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She glanced over her shoulder. ‘How do you figure that?’
His eyes met hers. ‘We don’t die of fright… and you get to stay. I’d call that a win.’
His tender expression turned her stomach to pulp, and she knew it was a lost cause. She’d only gone and fallen in love with Calvin bloody Johnson, hadn’t she?
What an absolute fool.
‘Oh, look,’ he said, drawing her attention to the front of the care home. ‘The welcome committee have come out to greet us. Lucky us.’
Lucky, indeed.
Chapter Twenty
Christmas Eve
The landscape surrounding the care home had finally started to thaw. The rigid icicles hanging from the rafters had begun to melt and the sheets of ice making the driveway precarious had dissolved into the gravel below. Instead of a harsh winter’s scene, the view from the staff room now resembled something from a picturesque Christmas card.
Leaning against the window frame, Calvin cuddled Jacob closer, glad of the comfort of another body pressed against his – even a tiny one. He’d grown accustomed to these views. He still missed city life, but he’d adjusted to country living. He enjoyed his early morning runs with Suki, being able to breathe in clean air, with no hint of car fumes, and savour the sound of birdsong. Country life might not be enough on its own to keep him stimulated, but with Ashford only a train stop away, with its shops, restaurants, bars and sports facilities, the area had more to offer than he’d first imagined.
It wasn’t just the area he’d become attached to – something that had become apparent when he’d arrived back at the care home yesterday, having been ‘rescued’ by Kate. The image of her appearing through the snowy haze perched on a giant shire horse had been the most surreal, funny and touching moment of his entire life. He couldn’t imagine Ainsley ever coming to his rescue like that. The idea that someone cared about him that much was… astonishing. And touching. And very confusing.
And it wasn’t just Kate who had been concerned. They’d been welcomed home as if returning from a dangerous arctic mission, wrapped in thick blankets, given hot chocolate – laced withwhisky – and bundled into the lounge and instructed to warm themselves by the fire.
It didn’t matter that he was a grown man capable of taking care of himself, or that his ‘carers’ were four decades older than him and in need of care themselves. They’d insisted on ensuring he was okay – Kate, too.
The pampering hadn’t let up all evening. Geraldine fed them casserole, Larry serenaded them with Christmas classics, Esme and Rowan plied them with ‘medicinal’ drinks, and Hanna insisted on checking his vitals. He’d been too dulled by whisky shots to object.
The evening ended with them lazing around the lounge, watchingHome Alone– Kate’s idea – and drifting into a contented sleep, like some weird hippy commune. Strangely, he hadn’t hated it. It had felt normal. Like this was how his life was meant to be. And if that wasn’t completely absurd, he didn’t know what was. Maybe he did need professional help after all.
The staff-room door opened and Nelson appeared, wearing his blue nurse’s tunic, and flopped onto the couch. ‘You on babysitting duties?’
Calvin smiled at his charge. Jacob was wrapped in a cosy onesie, ready for his outdoor adventure. ‘Just while Natalie gets changed. We’re off to see Father Christmas.’
Nelson let out a huge yawn. ‘Ah, the infamous nativity scene. No one can accuse this place of not going the extra mile.’
‘Tired?’
‘I blame that gigantic lunch,’ he said, rubbing his stomach. ‘I’ve never eaten so much in my life – I’m stuffed.’ Another yawn escaped him. ‘Kate’s in with Deshad and Priya, giving them advice about wills, so I thought I’d grab five minutes.’
Calvin adjusted his grip on Jacob. ‘You want us to leave and give you some peace?’
‘You’re fine. I’m happy relaxing for a moment.’ Nelson noticed the document lying on the coffee table. ‘You been checking out care-home qualifications?’
Calvin nodded. ‘I started looking at football training courses, but ended up researching care home management instead.’
‘Did you discover anything interesting?’
‘That I’m more qualified to coach football than I am to look after care residents,’ he said, trying not to sound despondent. It was beyond depressing to discover how little he was qualified to do, other than play football. ‘I thought there might be a fast-track route into care management, but it takes years to reach the required level.’
Nelson raised his eyebrows. ‘You don’t need formal qualifications to manage a care home, mate.’
‘But it’s recommended.’ He moved away from the window. ‘The website says you need a degree in social work, a nursing diploma or an equivalent NVQ qualification in health and social care. I don’t even have A levels,’ he said, ashamed by his lack of education.
Nelson flicked through the document. ‘There’s the option of taking a management route.’
‘I don’t have any management training either.’
‘It says here you need strong leadership skills, strategic thinking, project and organisational management, and good communication.’ He looked up. ‘Mate, you have these in spades.’
