Reader fiction: A calling

Kate woke at 3:33 to the sensation of her grandmother Peggy’s hand resting gently on her forehead and the faint scent of roses. Peggy had died almost forty years ago. Kate lay very still, willing her to stay. She’d been a nurse in World War Two, and Kate had loved listening to her stories. ‘It changed the way I looked at life forever. I was proud to be a nurse.’ And that’s what Kate would become too, she decided some sixty years ago.

But the beloved woman faded as the mind’s cogs began to turn into wakefulness, and Kate remembered the reality she was in. She got up in the darkness and put on the kettle. Waiting for it to boil, she pressed the screen of her phone and push notifications from the news came piling in.  

More cases confirmed, more deaths and more restrictions. It was like being at war, with each announcement more nerve wracking than the last.  

She recalled the trip to the local supermarket the day before. Perspex screens had been erected to protect the staff from the shoppers, and vice versa. You shouldn’t be at the supermarket. I can drop all you need at your front door. These were the words of her daughter, Noreen, who would have her wrapped in cotton wool and placed in a matchbox for safekeeping if she could. It was no use telling her she was in perfect health and had no underlying conditions. You’re no spring chicken. Stay home, is all she would say. And being told that made Kate anxious, and then restless.

There it was again, the thought that she should answer the call. Come out of retirement and help the nurses at the front line in the international emergency that was COVID19. After a bit of googling she found the online form and filled it. Her hands trembled a little before she hit send, thinking of her daughter and what she wouldn’t say about it.

It was ten o clock that morning, when she was just about ready to go for a lie down that the phone rang. It was her grandson, Rory, aged ten with syrup smeared around his red cheeks on Facetime. She squinted at him.

‘Hi Nanna, Mom’s changing Sarah,’ he giggled.

‘Good morning sweetie. Well it’s good to see you. What did you have for breakfast?’

‘Pancakes and lemon and sugar. As a treat for finishing my maths on time.’

‘Oh, good man.’

Kate’s little granddaughter Sarah pushed her face into the camera ‘Nanna, what’s for breakfast? We had cancakes.’ Her eyes sparkled and Kate wished she could give her a cuddle. They often sat snuggled together on the sofa, reading picture books or watching Peppa.

‘I’d my porridge like usual, sweetheart. What did you have on your pancakes?’ But she’d already gone, not interested in a phone conversation at three years of age. Kate winced at the pain it caused her. Noreen’s face came into view. Her brown eyes looked tired.

‘You okay, Mom?’

‘I’m fine. You’re all well?’ Her eyes began to water. ‘What’s that? Bad connection, look it, I’ll call you back soon, okay?’ and she hung up and wept until her body shook. Then she got up and washed the ware. 

‘I can’t just sit around here all day,’ she said out loud. The house seemed so small when usually it seemed too big since her husband, Paudie had died three years previous. A three bedded bungalow on a country road that led down to the sea. At least she could watch the sea from her living room window. It always looked different, depending on the sky. She had planned a walk down to the strand a few times but didn’t end up going.

She thought about nursing and the way it had become when she had retired, six years earlier. All degrees and masters and forms to fill. What would it be like in an emergency? All hands on deck or all trying to fill out forms with big fancy words in them that nobody could make head nor tail of?

She held her wrist gently to see if she was still able to take her own pulse. The old familiar current of electricity was there alright. It wasn’t as regular as it was one time, but she’d do. The only condition she suffered was loneliness. It heaved in her chest like a large, sad bird.

A Week Later

The ward manager had explained over the phone that she needn’t buy herself a uniform, that all staff were changing into hospital scrubs at the start of each shift to reduce cross infection. The long walk down the corridor made her heart race. She still hadn’t told Noreen, because she knew she’d try to stop her. But now she sensed her grandmother again.

‘Give me the strength to do this.’

‘You are strong,’ said the wisp of a thought in her mind. And then a warm feeling, like wings of an angel softly wrapping around her, and she breathed in deeply, pulled her shoulders back and walked a little taller. 

Follow Susan on Instagram at @sbrowneauthor