Page 11 of So This is Christmas

SOPHIE

Sophie parked up in the car park at the Tapestry Lodge. The early morning mizzle lingered in the air, hinting that it wasn’t going anywhere and that the chances of seeing the sun today were pretty low.

She felt sad admitting to herself – let alone to anyone else – that without work she didn’t have much going on at all, and she was feeling it more with Hayden gone this year.

Last year he’d gone out with mates on Christmas Eve, but he’d still been home overnight and she’d seen him the next day.

He’d met up with his friends on Boxing Day too and so she’d worked, but again, she’d seen him in passing and it had been enough.

This year his studies had taken him to America for twelve months, so he was seeing a bit of the world and she was glad about that.

She couldn’t rely on him for company forever, she couldn’t live the rest of her life through her son.

She needed to find a life of her own, with something more than work to look forward to.

Bea was forever telling her this, and Greta had told her in her letters too, as well as on voice calls during the last year, although they hadn’t had one of those for a while.

It was as if both of them knew they had limited time left and wanted to urge Sophie not to waste the best years she still had to come.

Bea and Greta were lovely to want to help.

Sophie felt special, she felt seen, and it was quite nice to have someone looking out for her for a change.

As she made a run for the entrance to the lodge beneath the misty rain, she knew she needed a better work-life balance. Perhaps she’d make that her New Year’s resolution, although she was sure she’d made that one several times over to no effect.

Helena, using her walking frame for support, was heading towards the residents’ lounge when Sophie came through the door. ‘Tell me you’ve left a handsome man in bed at home waiting for you,’ she said.

Sophie just laughed. It wasn’t the first time Helena – as well as Bea and Greta – had hinted at her love life. ‘Chance would be a fine thing.’

Helena dismissed the answer with a shake of her head. ‘It’s not right, a pretty, young thing like you, all alone.’

‘Maybe next year,’ she replied before she went to put her things in her locker.

Once she’d checked her list of duties for anything out of the norm, she did the rounds helping with breakfast. She called in her hellos to Bea as she passed by her room and got a hello back as one of the other care assistants delivered her meal.

She must make sure to take Bea’s Christmas letter today and pop it in the post so it would make it to Greta in Austria in time for 25 December – she’d forgotten to take it the other day and Bea didn’t trust putting it through the mailing system at the lodge.

The residents here loved a good chat. Some of them had no visitors or very few, and Sophie and the rest of the carers not only looked after their physical needs but their emotional needs too.

It was the part of her day that Sophie treasured more than some of them might realise, as it made her feel a part of something too.

When she saw Larry, the seventy-seven-year-old gentleman who had been here almost a year, they talked about the snooker he’d been watching on the television.

He told her all about how he and his sisters had played every day when they were younger, but he’d never been quite good enough to compete.

She returned to Bea’s room once she was done and found that she hadn’t eaten much at all. In fact, she’d already got back into bed.

‘Don’t forget about Greta’s letter,’ Bea murmured, eyes closed.

‘Don’t you worry, Greta will get the letter in time for Christmas.’ She should take it now, before she forgot again.

She found the letter which she’d left in Bea’s room, pulled out the small address book from Bea’s drawer and copied out Greta’s address before putting the envelope in her pocket. ‘I’ll post it as soon as I can.’

Bea murmured, ‘Thank you, dear Sophie.’

Softly she said, ‘I’ll send it this evening or first thing tomorrow. Promise.’ But right now the letter wasn’t what concerned her – it was Bea’s pallor, her lack of usual spiritedness.

She felt Bea’s forehead. She wasn’t running a temperature. ‘We’ll get the doctor to have a look at you, I think.’

‘No need to fuss.’ Bea, eyes closed, still managed a little smile.

‘There’s every need and we will make a fuss.’

On the way to get fresh linens for the room adjacent to Bea’s, she poked her head into the office and asked one of the other carers, Billy, to fit Bea in on the appointments schedule when the doctor came in this morning.

She opened the linen cupboard to the side of reception.

Billy called over, ‘I’ve made a note, we’ll get the doc to see her. Perhaps she’s got this blessed cold doing the rounds.’

‘You got it too?’ She noted Billy’s telltale red nose.

