home!”
He turned to her slowly, his brow furrowed, and his eyes seemed to pierce through her.
“This … isn’t home,” he said, speaking for the first time. “Home’s a nice place.”
And even in the warmth of the Land Rover, Sarah felt a chill go through her.
It took a couple of minutes of Jack banging on the front door of Broadmead Grange before anyone came to answer.
Finally, a young woman in a nurse’s uniform pulled open the door and peered at them.
“What is it you want?” she said in broken English.
Sarah remembered that last time she was here she’d noticed that nearly all the staff were from Eastern Europe.
They pay such pitiful wages, nobody from Cherringham wants the jobs, she thought.
While Jack explained that they’d found a missing patient, Sarah led the old man into the house with the nurse’s help.
The nurse shut the door quickly behind them and Sarah realised how dark it was in the large hallway of the house — and also how cold.
As her eyes became accustomed to the light, she also realised that they were not alone: at various doorways that led into the central hallway, and standing at the top of the flight of stairs looking down — were old people in the familiar red-and-blue striped nightgowns but with blankets and cardigans draped around their shoulders.
She looked at Jack and could see that he’d noticed too, and was just as alarmed.
“What’s going on here?” he said, gently but firmly to the young woman who’d let them in.
“What do you mean?” she said quickly. “Since the snow came, we are only three of us to look after everybody and we have no power, it is very difficult, and I am new here,” said the nurse. “You understand? We are trying very hard but it is not easy, and the emergency generator, it just — I don’t know—”
Sarah could see that the woman was nearly at breaking point and knew she needed to be pretty business-like to keep her going.
“Okay, well we’re here now and I’m sure we can help — can’t we Jack?”
“You bet.”
“So first — this gentleman here is a patient of yours we found in the village. Why don’t you help me get him back to his room –?“
“And I’ll see what’s up with
your generator.”
Sarah smiled at the nurse, who nodded back.
Keep things nice and light.
“My name is Sarah — and you are?”
“I’m Ania.”
“Ania,” said Jack, “why don’t you point me in the right direction and I’ll see if we can get some heat and light around here.”
“Sure, Yes. Um, you must go through kitchens, that way, and generator is in store house at back.”
Sarah put an arm around their “lost” patient then nodded to Ania: “You want to show me the way — and maybe I can help with some of the other patients, yes?”
The nurse’s stiffness seemed to ease a bit at the offer of help.
“Thank you,” said Ania. “Thank you very much.”
The nurse led the way and Sarah nudged the old man to go with them both. Over her shoulder, she called to Jack: “Catch up with you later Jack.”
So much for tea and toast by the fire back home, she thought.
Jack went down the main corridor from the hallway, heading towards the back of the house. It was even darker down here and he pulled out his phone to use as a torch.
As he did he saw that there was no signal.
Bad sign, he thought. Either there’s just no coverage here, or the snow’s taken out the local relay stations.
This place is totally cut-off.
While he went down the corridors, he opened doors and peered in. Some of the rooms were just empty lounges, or what looked like treatment rooms or offices or storage.
He passed a few larger rooms where he guessed the residents spent their days.
He peered into one. In the gathering darkness he could barely make out what the shapes were, but as he swept the place with his light he realised it was full of old people.
They sat silently in armchairs or sofas. Some were dozing, others peered at him dopily, their arms up against the bright light.
There was a dank smell to the room that he knew so well from the last year or two looking after his elderly mother.
That had been such a sad, sad time — and the smell took him right back to those dismal days, the long visits to the home with nothing to talk about.
His own mother not recognising him, sometimes confusing him with her own long-dead father.
Jeez, that was about the lowest it ever got, he thought.
“Hi everybody,” he called cheerily into the gloom. “I’m Jack and I’m here to get the lights going.”
“Well get a bloody move on will you!” came a man’s voice from one corner.
“And when you’ve done that you can get us a hot meal too!” came another voice.
“Bleedin’ Yanks, always late to the party,” said another.
Jack had to grin at that.
They may be old …
“Has he got chocolate?” came a female voice from the far side. “Love a piece of chocolate.”
“Why, what are you going to give him if he has?”
“You keep your knickers on, Elsie,” said another female voice and a ripple of laughter went round the room.
Amazing, Jack thought. No power, no food, no light, but these guys weren’t done for by any means.
He shut the door and went further down the corridor where another door opened into the kitchens.
As he went through, his phone sweeping from side to side, he could see long lines of worktops and double cookers. The place was well kitted out and the surfaces were clean, but he caught a smell … food rotting in bins that needed be taken out.
Through the kitchens, a door opened out into a walled yard. A trail of footprints in the snow led to an outhouse. Through its window, Jack could see the flickering of an emergency light, struggling to stay lit.
What a place, he thought.
He crossed the yard and pushed open the door — immediately a bright torch light shone in his face.
“Just effing stay out of here will you!” came an angry voice from the far end of the room.
“Afraid that’s not what I had in mind,” said Jack, shielding his eyes. “You mind pointing that thing somewhere else, my friend?”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Someone who’s come to help — who were you expecting?”
