‘Why a sister?’
‘Because brothers are a pain in the arse.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Daisy replied.
‘How is David?’
‘Annoying.’
‘It’s only to be expected,’ Noah said.
‘He was like that before he broke his leg,’ Daisy pointed out. ‘Now you can add miserable and frustrated to the mix. And don’t forget, demanding.’
‘Your sister-in-law?’
‘Sly.’
Noah raised his eyebrows.
‘She keeps trying to do things behind my back, as if I’m not going to notice a duster in her hand.’
‘She’s not confined to bed, you know,’ Noah pointed out.
‘She is if she’s under my watch,’ Daisy said, grimly. ‘If I’ve got to strap her to the bed I – oh!’ She suddenly remembered Freddie.
‘He’ll be okay,’ Noah said, when Daisy asked about him. ‘He’ll receive the help he needs.’
‘I would like to help him too, but I can’t, not physically nor in any other way. I don’t want to go down that path again.’
‘Freddie is an adult, and he has to take responsibility for his own actions and his own life. He can’t expect you to do that for him, and counselling will help him to work his problems through by himself.’
Daisy knew Noah was right, but it didn’t alleviate the guilt.
‘Do you like—’ Noah began, when his pager beeped again. This time, when he glanced at it, he swore. ‘Gotta go,’ he said, jumping to his feet and pushing his chair back. ‘Emergency.’
A few long strides took him to the door, where he paused and mouthed, ‘I’ll phone you,’ then he was gone, leaving Daisy to wonder if the previous half hour had been a figment of her imagination.
She was trying to find her way to the exit (and wondering where she should ditch the coat and stethoscope) when her stomach gurgled.
Not now, she sighed, as another cramp hit low down in her bowels.
‘Nurse, excuse me,’ she called, spotting the familiar blue uniform. ‘Where are the nearest toilets?’
‘Go to the end of this corridor, doctor, turn right and they are on your left.’
Doctor! Daisy felt a pride she didn’t deserve, then another warning cramp hit her.
‘Thank you, nurse. Oh, and is there any chance of borrowing a pair of rubber gloves, a bowl, and a wooden spoon?’
Chapter 25
Daisy, nose wrinkling in disgust, held up a soiled silver coin in between a blue-gloved finger and thumb. All that trouble for one little sixpence, but at least she’d not have the revolting job of prodding through a bowl of poo ever again.
She tidied everything up, disposed of the tongue depressor and cardboard sick bowl in the waste bin, before using nearly all of a bottle of antibacterial gel to thoroughly clean the coin, her hands, and anything else in sight.
Then she took a couple of sheets of paper hand-towels and wrapped the now-clean but still disgusting sixpence. Her great-gran was welcome to it, though if it was up to Daisy, she would have thrown it away along with the rest of the rubbish. Fancy Gee-Gee wanting it back!
She put it in her bag, wishing she didn’t have to, left the coat and the stethoscope on the hook behind the toilet door, and made her escape.
Already she felt lighter, is if the sixpence had weighed far more than a gram or so. She imagined the bad luck which had been dogging her for the past eight days had finally left her, so it was with a spring in her step that she skipped back to her car.
It wasn’t where she’d left it.
Daisy stamped her foot crossly, preparing herself for another game of hunt-my-car. It wasn’t the first time she’d managed to lose her own car in a car park; the supermarket was usually her favourite location of choice, and she’d lost count of the number of times she had to go searching for it with a trolley full of weekly shopping, only to find that she’d thought she’d parked it in row C, when in fact, she’d left it in row F.
But after one fruitless hunt, then another, Daisy had to admit that her car had been stolen.
‘Bugger, bugger, fuckit!’ she yelled.
Now what was she supposed to do? For once, she did what any normal person did and phoned the police.
‘It’s been towed,’ she was informed.
‘Towed? They can’t do that!’
‘They can and they did.’
‘Aren’t I supposed to get a ticket first?’
‘Not if you park in a bay reserved for ambulances.’
