I’d done another circuit of the gift shop before I saw her sauntering in, as if being fifteen minutes late was perfectly acceptable. It wasn’t, but I was obliged to let it pass without comment, after all I’d lured her to lunch for a reason.
‘Hi,’ I said, wandering over to meet her. ‘There are some gorgeous plants outside, you’re going to be spoilt for choice.’ I hoped I was right; I’d seen a splash of colour through the door but hadn’t thought to investigate.
‘That’s great.’ She waved to the entrance. ‘Sorry I’m late, they’re doing roadworks on London Road again, and the traffic was backed up.’
‘It’s why I travel by bus,’ I said and pointed towards the stairs to the first-floor café. ‘Let’s get a table.’
We were in luck and found one outside. The café was self-service, but the staff behind the counter were quick and efficient. We were back in our seats within a few minutes, Carol with a coffee, me with a glass of tap water. Our sandwiches would be brought out when ready. The prices had almost made me weep, it had better be worth it.
‘This is nice,’ I said. ‘I haven’t been here for a while.’
Carol sipped her coffee and kept the bowl between her palms as she looked around. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever had lunch here before. It’s lovely.’ She smiled. ‘It was kind of you to invite me.’
‘It was the least I could do after being so hesitant and grumpy when you asked for my help with Mr Wallace.’
‘That’s okay, you explained you were tired, and I know what that’s like.’
Our sandwiches arrived, hers accompanied by a healthy salad, mine with chips. I tore open two packets of tomato ketchup and squeezed the contents out, picked up one sauce-covered chip with my fingers and popped it whole into my mouth. ‘These are good,’ I said, picking up a second one.
I needed to get the conversation around to the Wallaces. Subtlety wasn’t my forte, but I knew I had to tread carefully if she wasn’t going to cite professional confidentiality that would lock me out. I wiped ketchup from my lips with a serviette and tried to sound casual as I asked, ‘When are you back to work?’
‘Sunday. What about you?’
I shrugged. ‘A run of nights from tomorrow. Four on, one off, then a further two before a couple of days off.’
‘Sounds exhausting.’
It would be. All, apart from one night, were in the home I disliked the most. I’d sent a further email to the agency requesting private home positions. This time, they didn’t reply at all. Not even a standard acknowledgement. ‘No, it’ll be fine. I’m working in Neptune House, and you know how quiet that can be.’ My one night was there, so it wasn’t a total lie. I picked up my sandwich and took a small bite. ‘You’ve been with the Wallaces a while now. I’m surprised he hasn’t gone into the hospice for end-of-life care.’
‘He wants to die at home, and Mrs Wallace promised him that he could.’
‘That’s so lovely, they’re obviously very close.’ I took another even smaller bite of my sandwich, afraid to finish too quickly in case she rushed off. ‘They’re not married that long, isn’t that what you told me?’ I wasn’t sure if her hesitation in answering was due to my question or the piece of cucumber she was nibbling with her unusually small teeth.
I wanted to knock it out of her hand and bring her attention back to me. ‘Just a few years, isn’t that right?’
‘What?’ She speared a piece of lettuce with her fork before looking at me. ‘Sorry, yes, two years. They’d known each other for a while before that though, she was the receptionist in the doctor’s surgery he and his first wife attended.’
This was interesting. I faked a yawn, raising my hand to cover my mouth just that little bit too late. ‘Sorry, I still haven’t caught up with my sleep. What were you saying…？ Ah yes, Mr Wallace and his first wife. When did she pass away?’
‘Three years ago. A sudden massive heart attack while they were at a party. She was pronounced dead by the paramedics. She and Mr Wallace had been together for thirty years.’
She made a sad face, so I mirrored it, pushing the corners of my mouth down. ‘How sad.’ I didn’t really think so. Thirty years. A lifetime together. Some people were never happy. My parents had only had seventeen.
‘Mr Wallace was devastated. I spoke to the GP when he visited last week. He said that Oonagh, the second Mrs Wallace as she is now, probably saved him. She helped him to arrange the funeral and supported him when he was falling apart.’
If I hadn’t been fishing for information, I’d have made a smart comment about him pulling himself together again pretty quickly if they’d got married only a year later. Such restraint is exhausting, and I had to stifle a genuine yawn. ‘It must have been such a shock for her when he got sick so soon after marrying.’
Carol took the top piece of bread from the second half of her sandwich, put it to one side, and used her fingers to pick a piece of chicken from the filling. She peered at it carefully before putting it into her mouth. ‘No, she knew. He’d been diagnosed with cancer a few months before the wife died and that’s why he was in and out of the GP surgery. He was going through his second round of chemotherapy when his wife had the heart attack.’
Oonagh Wallace married a sick man. That was an interesting piece of information. ‘I suppose they expected to have a lot longer together,’ I said, trying to sound sympathetic.
Carol pushed the mangled remains of her food away and picked up her coffee. ‘I’d imagine so. He was doing okay until he got a chest infection a few weeks ago. He never recovered from it and since then, he’s had almost twenty-four-hour nursing care.’
‘Apart from those few hours when she feeds him his morning and evening meal.’
Carol looked surprised. ‘How did you know that?’
I smiled. ‘You told me, remember.’
A flicker of annoyance swept over her features in a wave. ‘I shouldn’t be discussing a patient in my care, it’s very unprofessional of me.’
As unprofessional as begging me to help her after I’d worked a twelve-hour shift? ‘Don’t worry I won’t sell it to the tabloids.’
She didn’t look remotely amused. Draining her cup, she put it down with a snap. ‘That was lovely, thank you.’
There was a finality in her voice that irked me. But I knew when to cut my losses, I wasn’t going to get any more out of her. Not that day anyway. ‘We should do it again sometime.’ I drank the last of my water. ‘You want to go and look at the plants?’
Carol checked her watch. ‘I think I’ll leave it, actually, I need to get going.’
It suited me. I’d found out all I could, I wanted to get home and digest what she’d told me about Oonagh Wallace who was becoming more interesting by the day.
29
I left Carol in the car park and headed down Prior Park Road into the city. She hadn’t offered to drive me anywhere although she could have dropped me on the London Road where I’d have been able to get my bus, or near Alice Park where I’d have been easily able to walk home. It didn’t matter. I could catch a bus in the station which would probably fly past her dented old Toyota on the bus corridor.