by Penny Parkes
‘The best of the best!’ butted in both Dan and Taffy in their highly practised Top Gun impression, which made Holly laugh every time, even when she was annoyed or tired.
‘But . . .’ she managed, when she’d caught her breath, ‘there’s a little part of me that says I’d rather work with someone who’s a better match with the team, than someone who has an extra A* in Geography from way-back-when.’
There were two candidates in particular that stood out for Holly and neither of them would tick all the Top Gun boxes; but both had an eloquence and passion in their personal statement that gave the impression they truly cared about what they did. So what if one of them had to retake their History GCSE a decade ago, he’d still got into Med School and graduated, hadn’t he? And so the other girl had a few gaps in her CV, the odd month here and there unaccounted for – was she not allowed to have a life?
‘And there’s something to be said for availability. If we crack on and get the position filled,’ Taffy chimed in, ‘we can announce them at the Health in the Community launch. Really reinforce the message that we’re investing in our patients.’
Dan laughed and lobbed his KitKat wrapper across the table. ‘Have you been secretly swotting up? Holly, be honest, has he been reading marketing books on the loo, so he can pretend that he knows what he’s talking about?’
‘Nope,’ Holly replied, loyal to a fault, her earlier irritation fading into the background. ‘He prefers to read the kids’ Garfield comic books on the loo.’ She didn’t feel the need to add that he’d been working his way through Marketing for Dummies every time he had a bath for weeks now. ‘And, although obviously the PR angle is sound, I’m not keen to rush into making this appointment. Repent at leisure and all that. Let’s just find someone who fits, yes?’
Dan flicked through Holly’s shortlist in front of him. ‘Listen, Holly, the last thing we need around here is someone who’s making do. If they want to be in a hospital setting, then tough it up sweetheart and get used to having no sleep. But don’t come here and moan about the lack of challenge and variety. We’ve had that before, remember?’
Holly bristled slightly at his tone: if they were all so opinionated on the topic, then let them do the bloody interviews. And, let’s be honest, she thought, it would probably be a good introduction to the challenging dynamic the new doctor would be expected to join!
Julia surprised her though, before she could even make that suggestion. She looked over Dan’s shoulder at the CVs in question and shrugged. ‘Holly has a point, though. These two sound human. Approachable, you know? And I’m led to believe that’s an important skill in General Practice.’ Julia smiled, being self-aware enough to know that her brilliance and inability to suffer fools gladly could sometimes be classed as off-putting. Or ‘Intimidating as hell’, as Taffy tactlessly reminded her on a regular basis.
Holly felt slightly queasy watching Julia sipping delicately on a wheatgrass smoothie, the contents undulating with every sip. She herself nibbled on the last of the KitKats to take her mind off what might have turned the smoothie such a luminous green and to quiet her stomach. She had to applaud Taffy’s choice in making the humble KitKat the new ‘Nominated Snack’ of all partnership meetings – that dalliance with toffee Clubs had been a huge mistake, she thought, and since Julia had laid down the law and banished the Hobnobs . . . well, let’s just say that Holly needed more than a little caffeine to get her through this morning’s scheduled activities.
She never thought she’d see the day, but she was actually missing having time with her patients. Obviously the partners needed to share out the admin roles here to keep the ship running smoothly, but Holly was well aware that it was not her forte. She wanted to be at the coalface, not in the office.
Grace poked her head around the door. ‘Can I borrow one of you? I’ve got an asthmatic situation out front?’
Holly was on her feet before the others got a look in. ‘Who have we got?’ she asked, as she willingly abandoned the meeting and pulled her well-worn stethoscope from her pocket, feeling her mood instantly lift. As Grace updated her efficiently on Geoffrey Larch’s symptoms, Holly pushed aside the insidious wave of guilt that swept over her, hot on the heels of the sheer relief at being away from the paperwork and interacting with her patients again. Even as she knelt down beside Geoffrey, checking his vitals and promptly organising a nebuliser, she knew it was hardly a long-term solution.
