Mother had been in the Rivers Care Home about six weeks. I'd visited her several times, usually on Mondays, and she seemed content. The staff were kind and the Home appeared to be well run.
Monday was a good day for me because it fitted in well with my work schedule. I arrived around 10.00 am, so as to allow mother time to have her breakfast and be settled afterwards in her room.
I went up to the Reception Desk gave my name, John Barton, and said, "I'm here to see my mother, Doris Barton."
The receptionist looked at the computer screen in front of her and hesitated a moment before saying, "I'm sorry Mr Barton. There's a Recreation Session on her Wing about to begin in a few minutes." Then she thought for a moment and added, "It doesn't usually take long ... just half an hour or thereabouts ... so you can either wait or come back later, whichever you prefer."
"I'll wait," I replied. I had no idea what kind of recreation might be involved, but I didn't question it.
"In that case, if you go through and head towards the East Wing you'll find the Residents' Lounge. It's clearly signposted. It won't be occupied so you can wait in there until the staff call you. I'll let them know you're there. Would you like someone to bring you a coffee?"
"That would be great. Thank you," I answered appreciatively.
I made my way to the Lounge she'd told me about. It was easy to find and I settled down with a magazine to await my coffee. It wasn't long before I became aware of a murmur of male conversation just outside where I was sitting. I couldn't hear all that was being said but picked up the gist. It seemed to be about which of them would be dealing with which residents. I could make out three different voices, one of them in charge I thought, telling the others the names of the residents they were being allocated. "Mrs Hardy, Mrs Barton, Mrs Jones," and another name I didn't quite hear. Then a remark from another man saying, "Mrs Barton ... she's really up for it. Gives her all."
It all seemed very mysterious. I couldn't imagine what it was about.
My instincts were aroused however when the men entered where I was sitting and headed for a door marked PRIVATE. All three of them were powerfully built and in their early to mid-twenties. They had a look about them that seemed out of place for such an environment. I couldn't put my finger on it but there was something not quite right.
After another few minutes the men returned. It was then that I became really uneasy. They'd exchanged the suits they'd been wearing for robes. As far as I could tell they had nothing underneath. Each of them carried a small transparent zip-up bag of the kind used for air travel. Inside there seemed to be an assortment of tubes and little pots; ointments or creams of some kind I thought. The men walked through the Lounge giving no indication that they'd noticed me. Then my coffee arrived.
I gave no further thought to what I'd seen until, just after I'd finished my coffee, I heard a cry from somewhere outside. It seems to be coming from the Residents' area; I couldn't be sure. It wasn't very loud but sounded as though someone was agitated by something. I supposed it was just some form of treatment and settled back to reading one of the magazines.
However it wasn't long before I heard another cry, followed by a commanding male voice in response. All my instincts told me there was something wrong. I got up from my chair and went nearer to the corridor outside. A pair of pink doors, leading into the area where mother was, were just a couple of metres away.
At that moment a member of staff approached with a trolley. Anticipating that it might be difficult for her to open the doors on her own, I went to open them for her.