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‘You want my advice? Pick something that makes you feel good about yourself and gives you a sense of satisfaction. Then work out how to get better at it. Go to college, do an online course, whatever it takes to obtain the skills you need. You’ve too many years ahead of you to be stuck in a job you hate.’
Calvin brushed away the loose hair from Larry’s neck. ‘You’re a wise man, Larry.’
‘I have my moments. Now, let’s look at this haircut.’ He peered into the mirror, angling his head. ‘Looks good, son.’
‘Glad you like it.’ Calvin unplugged the clippers and placed them back in the box.
‘And just for the record, I think you’re great at managing this place. You know why? You don’t treat us like we’re past it. Youshow us kindness and dignity, and you allow us the freedom to be independent and self-sufficient. As much as we can be, anyway.’ Larry pushed himself up from the stool. ‘It’s not a great feeling getting older and realising you can’t do the things you used to do. Hell, some days I can’t even remember why I walked into a room. It’s scary when you realise you’re at the front of the train and the next stop is the morgue.’
Calvin looked at the man’s mournful expression.
‘Everyone here had another life before this. A life that we still desperately want, but can no longer have, where we were capable and independent, and masters of our own universe. Accepting you no longer have the life you want is a blow like no other. And you, more than anyone, know what that feels like… right, son?’
The lump in Calvin’s throat prevented him from speaking.
‘You give us hope that, just maybe, the time we have left might not be quite so dull as we feared. Who else would let us get blasted and go on village excursions to the pub?’
Despite smiling, Calvin felt riddled with guilt. He doubted the new owners would allow that to continue. They offered a full range of activities, from seated exercise to painting for beginners, but nowhere did it mention participating in local ghost hunts and organising Fuzzy Duck drinking games.
Larry reached up and patted Calvin’s cheek. ‘This is your calling, son. I can feel it in my gut, just like I knew it with my Francie. And despite what you say, you don’t suck at it as much as you think.’ Larry shuffled over to the bed. ‘Time for my lie-down. I like to party with the rest of them, but some of us oldies also need our rest.’
Calvin left Larry’s room, mulling over the older man’s words. He was right. Whatever Calvin did next, he’d be starting from scratch. He’d be a novice, an apprentice, relegated to the bottom rung. It was a depressing thought. But was Larry right whenhe said that managing Rose Court was his calling? That bit he wasn’t so certain about.
Trying to fathom his life with a foggy head probably wasn’t the best idea, so he pushed the thought away and decided to check on Kate.
He hadn’t seen her all day, and he could only imagine how she felt about being trapped here. He’d still been asleep when she’d attempted to leave this morning, and according to Geraldine, she’d headed off down the driveway with her suitcase dragging behind her, only to return a few minutes later when she’d realised the lanes were completely blocked.
Since then she’d been holed up in her room and no one had seen her. He hated the idea of her being miserable.
Heading up to the second floor, he knocked tentatively on her closed bedroom door, hoping she wouldn’t yell at him to go away.
When no one answered, he knocked harder. Still no response.
‘Kate? Are you okay? I’m worried about you.’
Still no answer.
Twisting the handle, he gently pushed the door. ‘Kate…? Are you in here?’
No sign of her.
The bed was stripped, her bulging suitcase sat on the floor, unpacked, and her possessions were missing from the side table. She hadn’t given up on the idea of leaving, then?
The window rattled suddenly and flew open, startling him.
There was no wind today, so why the window had randomly opened, he had no idea. As he went over to close it, he spotted Kate in the neighbouring field, walking up an incline, dragging something large behind her.
When she reached the top, she turned around and straddled what looked like a tray and sat on top of it. Pushing herself away,she only travelled a few feet before toppling into the snow. She was sledging?
Shaking his head in bemusement, he secured the window and left her room. He’d be glad when they had enough money to fix the bloody thing. But whether he’d be the one dealing with the repairs, or whether it would be the new owners, he wasn’t sure. He had no idea how long the sale would take. That’s if he decided to sell.
Ignoring the confusion of thoughts running through his head, he made his way downstairs and picked up his jacket, before venturing outside.
The depth of the snow made wading through it hard work. It took him a few minutes to reach Kate and in that time she’d attempted another couple of sledge runs, and fallen off both times.
When he finally reached her, he was panting. ‘This is not what I expected to find you doing.’
‘I needed an outlet for my frustrations,’ she said, dragging the tray up the incline. ‘And this seemed preferable to having another meltdown. I like to think I’ve evolved,’ she said, positioning the tray between her legs. ‘Although, in truth, this isn’t as rewarding as I’d hoped it would be.’ Her cheeks were glowing from the exertion and her knitted gloves were caked in snow. She looked bulky, unathletic and adorable.
