The Nurse(46)

Time to make a move. Before she had time to react, I put my hand on the door, enough weight behind it to stop her shutting it. ‘I’m sure I lost it while we were moving Mr Wallace. He lurched, and his hand brushed against my head. It must have happened then.’ If I could have cried on demand, I’d have done so. Unfortunately, it wasn’t one of my skills. However, by luck, I’d hit on something she could relate to.

‘He did the same to me this morning. I need to learn to duck faster.’

Given an inch, I hurried to take a mile. ‘An occupational hazard, isn’t it?’ I dropped my hand from the door. ‘I know you’re busy looking after Mr Wallace. I don’t want to delay you by sending you on a search for my precious earring, but if I could come up, I know where I was standing and might be able to find it.’

Whether it was her sudden understanding that we were all in this together, or maybe my stress on the word precious, to my surprise, she stood back pulling the door open. ‘Mrs Wallace isn’t here, but I’m sure she’d understand, after all you were kind to have helped out.’

Her initial reticence to speak to me quickly vanished and by the time we’d climbed the stairway – she leading the way one plodding step at a time – I knew all about Jolene. She didn’t, as it turned out, regularly work with Mr Wallace. ‘It’s usually Carol or Michelle covering the day shift, but Michelle needed a few days off for a wedding and Carol couldn’t cover them all so they rang me. I don’t do private homes usually.’ She stood at the bedroom door, her hand on the doorknob. ‘I prefer to have more support, if you know what I mean.’

I bit back the caustic comment that leapt to the tip of my tongue. I’d worked with nurses like Jolene who did the minimum to get by, and happily delegated everything they could to junior staff, or worse, left it for whatever nurse was doing the next shift. I almost felt sorry for poor Mr Wallace to be left in her care.

But when we went in and I saw him, I realised my sympathy was wasted. It had only been a few days since I’d seen him, but he’d deteriorated dramatically. I didn’t feel any sense of pride in knowing I’d been right, that he wasn’t going to last as long as his GP had indicated. I’d given him days, maybe a week. Now, with a grey cast to his skin, a bluish tinge to his lips and a mottling of the fingers that lay curled on the white sheet, I was giving him hours.

‘He’s too frail to sit out any more,’ Jolene said crossing to an armchair that had been pulled close to the window. A small table positioned within hands’ reach held a flask, a mug, and an open packet of chocolate digestives. She picked up the book she’d left splayed on the seat and took its place. ‘You don’t need me to help you look for your earring, do you?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. The book must have been good, she buried herself in it and ignored me. And Mr Wallace.

I stepped closer to the bed. He was sitting upright in a nest of pillows. His breathing was shallow and, as I moved closer, I could smell the stink of death that came with every feeble exhale.

To my surprise, he opened his eyes, looked at me and said a very quiet, ‘Hello.’

‘Hi,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you; I was looking for an earring I’d lost.’

‘Okay.’

His lips were dry and scaly. ‘Would you like a drink?’

‘Please.’

I picked up a glass of water and held a straw to his mouth. He sucked on it twice, then pushed it out with the tip of his tongue. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’ I put the glass down and picked up a tub of Vaseline. ‘Your lips look very dry, this will help.’ I used my finger to slick some over his lips. ‘Better?’

‘Much, thank you.’ He gave me a faint smile. ‘I don’t know you, do I?’

‘No, I’m Lissa. I was here once with Carol, helping.’

‘Carol.’ His smile grew. ‘She talks a lot.’

It made me laugh. ‘She does.’ I looked to where Jolene was still buried in her book. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’

‘Stay with me a minute?’

There was a chair nearby, I hooked my foot around it, pulled it closer and sat. ‘Of course I will,’ I said, taking one of his cold hands in mine. I didn’t know him, it was only my second time to meet him, and the resemblance that he’d had in his younger years to my father hadn’t carried through to this older man, but he was a man dying alone. As my father had. That alone kept me sitting there for a long time.

Only when his breathing deepened and slowed did I take my hand away and get to my feet. Sunshine was slanting through the window. Jolene held her book up to the light and turned a page. I wanted to go over, rip the book from her hands and hit her across the face with it. Make her suffer for her lack of care.

I didn’t, of course, I couldn’t afford to lose my job.

I wondered if Oonagh knew how close to the end her husband was. She’d be relieved. After all, this was what she was working towards.

I hadn’t cared, but that was before I’d spoken to the man. Now, I wanted more than money, I wanted her to be punished for what she was doing.





32





Jolene remained buried in her book, oblivious to the needs of the man in her care. I’d have to see what I could do about her.