Harry Grant had made it perfectly clear that they would be expected to sing for their supper – that the gentle increase in paperwork now was probably nothing compared to the deluge yet to come.
Thankfully, she thought, in medicine as in parenting, he who shouts loudest often gets the most attention. And, for now at least, her patients’ needs still qualified.
‘I don’t like using this thing,’ gasped Geoffrey, trying to pull the clear plastic mask away from his face. ‘It makes me feel panicky!’
‘I know,’ said Holly, calmly and with sympathy. ‘But right now your oxygen levels have me a little worried, so we’re just going to sit here for a bit, while we get some of the medication to where we need it, okay?’ She took his hand gently, as he squeezed his eyes shut to prevent the tears spilling over. At forty-three and a life-long asthmatic, one might have assumed he’d be used to this by now, but Holly knew only too well of his struggles with claustrophobia and anxiety, neither a winning combination with chronic asthma. She tried to imagine Julia kneeling on the floor and calmly talking nonsense to soothe him and failed. She tried to imagine any one of the ‘high-fliers’ on her interview short-list thinking this was a worthwhile use of their super-qualified time.
As she began telling Geoffrey about Eric’s latest habit of opening the fridge and helping himself to the salami, making himself a stinky stash behind the sofa, she noted his breathing steady and his pulse rate calm. He even managed a smile.
It was this small victory that flicked the switch in Holly’s mind. She’d been lumbered with the interviewing process because the others had flattered her into it – she was the people person, the best judge of character they’d said. She wasn’t stupid though, and she knew it was simply because they hated the idea of doing it themselves, all of them – Holly included – feeling incredibly uncomfortable with asking people to essentially brag about themselves, not that some of them needed much encouragement!
As Geoffrey’s colour gradually returned to normal and the hustle and bustle outside the door told Holly that afternoon surgery had started, she handed over his care to Jason, with the strict proviso that he fetch her immediately should anything change. Jason gave her a grin. ‘You can trust me, Holly. Geoffrey and I will absolutely not be listening to the racing from Newmarket on the radio and we certainly won’t be having a little flutter to take our minds off things, will we, Geoff?’
Holly shook her head. ‘Honestly, you two,’ she chided, only too familiar with the bets and books that ran out of the back room of The Kingsley Arms. These two together were trouble on legs, but seeing Geoff’s whole-hearted response to the idea, she could hardly suggest it was medically inadvisable: engaged and distracted patients tended to panic less and breaking the cycle of hyper-ventilation was a significant factor. ‘No accumulators, then,’ she said. ‘And try and keep the excitement down to a dull roar,’ she suggested to Jason as she left.
Moments later she popped her head back around the door, unable to resist, ‘If you were to find yourself having a little bet, could you pop me a fiver each way on Miss Nellie in the 3.40?’ It was totally worth it, she reckoned, just to see the shocked expressions on both of their faces.
Chapter 6
It only took two mornings of interviews for Holly to lose the will to live. She began fantasising about premature labours in the waiting room, or perhaps an outbreak of H1N1 requiring all hands on deck. One thing she knew for certain – she was not cut out for a career in Human Resources.
She ducked into the doctors’ lounge for a swift caffeine infusion befor
e the final candidates arrived. At this point, she’d volunteer to do the overtime herself, just to make the process stop.
‘Latte?’ asked Taffy, solicitously, knowing better than most how challenging Holly was finding this task.
‘No, just black – can’t risk diluting the caffeine today,’ she said, as she flopped down into his chair. ‘You lot are utter sods lumbering me with this. I’ve had Braggy McBraggerson who thinks obese patients should be denied medical care until they’ve lost weight. I’ve seen the quietest, shyest girl, who could barely be coaxed to share her own name, let alone an opinion – it was like pulling teeth. And my ten o’clock phoned to ask if we could do his interview by Skype because he’s at a Médecins Sans Frontières recruitment day and wanted to keep his options open.’
Dan looked sheepish. ‘We should probably have saved you a Jammy Dodger then really.’
