by Sam Archer
Today, the nurses and the doctors alike had been tiptoeing around her as if she was some delicate piece of porcelain that could be easily broken by something as minor as a sudden noise. When she learned that a patient with a complicated laceration was being kept in Accident & Emergency for Mr Finmore-Gage rather than trouble Ms Havers with it, she’d had enough. Melissa stalked down to the A&E Department and took charge of the case.
She needed work, needed to keep busy with something that both was physically demanding and engaged her mind. It was the only way she could keep her thoughts from returning to Fin, and to the way passions had flared up between them again so suddenly yesterday, despite her resolve, and apparently his too, that they would put their feelings behind them and get on with their jobs.
She took her time in theatre with the leg laceration, performing a careful decontamination and debridement – removing the tags of soiled skin and fragments of foreign material – before deciding to leave the surface open and unsutured to promote healing. The patient would need a skin graft at a later date. Afterwards Melissa visited the patient on the post-op ward, sitting with him and reassuring him that he wasn’t going to lose his leg, despite the messiness of the wound.
Deborah appeared by the patient’s bed just as Melissa was saying her goodbyes. ‘How are you feeling, Mr Rogers?’
‘Better since Dr Havers here sorted me out,’ the man grinned. He wagged a finger at Melissa. ‘Hang on to this one, Sister. She’s good.’
Deborah smiled tightly, not looking at Melissa, and Melissa thought: oh, no. What now?
She found out a few minutes later when she was sitting alone in the registrars’ office she shared with Emma, writing up some notes. Deborah put her head in at the door and, seeing Emma wasn’t there, came in.
Melissa sighed. ‘Before you ask, I’m fine, thanks. I had a scare yesterday but I was unharmed, and I’ve got over it.’
Deborah perched on the edge of the desk. ‘I know you have. You’re tough. I haven’t come to talk about that.’
Melissa put down her pen and watched the nurse, waiting. Deborah’s expression was positively grim.
‘You’re tough, but you’re also stubborn. You won’t take advice.’
‘Perhaps you’ll clarify what you mean,’ Melissa said coolly.
‘Yesterday. After the boy with the knife had run away. Two of the nurses saw you and Mr Finmore-Gage.’
‘Yes.’ Melissa felt her breathing quicken. ‘He scared the attacker off. I was petrified. He comforted me.’
‘He certainly did, by the sound of it.’
‘What are you insinuating, Sister Lennox?’ Melissa stayed seated with effort.
‘I’m not insinuating anything. It was plain for the nurses to see. You were kissing.’ Deborah held up a hand to head off Melissa’s protest. ‘I’m not getting into an argument about who started what. I’ve no interest in that. What I’m concerned about is the smooth running of this department, and the proper management of the patients under my care.’
‘Oh, come on.’ Melissa was on her feet now. ‘Patient care isn’t suffering.’
‘Isn’t it? Fin’s mind is elsewhere. He’s distracted. He loses his temper more easily. No harm has come to any of the patients that I know of, thank God, but it’s only a matter of time. To do the job Fin does, that you do for that matter, a doctor needs to give one hundred per cent. It’s not there at the moment. And the other staff are noticing it, too.’
Melissa was speechless. Was it true? Had her performance, and even Fin’s, been lagging? And was it so obvious that junior staff members were picking up on it?
When Deborah continued, her tone was a fraction softer. ‘You may call me a nosey old bat, Melissa, but I’m not blind. It’s obvious when a man and a woman have… been together. There’s a difference in the way they conduct themselves, the way they interact with one another.’ She sighed. ‘And I suspect that the two of you aren’t an item. Not quite. But you can’t let go. That’s the problem.’
Melissa watched her in silence for a long moment. When she trusted herself to speak, she said, her voice quiet: ‘If, for the sake of argument, what you’ve said is true. What do you expect from me? From Fin?’
Deborah spread her hands. ‘It’s a tough one. I’ve been in love myself. I know how powerful the forces are that drive you in one direction, even when your head tells you it’s all wrong. But I’m afraid I can’t give you any advice in this case. You’re going to have to come up with a solution yourself.’ She paused, as if steadying herself for what was coming next. ‘This is going to sound harsh. You’re a superb doctor, as I’ve said before. I’ve never wavered in believing that about you. And it’s great seeing a woman do so well in a man’s game. But I have to think about my department, and my patients. If this carries on, if whatever’s going on between you and Fin doesn’t end, and the work here continues to feel the impact, then I’ll have no choice but to make a formal complaint about you to Professor Penney.’
