Third Child

by Kate Mitchell

  Ten weeks later, she passed with a certificate to become a Certified Nursing Assistant.

  The geriatrics ward at the local hospital always needed care assistants. At twenty-four she wasn’t too young or too old. It was the best age to start caring.

  But nursing is not as pretty or romantic as it seems. The qualified nurses thought themselves too superior to do what the care assistants did. In reality, if they could get out of doing the dirty work they would. But it wasn’t the care assistants who got the thank you presents; these were always given to the nurses. It was a revelation on how two people doing the same job could be treated. Who would have thought there would be snobbery in caring?

  Yet, there was another eye-opener. Cecelia saw how some old people were often treated when they had no family or friends. It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t fair, but it was life. If the elderly patient had someone that was concerned about them, the chances were greater for them to survive longer. It was Darwin’s survival of the fittest. There were too many unnecessary people in life.

  Two years later and feeling that she was getting nowhere, Cecelia decided that she had had enough. The pay like the treatment was poor, and when one elderly man who didn’t have anyone, no family, no friends, it was reasoned that his time had come. It was a natural act of compassion; the hospital also needed the bed.

  Yes, he was going to die soon, so why keep him hanging on to life? What would be the benefit? This is how the reasoning works. One must have a reason to live, and it appeared to people going in and out of his life that there wasn’t an adequate one. And probably he would agree with them about the quickening of his termination if he had been asked.

  Morphine was pumped into his body two milligrams every hour. The machine was hidden under his covers and it was only the slow suck of the quiet machine which expressed them further and further from life.

  But what did it matter if he should die now or die a month later? Yes, some people could be helped now, she understood or tried to understand, but in her perverse way of reasoning, it still felt all wrong.

  What is the price of life or even justice? Who deserves to live and who to die? Did Angelina warrant to die? She, who couldn’t follow their system, whose own views and horrors at taking the dispatched limbs which had once been healthy, terminated her life. If she went along with the system, she would still be here now.

  The rules are set by the unspeakably rich, and now by two people in particular, who are treated as if they were royalty. Whatever they wanted; they would always get.

  Image, it was down to image and vanity. Celebrated and rich people's rights to life were more accepted than the unwanted child or a single woman. Yet, Angelina was gone, and her history would be erased. If Cecelia didn’t speak up for Angelina, then it could happen to her.

  Unexpectedly, the nursing job hadn’t gone to waste as Cecelia felt it had. She had a qualification which she could use. Cecelia applied for a job and sent off the email giving her qualifications. If it didn’t work this way, then she would have to find another avenue in which she could gain entrance. Whatever this clinic wanted; she was now determined to get herself in.

  But, why was she always so constantly tired now?

  Tomorrow would be Monday, some people were now leaving the bed-and-breakfast, packing their small cases and making their way down the stairs. A nod and a smile, and this were going to be the last time they would see her. A feeling of wistfulness now these holiday people were going back to their normal lives. The magic time had passed to be secreted in memories. Yet, watching them going out through the doors a kind of envy enveloped Cecelia, they had lives to return to.

  Often, Cecelia felt she was filling in time with abstract nonsense while waiting for her own life to begin, she turned away and walked to the dining room. And there he was, sitting at the same table waiting for her to come in.

  When he saw her, he smiled and stood which was very flattering and made her heart flutter. His merry eyes almost winked at her.

  ‘How did your day go?’ he asked once she had settled herself down.

  She smiled and was just about to say that it hadn’t gone well when she remembered in time the story she had given.

  ‘Sad.’

  ‘Yes, I thought so. It can’t be much fun watching and waiting for a person to die. That’s why I took the liberty of ordering us a bottle of wine.’

  ‘How nice,’ she rearranged the cutlery at her place, moving them about as if they were traffic.

  ‘I didn’t think when I ordered the wine that you might not be having dinner tonight. But I thought, well; if she doesn’t come then I might as well drink the entire bottle myself.’ His eyes were naturally twinkly, like cut diamonds running down a hillside collecting all the light from the sun while they passed.

  Shyly watching him, it seemed impossible that he didn’t have a wife, but probably like a sailor, he had a girl in every port.

  ‘I’m glad you’re here.’

  His smile was beautiful, it was the most sincere and sweetest smile she had ever come across.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about you all day long.’

  She touched her cheek; embarrassment had lit up her face and caused her to feel silly as if she had a crush and had just found out that she liked him.

  ‘Now this is what I like about you. You haven’t lost that engaging look of feminine modesty. Oh, how I hate it when women rebuff you and feel insulted when you open the door for them, or even when you stand to give them your seat. Why are they like that?’

  He was frowning, but she was convinced that he was seeing others and saying wonderful things like that to them.

  ‘Of course, I know that when they are on their own, they can easily do this for themselves. But they’re forgetting the graces of being a female which is theirs alone. It is our vanity to be courteous to a beautiful woman—of whatever age and to treat her special and beautiful—and everything else. It makes me feel better when I open a door or offer my seat for a lady. I become their knight in silver armor. What they have robbed from themselves they have also robbed from me.’

