‘Why was that man and you shouting?’
I steered Maddie back to the kitchen. ‘We were having an argument about work. He’s gone now. So, you want a drink?’
‘Blackcurrant.’
I unscrewed the lid. My hand was shaking so much it was all I could do to pour the dark syrup into the cup.
On Sunday Agnes rang me. Lily’s will was in Charles’ safekeeping. She’d updated it just before her move to Homelea so it would take account of the change in her circumstances. Charles was the sole beneficiary.
‘We’ve put the wind up Goulden,’ I said. I told her about his unwelcome visit. ‘I don’t think he’s realised that the police have been informed. I’d love to see his face when they turn up on the doorstep.’
‘Sal, hadn’t you better talk to them soon, if he’s been to your home, threatening you?’
‘I will.’
Then I rang Moira to find out who was handling the investigation.
‘DS Wignall – you can get hold of him at Bootle Street. Won’t be there today. Why?’
‘I’d like to talk to him. There’s a lot of questions that could do with looking into. I’ve had Dr Goulden round, telling me to lay off.’
‘Really?’
‘Oh, yes. Got quite nasty.’
‘Sal, you didn’t tell him about the police?’
‘No. But he knows about the lab results.’
‘How?’
I felt sheepish. ‘Well, I went to see the matron at the home, after I’d spoken to you on Friday. I didn’t mention the police or anything. Anyway, she must have told Goulden.’
‘Well, I shouldn’t think DS Wignall will be best pleased.’
‘Maybe not but I don’t think Goulden realises how far it’s gone. He’s not about to flee the country or anything. As far as he’s concerned I’ve had an analysis done which threatened his precious reputation and he came to warn me off.’
Maddie and I spent a couple of hours sorting out the toy boxes. While she rediscovered lost treasures I ended up reuniting Lego, removing rotting fragments of crisps and apple and chucking obscure bits of plastic and broken toys in the bin when I was sure she wasn’t looking. It all looked neater and cleaner when we finished. It was now possible to tell which box held jigsaws and games and which was Duplo and other little figures. It’d stay like that for all of forty-eight hours until Tom and Maddie had time to redistribute it all thoroughly.
By then I was ready to put my feet up. There was a feature in the Sunday paper which highlighted the shortage of NHS beds for people with Alzheimer’s and the lack of psycho-geriatric units. Most people were being cared for in private homes, many staffed by inexperienced workers. Manchester and the Marion Unit was one of the examples. A local GP was quoted: ‘It’s now virtually impossible to refer a patient to the Marion Unit and have any hope of their getting a place. There’s a ridiculous waiting list. The unit only has sixty beds, twenty-five of those are for acute cases and short-term stay where people need to see a consultant and have proper assessment. We’ve a growing elderly population and shrinking resources. No one’s suggesting a return to the old days of the large psychiatric hospitals but we desperately need more facilities. It’s an intolerable situation.’