The Paradise Trees (3 page)

‘What time’s Doctor Morton coming?’ she asked Margaret after breakfast.

‘Half past ten,’ said Margaret. ‘But it’s Doctor Carter now, he’s taking over Doctor Morton’s practice. Frank Carter, you might remember him, his family lived
here way back before they moved down south. His wife died in some kind of accident a few years ago apparently.’

Alicia stared. ‘Frank Carter? Yes, I do remember him. His sister was one of my friends at primary school. Sonja. They left just before we went to secondary school.’

And just after her father had been so mad at them both... She hadn’t thought about it for years. They’d been about twelve, her and Sonja, and they’d spent an evening secretly
making Valentine’s cards in Alicia’s room. Unknown to Alicia, her father had been standing outside the door listening to all their girly talk about boys and who fancied who. He had
stormed into the room, sent Sonja home and then dragged Alicia down to the kitchen where he’d made her stand reading the bible aloud. For two solid hours he’d sat there, his eyes fixed
on her as she stumbled through the Old Testament. She had loathed him then and the feeling had probably been mutual.

Margaret sniffed. ‘Well, Frank’s back. I don’t know why on earth he wanted to come back to a little place like this.’

‘Maybe because he has happy memories here?’ suggested Alicia gently. ‘It must have been tough for him, losing his wife like that.’

She looked at her aunt, concerned. Margaret was rinsing round the sink and blinking back tears.

She really does hate change, realised Alicia. But things couldn’t go on like this, Margaret must see that. Her beloved Bob’s condition was only going to deteriorate.

A dull thud upstairs sent Margaret scuttling to the door. ‘That’s Bob. I’ll help him dress and you make fresh tea. I expect the doctor’ll take a cup too.’

She was gone before Alicia could draw breath. Grimly, she put the kettle on. Being independent was fine and good, but Margaret was overdoing it. At this rate she’d have a stroke too if she
wasn’t careful. Anyway, her father wouldn’t realise if he was here at home, or somewhere else
in
a home. Or would he?

Something to ask the doctor about, she thought, hearing a car door slam outside.

Frank Carter was in the hallway before she got to the door, and Alicia blinked. She would never have recognised him. He was slight, only a few inches taller than she was, with overlong dark hair
and a thin, lined face. Had the lines come when his wife died? A mere divorce had just about doubled her own tally of frown lines. What must it be like to lose the person you loved most of all,
just like that? Please God she would never find out. He smiled, showing not unattractively crooked teeth, and held out his hand.

‘Hello, Alicia,’ he said. ‘You’ve changed. I saw you in the village last Saturday and I have to confess I didn’t recognise you at first. You’ve grown up since
we last met.’

The hand gripping hers was warm, and Alicia felt comforted. This was her old friend’s brother, and he’d been a part of her world back then. He was a few years older, too, he might
remember things she couldn’t. They could jog down memory lane together and maybe he could help her dig up some of the forgotten memories.

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Well, it wasn’t exactly yesterday.’

Frank laughed. ‘Mrs Mullen, ah... reminded me all about you,’ he said, leaning against the cutlery drawer. ‘She even remembered how you and Sonja once let down the tyres on my
bike while I was in buying sweets. I suppose you had your reasons but I can’t remember at all what I’d done to deserve such... such wrath.’

Alicia grinned at him. He seemed nervous, but that was ridiculous. Maybe he was shy, or possibly it was awkward, having your sister’s old school friend’s parent as a patient.

‘I expect we were just being brats. What’s Sonja up to these days?’

He pulled a face and grinned. ‘Sonja’s an architect, married to an ambassador, three small boys and at the moment they’re living in Paris. Posh dinner parties all the
time.’

Alicia laughed. ‘Not much like life in Lower Banford, then.’

‘You could say that. They’ll be here in a couple of weeks, actually, passing through on the way up north to John’s mother in St Andrews first of all, and then staying with me
the first two weeks in August on their way back. You’ll still be here then, won’t you?’

Alicia took a deep breath. Wow. Something to look forward to. Summer in Lower Banford might be more fun than she’d anticipated. But first they had to sort her father out. She smiled her
most persuasive smile at Frank Carter.

‘I’m glad you’re here. I could use some support to convince Margaret about a care home for my father. It’s getting too much for her here.’