‘Yes, you jolly well should,’ said Holly, but unable to keep a straight face. There was a reason she was doing the preliminaries after all – Julia would have punched someone, Taffy would actually have nodded off and Dan would, in all probability, have tried to rescue the little shy-girl by taking her out for a drink.
‘What’s this?’ she asked, pointing to the large brown parcel in the middle of the table.
Taffy pushed it towards her. ‘It’s for you. From Borneo. Frankly you’re very lucky we didn’t open it already.’ He ripped back the Sellotape to ‘help’ without waiting for her to start – everyone knew that Taffy loved nothing more than opening parcels.
They rummaged amongst the polystyrene chips and pulled out a fat ugly little statue, just as Julia reached forward and pulled out another one with a simply enormous willy. There was silence for a moment until Holly thought to open the accompanying note and burst out laughing. ‘You might want to put that little chap down,’ she said to Julia. ‘It’s a Malaysian fertility icon. Don’t say you haven’t been warned.’
Julia’s face was a picture as she thrust the ill-proportioned little fella away from her with alacrity. ‘They’re from Elsie, for lovely Katie House apparently. Well, let’s see if an enormous bronze penis will succeed where six rounds of IVF have failed.’ She patted him on the head and grinned. ‘Metaphorically, I mean.’
She downed her coffee with a grimace. ‘Wish me luck, be nice to the icons won’t you – I’m going back in. It’s a shame Elsie didn’t send me an icon to bring serenity and patience,’ she muttered as she left.
After only five and a half minutes (yes, she was counting) with Rebecca Havant, Holly knew she’d heard enough. This girl was Julia without the charm, the looks or actually the medical skills to pull it off. Undoubtedly qualified on paper, in person she was dominating and terrifying and actually really rather mean.
Having already learned from her earlier mistakes about making snap assumptions about people, Holly gamely persevered for a few more minutes, before realising that sometimes first impressions were exactly on the money. This girl had instantly got Holly’s hackles up, she was patronising about women in medicine to the point where Holly wanted to shake her and shout, ‘Look in a mirror – have you noticed that you’re a woman!’
The way Rebecca had repeatedly turned the conversation towards ‘media opportunities’ had been another red flag for Holly. They wanted a doctor, not a wannabe celebrity.
Although Holly was sure there was a reason that Rebecca had adopted such a confrontational approach, she knew perfectly well it wouldn’t work in Larkford. Holly couldn’t help but think that, had she been meeting Rebecca as a patient rather than a candidate, she would be advising a lengthy course of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy to deal with the enormous aggressive chip on her shoulder.
Just the mention of the word chip and Holly could almost smell the salt and vinegar, making her mouth water and her stomach rumble. As she thanked Rebecca for her time and pulled open the door, she could understand why.
Sitting on the chair outside was her next interviewee, scoffing from a cone of newspaper-wrapped chips, which she hurriedly and sheepishly bundled away. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Thought I had longer and I was utterly starving.’
Holly blinked hard, trying to marshal her thoughts. Not only was the next candidate incredibly petite, with an elfin crop that made her look about twelve, but there was also a small chocolate-coloured spaniel sitting neatly at her feet. The dog glanced up at Holly and slowly beat its tail against the floor.
Without a word, Holly opened the door and ushered them through, wondering whether there was some particularly salient point she may have missed.
‘I really do appreciate you taking the time to interview me, Dr Graham,’ Alice Walker said, the faintest Scottish burr softening her vowels. ‘My aunt Pru was all about the serendipity of the timing, but to be honest, I was just relieved you weren’t put off by Coco here.’
Holly looked up from the CV that she’d been hurriedly re-reading. ‘Aunt Pru? Does that mean . . .’
Alice furrowed her porcelain brow and sat back in her chair, her embarrassment obvious. ‘Oh Lord, she didn’t tell you, did she?’
The little spaniel sat unmoving at Alice’s feet and Holly couldn’t help but wonder at its self-control. Eric would have been sniffling around for treats and distractions the minute he arrived somewhere new. This little poppet simply watched every movement with his eyes.
