‘Open the bag,’ Josette says, the tiniest glint in her eyes as she flashes a look at Stacy.
‘Sure,’ Mel says, unzipping the bag and holding it open.
It takes a moment to work out what she sees – something unfamiliar and unexpected sitting on top of the sparkly top she correctly guessed was in there.
‘What the…?’ she hears herself saying, though it doesn’t really sound like her voice as her eyes finally focus.
‘Where did you get this from?’ Josette says, reaching in and pulling out the bundle of £20 notes.
‘I… I don’t understand. I didn’t, I mean, that’s not mine. Not even vaguely mine. That’s a whole load of money I simply don’t have, and…’ Mel drops the bag and covers her mouth with her hand, suddenly realising where this is heading. She looks up at Josette, who is flicking through the cash.
‘Three hundred pounds,’ she finally states. ‘The exact amount that went missing from Bob’s room.’
‘What…? Wait. You don’t seriously think that I… Tell me you don’t think that I took it, Josette? It’s simply untrue!’ Mel forces her voice to hold steady, but she can feel the frustrated quiver in her throat, feel her body begin to tense from anger.
‘Stacy?’ Josette says to her colleague. ‘Do you have the list?’
Stacy nods and shows her a piece of paper on her clipboard. She leans in to Josette and, between them, they compare the bundle of cash to the list of numbers on the paper.
‘Same serial numbers,’ Stacy confirms, looking up at Josette.
‘How do you explain this?’ Josette asks, her face slightly relaxed as if the thrill of the hunt has warmed her, made her almost human.
‘I have no idea how that money came to be in my locker. If it’s Bob’s money, then I can assure you it wasn’t me who took it. Either someone’s set me up, or—’
‘Who would set you up, Melanie? You’re well liked here, aren’t you?’ Josette says. ‘Were well liked, perhaps I should say.’
‘I have absolutely no idea, but I swear, hand on heart, that I did not steal Bob’s money. He’s my favourite resident. I would never do such a thing.’
‘Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to suspend you with immediate effect. Stacy will deal with the procedure. We already have irrefutable evidence of gross misconduct here, so unless you can prove that Jesus Christ himself manifested this money in your locker, then I will be terminating your contract by the end of the week. A shame, as you’re a good little worker.’
Mel feels her heart kick up, her mouth go dry and her cheeks colour. ‘You’re sacking me?’ she says quietly.
‘Smart as a fox, too,’ Josette says.
‘But I haven’t done anything wrong. I need this job, Josette. Please…’
‘Melanie, listen to me. You have form. This is not the first thing you’ve stolen.’
‘What? What are you talking about?’ Mel can’t believe what she’s hearing.
‘You stole a pair of expensive trainers that were all set to go to charity.’ Josette shakes her head.
‘No… no, you’ve got that wrong. Yes, I took the trainers, but I gave Barb a five-pound note to put in the fundraising pot. That was the price on the shoes, I swear.’
‘We’ve already checked with every staff member and none say that you gave them any cash. You are lying.’
‘No, no, I’m not,’ Mel says, feeling hot with anger. ‘You have to believe me.’ She hears her voice buckle and waver, hating that she’s on the verge of tears.
‘Stacy will sort out the paperwork and send it on to you,’ Josette says, turning on her heel. ‘Please take your… stuff with you when you leave,’ she adds, nudging the sports bag on the floor with the tip of her court shoe before striding off.
‘I’m sorry, Mel,’ she hears someone saying. It’s Amit. Then she feels a hand on her arm – Stacy’s – and another offer of condolence.
‘Yeah, me too,’ Mel whispers, breathing in a huge gulp of air as she watches them leave the staff room. After a moment, after she’s gathered herself – her mind racing, not understanding what on earth has just taken place, or how it could even have happened – she grabs her belongings and rushes out to her car, feeling the eyes of the other staff watching her as she leaves.
Seven
Mel can’t face going home yet – a home that’s not going to be hers for much longer now that she doesn’t have a job. She drives away from The Cedars, glancing in her rear-view mirror as she heads off down the long, tree-lined drive, shaking her head in disbelief.
She can’t have just lost her job. Can she?
She feels the anger building inside her – at the injustice of it all. A stark reflection of her past.
‘I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to Bob,’ she says, driving slowly, mindful of several speed cameras along the route. The last thing she needs is a fine. ‘I can’t bear him thinking badly of me,’ she whispers to herself, pulling onto a roundabout, not even sure where she’s headed.
Ten minutes later, she finds herself swept along in the traffic to Solihull town centre. Seeing a parking spot, she takes it, pulls on the handbrake and cuts the engine.
‘Christ,’ she says, thumping the steering wheel. ‘Christ and bugger!’
A woman with a pushchair stares at her as she passes, looking back over her shoulder with alarm as Mel lets out a half-roar and half-frustrated scream. She throws her head back against the headrest, closing her eyes.
Since Billy went to prison, since she finally extricated herself from his life three years ago, Mel has been content – happy, she could even say, if it weren’t for Kate’s troubles at school. After everything he’d done to her, it was a struggle, but she didn’t grow up in foster homes and the council care system and not learn how to take care of herself. You either survived or you didn’t. But now, it feels as if the reins are slipping from her fingers again. And that makes her scared. Panicked. Angry.
‘Damn that bloody woman,’ she says, leaning forward on the steering wheel, knowing that Josette has never liked her, never thought her good enough for a place like The Cedars.
‘We offer a five-star end-of-life experience,’ Josette had said at Mel’s hour-long interview several years ago, which had felt more like a grilling.
But doesn’t everyone deserve the best at the end of their life, regardless of how much money they have? Mel had thought, but kept quiet, especially when she was offered the job. With a regular income, she and Kate would soon be able to move out of the women’s refuge, get a place of their own.
‘But if you’re going to be working at The Cedars, well… I need you to look different. Conform to our high standards.’ Josette had touched the side of her nose then, indicating Mel would need to remove her nose stud. ‘Plus you’ll need sensible, plain footwear, a minimum of make-up and short, trimmed nails.’
Mel had curled up her fingers then, hiding her royal-blue nail polish.
‘Basically,’ Josette had continued, ‘I need you to look… normal.’