Chapter 16
‘Tell me again why we’re doing this?’ Taffy asked, as he fought with a striped silk tie later that evening. ‘I don’t understand why I have to get all dressed up like a stuffed shirt just to go and visit an old people’s home?’
Holly inhaled sharply. ‘Whoa, whatever you do, do not call it that! It’s an exclusive retirement community, okay? If Elsie really has her heart set on going there, she’ll need to provide all sorts of references, if you can believe it. Personal and financial statements. And there’s a trial period when they can ask her to leave if she doesn’t fit in!’ Holly shook her head. When Elsie had casually suggested that they all pop over this evening for a little snoop around Sarandon Hall, she certainly hadn’t expected a three-page email from the Admissions Team detailing their expectations!
‘And since we’re basically Elsie’s nearest and dearest, I imagine we’ll be under scrutiny a little bit too. So put on the tie.’ Holly grinned. ‘Pretend you’re going undercover if it helps. The name’s Jones, Taffy Jones—’
Taffy grinned. ‘It does help a little actually. You can be my Bond girl if you like. Hobnobs Galore.’
‘Oi,’ said Holly, brushing the crumbs off her silk shirtdress none too discreetly. ‘Based on this dress, I’ll have to be Plenty O’Toole, don’t you think?’ She laughed. Holly’s ever-expanding bustline was going to give away her pregnancy quicker than anything right now, even Taffy’s slightly mooning expression at every baby that had come into The Practice over the last few days.
Taffy frowned. ‘I still don’t get this, you know. Elsie has that beautiful house, friends on the doorstep—’
‘But that’s just it,’ Holly interrupted him. ‘Since Sarandon Hall opened its golden doors, there’s a certain section of our community who have jumped ship from their own homes into this place. Elsie’s been feeling really left out for months.’
‘Oh,’ said Taffy quietly. ‘I didn’t realise she was unhappy.’
‘Not so much unhappy, as unfulfilled,’ Holly clarified. ‘She keeps telling me all about what her friends are up to – the guest speakers, the bridge parties, the culinary events, the wine-tasting, the trips . . . It’s like all her friends have left for university and she’s stuck at home doing retakes. We might have to accept that she’s genuinely considering this as an option.’
‘Okay then,’ said Taffy. ‘But if I get one whiff that this place is a scam, or their care isn’t up to scratch—’
‘Absolutely,’ said Holly. ‘I’ll be right with you. And at least Elsie’s being sensible about this and going to look around properly. She was all up for paying a deposit over the phone this afternoon when she heard that a vacancy had come up.’
They were both silent for a moment as they considered how exactly a vacancy at a place like Sarandon Hall might become available. Holly laid one hand on her nascent bump, thinking about the circle of life and trying hard to be as upbeat and positive about this mooted plan as Elsie was. No matter how she thought about it though, even the prospect of Elsie moving into a retirement community – however pricey and luxurious – felt like an admission of defeat.
Leaving Lucy in charge of the twins with a new bumper pack of Play-Doh and promises not to be long, Holly pulled the front door closed behind them.
‘Right then, deep breath, smiley faces,’ she said as much to herself as to Taffy. ‘We’re being supportive, remember.’ She peeled open a new packet of Polos to quell the wave of nausea that followed, unconvinced that on this particular occasion it was the pregnancy hormones causing her stomach to protest.
Protesting, however, was the last thing on Holly’s mind by the time they had collected Elsie, in full evening dress no less, and driven up the sweeping, tree-lined drive to Sarandon Hall. By the time the butler – dear God! – had taken their coats and organised drinks, Holly had taken a moment to look around the stately home. Her only lingering bias was towards the fact that she might be rather tempted to move in herself.
‘Bloody hell,’ exclaimed Holly under her breath.
‘You see,’ said Elsie smugly, catching her awed expression as they stood waiting for the Honourable Adeline Avery to show them around. ‘Little bit luxury hotel, little bit country club – not too shabby for Elsie.’
Elsie had a valid point – there was no shortage of luxury or facilities, or so it seemed according to the map of the grounds that Holly had picked up as they entered. Golf course, swimming pool, solarium, tennis courts, wine lockers, Pilates studio and a choice of fine or casual dining – assuming of course that one had chosen to eschew the luxury kitchen in one’s own well-appointed apartment. Holly felt as though her brain had absorbed a little too much of the brochure’s pithy sales patter and her objectivity was in serious jeopardy.
‘Are you sure this is your thing, though, Elsie? Are these kind of people really your friends?’ Holly offered, as a momentary flicker of nerves passed over her friend’s face.
Elsie raised an eyebrow, clearly unwilling to be challenged on this. ‘Not everyone will like me, darling, but you seem to forget – not everyone matters. I’m eighty-four: I’m not walking into here wondering if anyone will like me; I walk into a room and wonder whose company I might enjoy. It’s something you gain with a little confidence, later on in life,’ she said, patting Holly’s hand a little patronisingly, betraying her nerves with each tiny tremor.
