From a Safe Distance (29 page)

‘Sssshh! Keep it down Max!'

Max tried to control himself, managing not to thump the table. ‘But it's staring him in the face! The woman should be sacked!'

‘I know that, you know that, but Jack Marshall knows something else.' Helen looked annoyed.

‘Helen, I met Sandra today.'

‘What! She's not due back at work until Thursday.'

‘She came in to see Jack, and it seemed like an urgent discussion.'

‘Huh, getting their stories straight, I expect.' Helen stared out into the sunlight.

‘Sorry … have I missed something here? What do you mean by that?'

‘Oh Max! You're such an innocent! Don't you realise they're having an affair?

Jack's known for, well … '

‘Ah. That would explain a lot.' Max paused, embarrassed.

Helen leant over again, whispering, delighting in the scandal. ‘I must tell you this! I practically caught them
at it
one day in Alder office! When I went into the house it was quiet as the grave. I knocked on the office door and suddenly I heard a lot of movement within, and Sandra's flustered voice saying something like: “Yes, that'll be fine, thanks Jack. Come in!” I had to smile. Anyway, Max, that's the reason I didn't want to hand the report over to Jack in the first place, or arrange the big meeting through him.' Helen sat back in her seat and spoke normally. ‘We'll take it to the top, OK?'

They were able to get an initial appointment with the Chief Executive a week later. But Max wanted to know why Helen refused to drive anywhere. Saying she didn't feel well was enough for the first couple of times, but then Max began to get worried. She realised she couldn't prolong his agony and had to come clean. He gave her the chance.

‘Helen, I came to find you after I'd seen my patient on Tuesday, but you weren't in the House and the car had gone. Where were you?'

‘I had an appointment with my GP. Come for a walk with me, Max, your favourite walk. We can get to the far end and back before it's dark now.'

But in the middle of putting on her boots, she was suddenly overwhelmed. Tears burned her eyes; the whole story came out. Max took her in his arms and held her for a long time.

Dick Montgomery's secretary opened the door to his office. Brigadier Richard Montgomery, who was in his sixties, made himself comfortable in his large leather chair. He wore a tailored suit and spoke with a cut-glass accent. His bearing, like that of Jack Marshall, betrayed his military background, but this time there was definitely the added ingredient of public school. His tie bore an unusual symbol. Helen, once again without Max, sat in an ordinary chair.

‘You say you have a complaint about a member of the senior management, Sandra Wheatley.'

‘My husband and I have prepared a report, Mr Montgomery,' said Helen, placing a copy of the document, in its red cover, on the desk in front of him. She went on, a little less confidently, as Dick had not yet reacted to the report. ‘It gives examples of Sandra's conduct and we think it deserves your attention.'

There was a pause, during which Dick Montgomery picked up a fountain pen and breathed heavily once or twice, apparently deep in thought. Helen thought he had an air of sadness which he was trying to conceal.

‘Why did you come to me first with this and not to Mr Marshall?'

‘I did see him first, but the questions raised are sufficiently serious to bring the matter to you myself, rather than wait indefinitely for “procedure” to take its course.'

‘And can you tell me what, precisely, is your husband's involvement in this affair? He is not a full-time employee here, after all.'

‘Sir, Vee Gates, who used to work here, was his patient.
He has evidence to suggest that Sandra's attitude towards her was a contributory factor in Vee's suicide.'

‘Ha, ha! Really?' Dick coughed. ‘You expect me to believe that a respected member of my staff had something to do with
that
? How is that possible, Mrs Greenwood?'

‘We
do
want you to believe it, yes.' Helen was fired up now and her Scots accent was in evidence. ‘Because it's true. And that's not all. When she was House Manager, Sandra was not really, well, managing. As you may know, I have just spent some time on Grove – .'

‘– Are you saying now that Ms Wheatley is incompetent, as well as driving people to suicide?' Dick chuckled complacently and shook his head. He put down his pen and, his elbows on the desk, tapped his fingertips together.

