A Sense of Duty
Faith stepped into the ward.
“Good morning,” she said, approaching the first bed by the door and setting a tray of syringes on the bedside table.
“How are you feeling, Winifred?”
The elderly woman turned onto her side and lifted her nightgown. Faith administered the injection and gently covered Winifred’s leg again.
“Is that it? You’ve got such a light touch, my dear. I barely felt a thing,” Winifred rasped.
“Rest now,” Faith murmured before moving to the next patient. “Agatha, has your son visited you yet? Let me ring him—give me his number or address. I’ll make sure he comes.”
“Don’t bother,” Agatha whispered. “He sent me here to die.”
“What a thing to say! You’ll be discharged soon. Who’ll bring your clothes home? You can’t leave in a hospital gown.”
“I won’t be going home. Straight to the care home from here,” she snapped.
“That’s nonsense. You’ve got family—a son!” Faith froze, the syringe still in her hand.
“Do you have a mother?” Agatha’s red-rimmed eyes met hers.
“She passed three years ago,” Faith answered softly.
“My condolences. But you were both lucky. She never grew old enough to burden you.”
“How could you say that? I’d give anything to have her longer!” Faith’s voice trembled with indignation.
Agatha pressed her lips together and turned to face the wall. Faith finished the injection in silence, then moved to the next bed, where a plump woman in a garish floral dressing gown chewed thoughtfully.
“Love, weren’t my injections cancelled?” she asked as Faith approached.
“Extended till the weekend,” Faith replied.
The woman sighed dramatically and rolled onto her stomach. “That ginger nurse yesterday jabbed me so hard I nearly leapt off the bed!”
“Don’t exaggerate. There, done.”
“Already?” The woman blinked.
Faith turned to the last bed. “How are you today, Dorothy? You look splendid.”
“Thanks to you, dear.” Dorothy shifted to her side.
“Oh no, lie still—your injections were stopped. You’re being discharged tomorrow! Aren’t you pleased?”
“And if I take ill again at home? I live alone.” Dorothy’s sharp stare bore into her.
“Why would you? Stay positive. There’s no place like home.” Faith’s gaze flicked toward Agatha, and she lowered her voice. “You’ve a good son who cares.”
“He calls daily, but visiting’s another matter. He’s got his own life.”
“Then hire a carer—a companion to stay with you.”
“Thank you, dear. I’ll speak to him.”
“Good. Now, excuse me.” Faith gathered the used syringes and left.
Fifteen minutes later, she returned to the treatment room.
“Done already?” Stephanie strolled in. “God, these old folks exhaust me.”
“Why say that? We’ll be just like them one day,” Faith chided.
“Not me. I’ll stay young forever.”
“Admire the optimism. There’s a woman in Ward Four—not even that old—whose son hasn’t visited once. He’s dumping her in a home straight from here. Can you imagine?”
“Speaking of sons—when I covered your shift, I saw one of the patients’ lads. Proper fit, Hollywood’s got nothing on him!”
“Oh, that’d be Dorothy’s boy. She leaves tomorrow.”
“Shame. Fancied him. He single?”
“No idea. He’s always visited alone,” Faith said with a faint smile.
“What, mum scares off the girlfriends? He’s not a boy anymore.”
“She’s lovely. Just busy with work. She mentioned hiring a carer—worried about being alone.”
“Really? She ask you? Faith, swap shifts with me tomorrow! When else will I see him?”
“Fine. But you hate evenings.”
“For him, I’d work round the clock. Ta, love! Oh, he won’t know what hit him. Why’re you smirking? Every mum dreams of a nurse for a daughter-in-law.”
“Honestly, Steph. I’ve got things to do.” Faith slipped out.
The office was empty. Faith copied Agatha’s address and her son’s number from the file. Stepping into the corridor, she dialled. A gruff voice answered. When she introduced herself, he erupted.
“Got nothing better to do? Mind your own business!”
“But she hasn’t even got clothes—” Faith rushed before he could hang up.
