Depending on the home, I might have one or two care assistants working with me. They liked to watch TV or witter on about their boring insignificant lives. I avoided sitting with them and instead, made a vague excuse about reading patient files that I didn’t care if they believed or not, and sat at the nurses’ station. Usually, I’d read whatever book I’d brought with me, but on that first night the words on the page kept sliding out of focus. My thoughts insisted on drifting back to Carol, convinced as I was that she had to be up to something.
The nurses’ station was well lit, but outside, along the corridors, subdued lighting created dark places where anything could be hidden.
Like the dark spaces in my head. But now, instead of Jemma and Olivia calling to me, it was Carol’s voice I heard. But try as I might, I couldn’t make out what she was trying to say.
Over the three nights, I alternated between being determined to cancel my meeting with her and my need to find out what, if anything, she was up to. It weighed on my mind, making me irritable. I could see the care staff looking at me and muttering to each other when they thought I couldn’t see or hear. I could, but I didn’t care much. I wasn’t paid to be nice to them, and I never made the mistake of being irritable with the residents, the female residents especially. How could I be, when in each I saw shades of my mother? And as I tended to them, I was tending to her, and when they responded with a ‘thank you’ or a smile, or sometimes a pat on my cheek, I imagined my mother’s voice, her hand, her love.
My imagination. It was all I had.
23
The quality of sleep after a night shift is different. Sleep comes with startling immediacy and departs in the same way. No matter how irritable, stressed or angry I might be, as soon as my tired head hit the pillow, I was gone and a few hours later wide awake. After the first night, I was asleep by eight forty-five and awake by eleven. The following day, I did a little better and slept till twelve. After my third and final night, when it didn’t matter, I slept till two.
One night off, then I was back working four nights. Two in one home, and one each in two other homes. Not the best, but it was important to take the shifts when they were available because it was impossible to tell what might happen in the future. Plus being obliging went down well with the agency, and I hoped that would pay off eventually with the pick of the best shifts. Or better, work in a private home with one patient to care for.
By the Tuesday when I’d agreed to meet Carol for coffee, I was exhausted. I’d finished the last of the four nights that morning and had slept till ten thirty. Almost two hours sleep. It’s no wonder that when I looked in the mirror, I laughed at the face I saw. I kept my hair short for convenience, trimming the ends when they started to feather over the Nehru collar of my uniform. My first grey hair had appeared when I was seventeen and now, at twenty-nine, there was only a hint remaining of the brown hair I’d once had. Between the grey hair and the pasty skin, I looked like a ghost.
I didn’t eat well on nights either, and it showed. My cheeks were gaunt and my wide mouth and over-large nose were emphasised further as a result. Luckily, any hint of vanity had been hammered from me many years before.
It didn’t take me long to decide what to wear since my wardrobe consisted of trousers, T-shirts and two shirts. I remembered Carol’s upmarket, boutique clothes from the training day. I couldn’t compete but neither did I want to look like I needed a handout. A pair of baggy white cotton trousers with a tight-fitting almost-white T-shirt was the best I could do. The black cat logo on the T was a little childish perhaps, but that couldn’t be helped.
I threw my phone and purse inside the patchwork bag I’d bought for fifty pence in the sale box of a charity shop, locked up and headed off. I’d decided to walk. Alice Park was only two miles away, and it would be nice to breathe air not tainted by the super-heated air of nursing homes. It was a flat route; the day was sunny with a slight breeze, and I strode out feeling good despite my lack of sleep.
As I neared my destination, my footsteps slowed. I was still unsure of what to make of Carol, of her desire to promote a friendship between us. My earlier experience with my peers had left me with a reluctance to mix with them socially. Was I self-contained or anti-social? I wasn’t quite sure. What I was sure of, however, was that there was more to Carol than was obvious.
Although I arrived at the café ten minutes to midday, she was there before me, at a table sheltered from the midday sun by the large canopy that covered most of the outdoor space. She looked as if she’d been there quite a while too, a book spread open on the table in front of her, an empty plate beside her holding crumbs of whatever she’d eaten.
‘Hi,’ I said, dropping my bag on a chair opposite. ‘Did I get the time wrong?’
She dragged her focus from her book with what seemed to be extreme reluctance. Maybe I’d got the time wrong. Perhaps we’d arranged to meet at eleven. My fingers itched to reach for my mobile so I could check. Instead, I stood waiting for her to say something, the smile on my face feeling ridiculously forced.
‘No, you’re okay. It was such a nice day, I came early.’ She shut the paperback and patted it. ‘I was hoping to get it finished but never mind.’
I took my purse from my bag. ‘Can I get you another coffee?’
‘Thanks, a large cappuccino, please.’
‘Okay, back in a sec.’
There was a queue at the counter. It gave me a chance to look at the menu displayed on the wall behind, and I cursed my polite offer when I saw the price of the coffee. I’d been so careful with money for the last few years, it didn’t come easily with me to spend it on something so frivolous. Especially for someone else.
Service was incredibly slow and by the time it was my turn, I’d been staring at the selection of pastries for so long that my mouth was watering and I gave in to the temptation.
‘Here you go,’ I said. I balanced the tray against the edge of the table and offloaded Carol’s coffee, my cake and mug of tea. Tea, I’d discovered, was a pound cheaper than coffee making my choice a no-brainer.
I sat and rested the empty tray against the side of my chair. I was going to be magnanimous and wave a careless hand when she offered me the money for her coffee, but when she didn’t, when she simply stirred sugar into it and began to drink it as if it had been free, I felt a surge of irritation.
‘How did your night shifts go?’ she asked, putting her cup down.
‘Fine.’ I heard the bite in the word but if she did, there was no obvious sign. I looked around at the pretty setting, sat back in my chair and allowed my tense shoulders to relax. I might as well enjoy the money I’d spent. The almond Bakewell I’d chosen was fresh, crumbly and delicious. I ate the lot, and when it was gone, licked the pad of my finger to gather the remaining crumbs.
‘Good?’ Carol asked regarding me with a raised eyebrow.
‘Very,’ I replied. I pushed the plate away and lifted my mug of tea. ‘This is a nice place. Do you live far away?’
‘Five minutes’ walk.’ She pointed to a road visible through the branches of the trees that surrounded the café. ‘Down that way.’