She’d parked close to the entrance to A&E and she remembered how she had done a mental “Yes!” at finding a space that wasn’t a mile away. She’d even thought that was lucky…
Oh, how that effing sixpence must be chuckling to itself. Daisy never knew she could hate an inanimate object as much as she hated this one. But it wasn’t inanimate, was it? It was alive, and intent on causing her as much trouble as it possibly could.
‘I’m going to melt you down and make a pair of earrings out of you,’ she threatened.
‘Excuse me, madam?’ the operator on the end of the phone said.
‘Oh, sorry, I was talking to myself. How do I get my car back?’
The operator gave her the address, along with the very unwelcome news that she’d have to pay two hundred and fifty pounds to have her own car released to her. The damn thing wasn’t worth much more than that, and she was sorely tempted to leave it there. If she still had a job, she just might have simply gone out and bought another car. As it was, she’d have to dip into her savings to get the vehicle back, and she could see the chances of having her own place anytime soon drifting further and further away.
Damn and blast it all!
Before she collected her car, Daisy was determined to rid herself of the sixpence. She wasn’t going to have it in her possession one second longer than was necessary, so she headed to the bus stop.
The Grange was a sprawling series of interconnected buildings two bus rides away from the hospital, and it was pouring heavily by the time she was dropped a street away. As luck would have it (ha!) she had left both her coat and her umbrella on the back seat of the car, and so she resembled a soaked kitten by the time she entered the sliding front doors of the old people’s home.
She left a trail of soggy footprints behind her as she squelched towards her great-gran’s room, though she did manage a word and a smile to the various residents she passed. Some smiled back, and some were lost inside themselves, not registering Daisy’s existence, and she felt so incredibly sad for them.
She felt even sadder when she reached Gee-Gee’s room, only to see another old woman in her great-grandmother’s bed.
Daisy glanced around the room and noticed that all her great-grandmother’s things had gone.
Daisy’s eyes welled up; she’d only seen her great-grandmother yesterday when she provided the taxi service for the (very) late lunch. She’d kissed the old woman’s cheek less than twenty-four hours ago, before handing her over to one of the staff.
They hadn’t wasted any time in moving someone else into her great grandmother’s room, had they? She realised spaces in these homes were in demand, but couldn’t they have waited a couple of days? Her bed couldn’t even be cold yet.
Daisy wondered if her mother knew, and quickly checked her phone. If Sandra did know she hadn’t passed the information on yet. She debated calling her and Nan, but decided this was the sort of news she needed to break to them face to face.
Daisy spied a member of staff. It wasn’t someone she recognised, but then the staff turnover here was quite high, and she never usually visited during a week day. She was normally in work.
‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ Daisy demanded without preamble, drawing the girl (she was only about eighteen) away from the door, in case the new occupant overheard.
‘Tell you what?’ Her jaws worked a piece of gum, and Daisy found she couldn’t take her eyes off the steady chewing.
‘About…’ Daisy pointed t
o the new occupant of what was formerly her great-grandmother’s room.
‘Are you a relative?’ the teenager asked.
‘Not of this lady, no.’
‘Then I’m afraid I can’t share anything with you. Do you have a relative at The Grange?’
For such a young thing, the girl didn’t half have an attitude on her. ‘Not anymore,’ Daisy replied.
‘I’m sorry, but I must ask you to leave,’ the girl said.
Daisy’s hackles rose. ‘Not until I’ve spoken to the manager,’ she countered.
The girl considered her request. ‘Wait here,’ she said eventually, and Daisy waited.
By the time the nursing home’s duty manager of the day appeared, Daisy had worked herself up into a fine old temper.
‘I think it’s disgraceful that the family weren’t informed immediately it happened,’ Daisy said.
‘Miss Jones, isn’t it?’ The woman was unflustered and didn’t appear at all apologetic. The girl lingered behind her boss, watching the show.
‘Yes, I’m Mrs Reynolds’ great-granddaughter.’
‘I’m sorry,’ the manager continued, ‘but we didn’t realise it would cause this much of an issue.’
