Five Winters(63)

“Yes, he rang to let us know to expect you. Thanks so much for stepping into the breach. D’you want to follow me?”

She led the way, and I followed—with Jasper straining on the leash. Hopefully, he would calm down when we actually got to meet the residents. I certainly didn’t want him jumping up and knocking anyone over, giving someone a broken limb for the festive season.

The lounge was a large room decorated with tinsel and holly and smelling not of cabbage, as I’d imagined it would, but of freshly warmed mince pies. Around twenty residents were seated in comfortable-looking wingback chairs. All of them looked up as Jasper and I made our entrance.

Including, of all people, Grace.

Grace was sitting over by the Christmas tree with a familiar-looking elderly lady. Kenwood Place. Of course, Grace had told me ages ago that her grandmother was a resident here. Now I knew why Kenwood Place had sounded familiar when Clive had given me the details.

I waved in Grace’s direction, unsure how I felt about seeing her. My feelings about her were so complicated; they always had been. Our paths had barely crossed since my split with Jaimie, and judging from Grace’s expression, she was about as pleased to see me as I was to see her.

The whole time Jasper and I were making our smiling, tail-wagging, yes-his-coat-is-so-soft-isn’t-it rounds, I felt as if Grace were watching me. She probably wasn’t watching me at all—it just felt like it.

Then, suddenly, there we were, Jasper and I, in front of Grace and her grandmother.

“Hello, Beth,” Grace said. “I’m not sure Nanna’s very keen on dogs.”

“I bloomin’ well am,” countered her grandmother, who proceeded to prove it by leaning forward to pet the ever-receptive Jasper.

“He likes that. It’s good to see you again, Mrs., er . . .” I trailed off, realising I didn’t actually know her name.

“Call me Iris, love. And you can come again, you can. This little chap is gorgeous.”

A care worker turned up with a cup of tea for me. I reluctantly took the spare seat next to Grace to drink it.

“How are you, Grace?” I asked, lifting the teacup to my lips.

“I’m well, thank you. How are you?”

“Very well, thank you.”

Silence descended. Hell, I wished the tea weren’t quite so hot. I thought about Mark’s voice-mail message. Wondered again what advice Mark wanted from me and why it was such a big secret.

Then Grace said, “I went to see Jaimie last week.”

My heart plummeted still further. “Did you? How is he?” I didn’t really want to know, to be honest. Not because I wished him ill, of course not. The very opposite, in fact. I could just do without having him on my conscience more than he already was, that was all.

“He’s all right. Still a bit angry with you, I think.”

I flushed, wondering whether Grace was angry with me too. Probably.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Then I lifted my chin. “But I had to do what I thought was right, didn’t I? And I’m sure Jaimie will meet someone new soon. Someone much better suited to him than I ever was.”

Grace looked at me consideringly. “Perhaps you’re one of those people who’s happiest on their own,” she said.

I wasn’t sure whether she’d wanted to hurt me or not. But she flipping well had. And made me feel lonely. But I wouldn’t let her upset me. I wouldn’t. Or at least, I wouldn’t show her she had. “Maybe I am.” It was a blatant lie, but at least it would end the conversation.

When I returned my attention to Jasper and Iris, I found they both appeared to have fallen asleep—Iris in her chair and Jasper on his back with his legs in the air.

“Looks like they’ve worn each other out,” I said to Grace. But even as I spoke, Iris’s eyes flicked open, button-like and alert.

“Who’s asleep? I’m not asleep.” She looked at me. “I know you, don’t I?”

“This is Beth, Nanna,” Grace said. “Rosie’s friend. You remember Rosie, don’t you? Mark’s sister?”

Iris shook her head. “So many people, so many names,” she said.

“We’ve only met once,” I reassured her. “At the wedding.”

“Wedding?” she said. “I don’t remember any wedding.” Her attention moved on from me to Grace. “Go and fetch my knitting bag from my room, will you, dear? I’ve got something for you.”

Grace looked reluctant to leave me alone with her nanna—did she think I would poison her or something?—but Iris reached out to give her a gentle shove. “Go on. It’s something special. Been working on it for weeks, I have, and finally finished it last night.”

“All right.”

After Grace had departed to fulfil her mission, Iris turned to me, her eyes sparkling. Speaking in a loud whisper, she said, “It’s one of those baby jacket things. A you-know-what. A matinee jacket.”

I froze. No, surely not. Sylvia would have told me if Grace was pregnant, wouldn’t she? She wouldn’t have been able to help herself. But perhaps she didn’t know?

One thing was certain, though: if Grace was pregnant, then I had a whole new level of pain rocking right in my direction.

“And matching booties,” Iris continued proudly. “Really tricky pattern, it was. Wasn’t sure I’d get it done before the baby came. But I managed it, just. Lovely soft wool. Pink, since it’s a girl. Another girl. Shame, really, since she’s already got two. I imagine they wanted a boy this time.”