Alan scans the room, bleary-eyed. Where is he?

Why is he in a single bed without his beloved wife, Eileen? As his vision clears, he sees a young woman standing over him, two pills glistening in the palm of her hand.

“Morning, Mr Clarke,” she says. ‘Your pills.”

He must have been kidnapped, his spy network infiltrated. Yes, that must be it. He has to get out of here and fast before he’s tortured for his secrets.

He pretends to swallow the pills. When the woman leaves, he stuffs them into his pyjama pocket. A rustling sound alerts him to a piece of paper nestling there.

“Head to the beach,” it says.

On his way to the door, he glimpses his reflection and gasps. He looks at least eighty-five. They really are trying to disorient him; these drugs must be strong.

He throws on a pair of shoes and opens the door.

The dimly lit hallway is adorned with a clashing patterned carpet and floral wallpaper. To the right, the front door stands proud, its handle set high like a soldier’s salute. He runs and flings it open, squinting into the sunlight.

Pathways criss-cross in different directions over a manicured lawn. Which way?

Then he spots it. An arrow chalked onto the ground. Then another, and another, guiding him all the way to the beach.

Waves gently lap the shore and Alan’s breathing slows to the same steady pace. He has forgotten why he’s here, but this view seems reason enough. The sea beckons and he trudges towards it, sand working its way into his shoes and tickling his toes.

Something sparkly catches his eye. A glass bottle spinning in the white-water, nudging the sand insistently. There’s something inside.

“Dearest Alan,” the note reads. “Find the Anchor Woman. You’ll know it’s her because she has my eyes. You can trust her. She’ll help with your mission. Soon, my love, we’ll be together again. Love, Eileen.”

Blinking through tears, he spots her across the beach. Hair the colour of sand, waving to him. As he draws nearer, the blue anchor emblazoned across her picnic blanket shifts into focus. Then he sees those sapphire eyes and his heart swells.

She stands to kiss him.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Sarah! I’m lost,” he says.

She gestures for him to sit.

“You’re not lost. You’re on an assignment. Here, take these.”

This time he swallows the pills.

“What’s the brief?” he asks.

“Go back to the care home. Find out all you can about everyone there. Stay up late chatting to Jack and Maureen. Then get a good night’s sleep. Come on, I’ll walk you.”

After Sarah leaves him, a renewed sense of purpose and calm settles over him. It remains long after his memory of today’s encounter has faded.

Sarah texts the nurse, “Don’t forget to check the note is in his pocket ready for tomorrow. I’ll replace the bottle on the shore in the morning.”

*

Alan scans the room, bleary-eyed. Where is he?

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