Morrison Adams Circles of Subterfuge collection

by H A Dawson

  ‘Your mother called earlier,’ he said. ‘She wants you to call her back.’

  ‘Okay, thanks.’

  ‘She said you’ve not been answering your mobile phone.’

  I hadn’t and with good reason. I dreaded the thought of sharing the news with my family and felt certain they would offer little or no sympathy. I didn’t want to have to waste my time and energy defending myself when I had other more important matters to consider.

  ‘I won’t bother you any more,’ he continued. ‘I just thought you should know.’

  I forced a smile.

  Time passed slowly and I grew increasingly lethargic and bored. I tried to engross myself in the programme and a segment on cookery, but it couldn’t hold my attention. All I could think about were images relating to my suspension, from the moment I administered the morphine to my patient, through to the disappointment etched in Sheila’s expression upon her learning of my apparent misdeed. Hence, I grew increasingly stressed and frustrated, and the physical tension within me built, tightening the muscles in my neck, torso and legs.

  Needing a release from my statuesque state, I wandered to the kitchen and boiled some eggs to have with toast. As I waited for them to cook, I considered calling Kelly to thank her for her generous offer inviting me to stay in her home, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was thoroughly bored with conversing and wanted only to disappear from the world. I didn’t care that it would be a respectful and courteous way to behave; I didn’t care for anyone but myself.

  I ate my breakfast and since Matt wasn’t around I wandered aimlessly back to the television. Every ten minutes or so, I found myself looking at the clock. Then, it struck me that this was how my life was now, a thought triggering my panic and causing my breathing to quicken, my muscles to tense, and my face to scrunch in agonising pain.

  I paced the room and after a few moments of not knowing what to do, I glanced at my mobile phone. Upon it were numerous messages from friends, family and most importantly my union representative. But I couldn’t find it within myself to open them up, and flung it on the sofa and groaned out my frustration.

  After the passing of more time, I received a call on my phone. Since it was on the other side of the room and I felt far too exhausted to go get it, I let it continue its irritating musical tone. I hoped it would stop and that whoever it was would get the message to stop pestering me, but it didn’t seem as though they were going to do that. Ultimately, I stomped across the room and picked it up.

  It was Kelly. I voiced my greeting in a not so amiable voice.

  Seeming unaffected, she asked me how I was and what I was doing. I tried my best to sound pleasant, but it wasn’t easy in my current state and not when she mentioned she was on a break. I knew she hadn’t said it to be mean, but she had said it nonetheless, and it accentuated the differences in our lives.

  Kelly, being the empathetic person she was, must have realised the cause of my disquietude as she tried to reassure me that I would be back to work in no time at all. Since I wasn’t in the mood for her uplifting comments, I cut her off in the politest way possible and told her I had to go.

  ‘Just one thing before I do,’ I said. ‘Matt told me about your offer to stay. I do appreciate it but—’

  ‘I don’t want to hear any excuses, Ebs,’ she said. ‘You’re my best friend and if I can’t do this for you then there’s no point in our relationship.’

  ‘I suppose,’ I mumbled.

  ‘Good, then I don’t want to hear any more of it.’

  ‘It won’t be forever.’

  ‘Of course, it won’t be. You’ll be back at work before you know it. Have you spoken with your union rep yet?’

  I tensed. I was feeling bullied and didn’t want to go into this now. I needed to clear my head before I made any decisions and told her as such. Kelly appreciated my comment, told me she would stop pestering me and pleaded with me to do something positive with my day. I said I would try and we ended the call.

  Despite my initial reservations, I felt humbled to have received her call and it left me in a better mood than I had been in all day. Hence, when my phone started to ring again, I rushed to pick it up in hope that whoever it was would provide me with the same uplifting feeling. When I saw it was my mother, I pressed the decline button. I knew I would have to speak with her eventually, but I preferred it to be later. Maybe then, I would be able to stand up to what I feared would be a barrage of abuse. I certainly couldn’t tolerate that right now. I needed my answers to be ready and I needed them to be good.

