Chapters (55)
- Cover
- ANNA WHARTON
- Dedication page
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- Praise
- THE IMPOSTER
‘Yes, you do, Grace. She’s here to take you home. You’ve been missing for two days.’
Nan looks at her. ‘Have I?’
Chloe puts an arm around Nan. ‘Why did you come to Acton, Nan?’
‘I was lost,’ she says. ‘I wanted to come home.’
‘But you don’t live here, Nan.’
‘Well, that’s what they keep saying. But my house is there. I tried telling them it was my house.’
Chloe glances at PC Bains for some kind of explanation.
‘It turns out it’s where she lived when she was a little girl,’ she says. ‘She stowed away on a train from Peterborough apparently, managed to slip through the barriers, even onto the tube, didn’t you, Grace? The owners of the house found her inside their shed this morning. You gave them quite the fright, Grace.’
‘Twenty-three Rothschild Road,’ Nan says, ‘but who were those people? Where are Mother and Father?’
‘Don’t worry about that now, Nan,’ Chloe says. ‘The most important thing is that you’re home. Or nearly anyway, we need to get the train back—’ She looks up and around inside the station, as if to get her bearings.
‘Oh, it’s OK, I think that’s all sorted,’ PC Bains interrupts, and as she does a figure appears walking down the corridor behind her, clutching paperwork. ‘I believe you and Claire have met before?’
Claire Sanders, Nan’s social worker. Her blunt bob swings around her cheeks. The jubilation Chloe felt at seeing Nan is instantly replaced with a dread that surely shows on her face. The mask slips. She feels it.
‘Oh, Claire’s been ever so nice, Chloe,’ Nan says. ‘She says she’ll give us a lift home to . . .’ She turns to PC Bains. ‘Where are we going again?’
‘Peterborough,’ Chloe and Claire answer in unison. The social worker has her car keys in her hand, her handbag tucked under her arm.
‘Shall we?’ Claire asks. Nan and Chloe follow her out of the station.
EIGHT
From the outside, the new place for Nan looks more like a hotel than a care home. There is a shiny sign reading Park House Care Home, sprinkled at the corners with illustrations of spring flowers.
Chloe takes Nan’s arm to lead her inside.
‘Do we know someone who lives here?’ Nan asks.
‘Come on, Nan,’ Chloe replies, ‘let’s go inside and have a look around.’
Claire Sanders walks behind them, so close she’s practically inside their footsteps. Chloe tries to pretend she’s not there at all, but it’s not easy when she’s interrupting constantly, pointing out different facilities before they’ve even stepped inside. Chloe concentrates instead on ignoring the ugliness that collects inside her veins.
The women are introduced to the matron, Miriam, and they follow her along a burgundy carpet peppered with yellow diamonds, around a giant glass window that looks out onto a small courtyard filled with tropical plants.