Maggie answered, then laughed. ‘But I’m a psychiatric nurse, remember! People are the same whatever side of the globe you’re on. Go!’ she said, picking up the car seat and handing it over to Louise. ‘Do you want a hand to get down the stairs?’
‘No, thanks.’ Louise shook her head but after bypassing the out-of-order lift and struggling down the stairwell with car seat, nappy bag, handbag and baby, she wished she hadn’t been quite so proud! Strapping Declan into the back of the car, Louise climbed into the driver’s seat, flicked on her lights and glanced at the clock on the dashboard, guilt layered on guilt as she saw that it was only six-thirty in the morning and that she’d dragged her sleeping babe up. She was so grateful to Maggie for being there.
Mad Maggie! They’d met a couple of years back on the other side of the world. Louise had been starting out on the adventure of a lifetime—a working holiday in the UK. She had been working a night shift in a busy London teaching hospital and Maggie had been on the surgical ward, specialling a psychiatric patient who had attempted suicide. Chatting, as night nurses invariably did, they’d hit it off immediately.
Both adored shoes but hated pedicures.
Both had credit limits on their cards that would make most mortals faint with shock.
And both were holding out for Mr Perfect.
‘Mr Really Perfect,’ Louise had elaborated, peeling open a box of chicken snacks at some ungodly hour and hoping that the carbohydrate rush would see her through to the morning. ‘Someone who will still make my knees knock when I’m fifty.’
‘Someone rich,’ Maggie had sighed, ‘someone who can afford my liposuction and Botox when I’m fifty!’
It had turned out that Maggie had been looking for a new flatmate and Louise had fitted the bill.
How times had changed.
Nearly two years later, it was Maggie now on a working holiday.
Maggie who had landed in Melbourne and had borrowed Louise’s spare room in her small rented flat for a few nights, which had turned into a few weeks!
And it was Maggie waving her off as she stepped out into the world on her first day as a working, single mother.
‘SORRY, what was your surname again?’
‘Andrews,’ Louise repeated, her bag over her shoulder, standing awkwardly as everyone else sat and trying not to blush as a very pretty but clearly irritated nurse relayed her details down the telephone to the nursing co-ordinator in front of the entire handover room. She was already feeling self-conscious enough in her new navy uniform, with new navy shoes and newly trimmed long dark wavy hair tied back with a new navy hair tie and now, and to make her feel even more self-conscious, the charge nurse seemed far from pleased to see her.
‘Hi, Kelly, it’s Elaine here on ASU. I’ve got a Louise Andrews here from the hospital bank—she says that she’s booked to work here for the next four weeks to cover Del’s sick leave, but Del was rostered for a late shift today.’ The longest pause ensued, the night staff yawning loudly, no doubt keen to get handover out of the way so they could head for home, while, in contrast, the day staff chatted happily, sipping their coffee and catching up on news—clearly in no particular rush to get out on the ward and start working.
‘How can she possibly be down for four weeks of early shifts?’ Elaine’s surprised voice snapped everyone to attention. ‘Since when did Del only work early shifts? If the bank nurse is supposed to be covering for Del, surely she should just take over her roster.’
Another horribly long pause ensued, only this time it wasn’t filled with idle chatter—and Louise could feel every eye on her as Elaine’s far from dulcet tones filled the room.
‘Oh, we’d all love to pick and choose when we work, Kelly, but for most of us it isn’t possible! Now it would seem that I’m going to have to spend the best part of the morning changing my regular staff’s shifts to accommodate a casual. It’s simply not on. Either Sister Adams—I mean Andrews—is to come back at one p.m. for the late shift or another nurse will need to be arranged to cover Del’s roster.’
A year ago she’d have been tempted to turn tail and run—correction, Louise thought, a year ago she would have crumbled on the uncomfortable spot and offered to work each and every one of the mysterious Del’s shifts and anything else in between just to get this difficult moment over with—but a lot of things had changed since a year ago, so instead Louise stood if not firm then feebly resolute, pointedly not saying anything until, with a very pained sigh, Elaine handed her the telephone.
‘The nursing co-ordinator wants to talk to you. Could you take it outside, please, so that we can get on with handover?’
Which meant one of two things. Either she was about to spend the entire morning barely knowing what was going on with the patients, thanks to missing out on handover, or—Louise gulped at the least palatable option—she was going home.
Without a word and with an incredibly steady hand, given the circumstances, Louise took the phone and headed out into the corridor, making sure the door was closed behind her before speaking to the nursing co-ordinator. She was determined to keep calm, determined not to let the knot of anxiety that was in her stomach creep into her voice, but her eyes were screwed closed as Kelly introduced herself. Leaning against the wall, Louise waited to find out if the weeks of careful planning and major upheaval had all been worth it, waited to find out if she actually had a job.
‘Is Elaine giving you a hard time?’ A tinkle of laughter from the nursing co-ordinator had Louise peeling her eyes open. ‘I’m Kelly, by the way.’
‘Hi, Kelly,’ Louise said, relieved to hear a friendly voice and warming to the other woman’s tone. ‘It would seem that Elaine wants me to take over Del’s shifts; but I’m sorry—I’m just not able to. I did say at my interview that I could only work early shifts and only on weekdays—’
‘Don’t apologise,’ Kelly cut in. ‘The whole point of being a bank nurse is being able to choose your shifts. Elaine should be counting herself lucky that we’ve been able to send the ward an experienced surgical nurse. Did you tell her just how qualified you are?’
‘We didn’t actually get that far with introductions,’ Louise admitted.
‘Well, it was either you and four weeks of early shifts or a grad nurse straight out of uni—and if I were the one in charge of the acute surgical unit this morning, I know who I’d choose!’
‘So it’s OK for me to stay?’
‘Absolutely. Look, you’re going to have to grow a thick skin pretty fast, I’m afraid, Louise. The hospital bank is still fairly new—till a few months ago we used an agency. Some of our ward staff can’t quite get used to the idea that a casual staff member should get to choose their shifts, get a better hourly rate of pay and use the facilities like the gym and crèche. Feel free to point out to them that your work isn’t guaranteed, and there’s no such thing as sick pay or annual leave…’ Kelly was no doubt trying to help, but as she pointed out the pitfalls of being a bank nurse, Louise felt that familiar knot of anxiety tighten a fraction, the precariousness of her situation not something she
