her a refill immediately. ‘Do you always have to wear such ridiculous tops?’ she adds, scowling as she sits behind her desk.
‘Bob?’ Mel asks, suddenly panic-stricken, glancing down. KEEP CALM is printed across the front of her T-shirt, which Mel is now struggling to do. ‘Is he OK?’ She’d only been with him yesterday afternoon and, while he seemed fine, she can’t deny that his respiratory issues have worsened over the last few months. She prays he hasn’t been taken into hospital overnight.
‘As fine as you can be at ninety-six with COPD,’ Josette replies, sipping on the coffee that’s just been handed to her. ‘But there’s been a complaint.’
‘A complaint?’ Mel says, wondering if she should also sit down. ‘About what?’ She sits down anyway, dumping her handbag and the carrier bag on the floor beside her. Her mind races, wondering what Bob – dear, kind, gentle, affable, funny, good-natured Bob – could ever have to complain about. He’s her favourite resident. Yes, he’s not been in the best of health lately, but he’s all there mentally. Sharp as a button. And he loves life at The Cedars, getting involved with all the home has to offer. Not to mention his daily constitutional walk around the grounds, albeit with two sticks now and an accompanying carer.
‘Yes, Melanie. A complaint. From his son.’
Josette sits sideways behind her mahogany desk, her long legs crossed, her tight skirt rising above her knees, tapping a pen on the edge of the desk with one hand. She flicks her glossy dark hair back over her shoulder with the other hand, still looking as fresh as she did at the start of the day. Mel only gave herself a cursory glance in the staff room mirror as she changed out of her uniform, preferring not to look too long at the tired face staring back, the dishevelled hair and smudged eyeliner.
‘I… I don’t understand. Is everything OK?’
‘No, Melanie. No, it’s not,’ Josette says, suddenly standing and striding over to the huge window facing out over the lawns and the ancient cedar tree. She turns abruptly – a tall, slim silhouette against the sunlight streaming in. ‘Bob’s son says a large amount of cash has gone missing from his father’s room.’
‘What?’ Mel says, twisting round. She grips the arms of the leather chair. ‘That’s terrible. But… but residents don’t keep money in their rooms. Do they?’ Mel knows that cash is discouraged, that any extras residents may wish to purchase are handled by an in-house card system and added to the bill. The Cedars has its own little shop, selling books, magazines, a few luxuries. Plus there’s a hair salon on site.
Josette pulls a face, tightening the already tight skin on her forehead and cheekbones.
‘Apparently, Bob’s son had left him three hundred pounds in cash for emergencies. It was in a jacket pocket in his wardrobe. Not within our guidelines, of course, but we can’t prevent such instances. But what we can prevent is theft. When Bob’s son visited on Sunday, he went to check the cash and it was gone. He categorically states it was there two days before, on the Friday.’
‘That’s terrible,’ Mel says. ‘Maybe Bob hid it elsewhere and forgot.’ She doubts that’s true. Bob’s mind is sound, even if his body isn’t quite as robust these days.
‘His son turned the room upside down. No cash.’ Josette strides back over to her desk, towering above Mel in her patent black heels. She perches on the corner of the desk, arms folded across her white blouse. ‘Do you know anything about this, Melanie?’
‘Me?’ she replies, instantly feeling her cheeks redden. She can’t help it. ‘No, no, of course not.’ She swallows. ‘I’d never—’
‘Money’s tight as a single mother, am I correct?’ Josette says, staring down at her. Her dark eyes bore out from beneath her straight-cut fringe.
‘Well, yes, but I don’t see—’
‘So if you were, say, helping Bob to get dressed and the cash fell out of his pocket or, indeed, you discovered it in there, it’s also correct to assume it would be very tempting for you to slip it into your own pocket. Yes?’
‘No!’ Mel says as firmly as she can without making matters worse. She absolutely won’t be accused of something she didn’t do. ‘Of course I didn’t take Bob’s cash. I’m not a thief, Josette. Surely you know that? I’m a good employee, and—’
‘Were you caring for Bob on Saturday, Melanie?’
‘He was on my list, yes,’ Mel replies, willing the burn