Written in the Scars (The Estate Series Book 4) (18 page)

He needed some money. He was broke before he’d had his accident and he hadn’t been able to sign on, so his benefits would have been stopped until he’d shown proof that he’d been in hospital.

Sam held up his injured hand and stared at it, his fingertips poking out from the bandaging. He couldn’t wait to start his physio and join his mates again. But until then he could go for a swift half at The Butcher’s Arms. He could hold a pint with his left hand.

Or he could think about a certain woman who had invaded his thoughts since he’d met her last week. Megan.

Not that she would go out with the likes of him. She must know of his reputation and if she didn’t she’d only have to mention his name and someone would tell her. His dodgy lifestyle would always haunt him.

Shame, because he really did fancy the arse off her.

Chapter Twenty-Four

On Wednesday morning, Donna had planned to pop in to see Sam before going to see her mum, but he hadn’t been in. He’d been out of hospital for two days now and had told her he was doing fine with his hand, but she’d wanted to make sure that he was telling the truth. Knowing Sam, if he wasn’t taking good care of his injury, it would become infected and take longer to heal. And she didn’t trust his flatmate, that layabout Brendan, to help him out. Brendan had let her in, though, and by the time she left she’d done a load of washing and cleaned up the messy kitchen.

Rushing in to Poplar Court for a quick visit with Mary before her shift started at Shop&Save, Donna was shocked with what greeted her.

‘I want to leave this place right now!’ Mary yelled the minute she walked into the living room.

‘Whatever’s the matter, Mum?’ Donna rushed over to her. She couldn’t remember seeing Mary so distressed since her father had died.

Mary grabbed Donna’s hand and squeezed with enough force to cause her to grimace. ‘You have to get me out of here. They’re going to kill me if you don’t!’

Donna gently eased her hand away. ‘Mum, no one is going to kill you. It’s nice here. There are lots of people to keep you company. Come on, let’s take you down to the lounge.’

Mary needed a frame to walk, and it took more time that she had to spare to get her along the corridor and into the lift, but finally Donna managed to get the two of them downstairs.

The lounge was an airy room, with lots of windows that ensured light flooded through and kept it bright. There were about twenty blue armchairs dotted around, and several coffee tables. The afternoon sun was moving round to the final half of the room, its beam resting on the empty seats as everyone sat in the shade.

Donna glanced around. A man slept with his mouth wide open. One woman was knitting, another pushing dominos round and round a tray she had on her knee. It was the reason why Donna didn’t come down to the lounge that often. It upset her to see all these individuals virtually going backwards rather than forwards, regressing in their minds. She felt sad that the terrible realisation was that only death would set them free. She shuddered, trying not think of when she would lose her mum.

Her eyes brimmed with tears as she looked at Mary who was lowering herself into a chair, getting ready for the jolt when her knees would give way and she would fall back.

Donna took hold of her arm to ease it, but Mary gasped.

‘Ow!’ she cried out.

‘What’s the matter, Mum? Is it your arm again?’ Donna pulled Mary’s sleeve up to inspect it.

‘I have another one,’ Mary whispered.

‘Another what?’ Donna could hardly hear herself speak over the sound of the television that a resident had turned up to full volume.

‘Another bruise!’

‘Did you fall?’ Donna raised her voice a little to be heard.

Mary shook her head. ‘I never.’

‘Where is this one?’

Mary pointed to her shin.

‘Are you sure? Let me look.’

‘No, I can’t show you now, can I?’ Mary looked around the room, as if seeing who was listening. ‘But it’s there. I promised not to tell who did it, though.’

Donna rolled her eyes. It was like looking after a naughty toddler. Was Mary saying something she should take note of, or was she talking gobbledegook? It was hard to tell.

‘Tea, anyone?’ A woman shouted as she wheeled a trolley into the middle of the room. It was Laura, one of the care assistants.

She smiled at Laura. ‘Lovely day, isn’t it?’

‘It is indeed.’ Laura beamed. ‘And we need to keep the old dears hydrated. Would you like a drink, too?’

 Donna shook her head; she would rather die than drink lukewarm, milky tea.

‘Would you like a cuppa, Mary?’ Laura patted Mary’s forearm.

Donna couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t pull it away from Laura.

Mary nodded her head.

‘You look peaky, Mary,’ Laura said as she passed her a beaker with a straw. ‘How’s your leg?’

‘Oh, she
has
hurt her leg?’ Donna frowned. ‘I never can tell.’

‘Denise found her on the floor in her room,’ Laura explained. Denise was the warden of Poplar Court. ‘Said that Mary had rolled out of bed again.’ She smiled at Mary. ‘We don’t want any damage to that hip, now do we?’

‘Denise hasn’t told me,’ said Donna.

‘I expect she will soon. She’s a busy lady.’

‘We’re all busy,’ Donna retorted. She stood up. ‘I have to go now, Mum. Shall I leave you here for now?’

‘Yes, I think it’s safe, if she’s not around,’ Mary muttered, a look of panic across her face.

Unable to drop the nagging doubts in her mind, Donna went to see if she could speak to Denise before she left. While she waited for her to finish her phone call, she sat in the corridor outside her office, feeling like a schoolgirl about to get a ticking off from the headmaster. There was no one else about so she studied a leaflet about Dementia.

Minutes later, the door opened and Denise Barker came out of the room. Donna saw her feet first. Denise wore black, flat, unfashionable shoes that Donna wouldn’t even want her mum wearing. She looked up to see an ill-fitting trouser suit, a face void of make-up and greying hair tied up in a bun.         

‘Sorry to keep you waiting,’ Denise spoke with an authority that suggested nothing of the sort. ‘Do come in.’

