Birds of a Feather, page 24
“Try to drink some tea now,” Eve said.
The kindness in her voice sent another series of sobs hiccupping from Lucy’s throat. Eve had reminded her of Rita.
Lucy blew her nose hard and raised her gaze. Eve was watching her closely and Julia had sat opposite, clutching her own cup and staring into it. Lucy wrapped her still-trembling fingers around the cup and lifted it carefully to her lips.
“I know it’s been a difficult few days,” Eve said gently. “But is something else bothering you?”
A shudder vibrated through Lucy’s body but no more tears came. She put the cup back on the table.
“I don’t suppose you’d look on us as close friends but we’re good listeners,” Eve said. “Would it help to talk?”
Would it? She’d never told anyone the full story … not even Alec.
“I let everyone down, my kids, Alec, my patients, Charlie …” She hiccupped another sob.
“Who’s Charlie?” Eve asked.
Lucy sniffed and blew her nose again. “Last year I did in-home aged care as well as working part-time at an aged-care facility. It was my first job since Poppy was born, and then the pandemic started. Charlie was one of my at-home patients. He was a funny bloke – clever, wise and yet often politically incorrect.” She recalled his cheeky grin, the thinning grey hair he liked to keep long, the old army hat he insisted on wearing even to the end. She drew in a deep shuddering breath, stopped herself. “It’s done now.” Lucy pressed her lips together. She wouldn’t talk about it, couldn’t without it consuming her and if that happened she’d be lost.
“So many mistakes were made,” Julia said. “People had no idea of the danger.”
“And your holiday – lucky you got home when you did,” Eve said.
“Our attempt at one. I’m not sure I’d describe it as a holiday.”
“What happened?” Lucy was relieved to shift the topic away from her.
“My part— friend, Glen, talked me into a cruise.”
“Not one of those that made the news?”
“No, we were back before that, in February, but I shouldn’t have gone. Margaret, the head of our department, called just before we left on the cruise. The news wasn’t good even then. Many of those in research could see what was coming.”
“You didn’t tell me that,” Eve said.
Julia shrugged. “I didn’t want to be an alarmist.”
“Pfft.”
“And now I know about the upset bloody Audrey Owens caused I’m glad I didn’t tell you.”
“It blew over.”
“Still, it wasn’t a great time to have the town turn on you.”
“I’m quite used to the vagaries of this town.”
“You’re an amazing woman, Eve.”
Julia’s look held such adoration Eve had to turn away. Amazing was not a word she’d use to describe herself. Determined, resolute, robust maybe, even stubborn, but not amazing. She’d done what she’d had to do to survive; there was nothing special about that.
“What happened?” Lucy asked.
“Misunderstandings that led to some nonsense. All water under the bridge now.”
“Total rubbish,” Julia snapped.
“Things settled down, eventually.”
“Have you heard about Eve and the bowls outfit, Lucy?”
Lucy looked at Eve in surprise. “I didn’t know you played bowls.”
“I don’t,” Eve said and Julia laughed.
“It’s all right for you, laughing at my expense.” Eve’s tone was snappish but there was a sparkle in her eyes.
“We have to tell Lucy now,” Julia said.
Eve looked from Julia to Lucy. While they’d been talking, Lucy’s face had lost the terrified look she’d had earlier. Perhaps if Eve shared her story … but could she be bothered?
“You tell her.”
Julia didn’t need a second invitation. She quickly gave Lucy an account of Eve’s debacle with Audrey, the carpark injury and the fallout it had caused. It felt strange to listen to Julia tell it. Eve could almost believe it had happened to someone else.
“That’s awful, Eve,” Lucy said, once Julia finished.
“There’re worse things in life than wearing the wrong outfit.”
“Like being the victim of a smear campaign,” Julia said.
“Surely Audrey corrected the story,” Lucy said.
Eve shook her head.
“Audrey has a lot to answer for,” Julia said.
Eve pursed her lips. Much more than Julia knew but there was no point in raking up the past.
