As Vera pulls into the driveway, she see's Rita's nurse, Juliette, peering out the living room window. The young woman is probably ready to flee. She's the fourth nurse the agency has assigned in only two months.
Before Vera reaches the front steps, Juliette opens the door. Jacket on and bag in hand, the woman had clearly been ready to leave for some time. Vera looks down at her watch: 6:10 p.m.
"Thank you for waiting, Juliette. I know I'm a bit late," Vera says apologetically as she walks through the door. "There was an incident at the prison just before I left." A harmless little lie. It's better than admitting she was late because she purposefully stalled.
"How was mum today?" she asks, setting down her clear tote bag.
"She's sleeping now, but there were some...bumps in the road earlier," Juliette replied. "She doesn't seem to be responding as well to the medication, so she's a bit more agitated."
Vera chews on her bottom lip. "Alright. Thank you, Juliette. I won't keep you any longer, I'm sure you're exhausted!"
The girl nods and heads out. "Have a good evening."
"You too, Juliette. See you tomorrow then?" Considering the turnover rate of Rita's nurses thus far, Vera is rightfully concerned.
Juliette turns around and pauses in the walkway. "I'm tougher than I look, Ms. Bennett. I'll be back."
Vera lingers in the doorway and watches the young woman get into her car. As Juliette drives away, Vera waves and closes the door. She picks her bag off the floor and tiptoes to her bedroom to change. Only removing her blazer and tie, Vera sits on her bed and lays back, enjoying the silence. Before she knows it, her eyes grow heavy and she gives in.
"VERA!"
Rita's cry blares through the house like a foghorn. Frazzled, Vera springs up– eyes wide– and looks at her watch. She nodded off for little more than an hour. Rita calls out again, this time with a hint of anger in her voice. Vera lets out a deep sigh and stands. A feeling of dread fills her.
"Mum, is everything alright?" she asks, standing in Rita's doorway
"No, everything's not alright! That's why I called you!" Rita snaps. "I'm in bloody pain!"
"When's the last time you had a shot?"
"I can't remember. But I need one!"
"Ok. Let me see what I can do." Vera heads back to her room and closes the door. She picks up her phone to call Juliette.
"Oh, hi, Juliette, it's Vera….yeah, hi. I'm sorry to bother you, but mum's just woken up and says she's in serious pain. When was the last time she had her shot?" Biting a finger, Vera listens. "Ok, so she's not due for at least two hours then?...Ok, I understand...You too."
Releasing a sigh, Vera walks back to Rita's room. "So I've just spoke to Juliette and she said—"
"Juliette is incompetent!" Rita bursts."Don't listen to what she tells you. She probably wants me to suffer!"
"Mum, she's a nurse, I doubt—"
"I said she's incompetent, Vera!"
"Ok, mum. I'll call palliative care then."
Back in her room, Vera grabs her phone and sits on the bed. She begins dialing palliative care, but stops short of pressing the call button. Instead, she clears the number and puts the phone down by her side. About 30 seconds later, she picks up her phone and opens the web browser. With a few taps of her thumbs, she finds the number she's looking for.
Cradling the phone to her ear, Vera walks deeper into her room, as far from the door as she can. "Yes, hello. I'd like to make an inquiry," she says in a hushed tone, standing in a corner furthest from the door. "I'm looking for end-of-life care for my mother and just came across your facility. What are your admissions requirements?"
Occasionally glancing toward her bedroom door, Vera carefully listens. "Ok...Yes, she has cancer...Um, I may be able to come in sometime later this week...That's great, thank you so much for your assistance. Goodnight."
Moments after Vera ends the call, Rita cries out for her. With swift steps, Vera crosses the room and places her phone on the dresser. Standing before the mirror, she gazes at her reflection for a moment. "It'll be for the best," she mutters.
"VERA!" Rita shouts again.
Straightening her shirt, Vera turns from the mirror and heads back into the lion's den, where she's greeted by Rita's moans and whimpers.
"Mum, I've called palliative care. It's two hours till I can give you another shot," Vera says without hesitation or guilt. After all, she wasn't lying about the timing.
"I can't wait," Rita whines.
"I know," Vera says sympathetically. She can't stand to hear anymore of Rita's whining. "Okay...I can give you a slow release oxycontin to tide you over."
"Yes, just get on with it!"
Vera gives Rita the pill, but she has trouble swallowing and starts to choke. "Mum! You have to swallow it!" But Rita continues to struggle. "OK, spit it out," Vera says loudly, holding out her hand. "Spit!"
Rita coughs the pill into Vera's hand, spraying water everywhere. "Oh, God," Vera says with a wince as the doorbell rings. She grabs a towel to dry her mother's face.
"It's alright," she says to a now blubbering Rita. "It's ok."
Vera looks down at her mother with pity and leaves the room. She scurries down the hall and tries to collect herself before opening the door. The last person she expected to see on the other side was Governor Joan Ferguson. Yet, there she stood, looking especially statuesque– and very different than the no-nonsense woman Vera is used to seeing at work.
