It’s an unfamiliar feeling for me, contentment, as I walk through the shopping centre of an exclusive holiday resort. All seems well in my world, and on this rare occasion I’m allowed to just switch off and be in the moment. The formal jacket and trousers go well with my smart, brown, lace-up shoes and Windsor’s knot as I breeze past boutique stores, restaurants and fellow holiday makers, enjoying all that this upmarket establishment has to offer.

Along the way, I bump into an elderly gentleman who appears to be a member of the grounds staff, or at least this is my assumption, based on the overalls he is wearing and the fatigue etched all over his endearing face. The wrinkles tell the story of a man who has been here from the beginning. He has probably won a few accolades for long service and could probably run this place better than the owners were it not for his age and the colour of his skin. Retirement doesn’t seem too far away, so why take on that responsibility anyway? The calluses on his hand remind all who shake his firm grip that he has had to endure many years of hard labour.

After a brief chat he invites me to his home away from home to meet his wife. I see nothing wrong with accepting the invitation from this elder and begin to imagine how sweet his wife might be. We walk towards a nearby forest, the holiday resort now covered in the warm glow of sunset behind us. We descend into an embankment, and the old man nimbly takes no more than two quick steps across a small stream and jumps up the embankment on the other side. Perhaps he’s not that old after all, I think to myself as I negotiate the same crossing.

Before long I’m being welcomed into his home by his wife. She’s so eager to make me feel comfortable that she stops just short of giving me a hug. I’m rather surprised at how beautiful their accommodation is and wonder if all staff members enjoy such luxury. The open, lime green curtains dance silently with white lace to the gentle breeze. For reasons I can’t fully understand, I’m lying on a large bed as the little old lady regales me with stories of their youth. The large white duvet is the fluffiest I have ever felt and the matching pillows seem big enough to support four adults.

At some point the little old lady calls her husband to the front door. There’s someone who would like to speak to him. The old man walks to the door, and from my position on the bed I notice a man standing in the open doorway who seems to resemble the old man in some or other way. The visitor also seems to be of the same generation as my gracious hosts. Perhaps it’s his brother, I wonder. The cold gesture that my host meets that smiling visitor with, however, makes me uneasy. The warmth and friendly nature of the visitor quickly drains from his face as the door is slowly closed on his face.

Tell us: What do you think is going on with this elderly couple?