  And then he smiled.

  ‘I do go on, don’t I? You should tell me to shut up sometimes,’ he picked up his glass and twiddled it around. ‘So, you were sad today?’

  ‘A little, sitting with a dying person is always sad.’ She induced this imaginary uncle from the corners of a story she had once read.

  ‘Yes, it must be,’ he put the glass down.

  ‘And how was your day?’ she smiled lightly. What a nice and good man he was, always carrying the virtues of a gentleman.

  ‘It was one of those days,’ he pulled a face, ‘if you know what I mean.’

  Which made her giggle again, she put her hand to her face like a shy schoolgirl who had a crush on a senior.

  ‘The only thing I ask in any job is that they supply me with the correct information. It’s not too much to ask is it?’

  Nodding quickly, she was going to agree to everything he said.

  ‘No, I thought not. The problem is,’ he moved closer across the table drawing her into this joint conspiracy. ‘Something has gone very wrong in the company. They suspect this woman of betraying them and now she’s gone into hiding.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really. I’m not angry with this woman—why be angry with anyone when together you can sort out the problem?’

  ‘Should you be telling me this?’

  ‘Perhaps not, but who on earth can I talk to, if I can’t make my confessions to you? Everyone needs someone to talk to, don’t you agree? Even priests must have someone they can make their confessions to, otherwise, it would drive them mad.’

  And there was Angelina half of her phantom body standing between him and her. Angelina had also needed someone to talk to, to keep some of the horrors at bay.

  ‘I know you won’t talk to anyone and even if you did, it wouldn’t make any difference. I’m my own boss, and always have been.’

  He stoppe
d and frowned looking somewhere above her.

  ‘The problem with this woman is, she has something I need, a code. Okay, I take it she’s afraid of what’s she’s done, and rightfully she should be afraid. She knew what she was doing. But trying to scare her off with what they would do to her, threatening to put her in jail, doesn’t help anyone.’

  She waited for him to carry on, but for now, he stopped in thought. He looked so handsome in his serious moments.

  ‘Anyhow, all that I need is for her to come out of the woodworks so I can ask her a few questions. Do you have any idea how I could get a frightened woman to step forward?’

  ‘No, well, I don’t know. Perhaps you could put an advert in the newspaper, something cryptic to say that she hasn’t done anything wrong and that everything is okay. You know, reassure her. I’m sure she would like this business cleared up as much as you.’

  He laughed. ‘What a delight you are. You know, you are unique. I have never come across anyone as charming as you.’

  She smiled, she blushed, it was like her heart had taken off. This was the biggest compliment she had ever received in her life. She was sparkling with happiness. Caught in a bubble of pleasure.

  ‘This uncle of yours, does he have any children?’

  ‘No, unfortunately, he doesn’t.’

  ‘Hang on, I thought you said he did.’

  ‘Did I, oh yes, you’re right, I did. Well, yes, their child died. It was tragic.’

  ‘Your family seems to have a rather catastrophic existence. When you don’t want them, they’re bumped off,’ and then he smiled.

  But she couldn’t return the smile. In a strange kind of way, he was right. She had just killed off one of her fantasy family.

  ‘You’re not laughing.’ Uncertain now of her, had he offended her. ‘And I am being ungracious choosing your tragedy for my sport.’

  ‘It’s not your fault. But it does sound like my family has been unlucky… I suppose someone has to be unlucky.’

  ‘But you’re not. I can’t see you as ever being unlucky.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know…’ and then Cecelia remembered the type of person she was trying to be. ‘I expect that is why it’s been difficult for me.’

  Amused, he was watching her speak, his eyes alighted on her hands which had suddenly become very expressive, but not too over-energetic. Beautiful hands. People’s hands said so much about them whether they were powerful, and grabbed hold of life, or whether within these fingers lay talent, music, art or healing. He smiled enjoying the delicate details of declarations.

  ‘You know, sitting with someone who you know is going to die sooner or later,’ she smiled in an attempt to be lighter and less serious. ‘Well, it makes you think about your own life and mortality. It makes you think of life and what we are doing with it. Don’t you think? Am I living my life well? Am I making the most out of it?’

  ‘No, I never think about death,’ he was adamant. ‘It’s something that other people do—and I don’t believe you think about death yourself, normally. When it happens, it happens. And you trust it will come swiftly. Just turn off the lights and go home. Oh, here comes the food. I was told tonight that it was meatloaf. Now, I think we should open this bottle, I need a drink.’

  What were the chances of meeting someone like Peter? Few and far between by Cecelia’s reckonings. Someone you felt you could talk to about anything. It was as if she had come home. They toasted each other and turned to the meatloaf with relish. While Cecelia ate, she was informed by Peter that this was one of his favorite meals. And this was followed by plum pie and again, custard, Peter tucked into this with great pleasure.

  ‘I’m going to have to change my lodgings,’ he said scooping up the last of the custard, ‘or at least get this job sorted out quickly before I become too fat.’

  ‘You’re not too fat,’ she thought he was joking.