“What about Spiro or your friend Gert. Didn’t they defend you?” Lucy asked.
“Yes, of course,” Eve said. “But Spiro’s attitude was to let it all blow over and poor Gert was with Tom at the hospital by then and when he died she was so consumed by grief she hardly took in anything. And who could blame her? She and Tom were a very close couple. Did everything together. Losing him was like chopping off her arm. Then there were restrictions on funeral numbers so only Gert and a few close family members were able to attend.”
Lucy gripped the mug of tea tightly. “Poor Charlie had no-one. I don’t even know where they buried him.” Once more her face contorted.
“Sounds like you cared.” Eve smiled. “At least he had that in his final days.”
“I suppose.”
“Hell,” Julia said. “Did you get sick too?”
“No.”
“Was Alec working away?” Eve asked.
Lucy chewed her lip and gave the slightest nod.
“And Poppy and Noah?”
Tears brimmed in Lucy’s eyes again. Eve reached out and put her hand over Lucy’s.
“With a neighbour. It was awful.”
Eve felt Lucy’s hand tremble under hers. “You don’t have to tell us.”
Lucy looked up, a haunted look replacing her tears. “I …” Once more Lucy chewed her lip.
“Sometimes it helps to talk, but only if you want to,” Eve said.
“I haven’t even told Alec all of it.”
“A trouble shared …” Eve gave Lucy’s hand a squeeze.
“We haven’t got anything else to do,” Julia said.
“Well, if you’re sure.” Lucy blew her nose and wiped her eyes. “It’s a long story.”
twenty-six
Melbourne, March 2020
Lucy shrugged her backpack over her shoulders and picked up the bag containing her PPE. Charlie was her last home-visit patient for the day. He lived in a narrow street and, as he no longer drove, she usually parked in his driveway. This afternoon someone had parked part way across it and she’d had to drive into the next street before she found somewhere to leave her car.
The previous week, on her Thursday visit, there’d been a hire car parked right in the driveway. Some distant relatives of Charlie’s had called in. She’d been pleased to begin with. Charlie didn’t have family and got few visitors other than Meals on Wheels a few times a week, a fortnightly cleaner and Lucy’s twice-weekly call. The couple had been seated either side of the old bloke and had obviously spent some time with him. His usual kitchen clutter had been cleared and every surface cleaned. Even the lounge had been tidied – Charlie’s newspapers, magazines and books were in orderly piles or put back on the bookshelves.
It was only after a while that Lucy realised the couple had recently flown in from overseas. They explained they were on a long-planned trip touring the east coast of Australia and had decided to look up their distant relative, Charlie.
Alarm bells had rung. Even though she was very particular about her own sanitising and protection, she was extra careful when it came to Charlie. His emphysema made him an easy infection risk. She’d asked how long the couple had been in Australia. Only a week, the man had said, and when she’d mentioned requests for tourists to self-isolate he’d ridiculed her and the Australian Government’s stance regarding the coronavirus, saying they were being far too fussy.
Lucy had showered Charlie, changed the dressing on his ulcerated leg and cleaned his oxygen equipment, checked his medication and reluctantly left. The visitors were making a coffee and looked as if they planned to stay longer. She was glad they hadn’t been there the following Monday when she’d called, but the evidence of their visit had remained with the neatness of Charlie’s house.
Today there was no sign of anyone else, not even Charlie. Lucy collected two newspapers from his front yard, hefted her backpack higher on her shoulders and trudged down the drive. In between her home visits she worked two days a week at a local aged-care facility. She was glad tomorrow was Friday, and her day off. The tension caused by the pandemic was wearing everyone down. It all seemed too hard to believe, as if they’d all suddenly wake up and it would have been a bad dream.
Charlie’s back door was locked when she tried it. That wasn’t unusual. Sometimes when she arrived he hadn’t got out of bed, even though it was afternoon. She glanced at the two newspapers, today’s and yesterday’s. Charlie nearly always managed to get the paper in and make himself a coffee, but his dear old dog Bruce had died a few weeks prior and Charlie’s get-up-and-go had gone with him. She donned her PPE and took down the key he hid near the back door.