She and Taffy hung back a little, as Elsie greeted everyone passing through the hallways, old friends and acquaintances apparently delighted with their rather smug choice of golden years accommodation. She was quickly swept into their midst and Holly felt the first tiny frisson of envy – not for the finery, or the fripperies, but for the company of one of her favourite people.
‘Did you see, Holls?’ asked Taffy under his breath. ‘They have three different private doctors on call and a twenty-four-hour nursing service. There’s even a chiropodist on site. How on earth is she going to afford this place?’
Taffy seemed to have missed the obvious assumption that, with an apartment in Sarandon Hall to call her own, Elsie would have no need of the glorious townhouse on the Market Place that had become their second home and place of refuge whenever things got tricky. Holly couldn’t quite imagine turning up at Sarandon Hall with a twin on each arm, in search of a spontaneous cuppa and catch-up.
Holly gave herself a little shake, reminding herself that this was not about her – this was about Elsie and her choices. Either way, though, she couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed by the reality of Sarandon Hall in the flesh, so to speak – all visions of tired and taupe retirement communities having been swept from her mind.
This? This was almost a little too much, a little too grandiose for everyday living, surely? But then, if every day might be your last, who wouldn’t want to go out with such a luxurious flourish?
‘Do you know,’ murmured Taffy, echoing her thoughts, ‘I reckon I’d be craving beans on toast and a box set within a week in here.’
Holly couldn’t help but agree, a flicker of hope that her friend might feel the same way quickly extinguished as she caught sight of Elsie herself. Resplendent in her sweeping green silk dress, undoubtedly vintage couture – much like the lady herself – her laugh chimed merrily amongst the general conversation, as the residents were escorted through to dinner. With a delicate martini glass in one hand, and a dapper gentleman in a velvet smoking jacket holding the other, Elsie was in her element. The centre of attention. As a young girl in evening dress began a sweeping arpeggio on the grand piano in the dining room, the chatter and hubbub was supplemented by sighs of delight at the tiny plates of foie gras and caviar at each place setting, where the linen was pristine and the crystal sparkling as much as the conversation.
‘Jesus,’ said Taffy hanging back in the doorway and pulling at his tie uncomfortably, ‘it’s like a scene from The Great Gatsby in here. Is it a special occasion, do you think?’
The Honourable Adeline Avery materialised beside them, a neat leather-bound folder in her hands that already bore the name Elsie Townsend embossed on the front in gold leaf. ‘Oh no, this is just our Wednesday Supper Club. But we do hold a gala with a string quartet on the first of every month. You see, for most of our residents the notion of weekends and weekdays is meaningless now they’re retired. So we try to make every day special in some way. Tomorrow, for example, we’re having a literary salon. Perhaps Ms Townsend would care to join us and share some insight into the world of publishing?’
‘I’m sure she’d love to,’ said Holly. ‘I have to ask, though, do all your residents enjoy this constant state of decadence?’
Adeline smiled. ‘I know what you mean, but to be honest, we have trouble keeping up with demand. Our residents tend to be outgoing on the whole, and wanting to grab life with both hands – as much as the arthritis allows anyway!’ She gave a self-deprecating chuckle that told Holly that this rather clumsy joke was actually part of her spiel.
Adeline leaned in confidentially. ‘Many of our lady residents truly embrace the opportunity to dust off their diamonds and put their hair up for a change. You won’t find any elasticated slacks around here. We have a hair salon and beautician on site, of course. And naturally, we work hard to keep the ratio of male and female residents as even as life expectancies allow. We’ve even been privileged to hold a few weddings in recent months.’
‘Crikey,’ said Holly eloquently. She could understand the desire to be surrounded by friends and living the high life, rather than worrying about the state of the roof or whether the boiler needed servicing, but she had to confess Sarandon Hall wasn’t quite what she’d been expecting. She revised her earlier assessment that she’d be moving in as soon as she hit pensionable age. She could only hope that if Elsie had indeed set her heart on this, they would be able to leave her an escape hatch, should the cloying perfection become overwhelming.
There was something about the conversations, and by extension the friendships here, that seemed a little brittle to Holly’s eye. There would be none of the down-to-earth honesty and loyalty that, for example, the Major and Marion offered their friends. Holly quietly crossed her fingers that Peregrine had taken her advice to heart and, even now, was sharing his anxiety with his wonderfully blunt but incredibly loving wife. Thank God she’d had the presence of mind to pop round, she thought, even if she’d been so distracted of late it had taken her longer than she was proud of.
Elsie gave her a little wave across the dining room, having sensed Holly’s scrutiny. Her cheeks were flushed lightly and her eyes were dancing in delight as whatever anecdote she was regaling them with held the full attention of her table-mates.
Holly could only wish that Sarandon Hall offered a little ‘holiday package’ – permanent residency would certainly be taking a leap of faith on Elsie’s latest whim. What if this was like the llama that she had endlessly obsessed about, but bored of instantly once she realised how moody and unaffectionate he was. Poor Monty, Holly thought, consigned to the petting zoo with barely a backwards glance.
If only there was a way for Elsie to dip her toe in the water without absolute commitment, she mused.