He looked at her sympathetically. ‘I know, but she’s adamant about keeping Bob at home. And of course she’s right about him still being able to get up the stairs and so on, but
that could change any time and in all other areas he does need a lot of care. I think you’ll have to ride gently for a bit but hopefully she’ll agree in the end. I suppose you’re
only here for the holidays?’

Alicia suppressed a shudder. ‘Only’ for the holidays... six weeks in Lower Banford sounded like eternity. She nodded at Frank and he leaned back against the table.

‘Right. With your say-so I’ll put him on the list for St. Joseph’s, the geriatric hospital in Middle Banford. It’s an excellent place, Alicia. They have a new chief of
nursing now, Doug Patton, and he’s really keen. We can try to get Margaret over there for a visit one day this week, let her see the place for herself.’

Alicia looked at him appreciatively. At last, someone who was going to help her. ‘Sounds good. I’ll talk to her and get back to you.’

She handed over a mug of tea, noticing the threadbare cuffs on his jacket and the purple tie that was screaming at the fawn checked shirt. Didn’t he notice what he was putting on in the
morning?

Margaret appeared in the hallway with Bob shuffling beside her, not looking at any of them. Alicia saw stubbornness written right across her aunt’s face, and felt her own jaw tighten as
she poured tea for her father. The sooner they got this situation sorted, the better.

Frank followed her into the living room. ‘Let Alicia take over for a bit here, Margaret,’ he said firmly. ‘You should have a complete break, you’re tired and you deserve
it. Does - ’

‘Aaaaah!’ The wheezy, guttural sound was coming from deep in the old man’s throat. Alicia stepped back. Her father’s eyes were fixed on hers and his mouth was open.

Margaret bent over to hug him. ‘Yes, dear, it’s Alicia, back home from Bedford! Isn’t that nice?’ She turned to Alicia, beaming. ‘He knows you, lovey! Isn’t
that wonderful?’

‘Aaah ha ha ha,’ said Bob, his eyes never leaving Alicia’s. It almost sounded as if he was laughing.

‘That’s right, dear. Alicia. She’s home now. Look, here’s your tea.’

Margaret helped him with the mug, and Alicia rubbed her face. Shit and hell. As far as she knew her father had never tried to speak to her since the first stroke... but then she had never been
living here, before.
Had
he been laughing just now? It was a horrible thought, and there was no way to tell. She forced her attention back to Margaret and Frank, who were discussing
Bob’s medication. Alicia drew breath to help Frank convince Margaret that sleeping pills were a good idea, then froze at the sound of Jenny’s high, agitated voice outside.

‘Mummy! Aunt Margaret, come
quick
, it’s hurt, its back leg’s all blood... ’ She crashed into the room and pulled at Alicia’s arm.

‘Jenny, darling what’s hurt?’

‘It’s a kitty, out in the lane, I think it’s been run over, oh, come quick!’

Frank lifted his bag. ‘Show me where it is and I’ll see what I can do.’

Jenny looked at him, her eyes wide. ‘Are you a stranger?’ she asked, and Alicia hugged her daughter.

‘It’s okay, Jen, this is Doctor Frank Carter, he’s here to see Grandpa. I was at school with him when we were children.’

Jenny’s face brightened immediately. ‘Can you help animals too?’ she said, stepping towards him.

‘I’ll try. Let’s have a look.’

Margaret handed Bob’s mug to Alicia. ‘I’ll come too. It might be the Donovan’s cat.’

She followed Frank and Jenny outside and the room fell silent. Alicia turned back to her father.

‘More tea?’ Again, she couldn’t bring herself to call him ‘Dad’. With immense discomfort, she held the mug to his lips and then wiped away the dribble after
he’d taken a loud slurp. Hell, she was a nurse, and before she’d taken her present job as school nurse she’d even worked with geriatrics for God’s sake and she still
couldn’t cope with this, she literally couldn’t stand having to touch her father. Trembling, she put the mug down on the mantelpiece. Six weeks of this would kill her.

Her father coughed, then cleared his throat and leaned back in the armchair, his eyes fixed on her again. His mouth stretched to one side and she couldn’t tell if he was smiling or leering
at her. Alicia managed a quick grin in return, watching his face as he chuckled away to himself. This was quite appalling, and there was no way to tell what he was thinking, sitting there in his
chair. Did he know who she was? The first stroke had put an end to his ability to communicate; the speech therapist had tried various non-verbal methods but he had been uncooperative and the end
opinion was that his understanding of the world was very limited.