“Charlie?” she called as she went in. “It’s Lucy.”
The kitchen was empty and still relatively tidy.
“Charlie?” she called up the passage to announce her arrival and continued on. The rear bedroom he’d recently moved into for easier bathroom access was empty. A small worm of concern wiggled in her stomach.
“Charlie? Are you in the lounge?”
She stuck her head into the gloomy room and was instantly relieved to see the old man propped up in his recliner.
“Hello, Lucy,” he wheezed. “Is it that time again already?”
“Yes, I’m here again, ready to administer your twice-weekly torture,” she chirped as she crossed the room.
He chuckled and it turned into a long wheezy cough. He was struggling for air even though his nasal tube was in place. She checked the canister behind him. Still half full.
“You sound a bit chesty today,” she said.
“Not one of my better days,” he rasped.
“What’s up?”
“Struggling to get the air in,” he told her in gasps.
He was still in his pyjamas, surrounded by a clutter of empty cups and dishes. Not a strange occurrence for Charlie but his face was flushed. Outside it was a pleasant March day. Charlie always had a window open and the house was cool. His pyjamas were made of light cotton. Only the bottom few buttons of his shirt were done up. Perspiration glistened on his chest.
“Do you feel warm, Charlie?”
“Hot. Must be a hot day outside.” He glanced towards the window and coughed again.
Under her PPE Lucy was wearing long pants and a jumper. She took a thermometer from her kit, pointed it at Charlie’s forehead and was alarmed at the result.
“Do you feel up to a shower?” she asked.
“Not sure I can make it today, Lucy,” he wheezed.
He was showing all the signs of an infection. Without a test there was no way of confirming what was wrong with him but she was concerned enough to ring Charlie’s doctor.
While she was on hold, she glanced at her watch. It was already after three. She was glad she’d asked her neighbour, Beryl, to collect Noah from school and Poppy from kindy. Beryl’s granddaughter went to the same school and Beryl always offered to collect all three children when Lucy had an afternoon shift. The kids loved going to Beryl’s.
Lucy paced the worn carpet runner in the dark passage as she spoke with the doctor.
There’d been several local Covid-19 cases and after discussing Charlie’s visitors and his symptoms, the doctor had suggested she call an ambulance.
“What did old misery guts say?” Charlie gasped as she came back to him.
“He wants you to go to hospital.”
“No.” That had come out loud and clear.
Lucy had been Charlie’s nurse for nearly two months and in that time his health had slowly declined. There’d been a couple of times when he should have gone to hospital – the leg ulcer had been the latest – but he’d insisted on remaining at home.
“I can’t do anything more for you here, Charlie.”
He succumbed to another coughing fit; short, sharp hacks that left him breathless. His face was still glowing and there were more beads of perspiration on his forehead and chest. She adjusted his oxygen tube and made him as comfortable as she could. Keeping herself busy kept the creeping worry from her mind. Charlie was always at high risk when it came to infection, but if he did have Covid-19 that put her at risk too.
“You think I’ve got that bug, don’t you?” His words came out in short raspy breaths. “The corona thing that’s been spreading overseas.”
“You have some kind of infection, Charlie.” She tried hard to keep her voice matter-of-fact. “You need hospital care. They have drugs and equipment that would make you much more comfortable.”
“I’m dying, Lucy. We knew my time … was short … anyway.” He lifted his hand but was too weak to reach her. “Please … let me … stay … here.” His eyes implored her even when he no longer had the breath or the energy for words.
She was torn between wanting to help him and wanting to be as far away from him as possible. She couldn’t risk taking this infection home to her kids. At least they were safe with Beryl for the moment. She’d even had them overnight on a couple of occasions when Lucy had agreed to the odd night shift at the aged-care home.
