twelve
EDITH TRIED TO concentrate on the list of drugs that needed a fresh supply. The dispensary in St. Brigid Hospital had tall, oppressive shelves, dark walls, and only one window. Not exactly cheerful.
Adding to the list the quinine, she couldn’t even write without being tormented by her thoughts. She should see Perry. Absolutely.
The message she’d sent to him didn’t convey what she wanted to tell him, starting with the whole truth. He’d encouraged her through the years of her fake studies. He ought to know his admiration for her was misplaced. Yes, she’d go right now. No more excuses. If she really wanted to change her life, she had to start with Perry.
As difficult as it was, it was the only way to turn a new page in her life.
She put the list down and untied her apron. Everyone said that Condy’s fluid was odourless, but she could swear to catch a pungent whiff of the purple-coloured disinfectant when she left the dispensary. The white walls and bright light in the hallway caused her to blink after the darkness of the dispensary.
“You need to focus!” The angry voice of a nurse came from one of the patients’ rooms.
She paused to peek inside. A nurse was sitting next to the bed of Mrs. Richards, a woman who had suffered a head trauma similar to Perry’s.
“Oh, enough for today.” The nurse scraped her chair back and left a bowl of soup on the nightstand. “I have work to do.”
“Is something the matter?” Edith glanced at Mrs. Richards’s pale and tense face.
The nurse wiped a large stain of pea soup from her apron. “It’s taking me too long to help Mrs. Richards eat her lunch, and she isn’t cooperating. I have my round to finish.” She strode out of the room, muttering.
While Edith appreciated the nurses’ hard work, every patient needed proper attention and care; that was what her father had taught her.
You must be quick in the operating room to save a life, but outside of it, everyone needs time, respect, and patience.
Edith sat on the chair the nurse had vacated and took the bowl. “May I?”
Mrs. Richards gave a jerky nod.
Holding the bowl with one hand, Edith helped Mrs. Richards take a spoonful. Mrs. Richards’s arm shook, sending drops of soup on the bedsheet. Her eyes reddened with tears.
“A friend of mine suffered from your same condition,” Edith said, taking another spoonful. “It took him time and patience, but now he can do everything.” She helped the woman again. “The trick is to take as many pauses as you need.” She stopped Mrs. Richards’s hand. “Move again when you’re ready.”
Pausing and starting again, Mrs. Richards managed to swallow the spoonful without spilling the soup.
Edith squeezed the woman’s hand. “Excellent. Try again.”
An hour later, the stained bedsheet showed Mrs. Richards’s effort, but the bowl was empty.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Richards stammered but not as seriously as Perry had used to. She blinked fresh tears, and emotion tightened Edith’s throat. “It’s difficult.”
“It is.”
Mrs. Richards sighed. “I must get b-better. My husband isn’t earning enough. I don’t know how we can… the children…” The rest of the sentence was incomprehensible so much she stammered.
But Edith could guess what the woman meant to say. She hugged Mrs. Richards, worried about the woman’s future. Perry’s condition had taken years to improve, but he could afford the best specialists and a Swiss clinic. Mrs. Richards was a tailor’s wife and a seamstress herself, but she wouldn’t be able to work for a while.
“…children have not enough food,” Mrs. Richards said. “We have debts.”
The two sovereigns Valentine had given Edith were still in her pocket. She’d meant to give them to Marianne to repay one of the many loans Edith had enjoyed, but she’d changed her mind.
She handed the two gold coins to Mrs. Richards. “I don’t mean to offend you, but please, accept these.”
Mrs. Richards shook her head. “C-can’t pay back.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She put the coins in Mrs. Richards’s palm and closed her hand. “Do it for me.”
“Thank you.” Mrs. Richards’s voice cracked.
