THE LONELY DESERT

PART TWO- THE BROKEN WOMAN

By Tessa Harvey

        "'Ere" old Coriander had said, "you is joking, ain't yer?" Aunt Ruth and Shayla had looked at each other sadly and then back at tiny, helpless Alfie fast asleep, sucking a small clenched fist. The elderly lady's cantankerous habitual look had faded. Her mouth was open, she looked close to tears.

    "Berbaric!" she mumbled and looked out of the door letting in more frigid air. This time the baby, snuggled tight and warm, hunger temporarily assuaged, had not stirred. In a soft whisper, the woman inside heard "I'll not tell," a statement of such fierce vehemence no-one could doubt the sincerity - but Shayla was wool-gathering. She shook off the last traces of sleep and now stared at her patient who was trying to move herself upright. "Please," the voice sounded rusty and disused, "please, no more drugs." "Please!" she pleaded again, "no one will listen."

    Perhaps because she had been brave once before, Shayla decided to listen. After all, the old woman's medication lay waiting. She had been painstakingly shown how to administer an injection and been made to practise over and over on an old cushion.  The tartar of a woman - a real nurse, who did days had insisted Shayla was proficient. After all, she had grated -"don't want awkward questions from the law, do we? Has to look natural, when she drops off the twig," nurse Stoneface had added, darkly. 

The old battleaxe's real name had been something silly like Mrs. Titmouse. Shayla reminded herself to listen to Mrs. Jaeger who had been talking about her life as a child. Her parents had died in some kind of labour camp in the war. Shayla knew very little about war. Sometimes the old lady added foreign words, then remembered the language Shayla knew.