  A few days passed when such a moment arrived. I was mooching around the house doing little when there was a call on the landline. I had my guard down and answered without thinking. The hollering cry of dismay from the other end told me it was my mother.

  I groaned privately and sank into the armchair. ‘Hi, Mum.’

  ‘What the hell have you been thinking not answering my calls? I’ve been worried sick about you, you silly girl.’

  ‘I’m sorry but I’ve had things on my mind. I haven’t had time to—’

  She interrupted my flow. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve been busy. From what I’ve heard you’ve had all the time in the world to call me.’

  I sighed and withheld my reply.

  ‘What the hell were you thinking? Do you even consider how it’s been for me? I was so proud of you, but now … now I don’t know what to think. All my friends are talking about you and I don’t have a clue what to say. How can I admit to them that you’ve been avoiding speaking to me?’

  ‘I haven’t been avoiding you. Like I said, I’ve been—’

  ‘I know,’ she said abruptly. ‘You don’t need to say it. You’ve been busy.’

  ‘I have!’ I squealed. ‘This is hard for me too, Mum. It’s not just about you.’

  ‘Oh darling,’ she said in a softer voice. ‘I know it’s not. So tell me, what happened?’

  I exhaled. I didn’t want to talk about this now and not over the phone and sought an excuse to end the call. But none would come to the forefront of my mind, and reluctantly I told her I was innocent of all charges. To my surprise, my mother didn’t reply and it left me in an uneasy state. I could have utilised the time to voice my defence or to come up with an excuse to end the call, but I did neither. Instead, after a few seconds, I spoke her name in a querying tone.

  ‘Wouldn’t it be better if you admitted your error and made some plans for the future?’

  I was incensed. ‘I can’t believe you just said that! You think I’m guilty! You actually think I deliberately overdosed one of my patients. How could you? I wouldn’t do that, not ever!’

  ‘I never said it was deliberate.’

  ‘Maybe not, but you thought it. It’s always the same with you. You love to see the worst in me. How about for once, you back my corner instead. You would see a different view of the world, for sure.’

  ‘You silly girl, how can you think I’m not on your side? I wouldn’t be calling you if I wasn’t.’

  ‘No, you’re calling so you can give your friends some gossip.’

  ‘Ebony, that’s a horrible thing to say!’

  ‘Then tell me it’s not true.’

  Silence.

  ‘How did you learn about it, anyway?’

  ‘I take it you haven’t seen the papers?’

  My nervousness arose, stirring my gut. I dreaded to think what they’d said. Apparently, during that first evening, Kelly had to get rid of a couple of reporters who’d wanted a statement from me, and I’d had to act similarly during the following couple of days. Since then, I’d heard nothing, leading me to believe they had given up. I certainly hoped they had. I couldn’t hide away forever, nor did I want to.

  Mum broke me from my thoughts. ‘The papers say you helped Lauren to ease your conscience in the hope that you’d get some kind of reprieve.’

  ‘What?’ I was incensed. I’d acted out of compassion to help a patient and a friend. Such a thought hadn’t even ent
ered into my thoughts. How could they say such a thing?

  ‘I know you wouldn’t do that,’ Mum said in a less than convincing tone. ‘You’re a good person, Ebony. I told them so.’

  ‘You sound to me like you have your doubts.’

  ‘No.’ Her voice dragged. ‘I admit this medication error you made has aroused my curiosity though.’

  I cut in. ‘I did not make an error! They have it wrong. Sheila has it in for me! She … she set me up!’

  I realised the ridiculousness of my statement as soon as I’d said it, but I couldn’t retract it, not when my mother was accusing me of a multitude of things from refusing to face up to the consequences of my actions to being immature in my actions and decision-making. In the end, I’d heard enough, and sarcastically thanked her for her support and ended the call.

