Pepper ventured further into the house before turning right and making her way down a wide corridor. There were doors spaced at regular intervals along one side, while the other consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over a wide, paved courtyard. She knew from earlier visits that there was a well-stocked pond in the middle, as well as raised flowerbeds, a sprawling herb garden and, come the summer, so many tomato plants that you could smell them the moment you stepped outside.
There were no residents in the main sitting room as she passed, and nobody in the kitchens when she peered through the propped-open door, but she found the wide lawn at the back of the house littered with colourful tents, picnic blankets and an array of mismatched garden furniture. Pink and purple balloons were tied to the surrounding trees and many of the residents’ wheelchairs, and Pepper recognised lots of faces as she made her way across the grass, smiling back at anyone who called out a greeting. There were a large number of elderly folk living at The Maltings, but Pepper spent most of her time volunteering with the younger contingent, all of whom were here because they needed round-the-clock specialist care.
‘Oi, Taylor – over here!’
She turned to see a tall, slim, black man beckoning her over, and grinned. As well as apparently being a culinary expert, Samuel was one of the home’s most popular carers – and a wind-up merchant of the highest order. A born-and-bred Londoner who proudly referred to himself as a ‘Bantersaurus Rex’, he was a hero among his young charges and often sat in on Pepper’s sessions. Samuel seemed to have an uncanny ability to make every single person he came into contact with feel special, and despite the taxing nature of his job, always made time for people. The two of them had settled quickly into an easy friendship, and Pepper invariably came away from her encounters with him feeling as if the world was a better place, even if he did have a fondness for taking the mickey.
‘That’s quite a haul you have there,’ he said by way of a greeting, running an approving eye over Pepper’s boxes. Plucking a rather deformed-looking stuffed cat from the top of the nearest one, he laughed.
‘This is . . . interesting.’
Pepper tutted good-naturedly.
‘I’ll have you know,’ she said, ‘that is an original Arts For All creation, hot off the sewing lesson press – highly sought-after and a true one-of-a-kind.’
‘In that case,’ Samuel rummaged in the pocket of his shorts and pulled out a ten-pound note, ‘consider me your first customer.’
‘It’s actually twenty quid,’ she told him, then laughed at his expression of pure horror.
‘Not really! You should see your face.’
‘Do you want the stall between my two?’ he asked. ‘I mean, obviously you’ll get way more footfall if you’re hanging out near the Chief.’
‘I assume by Chief, you mean yourself?’ Pepper shook her head in mock exasperation. ‘Let me guess – you gave yourself that name?’
‘A man’s gotta believe in himself,’ he said, as she followed him across the grass.
‘What are you selling other than the cakes?’ Pepper asked, peering at the plain blue sheet Samuel had tossed over the front of his second stall.
‘Glad you asked that,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I thought, seeing as it’s such a sunny day, that I would . . .’ He paused to bend over and pick up a bucket of water, lifting a big dripping sponge up and holding it out for Pepper to see.
‘Wash cars?’ she guessed, and Samuel slapped his free hand across his face.
‘Now that would have made sense,’ he said. ‘Where were you when I needed you, eh? In the planning stages? But I’ve made my flyers now and handed them out. Here,’ he added, digging one out of his back pocket and giving it to Pepper.
‘Soak a Bloke?’ she read out loud. ‘You’re going to let people lob wet sponges at you?’
‘For a fee!’ he protested. ‘I reckon a quid a go is reasonable.’
‘In that case,’ Pepper said, getting her purse out of her bag and extracting her own ten-pound note. ‘You can count me as your first ten customers.’
Five hours later, dripping wet but swelling with pride at having raised over four hundred pounds, Samuel helped Pepper pack up the few items she had not managed to sell.
‘I can’t believe nobody wanted this,’ he exclaimed, picking up a truly grotesque ornament of a naked man sitting cross-legged on a toadstool.
‘Or this,’ Pepper replied, pointing to an Ultimate Pan Pipes CD.
‘I dated a girl once who could play the pan pipes,’ he said. ‘Her name was Aurora and she was obsessed with Wuthering Heights.’
‘My last boyfriend played the guitar,’ Pepper told him with a grimace. ‘Very badly. I’m not sure if he was obsessed with anything – certainly not me, in any case.’
‘Mother-plucker.’ Samuel beamed his mega-watt smile as she rolled her eyes.
‘I see what you did there.’
‘Not just a hat stand.’ He tapped the top of his head.
‘Is that what it says on your dating app bio?’ she joked.
Samuel made no secret of the fact that he was looking for a girlfriend and seemed to have a new dating-disaster anecdote every other week.
‘I might have more luck if it did,’ he said, pretending to sound sad. ‘Although, saying that, I did meet up with someone just last night.’
‘Oh?’ Pepper loved a good first-date story. ‘Any sparks?’
Samuel considered. ‘We’ll see,’ he allowed. ‘Gotta let these things develop naturally, right?’
‘You don’t believe in love at first sight, then?’ Pepper replied, thinking of Josephine.
Samuel laughed. ‘Lust maybe – love is the big one, innit? You can’t go throwing out the L-word to someone you barely know – therein madness lies.’
‘What about Romeo and Juliet?’ she protested. ‘Or Anna and Vronsky?’
‘Who-sky?’
‘He’s from Anna Karenina.’
‘So, fictional characters only, right?’
‘It happens in real life, too,’ she insisted, only just stopping herself from blurting out Josephine’s story. ‘Trust me,’ she went on, crouching down to zip up her case. ‘It can happen.’
‘Have you got a net?’ Samuel asked.
Pepper stared up at him in confusion.
‘You know, to catch all the tiny birds that are flitting around your head,’ he said, giving into a laugh. Pepper arranged a look of fury on her face as she stood.
‘You’re mocking me,’ she stated.
‘Maybe a little . . .’
‘Where’s your sense of romance, man?’
Samuel put his head on one side, his eyes bright with amusement.
‘If you ask me,’ he said, ‘love is a trap, out to get us. It wants us to fall but falling is dangerous.’
‘Falling in love isn’t like jumping into a well,’ Pepper retorted, as Samuel started to fold up the sheet that had been spread over the stall.
‘I think I would prefer that,’ he said. ‘At least in that scenario, there would be a rope and bucket to help me climb out.’