‘Is that Miss Shakespeare? Lucy Shakespeare?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘My name’s Martha Crawford. I don’t know if you remember me, but I live two doors down from your father.’
Lucy clicked the kettle off, frowning. ‘Hello, Mrs Crawford, I remember you. Is everything okay?’
‘There’s nothing to worry about, not really. I mean, he’s okay; well, as okay as he ever is. He’s not really one for saying much, is he?’
‘Has something happened to my father?’ Lucy asked.
‘I didn’t even know if I should call. He told me not to, but you never know, do you? And then I spoke with Deidre, she’s the lady who lives on the other side of your dad, and she said it was for the best.’
‘Could you tell me what’s happened?’ Lucy tried – and failed – not to sound impatient.
‘My husband found him wandering around in his pyjamas this morning. Well, he spotted him out of the kitchen window when he was making our tea. We both love an Earl Grey first thing. I know a lot of people like breakfast tea, but as far as I’m concerned it’s a waste of a tea leaf.’
‘Dad was in his pyjamas?’ Lucy asked, sitting down on a stool. She leaned her elbows on the breakfast bar. ‘Where did he go?’
‘He was walking up towards the shops. So Bernard – that’s my husband – followed him up there. Luckily he wasn’t in his pyjamas. Bernard, that is.’ Martha gave a little laugh. ‘When Bernard caught up with your dad, he was a bit confused. Didn’t seem to know where he was. Luckily that girl, his carer – what’s-her-name with the short hair – she was just arriving and helped get your dad back into the house.’
‘So he’s okay?’
‘He was a bit shaken up. Bernard said he didn’t recognise him, and you know the two of them used to spend a lot of time talking roses back in the day.’
‘Do you know if his carer called the doctor?’ Lucy asked.
‘No idea, love. I just thought you should know, that’s all. Luckily Deidre had your number from the last time you were down here. I hope you didn’t mind me calling you.’
‘No, no, I’m glad you did. Thank you.’ Lucy gave a quick smile, even though Martha was four hundred miles away. ‘I should go now,’ she said, already making a mental list of people to call: the care company, her father’s doctor, and of course her sisters. ‘But thank you so much for letting me know. I appreciate it.’
‘Any time.’ Martha lowered her voice. The woman was as hard to brush off as an ardent suitor. ‘Though between you and me, I think it’s all getting a bit much for him. Have you thought of putting him in a home?’
‘Well, thanks again, Mrs Crawford, and please pass on my thanks to your husband,’ Lucy said with a loud voice, quickly ending the call before Martha could start talking again. She grabbed the notepad and pen she always left next to the microwave, and started to write on the lined paper.
If in doubt, make a list. It worked every time.
‘So how was Miami?’ her sister Juliet asked, her voice echoing down the line. Lucy had almost managed to catch up on the work she’d missed while travelling to Miami. That’s when she wasn’t on the telephone to London, talking to doctors and her father’s carer, trying to agree a plan of action. It hadn’t exactly been the peaceful return to Edinburgh she’d hoped for.
She wedged her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she tapped a few amendments to the document she was working on. It was late afternoon in Edinburgh, and another rainstorm had whipped itself into a fury, lashing water against her windows. The cat had found her way into the flat again, and was curled up on Lucy’s lap as she typed. She’d discovered it belonged to the downstairs neighbours, but liked to roam around the building as though it owned the place. And maybe Lucy liked it a little bit, too. ‘It was brief. I flew in, had a couple of meetings then flew out again.’
‘Sounds exhausting,’ Juliet replied. ‘You should be in bed now, not calling me.’
‘I’m fine. I’ll have a lie-in at the weekend.’ Lucy highlighted some words and inserted a comment. ‘I think only being there for a day was good for me. Not enough time for the jet lag to take hold.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ Juliet said, a grin in her voice. ‘If anybody can beat jet lag, you can.’
Juliet was younger than Lucy by two years. Growing up, she’d been the lieutenant to Lucy’s general, the two of them ruling the roost, and lording it over their younger sisters, Cesca and Kitty. Then, when Lucy was fifteen, their mother died, and the play-roles they’d taken on somehow became real. Maybe that’s why her father had been so insistent that she moved to Edinburgh to study law when she was eighteen. To make her start living her life again.
‘I wish I could beat old age,’ Lucy said softly. ‘Dad’s not been himself again. One of his neighbours found him wandering around the village in his pyjamas.’
‘Oh no.’ Juliet sounded alarmed. ‘Is he okay? Did he catch a cold? What does the doctor say?’
Lucy spent the next few minutes filling her sister in. ‘It’s all under control,’ she reassured Juliet. ‘I just wanted to let you know what’s happened.’
‘He’s getting worse, isn’t he?’
‘It’s to be expected.’ She kept her voice gentle. Even though she was the second oldest, everybody was always gentle with Juliet. ‘I spoke to the doctor, and he’s sent me up some details of care homes near Dad. He thinks it’s time we look into them.’