  Our conversation left me feeling enraged and for a while, I paced the room and shook my head in dismay. If I couldn’t persuade my mother of my innocence, how would I manage to persuade others? I was fighting a battle I could not win. Perhaps it would be better for me to put the incident down to experience and search for another path in life. I could do other jobs in the caring profession; my life was most definitely not over.

  Matt appeared in the lounge. ‘Everything all right?’

  ‘I’ve just had my mother on the phone. She believes I’m guilty and wouldn’t listen to what I had to say. In the end, I had to put the phone down.’

  ‘That’s awful. I’m sorry, Ebony.’

  ‘It’s not your problem, but it has got me thinking. I’m not sure there’s any point in fighting this. I think I should just start looking for another job. There are many things I could do. It’s just a matter of finding the right one.’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘You don’t agree.’

  ‘I think you’ll regret it if you don’t at least try to fight it. By all means, look for another job—it’ll do you good—but don’t give up.’

  ‘But, it’ll cause me a huge amount of stress and I don’t have a case. I know I’m innocent—one hundred percent—but proving it is another matter.’

  ‘Have you spoken to anyone yet?’

  I shook my head. ‘I’ve had a couple of messages from my union rep but I wanted to leave it a couple of days before I contacted him. I want to talk to him with a clear head.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  I studied his supportive gaze for a couple of moments before I slumped onto the sofa and fiddled with my phone. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular more hoping that something might inspire me to resolve the problem in my mind. Fundamentally, I loved nursing and had to agree that I would regret not fighting my case. At the same time, from what I heard on the day on my suspension, I had no means of defending myself. What was the point of putting myself through weeks or months of hell just to learn I was in the same position that I was in now? It wouldn’t be good for my mental state, for sure.

  The landline sounded an incoming call. I was about to call out to ask Matt to take it when he appeared in the lounge and reached for the phone.

  ‘If it’s my mother,’ I said, ‘tell her I’ve gone out.’

  ‘Sure.’

  He answered the call. When he passed me an anxious glance, I feared it was my mother. When he told the person calling that he would see if I was in, I changed my mind.

  He covered the voice piece. ‘It’s Lauren. She’d like to speak to you. She sounds to be in quite a state.’

  ‘How did she get my home number? I gave her my mobile number.’

  He shrugged and waited for me to make a decision. Aware it was my duty, I decided to speak with her.

  Matt was right, Lauren was distressed and insisted she needed to see me.

  ‘I’ve tried you a couple of times on your mobile,’ she said, ‘but you haven’t been answering. I hope you don’t mind me ringing at home.’

  ‘No, not at all. I’ve just been busy.’

  ‘I can imagine. I saw the newspapers.’

  I did not reply.

  ‘I’m really worried, Ebony. I heard a rumour that Austin might be moving away. If he does, any chance I have of speaking to him will be over. I can’t travel in the state I’m in. It’s too much of a risk.’ She paused. ‘I was hoping you could speak to him for me.’

  ‘I …’ I paused to consider her request. I wasn’t certain I wanted to become involved in her private affairs, but since I felt duty-bound, I said that I would. Lauren was immensely pleased with my decision and thanked me multiple times.

  ‘Before you go,’ she continued. ‘I have something to show you when I see you. As far as I’m concerned, it proves Austin’s innocent.’

  Whilst unwilling to pursue this, I couldn’t disregard her. She sounded the most animated that I’d heard thus far and I couldn’t take that away from her. In addition, it would be rude of me not to listen to the issues concerning her. It was, after all, the reason I’d agreed to be her support and how I’d managed to stop her from jumping to her death. I didn’t want to see her that low again. It had been a ghastly time and one I’d rather not repeat.

  ‘Thanks for doing this for me,’ she said.

  ‘Not a problem. In fact, it’ll be good to get my mind off me for a change.’

  She did not respond.

  ‘So where and when shall we meet?’

