Born Bad. Josephine Cox

she conceded, ‘I’ll admit, I’m no genius when it comes to make-up … in fact, sometimes when I’m in a rush, I can’t even put my lipstick on straight, and once when I was in an almighty rush, I got on the bus with one eyebrow plucked and the other looking like a shaggy dog. When I got out my mirror and tweezers to finish the job, I got some very peculiar looks I can tell you!’

      Laughing at that, Sara then reached forward from her wheelchair and picked up the hand mirror from the bedcover where she had lain it. Taking a second glance at herself, she said, ‘I still can’t believe that’s me!’

      The discreet sweep of mascara and eyebrow pencil made her brown eyes appear bright and sparkling, whereas before they had been dull and lifeless. Also, the delicate mask of cream foundation skilfully hid the dark hollows beneath her eyes, making her look even younger than her thirty-two years. Amazingly, with careful use of tinted face powder, Nurse Bridget had somehow managed to flush Sara’s pale skin into a soft pink glow.

      Ravaged by a debilitating illness and the harsh, invasive treatment over the past months, Sara’s long flowing locks were gone, and in their place was a cap of fine, closely cropped hair.

      This morning, Nurse Bridget had done her best to breathe life into it, and now, after much tweaking and brushing, she had created the illusion of a natural shine. Moreover, when the wispy ends were trimmed away, the hair appeared thick and healthy.

      Admiring her transformation, Sara patted the beautiful burgundy-coloured dress she was wearing. ‘I do love this dress,’ she murmured. ‘Don’t you think my Harry has good taste?’

      Nurse Aileen nodded approvingly at the dress with its boatneckline and pretty buttons, and the clever blouson design that hid the pathetically thin shape beneath. ‘I think you look wonderful,’ she said, ‘and yes, your Harry does have good taste.’

      Nurse Aileen recalled how thrilled and excited both Harry and his son had been, earlier that morning. ‘We can’t wait to take you home, sweetheart,’ Harry told Sara.

      ‘We’ve got cake and everything!’ the boy informed her. ‘Daddy’s made a surprise for you. He’s built a special place in the garden where you can sit.’

      ‘Tom!’ Harry had groaned. ‘You weren’t supposed to tell. It’s not a surprise any more now, is it?’

      When Tom looked downcast, Harry had hugged him hard. ‘It’s all right, son. All that matters is that Mammy likes it.’

      Tom jumped up and down. ‘You will, won’t you, Mammy?’

      Sara promised that she would love it.

      Harry and Sara had laughed at his innocent antics, while the nurse had looked on, her heart sore. She had seen the pain in Harry’s eyes, and sensed his anguish, which he somehow managed to hide whenever Sara was watching.

      ‘He’s handsome too, don’t you think?’ Sara’s quiet voice interrupted her thoughts.

      ‘He certainly is,’ the nurse agreed.

      Sara’s mood grew serious. ‘Life is so unfair, isn’t it?’ she asked softly. Then, even before Nurse Aileen could answer, she swiftly changed the subject. ‘So?’ Her smile was quick and bright, though her voice was quivering. ‘You really like the dress he chose?’

      Nurse Aileen played along. ‘Aha, I really do,’ she answered truthfully. ‘That burgundy colour is so right for you, and the belt is perfect.’ Wide and hugging, the shiny black belt gave Sara the illusion of shape.

      Close to tears, Sara thanked her. ‘I feel like a real woman.’

      ‘That’s because you are a real woman,’ Aileen told her. ‘Don’t you ever forget that.’

      Sara gave her a peck on the cheek. ‘You’re such a good friend. I don’t know how I can ever thank you.’ She had not forgotten the endless hours this dear, devoted girl had spent talking with her, exchanging secrets and making her laugh through the pain.

      ‘Sara?’ the nurse’s gentle voice interrupted her thoughts.

      ‘Yes?’

      ‘Why did you make me send them away earlier – Harry and Tom?’

      Sara gave a long drawn-out sigh. ‘Just for once, I didn’t want them to see me looking pale and ill.’ She paused, her dark eyes swimming with tears. ‘I know it can’t last, but thanks to you and Nurse Bridget, just for a while I can pretend there is still something of the woman I once was.’

      Her voice broke as she remembered how it had been. ‘I so much want Harry to look at me and see the girl he married … even if it’s only for a few fleeting moments.’

      Nurse McDonald had noticed how Sara was fidgeting. ‘You don’t need to be in pain,’ she reminded her again. ‘I can give you something to make you more comfortable.’

      Sara shook her head. ‘Not today.’ Her quick little smile was incredibly beautiful. ‘Today, I mean to be fully conscious and strong. I need my family to see past the illness, and imagine me as I used to be.’

      Bowing her head she spoke in a whisper, as though to herself: ‘If they can do that, this effort will all have been worthwhile.’

      The nurse quietly persisted. ‘All the same, Harry would not want you to punish yourself.’

      Sara reached out and took hold of her hand. ‘Won’t you just be happy for me? I’m going home! After all these weeks, I can’t believe I’m really going home.’

      She took a moment to let herself believe it. ‘Time with my family will be so precious … to listen and talk, and laugh with them.’ When a rogue tear escaped down her cheek, she quickly brushed it aside. ‘You do know what I mean, don’t you?’

      Filled with admiration, Nurse Aileen McDonald assured her that she understood. And she did.

      During her time on this ward, she had witnessed much suffering, but this time, because of Sara’s relative youth and selfless determination, she felt a deep anger at life’s cruelty.

      Seeing how the little nurse had fallen into a sombre mood, Sara quickly rebuked her. ‘You mustn’t be sad,’ she chided. ‘Think how lucky I’ve been in my life. How many women have had the good fortune to know the love and devotion of a fine man? I’ve been blessed with a wonderful son and, until only recently, I have never known real pain; but even that is a small price to pay. So, please, Nurse Aileen, no being sad, and no crying – not for me!’

      ‘Has anybody ever told you how bossy you are?’ Aileen quipped.

      Sara laughed aloud. ‘Harry tells me that all the time,’ she admitted happily. ‘He calls me a bossy tramp, but what do I care? Look at me … I’m being cosseted, and I feel beautiful! Most of all, I’m able to refuse the treatment, so I can enjoy the company of the two people I love most in all the world for one whole day at home.’ Aware of the other woman’s concern, she looked up apologetically. ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’

      The nurse shrugged. ‘If that’s what you want, who am I to argue? But I need a promise from you.’

      ‘What kind of promise?’

      ‘Let me come home with you. I’ve talked with Matron and your doctor, and they have given their permission.’

      ‘No!’ Sara was adamant. ‘We’ve already been through this, and the answer is still no.’

      ‘Very well, but,’ Nurse McDonald held up the paper bag in her hand, ‘you must keep these close to you at all times. If the pain gets too bad, they’ll help you cope, until you get back here.’

      Sara’s gaze was drawn to the big blue cross on the side of the bag. She knew what it contained, and she hoped the powerful medication would not be needed until she got back here at six o’clock, as agreed. ‘Hmh! I can see I’m not the only bossy tramp round here.’

      ‘Exactly