‘Had it, got rid of it. The attractive red nose is lingering.’

Sophie smiled. ‘Plenty of Vaseline to moisturise, it’ll be good as new in no time.

’ Jessica was off sick today with the horrendous cold and Sophie didn’t like it when Jessica wasn’t in – she was an ally, she knew what Amber was like, but Jessica did the same as Sophie, she kept quiet for the sake of her job and the care of these residents.

The morning passed by quickly. Sophie checked on Bea at about 10a.m. and she was sleeping soundly.

But by midday, when Sophie checked again, things had changed.

Her darling Bea had passed away peacefully in her sleep.

* * *

Sophie had experienced death many times in her job and in her lifetime.

Losing Martin had almost broken her, losing her mother had come with a sense of release, a letting go of some very unhappy times.

Losing Bea came at her at full force that day.

She cared deeply about the lovely old lady, and to be the one to reach out and put a hand to her skin when she realised she wasn’t just sleeping had almost floored Sophie.

Bea’s skin had still been warm to the touch, but her heart had stopped beating.

A couple of hours after Sophie had found Bea, Bea’s body had gone but her room was still full of the kind-hearted woman Sophie had grown so close to.

Bea had no family and she’d asked Sophie that when her time came, Sophie pack up her things and take them away to either give to charity shops or keep for herself.

She didn’t have much to speak of for an entire life, and apart from her clothes – which Sophie had bagged up already – everything else would fit into three sturdy square boxes.

The delicate scent of Bea’s soap still lingered on the soft crocheted blanket Bea used all the time, as Sophie folded it up carefully.

She picked up each of the photographs dotted around and slid them inside a box along with the folder which held Greta’s letters and the plant from the windowsill that had survived the sad loss.

There were procedures, formalities and, almost on autopilot, Sophie got through what she needed to do.

She felt numb but when she was done something clicked in her mind. Bea hadn’t been wearing her puzzle-piece necklace when Sophie found her, and she hadn’t been wearing it when they took her body away either.

Sophie frantically scoured the floor, the sides of the mattress, the base of the wardrobe and inside. She looked in every corner possible, got down on her hands and knees to check beneath the bed and around its legs.

She closed her eyes and tried to push back the fury she felt rising. She had to get out of Bea’s room, if only to gather herself and try to breathe.

In the kitchen, Monica, one of the other carers, took one look at Sophie and flipped the kettle on before taking out an extra mug from the cupboard.

Sophie sat down in silence, the soothing bubbling of the kettle as it reached its peak, a comfort.

Monica passed her a mug of tea once it was made and sat in the chair opposite her at the round table. ‘I’m so sorry, Sophie.’

Sophie wiped the tears from her cheeks. ‘I’ll really miss her.’

‘She was one of the best.’

Sophie nodded and when she’d blown her nose, she pushed her fingers through the mug handle, lifted the vessel to her lips and blew gently.

She took a sip but winced at the sweetness.

‘There’s a couple of teaspoons of sugar in it. You need it. I’d add something stronger if I could.’ Monica smiled kindly. ‘Now, silly question, but are you all right?’

Sophie shook her head. ‘No, I’m really not. It’s gone.’

‘What has?’

‘Bea’s necklace. The puzzle-piece necklace she treasured.’

‘The one she was reluctant to take off for her X-ray?’

Sophie was shaking and she sipped her tea again, hoping it would go some way to help, but it didn’t.

‘I didn’t really think about it until now, but I’m positive she wasn’t wearing it when I found her.

’ She couldn’t say the word dead . She couldn’t say how she’d placed her fingers gently against Bea’s neck where the jewellery would’ve been so that she could check for a pulse.

If she repeated it all out loud she wouldn’t be able to hold herself together because the facts were bound with so much emotion and loss.

‘Have you checked the room thoroughly?’ Monica asked.

‘I have, and it’s definitely not there.’

Monica passed an open packet of biscuits Sophie’s way but she declined the offer. ‘Maybe it got caught up in the bedsheets or something?’

‘I don’t think so.’

Monica paced over to the doorway and checked outside then leaned against the doorjamb, keeping guard. ‘Do you think someone took it?’

Sophie’s eyes met with her colleague’s. ‘Yes, I do.’