  ‘True, I may not be too fat now, but with this delicious food. It won’t be too long before I add a spare tire. You’re lucky. You can afford to eat more. I would say you are slightly underweight for your height.’

  ‘Is this you trying to flatter me?’

  ‘No, it’s the truth,’ she smiled. His show of vulnerability was charming, it gave him a boyish coating and made him more adorable and easier to like.

  ‘That’s very kind of you, but the truth is I can’t afford to put on any weight. It would be detrimental to my work.’

  She wanted to know how a few extra pounds would impair his work, but it wasn’t a good idea to delve too deep into his life. If we penetrate too deeply into other’s lives, then it gives them a license to know about you. Her past to him was based on the web of lies she was passing over to him.

  ‘I’ll probably see you tomorrow,’ he said looking up at the dining room clock. ‘When I work, I try to get to bed early; I like to believe I am a professional.’

  She couldn’t help looking at the clock to see for herself. It was not even ten pm, and he was choosing to go to bed. What was the point of staying up any longer when he wasn’t there? She also might as well call it a night and go to bed as well.

  7

  There was no good in waiting for an answer from the clinic, they could take weeks to reply and there wasn’t all the time in the world to wait for her story or Angelina’s justice. She would go and visit them tomorrow morning

  Often, people are impressed when one takes the initiative. But this wasn’t the usual kind of interview and one she was not looking forward to. But why think about this now when her mind kept on returning to Peter. If anyone could persuade her to change her life and think about having a partner instead of being on her own, it was him.

  Charming and attractive, if she could see her life through his eyes, then this reality would turn into enchantment. He was not damaged by the interims of sadness. Life was for living and not grieving, and don’t put any power into what fate dealt you. And when it failed to do what you wanted it to do, ignore it and move on. This was a better way of looking at life instead of feeling all the sores and hurts which it afflicts. Yes, life with him could be so much different.

  But now, with something else on her horizon this wasn’t the time to dwell on him. When she had done what she had to do and made public the sensational story which had entwined in the wants of this couple, then she could pick up her life again and live it for real.

  Goodnight world, let’s see what tomorrow has in its bounty to give.

  The dawn had not stepped up to its plinth when the early morning six o’clock alarm went off. Thrashing her arms around to stop the awful noise, Cecelia wondered for those few alien seconds where she was. And then the ticker tape of memories came falling to settle into place to inform her that she was still here in the bed-and-breakfast.

  Arriving downstairs light-footed watching the young dawn dragging itself out of bed, she felt herself to be still young. Today she was going to skip breakfast, she wasn’t hungry and besides, last night she had eaten too much.

  How wonderful life is when there is someone else to share it with, her thoughts went immediately to Peter and how he bemoaned the fate of his growing girth, she smiled at a boyish face. But then her footsteps crashed to a halt. Voices at this time in the morning when people were still dressed in their sleep. It was Peter’s voice she heard.

  Hi, how are you? And what are you doing up so early in the morning were on her lips to greet? But at this time of the morning, perhaps not. The way that he spoke to her was in a voice that he reserved for her alone. But this voice was different, harder and curt. So, what was he saying?

  And like a nosy child, she couldn’t conceal her interest and the need to listen in.

  ‘Yes, if you don’t mind,’ he spoke so differently.

  Cecelia could hear the huffs of someone in agreement.

  ‘I would like to extend my stay for another week. Will that be possible? I don’t mind paying extra if there is any inconvenience.’

  ‘We are fully booked up, sir. We have our u
sual clients throughout the week. I would like to oblige you if I could. You understand, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh yes, of course, I understand. But I have nowhere else to go.’

  ‘Yes, I know. It’s because of the music festival going on this week. All around here, everything is booked up.’

  ‘What would your price be for me to stay in my room?’

  ‘I’m sorry sir, but as I said, we are booked up.’

  He was leaving. Cecelia stood in the jacket of a corner’s shadow, frowning and feeling that the world about her had dropped. He couldn’t leave, not now. He was the only person who gave her hope. The impulse to move from her secret place and offer to share her room was suddenly denied by the sound of his voice.

  ‘I will give you a thousand for the rest of this week and the following week if you’ll let me stay.’

  Three seconds of silence or astonishment followed.

  ‘Sir, I would like to oblige you, but I can’t. I can’t turn away a loyal client on a whim. And it doesn’t matter what you offer. Some things cannot be bought.’

  ‘Very well. You didn’t mind me offering did you, I had to try?’ and then he laughed.

  It was the same laugh that gave her pleasure and made her heartbeat twice as fast.

  ‘I would like to accommodate you, sir. But you see the position I’m in?’

  ‘No, don’t worry about it,’ the stress which had sunk into his voice before had now vanished. ‘I’ll sort out something for myself. I think I may have a friend somewhere nearby here. But if you don’t mind, can I leave my suitcases here and I’ll pick them up when I have somewhere else to stay?’

  ‘Certainly sir, we are only too happy to oblige. I wish I could have helped you more.’

  She could guess that the landlord was seeing the money which could have been in his hands but had been denied his grasp because of his sense of propriety. He had been tempted. Was he brave, or was he foolish?