‘Not this one if you don’t mind,’ said Dixon. He had picked the table nearest the door, taking a chair from an adjacent table to make up the four. Then he sat down and waited.
‘Let me just give it a wipe for you,’ said the woman, sending the crumbs on to the carpet. ‘I’ll hoover when you’ve gone – don’t worry, love.’
‘Thank you.’
The television in the adjacent lounge was on, nice and loud, The Ladykillers entertaining the two elderly residents who weren’t asleep in their armchairs. Dixon recognised the voices, Alec Guinness, Peter Sellers. Maybe a care home isn’t so bad, he thought, if you get to sit around and watch old films all day?
Then George Sampson appeared at the far end of the corridor, walking with a frame, Tammy on one side of him, another carer Dixon didn’t recognise on the other, holding the old man’s elbow.
One step at a time; shuffling.
Dixon checked his phone, to hide his impatience more than anything, swiping away the text from Jane.
What are you doing in Shepton Mallet?
It was a good question, and the best answer he could come up with at the moment was clutching at straws. Not that he’d tell her that, he thought. Best to ignore the question, and if it turned out to be a dead end, no one need ever know.
‘Sorry it took so long,’ said Tammy. ‘We had to change him.’
Dixon nodded his understanding, anxious not to embarrass George, although the exchange seemed to pass him by anyway.
‘We could’ve used a wheelchair, I suppose, but the walking is good exercise for him.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘Is it supper time?’ asked the old man.
‘No, George,’ replied Tammy. ‘This man has come to see you.’
‘I haven’t had my lunch yet.’
‘Yes, you have, George. You had steak and kidney pie. Remember?’
George didn’t. ‘They don’t feed you enough in here,’ he said to Dixon. ‘And what they do feed you is disgusting. I’d go to another restaurant, if you can. I won’t be eating here again, I can assure you.’
They sat him down on the dining chair opposite Dixon, then Tammy sat down to Dixon’s left, the other carer to his right.
‘This is Jodie,’ said Tammy.
George was looking at Dixon, a blank expression on his face; no hint of recognition or curiosity even. A clean pair of blue trousers, neatly ironed into a crease down the middle, a clean shirt, but the same cardigan, the pockets bulging with paper handkerchiefs. They’d even brushed his white hair.
‘Do you need reading glasses, George?’ asked Dixon.
‘He doesn’t,’ said Tammy, her frown growing deeper by the second.
Dixon took a pack of playing cards from his pocket, placed it on the table in front of him and then slid it across to the old man.
‘You deal, George.’
Tammy looked at Dixon and shook her head. ‘I really don’t think we should be putting him through—’
George reached out slowly, picked up the pack and opened it, pulling the cards out of the box gently. Then he discarded the jokers and began shuffling the deck, quickly gaining momentum, familiarity bringing a glint to his eyes.
Jodie had to stifle a chuckle, but managed it – just – although George was interested only in the cards.
He started dealing, a small pile soon appearing in front of each of them sitting around the table.
George was first to pick his up, quickly sorting them into a neat fan in his hand, his eyes fixed on the cards in front of him, a glimmer of excitement and recognition, his eyes darting from side to side.
‘He’s actually—’
Tammy shut down Jodie with a glare. ‘What now?’ she asked.
‘Pick up your cards and hold them up, just as he is,’ replied Dixon. ‘You open the bidding, George.’
‘One spade,’ said the old man, without even the slightest hesitation.
‘What happens now?’ mouthed Tammy.
Dixon looked at Jodie and whispered, ‘Say one no trump.’
Jodie did as she was told.
‘Two spades,’ said Dixon, with an air of confidence and authority, although he was pretending he knew what he was doing. He had a few spades in his hand, in amongst the other suits, but whether it was the right bid was a mystery to him. It sounded right. Then he turned to Tammy and mouthed, ‘No bid.’
‘No bid,’ said Tammy.
‘Three spades.’ George was on a roll now, still tinkering with the cards in his left hand, organising them into suits, seeing to it that they were properly lined up in a neat fan.
