The teacher shook his head.
There would be a perfectly logical answer.
There had to be.
He picked up his bag and left the classroom.
Twenty
James Talbot brought the Volvo to a halt in the car park of Litton Vale Nursing Home and switched off the engine. He remained behind the wheel, gazing at the building, then he swung himself out of the car, scooping up the Cellophane-wrapped bunch of flowers in the process.
The gravel of the short pathway leading up to the main entrance crunched beneath his feet as he walked, and a light breeze rustled the flowers.
Litton Vale was built of grey stone, but the ivy climbing its walls and the beds of immaculately kept flowers which formed a frontage to the stonework helped to soften the forbidding appearance of the place. It was Victorian in origin but a new wing had been added only ten years earlier. It looked somewhat incongruous with its red bricks, nestling against the great grey bulk of the main building.
The scent of blossom was strong in the morning air but Talbot hardly noticed it. He continually switched the bunch of flowers from one hand to the other, aware that his palms were sweaty.
Nervous?
He climbed the short flight of stone steps to the main entrance and walked through into the reception area. To his right was the day room, to his left a staircase which
led to the first storey. There was a chair lift attached to it and, in addition, at the bottom of the corridor behind him, there were lifts.
The thick carpet seemed to muffle sounds within the building, even Talbot’s own footsteps as he moved down the corridor.
To one side of him there were rooms, and to his left was an enormous picture window looking out over a pond, which was surrounded by a Japanese garden.
Several wooden benches were set up there and he saw people sitting on them.
Men and women.
He recognised one or two.
At the end of the corridor he pushed his way through a set of double doors, walking through what looked like an enormous sitting room. There were sofas and chairs dotted all around, but mainly pointing towards a large television set close to an open fireplace.
The television was on, the sound turned up high.
Seated in one of the chairs close to the set was a woman in her eighties.
She smiled broadly at Talbot as he passed through, and he returned the gesture, again switching the bunch of flowers from hand to hand.
His heart was beating that little bit quicker now.
What is there to be afraid of?
The walls were covered by a warm lemon-tinted wallpaper and adorned with many gaily coloured paintings. Everything in the home was designed to be welcoming, soothing to the eye.
As he passed through the next set of double doors he almost bumped into one of the staff members.
She was in her mid-forties, dressed in the familiar dark blue uniform which Talbot had come to know so well.
‘Hello, Mr Talbot’ she said, cheerfully. ‘Nice flowers.’ She bent forward and sniffed them. ‘Lilies, aren’t they?’
‘I’m a copper, not a florist, Mary’ he said, smiling.
‘If all coppers were as good looking as you, I wouldn’t mind getting arrested’
the woman said, chuckling.
‘I’ve got my handcuffs with me.’
She slapped him playfully on the arm.
‘Cheeky,’ she giggled, then disappeared into a room to the right.
Talbot paused for a moment.
They all think you’re so fucking wonderful, don’t they?
The smell of the flowers was beginning to make him feel nauseous.
Talbot paused at the next set of doors.
Through the glass panels in each of them he could see out into the gardens beyond. Immaculately kept lawns, flanked by flower beds and conifers. There were more wooden benches too. Two sparrows were perched on the edge of a birdbath close to the door.
They flew off when he stepped out into the garden.
Talbot watched them fly away, disappearing over the line of conifers, then he spotted what he sought.
The single figure was seated in a white-painted wooden seat on a patio nearby.
There was a walking stick propped against the chair.
Come on. Get it over with.
He swallowed hard and set off towards the figure.
The smell of freshly cut grass mingled with the aroma of so many flowers.
Somewhere off to his left he could hear the sound of a lawnmower. There was even laughter coming from behind him but he couldn’t see its source.
Laughter.
As he drew closer, the figure turned to face him and Talbot held out the bunch of flowers as if he were warding off some predatory beast. He managed a broad smile which never touched his eyes.
You bastard. At least try and be convincing.
‘Hello, Mum’ he said, softly.
Twenty-one
Dorothy Talbot rose shakily to her feet, smiling, her arms extended.
She was dressed in an immaculately pressed green two-piece suit and her white hair was held in place by hair laquer. As Talbot embraced her he felt her head brushing against his shoulder. She gripped him tightly to her, then stood back and kissed him on the cheek. Her own face was ruddy and she looked remarkably healthy, more closely resembling a woman who has spent her life in the countryside than one who had hardly ever set foot outside London for her whole life. . She gripped Talbot’s hand and he felt the swollen veins beneath the flesh as he squeezed it, helping her to sit down again. He pulled another chair across and sat down opposite her, watching as she looked gratefully at the flowers he’d brought.
‘They’re beautiful’ she said. Then she squeezed his hand again. ‘It’s so good to see you, Jim. I wasn’t expecting you today.’
‘I can’t stop long, Mum’ he said quickly.
‘I know, dear.’
Jesus, did she have to be so fucking understanding?
Talbot shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
‘Are you busy?’ she asked.
I’m always busy, Mum. But never mind me, how’s your leg?’
She rubbed gently at her thigh and shrugged.
‘They keep telling me I might have to have one of those frames if it gets any worse but I don’t fancy that’ she said, dismissively.
‘Can you manage with your stick?’
‘I’ve been managing for the last twenty years. I’ve been taking tablets for the last week or so, I’ve had a little pain from it.’
Talbot squeezed her hand more tightly.
‘I’m lucky,’ she said, smiling. ‘He could have broken more than just my leg.’
‘I thought he did, the bastard,’ snarled Talbot, his tone darkening. A long silence followed as they both sat, lost in their own thoughts.
‘Did you ever try to leave him?’ he asked at length. ‘Just run away, I mean.’
‘I thought about it, Jim. All I wanted to do was get away from him, especially when I found out what he’d been doing to you.’ Her voice trailed away into a whisper and she glanced at her son.
Talbot saw tears in her eyes.
‘I was terrified of him,’ she said, quietly. ‘You know that. If I’d tried to run he’d have killed me, probably killed both of us. Like I said, I was lucky he only broke my leg.’
‘Did you ever tell anyone what he did to you? Or to me?’
She shook her head.
‘I think everyone round about knew what he was like anyway, especially after he’d had a few drinks in him. They never knew what he did to you, though. I never let anyone know that.’
Talbot swallowed hard.
‘I wasn’t the only wife to get a beating, you know’ Dorothy continued. ‘There were plenty round our way in the same boat.’
‘Not all of them ended up in a hospital with a compound fracture of the right leg and a dislocated shoulder’ Talbot reminded her.