‘Issue! What did you think it was going to cause? She’s my great grandmother, of course it’s going to cause an issue.’ Daisy spat the last word out.
The woman drew herself up to her full height, a portly five foot three. ‘In future, we will inform you of any such changes before they happen,’ she declared.
‘You knew this was going to happen?’
‘Yes, course. It was planned a week ago.’
Daisy spluttered, the splutter quickly becoming a coughing fit. Planned? Even Daisy, who didn’t much bother with the news, knew that euthanasia wasn’t legal in Britain.
‘I’m going to the police,’ she declared, when she caught her breath.
The manager looked thoroughly confused. ‘Why?’
‘It’s illegal, that’s why. You can’t just murder someone and get away with it.’
The girl had retreated halfway down the corridor and looked as if she intended to make a run for it at any minute.
‘I think we should discuss these allegations somewhere more private,’ the manager said, thin-lipped.
No way. Daisy had no intention of going anywhere with that woman, and certainly not into some little room where the psychopath could do anything to her. God knows what drugs they had in a place like this. A piece of old rag saturated with chloroform? A needle in the side of the neck? Anything!
‘Or do you want me to call the police?’ the woman added, eyeing Daisy with all the caution she’d give a rabid dog.
‘Yes! The police. Good idea!’ Daisy declared. ‘They can hear all about how you planned my great grandmother’s death.’
The manager did a comedic double take. She looked behind her, signalling to the chit of a child to come closer. The girl sidled a few steps nearer.
‘No one told me Mrs Reynolds had passed on,’ the manager said. ‘When did this happen?’
The girl shrugged. ‘I dunno. She was fine when I left her.’
‘When was that?’ The older woman asked.
The girl glanced at her watch. ‘About ten minutes ago. I just took her a cup of tea.’
Daisy looked from the one to the other, and back again, like a spectator in a weird verbal tennis match. Something didn’t add up. This must be a ruse to make her lower her guard.
‘You said you planned it a week ago,’ she said, accusingly.
‘Yes, I did. Mrs Reynolds has been complaining that this side of the building was too noisy, but we couldn’t move her until a room in Willow Wing became available.’
‘Hold it there.’ Daisy held up a hand. She needed a second to think.
The penny dropped for Daisy at the same time as it dropped in the duty manager’s mind.
‘You thought Mrs Reynolds had passed away?’ The duty manager asked. ‘And that we had failed to inform you?’
Daisy nodded, mortified.
‘And you thought we’d murdered her?’ The other woman’s expression swung from outrage to incredulity, and back again.
Daisy didn’t blame her.
‘Did you check in at the front desk, like you’re supposed to?’ the woman asked, crossing her arms.
Daisy shook her head.
‘If you had, you would have been informed that Mrs Reynolds had moved rooms.’
‘Oh.’
‘Let me tell you, Miss Jones, The Grange is not in the habit of failing to inform relatives when their loved ones pass on. Neither are we in the habit of killing off our clients to make room for others. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes, miss.’ Daisy’s response was instinctive. She’d been told off in a similar manner by Mrs Bowles, her former headmistress, and right now she felt exactly like a schoolgirl who’d been caught cheating in an exam.
‘Right, then, mystery solved. We’ll say no more about it,’ the duty manager said.
Daisy finally recalled her name – Mrs Right. How appropriate.
‘Take Miss Jones to visit her great-grandma, would you, Apple? Then go and see if Mrs Pastor needs changing.’
Daisy hung her head as she trotted behind the teenager. She could have sworn the girl’s shoulders were shaking in mirth, and she thanked her in a quiet, chagrined voice, as the girl indicated Gee-Gee’s new room. Daisy scuttled inside.
Her great-grandmother was sitting in her armchair, as large as life, watching TV.
‘Why aren’t you in work?’ the old lady demanded, seeing Daisy at the door.
‘Hi, Gee-Gee, nice to see you too,’ Daisy griped. ‘I’ve lost my job, remember?’