Donna followed Denise into her office and sat down across from her at an old wooden desk that was too big for the space. A tired two-seater settee was squashed into the corner over by the window, the sill above it filled with pots of plants, causing Donna to feel claustrophobic.

‘Is everything all right with Mary?’ Denise asked.

‘I’m not sure.’ Donna paused. ‘I’m just getting a little worried about her. During the last few visits, over the past month, Mum has been asking to leave.’

‘Oh?’ Denise sat forward in her chair.

‘I suppose it could be her mind,’ Donna went on, ‘but ever since she’s been here, she’s been fine. And now, all of a sudden, she’s saying things about hating the place and wanting to go back home.’

‘I can’t say I’ve noticed any vast change in her.’ Denise steepled her hands together and frowned. ‘I wonder if she’s regressed a little and feels like she shouldn’t be here again. This often happens.’

‘Does it?’

‘Yes.’ Denise nodded profusely. ‘She sees you coming, she sees you going and then something in her brain connects that you’re leaving her here. Maybe she wants to shock you into taking her back home again. But really, she’s fine.’

Donna visibly relaxed. ‘I’ve never seen her so agitated. It’s as if she doesn’t want to be left alone. She seems really scared.’  

Hmm… remind me, who is her main carer?’ Denise reached for a file on her desk.

‘Megan Cooper.’

‘I can have a word with Megan, if you like? See if there’s anything she knows of that has upset Mary?’

‘Thanks.’ Donna smiled, not letting on that she had already asked her.

‘She’s such a lovely girl. We’re very lucky to have her.’ Denise glanced up at the clock and closed the file. ‘Well, if there isn’t anything else…’

But Donna hadn’t finished yet. ‘Look, I really don’t want to get anyone into trouble, but if Mum is being treated badly by someone, I—’

Denise’s eyes rested on hers. ‘Just what exactly do you mean by that, Mrs Adams?’

‘I mean exactly what I said,
Mrs Barker
,’ Donna replied, her tone just as sharp as Denise’s. ‘If Mum is trying to tell me something and I’m not believing her because—’

‘There’s no one here ill-treating Mary. She falls, because of her age as well as the condition. I’m sure there is nothing to worry about but I will keep my eye on her over the next few days.’

Donna left the office, not at all convinced that things were as cut and dried as Denise was suggesting. Nor did she like the tone she had used with her. This wasn’t the first bruise, and Donna worried that it wouldn’t be the last.

But was it guilt that was making her jump to conclusions, maybe because she couldn’t care for Mary herself?

If it weren’t for Mary constantly asking to leave, she might have been satisfied after talking to Denise. But if someone was abusing her mum, she needed to find out who.

She needed to talk to Sam.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Donna jolted awake. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was ten past ten: she hadn’t even realised she had fallen asleep on the settee that evening. No wonder, though, as she’d completed a double shift at Shop&Save, followed by a visit to see Mum and then a quick stop off to make sure that Sam was still coping. Although Donna was surprised, Sam seemed to be doing quite well, all things considered. But still she worried about him.

Her mobile phone was ringing. That was what must have woken her up. She picked it up, smiling when she saw it was Owen. They hadn’t met for a while as he’d been away for a few days on business. Already she couldn’t believe how much she was missing him.

She pressed answer and turned to lie on her back. ‘Hello, you.’

‘Hello, gorgeous. How are you doing?’

‘Fine – you?’

‘Good, but I’m missing you.’

‘You’re not parked up outside, are you?’ Donna held her breath in anticipation, hoping that he was going to surprise her.

‘Sadly not,’ he replied. ‘I won’t be home until tomorrow.’

‘Shame – I have the house to myself again.’

‘Shame indeed.’

A pause.

‘Do you want to Skype so I can see you?’ he asked.

‘God, no. I look terrible without any make-up at this time of night.’

‘It’s not your make-up I’m interesting in seeing.’

‘Don’t be a pervert!’

‘Don’t tell me that you haven’t been thinking about what we did last week?’

‘Oh, no, it’s never crossed my mind,’ she teased. ‘Not when I was at work grinning like a Cheshire cat, even after I’d been sitting behind the till for hours bored out of my brain. Nor when I was walking back from work and saw two teenagers necking and my insides fizzed.’

‘Your insides fizzed?’

She laughed now, embarrassed again. ‘Yes, they fizzed!’

‘Can’t wait to see that.’

‘Can’t wait to show you.’

‘Show me now.’

She frowned. ‘Pardon?’

‘Let me listen to you down the phone while I talk dirty to you.’

She sat up and ran a hand through her hair. ‘Noooo, I can’t do that.’

‘Haven’t you ever wanted to?’

‘I’ve wanted to do a lot of things but I don’t think I’d ever–’

‘Try it – you might enjoy it. And let’s face it, there’s only you in the room if you don’t.’

‘I…’ Donna paused. What was it she kept saying to herself about living a little and having a bit of fun?

‘Okay.’ The air in the room was hot, yet her skin broke out in goosebumps at the thought of what she was about to do.

‘You ready?’ he asked.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, can you get to the most appropriate places?’

‘Oh, then I’m ready.’ She almost squeaked with embarrassed laughter.

‘Okay, here goes.’

‘What will you be doing while you’re, er, talking dirty?’

‘I’ll be doing the same thing as you. Are you comfortable yet?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you wet?’

‘Yes.’ She was glad he couldn’t see her blushing.

‘I’m going to tell you what I’d like to be doing to you right now. First, close your eyes.’

Donna closed her eyes. ‘Done.’

‘Now imagine me kneeling down between your legs. I’m looking at you while I run my fingers up your body. Up and over your stomach, slowly, slowly, towards your chest. Up through the gap in those fantastic tits of yours.’

Donna giggled.

‘Stop laughing!’ His voice was light.