‘We need you to take this seriously, sir,' Helen asserted. ‘There are residents on Grove who appear to have been neglected.'

‘Now we have the dreaded word “neglect” as well. What will it be next, mass slaughter that nobody's witnessed except you?'

‘With respect, sir, I don't think you're giving me a fair hearing.' Helen's annoyance was beginning to show. ‘Everybody would love to think that an organisation like this ran smoothly all the time, but the fact is that where there are people, there will be mistakes. I think you should read the report in full and make a few enquiries of your own before laughing us out of court.'

‘You're wrong.' Dick Montgomery leant forward and peered over his glasses at Helen like an ageing headmaster. ‘I do take these things seriously, Mrs Greenwood. And I intend to be fair. But you must admit these are pretty grave accusations. The Centre has been running successfully for over seventy years. I need to understand why, when you two come along, problems like this come to light. Now,' He stood up. ‘I will read your report and I will see you again in a week's time. On that occasion, I will invite Jack Marshall, Sandra Wheatley and a representative from the union to be present. Your husband will be there too, yes? We shall hold
a formal hearing in the boardroom next door. After all, I think we're still civilised enough to allow Ms Wheatley the chance to defend herself, wouldn't you say?'

Helen hoped that those who followed her in charge of Birch and Grove would appreciate her hard work, but she knew that efficiency can be taken for granted. Grove would have its new manager in the next day or so, according to the grapevine. She was forcing herself to keep going in the meantime; the fear of not getting everything done meant she felt the need to organise Max too.

‘Have you rescheduled your Tuesday appointments?'

‘All taken care of. Hey! I'm worried about the meeting too, on top of everything else, but we … ' He reached across the table and took both her hands in his. ‘We have to get through this, stay focused, together.' Their eyes met. ‘And we've got Grace and Anna coming at the weekend, haven't we? You'll see your girls.' He let her get on with her meal, but he had to admit he was having difficulty finishing his lasagne, even if it was home made. ‘The hardest part's done now the report's sent out. Thank goodness for that at least!'

‘I wonder what Monty makes of it. Oh, I forgot to tell you that I've asked that someone from Social Services be present next week, because of the neglect, you know. And for moral support, really … I faxed them the report as well.'

‘Right. No more shop-talk now', said Max. ‘Let's go for that walk we were going to have the other day.' They abandoned the kitchen.

‘I can see why you like that walk so much, Max,' Helen said as she struggled out of her boots, back in the porch afterwards. ‘Can you pass me some newspaper? And now spring's arrived, there are loads of birds!'

‘They're all looking for a mate. I'm lucky, I didn't have to sing to get mine!' Max laughed, realising it was the first time he'd done so for a while.

‘Phew! I'm glad I'm not a bird then! Narrow escape, that.' Helen flung her arms round him.

‘How are you feeling today, darling?' he asked, wanting to keep hold of her.

‘Not too bad. It comes and goes. It's horrible not being able to drive, though. Perhaps Dr Conway was worried I'd have a fit or something. I don't know.' She broke free, not having the time to allow emotions to surface.

Max smiled. ‘What shall we do for the girls, then?'

This was always Vee's worst time of year. “You'll know what to do”, she had said. So Max had to make sure he did. In St Peter's churchyard, he knelt down, trying to tidy up a bit. Then he placed a pot of primulas next to her stone. He must have said something out loud, because the next moment, a familiar voice said calmly: ‘Who's that then, Max?'

He was caught off guard by his former colleague. ‘Oh, hello Sue. You made me jump! This is – a friend.'

She read Vee's inscription but it obviously meant nothing to her. ‘My dad is just down there. I come here about once a fortnight.'

It was strangely refreshing to be able to talk shop for a few minutes, although he needed to get back home, not just for Helen and the Vee Project, but because he had a nagging feeling about Sandra.

‘Fancy a drink?'

‘Another time, thanks Sue.'