She had never been so glad to see Margaret come back into the room.

‘It isn’t the Donovan’s cat and it isn’t badly hurt, just a scrape and a fright,’ she said. ‘Frank suggested taking it to Kenneth Taylor at the pet shop and
Jenny wants to go too. I’ll stay with Bob.’

Jenny was standing beside Frank’s car, cradling a half-grown tiger-striped kitten wrapped in a green cloth, presumably from Frank’s bag. Alicia could see that the cat wasn’t
the only one who’d had a fright.

‘Doctor Frank said the man at the pet shop might know whose kitty it is,’ said Jenny, looking up with wide eyes. ‘And if he doesn’t know, can we keep it? Please,
Mummy?’

Alicia let out a small sigh. Jenny had always wanted a cat, but up until now Alicia had managed to banish it into ‘someday’. But if no-one claimed this poor creature,
‘someday’ might just have come. There was her father, and Jen, and Margaret – not to mention Conker – and now a kitten. It was too much.

‘We’ll see,’ she said.

Jenny settled into the front seat of Frank’s car, clutching the kitten tenderly on her lap. Frank chatted away to her about animals in the village, and the little girl answered, her fright
forgotten again. Alicia thought sadly that conversations with adult men were all too rare in her daughter’s world.

But at least now she had a break, a thirty-minute breather away from her father’s house.

Had
he been laughing at her?

The pet shop was new, housed in what had previously been the dry cleaners on the High Street, and a faint scent of chemicals still hung around, mingling strangely with the
animal smells of the latest inhabitants. The front shop was empty, and Frank walked round the back.

‘Kenneth! We need help here!’

There was an answering mumble from above and a few moments later Kenneth Taylor appeared. Alicia stared. The pet shop owner must have been about the same age as she was, but he certainly
wasn’t doing much to fight off approaching middle-age. He was overweight, obese almost, with thinning, dark blonde hair, and the expression in his blue eyes didn’t quite match the smile
on his fat shiny face. Even his clothes looked greasy, with several suspicious stains down the legs of his jeans and a t-shirt that looked as if he’d been sleeping in it. But his large
fingers were gentle as he examined the kitten while Frank explained what had happened.

‘Okay. He can stay here in the meantime and I’ll make inquiries.’ There was a faint Scottish burr in his high-pitched voice.

‘If nobody wants him then maybe we do,’ said Jenny bravely, and Alicia sighed again. Please, puss, have a lovely home and a concerned owner waiting for you, please.

‘I’ll be in touch, then,’ said Kenneth Taylor, smiling unattractively at them. ‘Mrs Bryson, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ said Alicia, surprised. In the rush of explaining about the kitten Frank hadn’t actually introduced her by name. Kenneth Taylor smiled again.

‘Word gets round fast here,’ he said, and Alicia shrugged. He was right, the village was a terrible place for gossip. Harmless, of course, but still...

Outside, Frank turned to her, a hopeful expression on his face.

‘Why don’t we swing past St. Joe’s before you go home, let you see it from the outside. We’d be there and back in twenty minutes, and it would give you a first impression
of the place.’

‘Alright,’ said Alicia, surprised. ‘If you’ve time.’ He was being very obliging, and vaguely she wondered why. Or had she just got used to the large town mentality?
Country people
were
more helpful. Look at how Kenneth Taylor had taken on the kitten when he could so easily have given it back to Jenny while he made his inquiries.

Frank drove swiftly along the Harrogate road towards Middle Banford and a few minutes later they pulled up in front of black iron gates, opening onto a long driveway. Alicia stared at the house.
St. Joe’s was a relic from Victorian times, a tall red sandstone manor set in the middle of an enormous garden with a duck pond. It had been one of those country house hotels when Alicia was
a child and seen from the road it still looked exactly the same.

‘Sixty beds,’ said Frank. ‘It’s split into three wards inside and it is more ‘hospital’ than ‘home’, but that’s what your father needs. One
of us local doctors is always on call, and the nursing staff are great.’

Alicia sighed. St. Joe’s really did sound like the answer to all their problems.

‘It sounds ideal,’ she said. ‘But I do want Margaret to agree too, if possible. I’ll get her over to see the place this week, and if she’s okay with it, we could
have him admitted as soon as a bed’s available.’