Beyond the pub doors
In the UK and Ireland, a 'lock-in' usually means a clandestine after-hours drink at a pub. The 'lock-in' at Meirion Court takes on a more serious meaning, inspired by the real-life heroism of some care home staff during Covid. This novel explores a different kind of confinement, one driven by an unwavering commitment to protect the vulnerable. Staff in three UK care homes voluntarily left their families to live with their residents, preventing cross infection. This story echoes their extraordinary dedication and creates a vision of the possible for the UK sector.
In my conversations with the NHS management, I emphasised that I had no Board of Directors. I was only financially accountable to my Irish father. Most of the conversations I had had with him since Meirion Court opened were short and businesslike. He was my “sleeping partner”, and every month we’d discuss outstanding issues with the ledger, staff and clientele. He was normally a good listener, steadfast in his promise to “sit in the back seat but take no part in day-to-day management.” Yet, he now made plain his contempt for the British Government. “Discharging hospital patients into care homes without proper infection control was always going to end in tears. If you want to take a tough line, I’ll underwrite you.” His response was not merely emotionally supportive; it gave me the financial mandate I needed.
Alba Jackson, my 25-year-old deputy manager, had been in the office and overheard the “risk averse” phone call with the NHS bed manager. As I was reviewing the week’s rota and idling with my Newton’s Cradle, there was a knock on my open office door. She was at the head of a huddle of staff members – care workers, the Chef, even our personal trainer, Liam. Alba’s face, usually so sweet and obliging, was stony. “Alba? And… everyone,” I said. “Please, come in. Is everything all right?”
Alba stepped forward, her look unwavering. "My mamma’s just told me what’s happening back home in Spain. On Facebook, there are stories about the Civil Guards finding care homes abandoned and … the residents dead in their beds. The staff have panicked. They’ve simply run away.”
She paused, her eyes sweeping over her colleagues, then back to me. “When I told everyone what you’d said to the bed manager about protecting the vulnerable, we all agreed to follow your example.” She gestured to the group. “My mamma says there are also a couple of care homes, where staff have decided to stay with the residents.” Alba continued, her voice steady yet charged with an urgency that commanded attention. “We’ve held a meeting. We all want to create a similar, safe haven here.”
Alba was not merely outlining a plan; she was rallying us to a cause that transcended our day-to-day responsibilities, employment contracts, and family commitments. “We are no saints, heaven forbid. But we have held our meeting. We are united, all prepared to go into quarantine alongside the residents. We will be their human shield against unjust regulations.”
Isla Walsh, my senior care assistant and an ex-MacMillan nurse, replied. “It’s not going to be easy,” she began, her voice steady. “I discussed it last night with my family. Leaving them alone to face Covid is going to be a nightmare. My husband is diabetic, and one of my daughters is asthmatic. But they understand. They told me that if anyone could do this, it would be us.”
While many novels about the frail elderly opt for humour and denial, 'Lock-In' confronts the subject with deadly seriousness. This novel is for retirees and their families who seek honesty about the future, and the critical choices facing UK politicians regarding the elderly care sector.