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‘The thing about nursing is that it’s all hands on deck when you’re needed,’ June explained. ‘Obviously, in the pandemic, people had to make their choices. I chose to be here, and I was careful, but I was damn lucky as well. But I just thought, at the end of the day, I’m old. If it gets me, then at least I go out doing what I was supposed to do in this life. Helping others survive. Warrior spirit.’ She tapped her heart.
June was just like Rory, Claire realised. They both had that in them, the special something that made them help people in need. Rory’s job was different, admittedly, but it was the same ballpark: being heroic.
‘Wow. June. That’s amazing,’ Carrie breathed. ‘I don’t know if I have that in me.’
‘Course you do.’ June fixed Carrie with a gimlet stare. ‘As I said, I know about your terrible accident and loss recently. And the very fact that you’re standing in a hospital now, talking to me about becoming a nurse, shows me exactly the kind of fighting spirit you’ve got in you. We need more like you, Carrie. And, believe me, sadness doesn’t make you weak. We all experience pain at some point in our lives. What makes us warriors is carrying on anyway.’
‘I… thank you. That’s kind of you to say.’ Carrie was slightly taken aback that June had read her mind so clearly. Was she that transparent?
‘I’m kind, when it’s needed,’ June laughed. ‘But I mostly just say it how I see it.’
Carrie had the sudden image of the little door in the wall that she’d seen in her dream. She’d forgotten all about it, but it came back to her suddenly as she stood there, talking to June.
What’s behind the door?
A fairy tale door, small, with an odd handle made of a bread roll. Maud had said,Only you know. Only you can open it.
She hadn’t wanted to open the door then, and she didn’t want to now, but she realised what lay beyond it, and she knew, suddenly, that she had to ask the question that had been playing on her mind ever since Claire’s death.
‘June?’ Carrie asked, after they’d walked on a little further.
‘What is it, dear?’
‘If someone… was in an accident. And they needed an urgent transplant to survive,’ Carrie began. ‘If a donor couldn’t be found in enough time…’ She trailed off.
June stopped in the hallway, looking at Carrie with an expectant expression. ‘Yes?’
‘If…’ Carrie found the words difficult. She needed to ask the question, but she was afraid to. So afraid for her fears to be confirmed. That she could have saved Claire’s life.
‘Just say the words, dear. It’s okay.’ June reached for her hand and squeezed it. ‘I’ll never judge you.’
‘If… my sister… Could I have saved her life if I had been conscious enough to consent to a kidney transplant?’ Carrie got the words out, though it was hard.
This was the question that had been haunting her for all this time, and now that it was out there, spoken, she recoiled from the implications of June’s answer. Yet, she also felt strangely at peace just for having spoken the words.
‘I can’t answer that question, dear,’ June said, softly. ‘I take it both her kidneys were damaged beyond repair?’
‘Yes,’ Carrie breathed, the pain she’d been holding moving from her stomach into her heart. She took some deep breaths, and imagined breathing out the pain through her nose and mouth, like a black cloud escaping her. ‘Though she actually died of a heart attack. That’s what the doctor said. But I can’t help but wonder if I’d been an organ donor, if I’d had that card in my purse like people do, they could have taken my kidney and given it to her…’ Carrie trailed off. ‘I could have saved her. She might not have had the heart attack, maybe. If her body had had a kidney.’
‘Oh, darling.’ June took Carrie’s other hand, so that she was holding both in her lined palms. ‘Listen to me. Are you listening?’
Carrie nodded, crying, but letting herself cry.
‘You couldn’t have saved her,’ June said, clearly and calmly. She squeezed Carrie’s hands. ‘All right? Listen to me. You need to hear what I’m saying. She had a heart attack. She was severely injured in the crash. It was an accident. It was no one’s fault. Even if you’d been conscious and donated a kidney, it wouldn’t have been enough. It wasn’t your fault. Okay? It wasn’t your fault. Sometimes, horrible accidents just happen.’
Carrie felt the floodgates open then, and a huge wave of emotion overcame her completely.
It wasn’t your fault.
She had needed to hear those words for so long.
June gathered her into her arms, and they stood there, in the middle of the two sets of wards in a small hospital in rural Scotland, and Carrie sobbed her heart out. For Claire, for the loss of the most important person in her life, and for herself, and how alone she felt.
‘It wasn’t your fault, dear,’ June repeated, rubbing circles on Carrie’s back. ‘You know, deep down, it wasn’t.’
They stood like that for longer than Carrie knew, until her sobs tailed off into hiccups. She felt wrung out and exhausted, but also strangely free.
‘I know. Well, I think I do.’ Carrie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