Lucy’s thoughts raced. Even if she sent Charlie to hospital now, she’d still have to isolate until they found out what he had. Alec was away for another two weeks. What the hell was she going to do? There was another friend of hers who sometimes had the kids sleep over so that Lucy and Alec could have the odd date night. Other than that, there was no-one she could rely on to look after her kids for long.
Charlie had another coughing fit then sank back against the recliner, looking tired and frail. She didn’t have a crystal ball but without access to more help than she could provide, he wasn’t going to last much longer. Regardless of whether he went to hospital, she’d need to be tested and self-isolate. There was no point trying to get another nurse involved. She’d see Charlie through the night. If she needed help she could ask for it in the morning.
“Are you sure, Charlie?”
He gave a slight nod of his head.
Lucy squeezed her eyes shut and thought. She knew her kids would be okay with Beryl for the time being. She rolled her shoulders and opened her eyes to meet Charlie’s beseeching look. “Okay. No hospital.” She’d make it up to Beryl later.
His look changed to one of gratitude then he winced and closed his eyes. He’d always known the emphysema was a death sentence. Lucy steeled herself for what lay ahead.
Her phone beeped, the low sound of her battery going flat. Damn! There was a charger in the car. She’d have to go out for that later. She left a message for Charlie’s doctor then called Beryl. She explained the situation but left out the possible Covid connection. Beryl was already panicking about that. She’d spent her fortnight’s pension on extras from the supermarket, worrying they’d close. Lucy spoke briefly to Noah and Poppy. Poppy had been excited to stay at Beryl’s because her granddaughter was there as well. Noah stoically informed Lucy he’d look out for Poppy. She smiled. He acted so grown up sometimes she wondered where her little boy had gone.
Her last call was to her boss, at the nursing agency. Mina offered to send someone to replace her but Lucy already knew how short-staffed they were. She’d reassured her boss that she was prepared to see Charlie through the night and check in again in the morning.
Her phone rang again as soon as she hung up. It was Charlie’s doctor. He was outside. They spoke through the screen door. He’d brought Covid-19 test kits, more PPE and drugs to keep Charlie more comfortable. Even though he wouldn’t come inside, it was reassuring to discuss Charlie’s symptoms and care.
“You’re fairly sure it’s Covid-19, aren’t you?” she said as she put the test kits, hers and Charlie’s, into the container he’d placed by the door.
“From what you’ve told me, it’s quite possible Charlie’s visitors brought him more than their presence.” His look was serious as she closed the screen door between them again. “You know a positive result will mean you’ll have to quarantine yourself.”
Lucy’s spirits sank again. She’d tried to put that out of her mind.
“I’ll text you my personal number. Call me if there’s anything …” He shrugged, gave her a sympathetic smile and walked away.
It was awful watching him go. He felt like her one connection to the world. She’d nursed plenty of dying people but always in a hospital or aged-care home, never on her own. She wanted to run after him, beg him to stay. She berated herself – she’d chosen to remain and she was more than capable of looking after Charlie on her own.
“Was there someone at the door?” he whispered between breaths.
“Just the doctor checking on you.”
“Too scared to come in, was he?”
“I gave him his marching orders. I knew you wouldn’t want to see him.”
Charlie’s laugh came out in wheezy gurgles. She adjusted his pillows.
“How about I move you back to your bed? You’d be more comfortable.”
He shook his head. “Staying here,” he wheezed. “Like the view.” He half turned towards the window.
Lucy let out a small sigh. The rush of breath was warm beneath her mask. She knew he was too weak now – she wouldn’t be able to move him on her own.
He drifted off to sleep, the only sound the rasping of his breaths. She put the TV on low and searched for a channel that wasn’t regurgitating Covid news. With the comfort of the background noise, she tidied around Charlie and settled herself in a chair nearby.
Over the time she’d been his nurse, he’d slowly revealed bits of his personal story. He hadn’t had an easy life but she admired his quick wit, his knowledge of world affairs, his determination to do things his way.
