Page 61 of Someone For Everyone

Thursday, 16thDecember

When Calvin received a call from the agency, saying they’d managed to find a locum nurse, his first reaction had been relief. He’d had no idea there was a shortage of care providers in the UK – something the agency manager had been quick to point out when he’d queried why it was taking so long. They were competing against other care homes and domiciliary providers, all looking for staff, so there had been no guarantee of finding someone any time soon.

Therefore, getting a call announcing that they had someone who might be willing to provide cover felt like a miracle. It was only as the day wore on that he’d started to worry whether this person would find Rose Court a desirable place to work. They weren’t exactly a high-end organisation; they were the corner-shop equivalent of care homes. Something that had become blatantly apparent when he’d met with the national care-home representative last week. If he hadn’t known beforehand what they’d been lacking, he certainly did know now.

It had been a quiet couple of days, thankfully free of dramas to contend with. Kate and Alex had been buried away in the library, finalising the accounts for submission to the tax office, and this morning Kate had broken the good news that she’d been able to submit the probate application.

Outwardly, he’d smiled and shared her joy at having met such a momentous milestone. Internally, a horrible sinking feeling had settled over him. Her time working at the care home would soon be drawing to a conclusion, and for some reason that depressed him. Obtaining probate was the answer to all theirprayers. Kate could clear her debts and move on with her life, finally free from her pathetic excuse of an ex-husband, and he could rid himself of the care home’s responsibilities and return to his old life in Leeds. It should be a time of celebration. So why didn’t it feel like a win?

Headlights flashed across the front windows, indicating that the locum had arrived.

Calvin made his way to the front door to greet them. It was another foggy evening, and his long-sleeved T-shirt wasn’t enough to keep the chill at bay as he stood on the steps of the care home, waiting.

A young Black guy climbed out of the taxi and hoisted a rucksack onto his shoulder. Having paid the driver, he looked up at the building, no doubt wondering what he’d let himself in for.

Calvin met him halfway and held out his hand. ‘I’m guessing you’re from the care agency?’

‘You guessed right.’ He shook Calvin’s hand. ‘Nelson Amoah.’

‘Good to meet you. I’m Calvin. Welcome to The Rose Court Care Home.’

The guy had a strange look on his face. ‘As in… Calvin Johnson? The footballer?’

Calvin’s stomach dipped. ‘Ex-footballer, but yes, that’s me.’

‘Oh, my days.’ He let out a long whistle. ‘What are you doing here, man?’

‘It’s a long story.’ Calvin nodded towards the door. ‘Let’s head inside, it’s cold.’

Nelson followed him up the steps. ‘I’m a big fan of yours, man. You sure had some skills on the football pitch.’

Calvin glanced back. ‘Thanks.’

‘Sorry to hear about your retirement. That was a blow. Gutted for you.’

The guy knew his football. ‘I appreciate it.’

‘How you doing? You coping okay?’

Calvin almost smiled; this guy would get on well with Kate. ‘I’m getting there.’ He pointed to the coat stand. ‘Leave your coat and rucksack down here, while I show you around, save you carrying everything with you.’

He handed Calvin his bag and removed his coat. He was wearing smart black trousers and a blue nurse’s tunic. He certainly looked the part. ‘The agency said you don’t have many residents?’

‘Not at the moment. The care home was run by my late uncle until his death a few months ago. Old age and illness meant a lot of things have slipped over the years, and the place has suffered from a lack of management and money. We’re in the process of sorting out the estate so we can make the necessary improvements, but I’ll be honest with you, things are still haphazard at the moment.’

Nelson lifted his hands. ‘Hey, man. I worked out of a tent in Haiti, following a hurricane; this place is like Buckingham Palace compared to that.’

‘You’ve worked abroad?’

‘A few places. Looking for some stability now. Find a girl, start a family. You know the drill.’

Calvin smiled. ‘Good luck with that.’ He opened the lounge door. ‘Come and meet the residents.’

The scene that greeted them when they entered the lounge was a familiar one. The Christmas tree lights were flashing away, the tables were covered in wine bottles, half-drained glasses and bowls of crisps, and the open fire crackled away, throwing off waves of heat. Esme and Rowan were sitting on one sofa, Larry and Deshad on the other.

Geraldine was lying on the floor, frowning at the TV remote. All of them were wearing Christmas jumpers and cracker hats, and had matching rosy cheeks – hence the wine bottles.Considering it was only eight o’clock, they were rattling through the booze.

Esme was the first to notice that their little soiree had been interrupted and waved her hand. ‘Ah, the cavalry! Calvin will know how to work the remote, he’s very technically minded.’

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