Max realised he had overlooked something. When Vee started having disciplinary hearings and when they put verbal warnings on her file, Sandra had not been involved. She couldn't have been: Vee was still working in Forest House. She and Sandra had not even met then. This led him to consider a more sinister possibility. Sandra's role would
still be to make life as unpleasant as possible for Vee, yes, but what if she wasn't pulling the strings? So who was then? This made sense: Sandra was a good choice of protagonist, given her prejudice, and Vee was put in Alder House for a reason; she was a thorn in Squaremile's side. With the lure of promotion, Sandra could give full vent to her spite to make sure Vee left. Of course the management could not have anticipated her suicide, but it was clear they'd closed ranks. There was just one thing Sandra could not see: she would be a convenient scapegoat if her behaviour was questioned.

He had to put this to Helen before Tuesday. Today was Friday. Sunday was Helen's birthday. The girls were coming tomorrow. It would have to be tonight. If a social worker was coming to the meeting, at least they wouldn't be outnumbered, but in that connection, he had to make an urgent phone call. When Helen came home at six o'clock, he explained his ideas.

‘I think you're right', said Helen. ‘But does it make that much difference in the end?'

‘Yes, because it means we can't rely on anyone. But don't worry. We'll show them.'

‘Max, where's the report?'

‘Oh it's here somewhere.'

‘I want to read it through again before we need it.'

They kept everything to do with the report at home to avoid prying eyes, and never let one word slip about it at work. He sat at his computer and declined the offer of a cup of coffee. He too was finding it a real effort to concentrate; it was no longer an act of escapism to write his notes. The student doctors had packed up and gone home. Recent developments had to be recorded accurately and the stage set for Tuesday. Things were moving. Helen looked over his shoulder and he had to remind her that she was not allowed to read any of his own work yet.

Is it in this pile?'

‘What?'

‘The report!'

‘Helen, do you have to have it right this minute?'

She looked at him, surprised. ‘No, I s'pose it can wait. Max, are you OK?'

‘I'll be fine. Look, I'm sorry. This whole thing must be getting to me. I didn't mean to snap at you. It's there, look, where you left it.'

‘Max … I don't think I can go through with this.' Her words landed like a bomb.

‘But … are you sure?' Max spoke quietly now, remembering her situation. ‘Only we've worked so hard to get this far … and it's all set up. I won't be able to do it on my own.'

He moved away from the computer and put his hands over his face. He felt old and tired, they were both trying to do too much, Helen might be seriously ill and he kept seeing Vee. Sunset and champagne. He was struggling.

‘Vee's not around any more, is she?' he said, leaning against the desk. ‘She can't do this. You said you'd help me, try and put things right. People who find themselves in Vee's position in the future will thank you if you can just hold on. Please, darling.'

She knew he was right, but knowing that didn't suddenly make her feel better. He knew he had to change the subject. He tried to smile. ‘Bet you're looking forward to this afternoon, though, aren't you?'

‘Yes! Grace said she'd be here about three but Anna wasn't quite sure.'

‘Helen?' He looked up.

‘Yes?'

‘I'll let you decide if you want to tell the girls today, but they'll have to know soon, won't they? Think about it. Now come here.' He stood up and stretched out his arms.

They embraced silently. Her hair smelt good. ‘I love you, Mrs Greenwood.'

Anna arrived about two hours after Grace and they spent the evening talking, laughing and eating. Helen was more relaxed than he'd seen her for a while; he put this down partly to the relief she felt at the prospect of being back in
charge of Sycamore soon (her deputy would probably be grateful too), and also to the presence of her clever girls. He just hoped she wasn't over-compensating.

‘Hey girls!' she exclaimed at the table; ‘You've both got too thin. Come on, you need some proper food. I remember what it was like to be a student.'

‘Did you meet any dinosaurs?' Anna laughed.

‘Less of that, thank you!'

‘Mind you, some of our professors – I reckon they dust them off each day when they bring them out of the cupboard!' Anna helped herself to more vegetables.

‘Tell us about Oxford again, Dad.' Two years older than her sister, Grace had always been the quiet, studious one. Her finals were approaching.