“I thought you was one of them bloody old zombies, I can’t stop them coming in here, messing me around.”
Jack crossed the room towards the torch and pointed his own light so he could see who he was talking to.
A young man in his twenties was sitting on the cement floor next to a generator, in a pile of nuts, bolts, rags and spark plugs.
Jack went over and crouched next to him.
“Well, I’m not a zombie. And I do know a little about generators. Name’s Jack.”
“I’m Craig.”
“So Craig — you the caretaker?”
“Does it look like it? No, I’m a Healthcare Assistant, mate.”
“You need a hand?”
“Too bloody right. I haven’t got a clue.”
“Not your line of expertise, huh, this kind of thing?”
“No way. I shouldn’t even be here. I got stranded yesterday, see. First the mains power went. Then the Jenny packed up. Bleedin’ nightmare it is.”
Jack put down his phone, took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Then he started to pick his way through the pile of parts that Craig had assembled on the concrete floor.
“What seems to be the problem?”
“It doesn’t bloody work now, does it? That’s the problem.”
Jack took a long hard look at Craig the so-called Healthcare Assistant and took a deep breath.
It’s going to be a long afternoon, he thought.
He started to sort and line up the parts, and began to draw up a checklist in his head for how he was going to diagnose and fix this generator.
Because without power, he thought, there was a real risk to the lives of the residents of this place.
Somehow they’d all have to be evacuated.
That — with another massive storm on the way.
“So what other staff are here?” he said, patiently cleaning components as he spoke.
“There’s me. There’s Ania — she’s a nurse. And then there’s the Angel of Death, of course.”
“Angel of Death?”
“Sister Woods. Right bitch, she is.”
“Quite the happy family then.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So just the three of you?”
“Yeah — three of us and about thirty zombies.”
Jack put down the spark plug he was cleaning.
“Here’s a thing, Craig. From now on, you’re going to call the people here residents. Not zombies. Residents. Okay?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Jack kept his gaze locked on Craig. A guy like this was toxic to these old people, so vulnerable already.
“Good. That’s good, Craig. Because,” Jack leaned a bit closer, voice low, “if you say the word ‘zombie’ again I sure as hell am going to punch you into next week. Understood?”
Jack stared at Craig, his eyes not blinking. He watched as Craig seemed to fold a little, his shoulders dropping.
I think the kid got the message, he thought.
“Thanks Craig,” he said. “Now let’s get this thing working.”
Sarah was on the top floor of the nursing home, helping Ania hand out bottles of drinking water to the bed-bound residents, when the lights suddenly all came on.
She could hear muted cheers from around the building.
And as she looked across at Ania, she saw the young woman smile at her for the first time since she’d arrived.
“Ah — this is very good,” said Ania. “Now the heating will work and now we can make hot food. Your friend, he is miracle worker!”
“I think I’d agree with you there, Ania,” said Sarah. “Shall we get some tea on?”
The nurse nodded and Sarah followed her along the corridor, then down the stairs to the kitchens.
When she got there, Jack had already fired up a giant electric urn and was setting out teapots and milk.
He turned to her as she arrived and before she could congratulate him, he was off on a new tack:
“Can you check your phone, Sarah — you got anything?” he said urgently.
She pulled out her phone. Nothing.
She shook her head.
“Ania,” said Jack. “You normally get phone coverage here?”
“Yes, it is always good.”
“Hmm. You got a landline?”
“There is one in the office,” said the young nurse.
“You show me?” said Jack to Ania, then turned to Sarah: “We need to contact the village. This place needs volunteers fast.”
But before he could move, a powerful female voice boomed from the doorway.
“Volunteers? Hang on! Just what the hell’s going on here?”
Sarah looked across to see a woman in her forties, in a woollen hat, thick winter jacket and boots, marching into the kitchen.
She nodded to the young nurse: “Back to work, Ania, I’ll deal with this.”
And Sarah watched as Ania submissively bowed her head slightly and scurried away down the corridor into the main house.
Peeling off her jacket to reveal a senior nurse’s uniform, the woman now addressed Jack and Sarah: “Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?”
“Hi,” said Jack. “I’m Jack Brennan, and this is a friend of mine, Sarah Edwards—”
“I said — what are you doing here?” repeated the woman.
“Nice to meet you, too,” continued Jack. “And you are?”
“I’m Shirley Woods,” she said, “Sister in charge. And you will answer me — what are you doing here?”
Sarah watched Jack smile at her.
Just the guy you want when a situation needs defusing, thought Sarah.
“Well,” said Jack. “Here’s the thing. We found one of your patients down in the village and it looks to me like he’s been missing for nearly twenty-four hours. So I’m wondering whether you reported that fact to the police or whether there might be some issue of criminal negligence here. What with the freezing temperatures and the snow and all. What do you think, Shirley?”
“All of our patients are accounted for, I can assure you. And we do not need volunteers.”
“Yeah. Um, I beg to differ, Shirley,” said Jack. “Because I do not accept that without a proper staff tonight you will adequately be able to look after your residents. Am I right?”
Cherringham--Snowblind Page 3