Joan's grey-streaked hair is pulled back in a casual ponytail instead of the usual militant bun, making her face look softer. She is also, to Vera's surprise, wearing jewelry. Vera's jaw drops slightly in wonder. This is the first time she's seen her superior outside of work, let alone out of uniform, and it absolutely fascinates her.
"Oh, Governor?" she says with a timid smile.
Joan, holding a plastic bag, smiles warmly down at her deputy. The poor girl looks exhausted. She hasn't even had time to change out of her uniform.
"I know you've got your hands full," she says. "I've just brought you some food."
Vera is stunned. In her seven years at Wentworth, never before has a co-worker shown this level of kindness and caring. The only other time a colleague came by was when a drunken Fletcher showed up, awkwardly seduced her and proceeded to pleasure himself on her bed, while she lay there embarrassed. That's a memory Vera wishes she didn't have...
Joan's visit, however, is one Vera welcomes with open arms. She can't help but grin from ear to ear.
"Oh, I'm...t-thank you!" Vera says with a wide smile and takes the bag. "I...I'm just in the middle of something right now. Would you like to come in?"
"No, no, no, no," Joan protests. "I don't want to interrupt."
Just then, Rita cries out for Vera, snapping her away.
"Ok, um, I've...I've got to go, sorry! I've got to see to her," she says as she runs back to her mother's room.
As Vera disappears from sight, Joan lets herself in and makes her way toward Rita's room.
"Mum, you're fine," says Vera. She hears the floor creek behind her and sees Rita's eyes widen.
"Who's that?" Rita asks.
Vera turns around to see Joan standing in the doorway.
"Um, Mum... this is... my boss, Gov. Ferguson…"
"Hello," Joan says with a smile as she steps into the room. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Bennett. Vera's told me so much about you."
Rita looks up at the tall woman standing near her bedside with careful eyes.
"Um...Ms. Ferguson's kindly brought us some dinner," Vera says.
"Be a damned sight better than what you've been feeding me," Rita retorts.
Joan's gaze is now fixed on the older woman. She is all too familiar with Rita's type.
"I have to puree her food," Vera explains. "She has difficulty swallowing."
"I have difficulty swallowing the muck she gives me," Rita replies, condescendingly.
In two long steps, Joan is at the sickly woman's bedside. She places her purse on the floor and sits along the edge of the bed, taking one of Rita's hands into her own. Joan leans in to speak.
"I'm sure Vera is doing her very best, Rita," Joan says softly, looking Rita in the eyes.
"She tries, but she can't cut it. It's the story of her life," says Rita.
Rita's words, dripping with contempt, strike a chord with Vera. Her mother has a way of making her feel useless. That's the real story of her life.
"She's like this at work, too, I bet," Rita continues, baiting Joan.
Joan leans closer to Rita and narrows her eyes. "No. At work, she's the best," she whispers. "You know, Vera might tolerate your behavior, but I certainly will not. I promise you that,"she adds, firmly squeezing the old woman's hand.
Rita looks up at Joan in utter shock. Vera, unaware of what Joan said to her mother, has had enough of the conversation and interjects before Rita can continue verbally assaulting her.
"Mum, I think that's enough for now, don't you?"
Joan stands and backs away from the bed. Still holding Rita's hand, she looks lovingly at Vera and squeezes Rita's hand once more before letting go.
Rattled, Rita cries out to her daughter. "Vera, I need something for the pain!"
"Yep, I'll get you something," Vera replies.
Rita cautiously glances at Joan, who's looking down on the woman with malice in her eyes. Joan feels no sympathy for the woman. Watching Vera tend to Rita, a woman who has done nothing but belittle her daughter, doesn't sit well with Joan.
"Look, why don't you do what you need to do," she says. "I'll just heat one of these up for the two of you."
"Oh, no, no, no, I don't want to put you to any trouble!" Vera objects.
"No trouble at all," insists Joan. "Just point me in the direction of the kitchen"
"That way," Vera says and points to the left. With a smile, Joan leaves the room, much to Rita's relief.
Over in the kitchen, Joan washes up and gets to work. Though she's out of her element, she feels oddly at home. She removes one of the containers she brought from the bag and places it in the refrigerator. Inside, she spots Rita's supply of morphine: six syringes on the top shelf. Hearing Vera's quick footsteps approaching, Joan grabs lettuce and tomato from the cooler.
"I'm sorry about Mum," Vera says with a weary smile. "She's a bit delirious from all the medication…"
"Hey, hey, don't apologize," Joan cuts in, bringing the tomato over to the sink for washing.
Vera nods and focuses on the plethora of pills in front of her. She begins sorting Rita's medication in a pill box.
"She's got quite a cocktail there," Joan remarks as she looks around for a slicing knife.
"Half of them don't seem to work anymore," Vera explains. "These orange ones are supposed to knock out a horse. They barely touch her."
Before Vera can continue, Rita impatiently shouts out for her, prompting both women to look toward the bedroom and then, at each other.
"Thanks for this," Vera says, her eyes gleaming with gratitude.
Joan, whose focus is fixed on the tomato she's slicing, momentarily shifts her gaze up to Vera and simply smiles. The pleasure is all hers.
Vera seals the medication bag and returns to Rita's room, although she'd much rather stay with Joan in the kitchen.