  Chapter 6

  I was awake early on the day I was due to meet Lauren, and to my surprise, the prospect of doing something productive with my day caused my excitement. For the first time since my suspension, I dressed with care, wearing a pair of my favourite cotton pants that were purple, loose fitting, and tapered and cropped, along with an embroidered frill smock top. I would wear a denim jacket when I went out, but for now, I carried it downstairs, laid it on the back of a chair, and went into the kitchen for breakfast.

  I had felt lazy in recent days due to my low mood and had eaten food from the cupboard. Today, though, I was feeling more energised and upbeat and decided to make pancakes. Once I’d extracted the basic ingredients from the cupboards and fridge, I considered what fruit to accompany it, and ultimately selected a tub of blueberries hidden at the rear of the fridge. I added some to the pancake mix and placed the rest on my plate, and once my pancakes were cooked, I added a scoopful of yoghurt on the top and took the plate to the table.

  It was every bit as delicious as it looked and it sparked my need to spend more time in the kitchen. As Matt had said days earlier, my freedom from work provided me with the perfect opportunity to do something different and allowed me to try out new recipes and test them on my housemates. If my recent problems had taught me anything, it was that predicting the future was impossible. I should try to see each new day as a challenge regardless of what it brought me, and I should start today.

  Half an hour later, I donned my denim jacket and heels and left the house to meet with Lauren. Our intention was to spend time together in her flat before we progressed to a pub Austin frequented. I sensed she was going to use me as an emotional crutch, but rather than seeing it as a negative, I felt proud of my strength and of my ability to help her, and continued to flat in an optimistic mood.

  I arrived a short time later, and since a group of young men were loitering close by and gawping, I bided my time before leaving the car. Ultimately, I decided I could do nothing about it, and passed them a confident and friendly gaze and went up the stairs to her flat.

  She opened the door with a stern look on her face. She wasn’t the jolliest of women, but I had hoped for a more positive greeting. Instead, as she made us both a drink, she used me as a sounding board and complained about some overnight noise occurring in the block of flats. Whilst it wouldn’t have been my choice of conversation, at least she wasn’t draining me emotionally, and eventually, as we sipped our teas at the kitchen table, we made a few light-hearted comments on the matter.

  ‘Who needs sleep, anyway?’ she said. ‘Not me, for sure. I started suffering from sleep apnoea when I was in my twenties.
I haven’t slept a wink since.’

  I passed her an amused stare.

  ‘It’s why I look so good … not!’

  Lauren didn’t look too bad considering she had terminal cancer. She looked a little emaciated and was pale and drawn, but when she moved around with a spring in her step and brightness in her eyes, it was easy to disregard the frailties in her physique and see something else. I had seen far worse terminally ill patients, for sure.

  I glanced towards her. ‘Do you really suffer from sleep apnoea?’

  She nodded. ‘It’s quite mild and comes and goes. I can be unaffected for weeks and then I have weeks with breathing problems. Usually, I sleep all right for about four hours and then I struggle. I feel as though I can’t get air into my lungs and feel to be high on adrenaline. When that happens, I get up for a bit and have a drink. It usually sorts itself out after that.’

  ‘Is it scary?’

  ‘Not scary, more like frustrating.’ She caught my eye. ‘Don’t worry I’m not going to fall dead on your watch.’

  ‘You worry me,’ I said.

  ‘Why? I’m still here, aren’t I? And what’s the worst thing that can happen? Going peacefully would be a nice way to go.’

  As we sipped our drinks, I pondered her comment and compared it to jumping off the hospital roof. It made me wonder if she had intended to jump or if it was a cry for attention. I preferred to believe it was the latter but I sensed it wasn’t. There was no way she would have known that I would have been the one to rescue her or that she would benefit from backing out of her decision. There again, given she would have known she would receive attention from somewhere was it too much for her to assume it might be advantageous?

  Deciding not to continue with my pondering, I moved the conversation on. We chatted about insignificant things for a while longer before she broached the subject of our trip out.