The Good Sister(60)

I am perplexed by the question. I am six months pregnant now, and it is, quite frankly, obvious to anyone without vision impairment that I am pregnant.

‘If you’re asking if I am pregnant, I can confirm that I am. Nearly six months along,’ I add, as people (including the nurses at Sun Meadows, the lady I’d passed at the bus stop yesterday, and the sales assistant at the pharmacy where I buy my prenatal vitamins) seem interested in these sorts of details.

Gayle and Linda gasp in unison. ‘Six months!’ Gayle says. ‘My goodness. Why didn’t you tell us?’

I wonder if this was a social faux pas. Am I expected to tell every person that I work with that I am pregnant? I assumed they would notice my growing belly and consider themselves informed, but I am well aware of the offence it can cause if I fail to adhere to certain social graces.

‘Well, you don’t like to announce these things too early,’ I say, as this does appear to be the case. ‘In case, heaven forbid, something goes wrong.’

Gayle nods, apparently satisfied with this explanation.

‘So who is the father?’ Linda asks. ‘It isn’t that handsome American, is it? From the bowling?’

I busy myself by scanning my desk calendar. As I haven’t been seen with any men other than Wally, it’s natural that this is what people will assume . . . but I don’t like to confirm it since I haven’t told Wally himself. I’d hoped this would be one of those social situations where people felt it was impolite to ask. As this clearly isn’t the case, I ignore the question and start shuffling books around my desk instead. After a moment or two, Gayle and Linda take the hint and scuttle away. The downside is that Carmel chooses this moment to approach.

‘Just the woman I was looking for!’ she says. ‘Gayle is giving a how-to class on IT troubleshooting this morning, which covers the printers and photocopiers. I thought you might like to join.’

I open my mouth to protest, but Carmel gets in first. ‘It’s a two-hour class, and you can sit down the whole time.’

We lock eyes. Carmel hasn’t commented on my pregnancy yet, but it’s obvious that she knows . . . Last week, for example, when she caught me coming out of the secret cupboard after a two-hour nap, she simply looked the other way. And the week before last, she asked me to cover some new books in contact paper which allowed me to sit down for nearly half my shift. Then there’s all the times she’s brought me a glass of water or suggested I pop outside for some fresh air.

‘It’s pretty straightforward and if you pick it up, you could even teach the class in the future,’ Carmel says. ‘It would mean you could sit down for a few hours each week while teaching. And there are free cakes and cups of tea!’

It’s the cakes that get me across the line. I still bring my sandwich to the library, but these last few weeks I’ve found myself ravenous between meals – and the idea of cake is simply too much to resist. I head to the training room fifteen minutes early (naturally) and take a seat at the front of the class. As others arrive, I’m encouraged by the fact that they – all older than me by at least a good thirty years – share my distaste for IT troubleshooting. I also understand that, like me, they are in a bit of an if-you-can’t-beat-them-join-them situation. As such I feel a certain camaraderie with the old folks. Like me, they grumble into their seats, glancing suspiciously at the handbooks laid out at each station before giving Gayle their reluctant attention. Like me, they are hopeful to learn, but even more hopeful that the whole process will be easy to discount as too complex, too difficult, beyond their abilities.

So we are all disappointed to find Gayle’s voice soothing and simple, her teaching manner straightforward, easy to digest. At the end of the two hours, I believe I could guide one of my classmates through a number of troubleshooting situations quite easily.

Carmel is waiting for me as I exit the class and I am forced to report that the class was more straightforward than I expected. When pushed, I also tell her I might consider running the class after another session or two under Gayle’s guidance.

From the coy smile on Carmel’s face, she takes it as a win.


That afternoon, when I go to see Mum, Teresa is there as usual, with her machine. Mum has been getting better each time I see her. She strings two or three words together without a pause now. ‘How are you?’ ‘Aren’t you cold?’ ‘Can I have . . . more water?’ She’s not reading novels as Teresa had suggested, but she’s definitely making improvements.

‘Hello,’ I say from the doorway.

Teresa looks up. ‘Fern!’

Mum doesn’t look like she’s having a good day. Her hair isn’t done. She’s wearing pyjama pants and a T-shirt and has just socks on her feet. And her face is tear-stained.

‘I think Nina’s had enough for one day,’ Teresa says to me as I walk in.

‘What’s wrong, Mum?’

Mum shakes her head and dabs at her cheek with a tissue. Teresa makes a motion with her head that I have learned means that I should move out into the hallway so we can have a little chat, which I do.

When Teresa joins me, she lowers her voice. ‘I need to warn you about something.’

Teresa pauses, as if expecting me to say something. She hasn’t asked a question, but I give her a nod as a compromise.

‘Your mother has been saying things, these past few weeks,’ she says.