‘I remember. I’m old, not stupid. I assumed you would have found yourself another one by now,’ she said.
‘It’s only been five days!’
‘Long enough,’ Gwenda said. ‘What are you doing here, anyway?’
‘I’ve brought you your sixpence back.’
‘What sixpence?’
‘The one we put in the pudding.’
‘What pudding?’
The Christmas pudding. You said it was for luck.’ Yeah, but she hadn’t specified what kind of luck, had she?
‘Oh, that. It’s an old wives’ tale,’ Gee-Gee said.
Little did her great-grandmother know…
‘Anyway, I brought it back,’ Daisy said.
‘Why don’t you keep it and put it in next year’s pudding? Carry on the tradition.’
God, no! Not after where it’s been, all the trouble it’s caused. Daisy couldn’t wait to give it back to its rightful owner. ‘You said you wanted it back,’ Daisy pointed out.
‘Did I?’
Daisy nodded emphatically. ‘You said, it was the last sixpence your father ever gave you.’
‘He never gave me any sixpences. Now, if you’d have said, thruppeny bits…’
‘Here.’ Daisy handed the coin over. Or tried to.
Gwenda pushed it away. ‘I don’t want it,’ she said. ‘You keep it. Anyway, I don’t think there’s anything remotely lucky about it.’
You don’t say…
Daisy left it on the table on the way out, glad she’d never have to set eyes on the damned thing ever again.
Chapter 26
A soft knock on the door relieved Daisy of her despondent job-hunting session.
‘Come in,’ she called, shutting down the site. There was simply nothing else out there to apply for, darn it.
Zoe stuck her head around the door. ‘I’ve had a look through your contract,’ she said. ‘It clearly states that the use of the company’s IT equipment and internet is strictly for company use only, and any breach or disregard of this may lead to disciplinary action, and then it refers you to the company’s disciplinary policy.’
‘That’s that, then,’ Daisy said. She’d not really expected anything else.
‘Not necessarily. I really need to get my hands on the company’s disc
iplinary policy, but regardless of what it says, they don’t appear to have followed the correct procedure for the dismissal of an employee.’
‘Which is?’
Zoe came into the room, and Daisy sat up, scooting across the bed and patting the covers next to her. Zoe sat and cleared her throat.
‘When an employee contravenes a company’s rules and regulations, there are set procedures which should be followed, otherwise the company might leave itself open to challenge, or appeal. Some actions, or failure to perform actions, can clearly be seen to be gross misconduct, and this often, but not always, leads to instant dismissal. But even in those instances, there are procedures which should be followed. The list of reasons why an employee would be subject to dismissal under the gross misconduct umbrella, includes things like theft, fraud, drug or alcohol misuse, but it is also subjective. For instance, a barman drinking alcohol at the workplace would probably not be treated with the same level of severity as, say, a taxi-driver.’
‘Are you saying, that even though I contravened the company’s policy on the use of the internet, I shouldn’t have been sacked?’
‘Again, not necessarily. If it can be proved that other staff members have accessed the internet for their own personal use and benefit, and the company was aware of that, and they weren’t dismissed, then you have a case for unfair dismissal. Or if you can prove the company was aware of other instances, and dealt with them using their disciplinary policy, up to, but not including, dismissal, then you also have a case.’
‘Basically, you’re saying that I need to prove that either they knew and did nothing, or they knew, but the other employee only got a warning, or something?’
‘Exactly!’
‘I don’t think I can prove that,’ Daisy said, thinking hard.
‘That remains to be seen. You have a right to appeal, and you have a right to ask for any records the company holds which might be pertinent to your appeal. Or rather, in your case, your solicitor will do this for you.’
‘I don’t have a solicitor,’ Daisy said, with a frown. This all sounded very serious and grown up.
Zoe gave Daisy a pitying look. ‘You do.’
‘I do?’
‘One of the perks of working for my law firm, is that employees and their families are able to apply for pro-bono work.’
A Very Lucky Christmas Page 17
