“Mum, I’ll take that.”
She trudges up the steps. Her son grabs her bag as she limps through the door. Whoosh-bang-click. No escape without the passcode now.
“So, this is the old peoples home?”
“More ‘residential care’.”
Yeah, right, she thinks.
“Hey!” calls Sharina, putting down the Summer Fayre sign, “Helen, you gonna be OK to help?”
Helen puts her crutches down. “Give me a chair, a cuppa and a sticky-bun and I’ll run the Tombola!” She turns to Danny. “And now, son, I can tell everybody you brought me to the old folk’s home!”