‘Let’s start again?’ suggested Holly. ‘Why don’t you introduce me to this little chap – he’s incredibly well-trained.’
The entire expression on Alice’s face changed, relaxing from the taut mask of anxiety that had tightened her beautiful face. ‘Well, this is Coco and she’s five.’ Holly noticed the way that Alice hadn’t corrected her directly, but rather tactfully carried on talking as though it were the most natural mistake in the world to make. If only people were quite so forgiving when you got the sex of their babies wrong.
‘And she’s just my life-saver, aren’t you, Coco?’ continued Alice, reaching down to stroke the dog’s ears. ‘She’s my medical assistance dog, you see, Dr Graham. So she goes everywhere I go. She’s incredibly clean and her training is second-to-none, but still . . .’ her voice cracked slightly, a quaver hinting at the hurt that her upbeat delivery concealed. ‘Well, let’s just say that some people don’t like having dogs around.’
Holly nodded, only too used to people around here aligning themselves as ‘dog people’ or ‘cat people’ as though the two were mutually exclusive. ‘And the job in Bristol?’ she ventured, her conversation with Pru Hartley at the market coming back to her now.
‘Cards on the table, Dr Graham?’ Alice looked up with open, trusting eyes, not entirely dissimilar to Coco’s beside her. The pain and frustration was clear to see. ‘I was only there for a few days before the patients started a petition. Obviously Bristol is a very multi-cultural city, but to be honest, Dr Graham, I might have underestimated how much cultural values would play a part. Lots of the patients seemed to be upset by Coco’s presence – they seemed to believe that dogs are dirty, unclean, you know . . . Either way, they didn’t want us there and I decided it was better to move on of my own volition rather than kick up a storm. I was probably a bit naïve in thinking that once anybody met her, they’d think differently.’ She swallowed hard. ‘People were spitting at her in the street, Dr Graham. It was an easy choice to leave in the end.’
Holly was so shocked that she wasn’t ready with an appropriate response, but when Alice looked up, she smiled. ‘You look how I felt.’ She shrugged. ‘Coco has saved my life on more than one occasion. I probably am a bit guilty of being biased in her favour.’
As the sun glanced down through the window, tiny dust motes floated above Coco’s nose and she followed each one with her eyes. A tiny, almost imperceptible shift of her fluffy front paws showed how much restraint it was taking for her not to chase them around the room. As Alice dropped a hand down to touch her again, the motes were obviously instantly forgotten as Coco placed her nose into Alice’s palm and snuffled affectio
nately. The bond between them was so strong it was almost tangible and it actually made Holly feel a little choked up.
‘Would it be okay if I said hello to her?’ Holly asked. ‘Or is it too distracting while she’s working?’
Alice smiled. ‘Well, there’s immediate Brownie points right there, Dr Graham. Thank you for asking.’ At a single, precise flick of her hand, Alice gave Coco the command that obviously meant ‘off duty’ and Coco bounced on the spot for a moment, before snuffling her way over to Holly.
It was an unlikely way to conduct an interview, but over the next fifteen minutes, Holly learned more about diabetes detection dogs and Alice’s medical background than she could possibly have foreseen, all the while sitting on the floor in her best navy skirt with a fluffy little cocker spaniel on her lap.
When she got to the last official question on her list, Holly scratched Coco’s tummy as she asked Alice the Big One: ‘Can you talk me through the reasons that General Practice appeals to you?’
Hearing about Alice’s family and their appalling medical history, it was a wonder that she hadn’t been tempted to go into medical research, Holly thought. But obviously, Alice had found that helping on the front line kept her own issues firmly in perspective. ‘I’m not the only person with a chronic health condition, but sometimes I am the only doctor who has actually walked in their shoes,’ she said. ‘And I really believe that first-hand experience is an incredible learning opportunity, don’t you? I mean, what the whole family went through after my grandfather lost his leg to diabetes – well, let’s say that I can really relate.’
‘And please don’t think this has any bearing on the decision here, but I am intrigued a little. How does your own health impact on your work?’ Holly asked.
