“Don’t worry, I completely understand and I can only imagine. How is...everything?”
“I’m still not really sure, truth be told. She’s improving a little but very slowly...”
I waited for Jennifer to continue, knowing that this was work-related and not a social call. A respectful beat passed between us, and then she began. “Look, I really am sorry to have to put work stuff on you now—I know you have a lot on your plate at the moment. But do you think that we can chat?”
“Of course.” I knew that I would have to address my absenteeism from Glencree at some point. Obviously that time was now.
I had used up my five days’ compassionate leave as well as all of my remaining paid holiday time about a week ago. A couple of my coworkers at the clinic, sweethearts that they are, had pooled together and offered to exchange some of their own paid leave to help with Rosie’s cause. It was something that I never in my wildest dreams expected—nor wanted to accept—but the gesture was so lovely it had moved me to tears, and I would go to the ends of the earth to make it up to them. But now I guessed that all my paid options, statutory or otherwise, had well and truly dried up, which was why Jennifer was making the call.
“Like I said, Kate, I hate to have to raise it at a time like this—”
“But you’re obliged to. I know.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “And I’m assuming I’ve well and truly blown through all my holidays by now?”
Jennifer sighed. “Sadly, yes. So the next step—as I’m sure you’re already aware yourself—is your Parental Leave entitlement. From an HR point of view, Kate, it’s my duty to outline that you are entitled to eighteen weeks’ unpaid leave to tend to your daughter. That basically means you are guaranteed the ability to return to your position at the end of that term under the same pay and conditions. However, if you need longer than the statutory eighteen weeks, the Health Service Executive is not required to guarantee your position or conditions, and reserves the right to fill your position if you choose not to return at the end of the period. Needless to say, I’m only mentioning this if the worst comes to the worst, which I’m sure...”
She trailed off then, obviously uncomfortable, and I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. I was familiar with the Parental Leave Act, basically a form of caregiver’s leave. It’s the same statutory protection that afforded me to take maternity leave after I had Rosie and return to my post at the same rate of pay. While I was grateful for its existence, I seriously hoped that I wouldn’t need even another week, let alone eighteen, but until the doctors gave Rosie the all clear, I had no way of knowing when I could return. It was a fair proposal, and a welcome one in terms of a weight off my mind regarding work obligations—aside from the fact that during that time I wouldn’t be earning a cent.
“Thanks for clarifying, Jennifer. I appreciate it and, yes, hopefully I won’t need to take the full period.”
“No problem, take as much time as you need. I’ll post out the paperwork today for you to sign, too. No rush—get it back to me whenever you can. And, needless to say, we’re all thinking of you and Rosie and hope she’s on the mend soon.”
“Me, too. Thanks, Jennifer,” I said, appreciating her words, but already I was doing the calculations in my head.
Eighteen weeks—almost five months with no money coming in. I thought about the car, the rent on the house and my rapidly growing pile of bills—all taken against my conversely declining bank balance...
And once again I wanted to lie down and cry.
“What’s wrong? Do I have something on my face?” I asked, sitting back into Christine’s car.
She said nothing, but as we drove off I had the distinct sensation that I was being sized up somehow. There was something about her that was inherently catlike—especially when she peered down at you through those glasses—and I wondered if she was now regarding me like the proverbial canary.
“Actually, I was just wondering if you had given any more thought to what we talked about at the hospital before. About the Coopers?”
I swallowed hard. That simply wasn’t going to happen. Regardless of the fact that I seriously doubted that I had any kind of legal case against the Coopers, to answer that kind of thing just wasn’t me. And notwithstanding that, how would blame and recriminations help my daughter in any way?
Christine was still waiting for an answer.
“Honestly? I think the very idea is ludicrous.” She opened her mouth to argue, but I held up a hand and continued on, stopping her. “I know what you are going to say, and, yes, maybe if Clara hadn’t contracted measles or Madeleine hadn’t sent her to school while she was infectious, Rosie and I wouldn’t be in this situation. But these things happen—bad luck happens. And the very idea of going after a fellow parent, a fellow neighbor, for recompense...it’s the last thing I’d consider. It’s not the kind of thing I’d ever eventhinkabout. So while I know you’re mad at the Coopers, and I appreciate your reasoning, I really would prefer not to discuss it anymore.”
In my brief time dealing with Christine, I’d discovered that one of the best ways to get her to stop talking about any topic was to say that you agreed with her.
It didn’t work this time.
“It’s not just my reasoning, though. I’ve spoken to Declan—my cousin—about it again since, and the more he thinks about it, the more he feels it’s a clear-cut case of willful negligence. I’m sorry, Kate, but I think you aren’t fully considering the extent of what this has done to you, and to Rosie. Obviously you’re not working at the moment, I’m guessing the rent on the house isn’t cheap, and now with the car breaking down, too... I’m sure the bills are piling up.”
Christine easily rattled off all the very issues I’d just been worrying about, as if she’d been privy to my thoughts. Or had she in fact been eavesdropping on my call from Jennifer?
I wanted to argue her point and opened my mouth briefly to counter, but then realized I couldn’t. Yes, my financial situation looked pretty bleak at the moment. But I did have a little savings (originally set aside for a birthday weekend away for Rosie) to at least cover the rent for this month and the next. I could keep going for that long, surely?
She would be on the mend soon and I’d be back to work in no time. And say what you want about the Irish health-care system, but it was a huge relief to know that at least I didn’t have to worry about the cost of Rosie’s medical care. Mercifully, the state would cover that.
“That might be so,” I admitted, “but I certainly don’t need handouts, if that’s what you’re suggesting. People were kind enough when Greg died and I’m not going to be the town tragic case who’s always looking for charity. Whatever happens—well, I’ll just have to work it out.”
My stomach churned, though, when I realized just how naive and simplistic that sounded. How was it going to work out? How exactly? And what would happen if, God forbid, poor Rosiedidn’tget better soon?
The very thought broke me, and the dam of emotion that I’d been holding back these last couple of weeks while trying to keep it together for my daughter’s sake burst with a vengeance.
I put my head in my hands.
