“Ah. I see.” She turned into a light, open area with armchairs and low tables. There was a piano in the corner and a radio on a side table. “Our more—uh, sociable residents usually meet in the common room.”

A few of the chairs were occupied. One old man was wearing what looked like a nightcap and had a tumbler of what seemed to be whiskey on the table beside him. He looked up as we came in.

“Lunchtime yet?” he asked.

“You’ve just had lunch, Mr. Soames. It was grilled plaice, remember?”

A hollow-eyed woman looked up. “I want lunch too,” she said. “They try to starve us here, you know. No food for weeks.”

“Rubbish, Lady Wharton. You do tell awful stories.” Matron attempted a laugh.

“Could we have a tour of the kitchen and dining room?” I asked. “Uncle is very particular about his food.”

“Our food is of the highest quality, my lady,” Matron said, “and the kitchen staff will just be washing up after luncheon, but I can show you the dining room.” She led us through the common room and into a pleasant room set with small tables. It had windows on either side, opening onto a view of the hills, and the ceiling was half timbered.

“You see. Pleasant views. Just what your uncle ordered,” she said with a smile to him.

“So how many other elderly men do you have in residence at the moment?” I asked.

Did I detect a slight hesitation? “Let me see. Colonel Far quar, Mr. Soames . . . I believe there are ten of them. And we have fifteen ladies in residence. Ladies always seem to live longer than men for some reason, don’t they?” Another attempt at a smile.

“And if I could just peek at the kitchen,” I said. “Is it through here?” I went through the doorway without waiting for permission. Startled kitchen staff looked up as I came in. It was all perfectly all right—spotless, in fact—and the smells were not unpleasant. In fact if I really had a senile uncle, it would not have been a bad place for him.

“My lady, I really don’t think—” Matron actually grabbed my arm. “We shouldn’t disturb them now. Carry on, everyone.”

She almost dragged me out of the kitchen, then looked around. “Where has your uncle gone?”

Granddad had done a bolt. Good for him!

“Oh no,” I said. “You see what I mean? He’s always trying to run away. He can’t have gone far.”

Matron was already running, her heels tapping on the bare floor. “James, Frederick, there’s an old man loose in the building,” she called and two young men set off in pursuit.