“I’ll send some. Don’t call again.” The line went dead.
“Charming,” Faith muttered. “Maybe a care home’s kinder than living with that.”
Her shift ended as she bumped into Edward, Dorothy’s son.
“Glad I caught you. Need a word.”
“Is something wrong?” Faith tensed.
“Mum asked me to speak to you. Would you consider caring for her? She’s terrified of being alone. I’ll pay whatever you ask.”
“I’m not sure she needs a carer.”
“Don’t refuse yet. She adores you—says you’re the gentlest with injections. Only trusts you.”
“Honestly, Dorothy’s perfectly independent. Get her a cat or dog.”
“She loathes pets. Faith, your shift’s over—let me buy you coffee? After tomorrow, we shan’t see each other again. Just to thank you.” His pleading gaze held hers.
“Actually, my colleague Stephanie—”
“Mum won’t hear of anyone else. Please think about it? Coffee?”
“Alright. Let me change.”
Edward took her to a cosy café. Over drinks, he asked, “Why aren’t you married?”
“Loads of admirers,” Faith joked. “Most are pensioners, though.”
“Stupid question. Sorry.” He grinned.
Afterwards, he walked her home. The next evening, he waited outside the hospital.
“Is Dorothy alright?” Faith fretted.
“She’s fine. Faith, I’m usually swamped, but… I’m taken with you.”
Soon, Edward met her after every shift. They visited Dorothy together. The woman fawned over Faith, lamenting her loneliness.
“You’ve caught my son’s eye,” Dorothy whispered once Edward left. “And you fancy him, don’t you? You’d make a beautiful pair. He works from home, never goes out. You wouldn’t break his heart?”
“Are you proposing for him?” Faith teased.
“No, but I’d be overjoyed if you married him.”
Two weeks later, Edward proposed. Between his workload and her loneliness since losing her mother, it felt right. They married quietly. He coded at his desk; she nursed at the hospital.
One evening, Edward said, “Mum called. Her blood pressure’s up—wants you to check on her.”
“Call an ambulance!”
“She refuses. Please?”
Faith went. Dorothy’s pressure was high. She bought medicine and groceries. Soon, she visited daily—checking vitals, administering injections.
After three weeks, Faith broke. “Edward, visit your mum yourself! I’m exhausted. Feel awful.”
“I’ve said—quit your job. I earn enough. Mum’d be thrilled.”
“No! I think she exaggerates her symptoms to make me come.”
“What?” Edward’s face darkened.
“Yesterday, she bragged on the phone about buying a new dress and hauling groceries. Hardly frail! I’m done trekking across town post-shift. You’re her son—visit her!”
“And you’re her daughter-in-law. I married you so you’d care for her. I’m busy.” He didn’t look up from his screen.
“Say that again.”
“I’ve work. You’ve everything.”
“You married me to be a free carer?” Her voice cracked.
“You refused payment.”
“You’re monstrous! I believed you loved me!”
“It’s not like that.” He finally faced her. “I do love you, but—”
“Truth slips out when angry. I’m leaving. And your mum can visit a GP like anyone else.”
“Faith, wait!” He grabbed her arm.
“Let go! Stephanie wanted the job—ask her!”
Tears choked her all the way home. Edward’s coldness made sense now—always glued to his computer while she cooked and cleaned. Alone in her flat, she sobbed. She missed her mother terribly. Edward called, but she ignored him. Days passed; fatigue and nausea worsened.
A pregnancy test confirmed it. Three days later, Dorothy arrived at the hospital.
“Faith, what’s happened? Edward’s distraught. Did he offend you?”
Faith told her everything.
“Forgive me. I urged him to marry you. I thought he loved you. You’re unwell—you look pale.”
“I won’t return,” Faith said wearily.
The next day, Edward came.
“Mum said you’re pregnant. True? IFaith looked at Edward’s hopeful face, the weight of their mistakes between them, and whispered, “We’ll find a way to make this right.”