The blood pounded in Melissa’s temples, a giddiness setting in. ‘You wouldn’t –’
‘I would, believe me. And it might not be upheld, but it’s not the sort of thing you want to have to deal with. It’s highly unpleasant.’
‘You’re blackmailing me.’
‘Not at all. I’m simply warning you of the perfectly legitimate action I’m prepared to take in order to protect my department. Please don’t test my resolve, because I’m not bluffing.’
The steel had crept back into the nurse’s tone, and her eyes reflected the hardening. Melissa held her gaze for three seconds, four. Then she straightened the notes on her desk, squaring the edges off, and lifted her head.
‘Very well,’ she said briskly. ‘Your comments are noted.’
‘And? What’s your response/’
‘I’ll do what I have to do,’ said Melissa. She walked over to the door and held it open, indicatin the meeting was over.
It was only after the nurse had gone that Melissa slumped down at the desk, her face in her hands.
Decision time.
Chapter Nine
In the event, Melissa didn’t make her decision until just before dawn the following morning.
One of a doctor’s most treasured resources was sleep, and once again Melissa had gone short. This time it wasn’t patients who’d kept her awake, but her own inner agony. She’d deliberately refrained form reaching out for help, hadn’t called her parents or her brother or Emma, even though she knew all of them would have been more than willing to talk to her. She had to make one of the most important decisions of her career, and such a personal event required her to come to her own conclusions, without the advice of others, no matter how well-meant or even well-informed it was.
Besides, she knew what everyone would say. That she was a fool even to consider it.
But as the cold January morning sky began to lighten beyond her window, she had a sudden flash of clarity, the kind of “eureka” moment she’d experienced when the answer to a puzzling clinical problem had clicked into focus. She sat up in bed, all too aware of the immensity of the conclusion she’d reached, but at the same time strangely relieved. She’d made her choice, she’d live with the consequences, and that was that.
She was going to leave St Matthew’s.
Her friends, her family, her colleagues would see it as utter madness. She’d been given this golden opportunity, a chance no surgeon would pass up but only a tiny proportion were ever offered, and she was going to throw it away. She’d get excellent references from Fin and Prof Penney, she was sure, and she’d have little difficulty getting a job elsewhere. But always, there’d be a question mark hanging over her. Why had she done it? Couldn’t she handle the pressure of St Matthew’s? Was she a difficult person, who lacked the ability to work as part of a team? Did she provide proof to the chauvinists within the profession that women, at the last, couldn’t meet the demanding standards expected of them? It wouldn’t be career suicide, quite. But it would hobble her pro
gression, there was no doubt about that.
On the other hand, Melissa couldn’t stay where she was. She’d come to realise that now. After she and Fin had given in to their passion in his office and he’d pushed her away, she had assumed they could carry on as colleagues while ignoring what had happened between them. Recent events had shown that was impossible. She could no more deny her feelings for him – yes, call it what it was: her love for him – than she could refute what she saw with her own eyes around her every day. She knew Fin was the same, that even if she was able to suppress her desire for him, he’d struggle with his own attraction to her and it would spill over at inappropriate moments such as in the scrub room two days earlier.
Deborah was, in her own way, right. The department, the service, couldn’t be allowed to suffer because of the folly of one or two people. If the simmering tension between Melissa and Fin was unresolvable, as it clearly was, and was having an adverse effect on the smooth running of the service and by extension the care of the patients, then one or other of the parties had to remove itself from the scene. There was absolutely no question of Fin’s leaving. It was his department, for the most part; he’d built it up and made it what it was today. So the logical conclusion was that Melissa must go, and as soon as possible.
As a registrar she was obliged to give at least one month’s notice. Professor Penney would have no difficulty whatsoever in replacing her. There was a queue of budding surgeons stretching the length of the Thames who would fill her shoes immediately. If she gave her notice today, she could leave in the first week in February, and do locum work to keep herself afloat financially while she applied for more permanent posts.
Standing in the Underground train on the way to work, Melissa felt a heavy sadness weigh her down like a sodden cloak. This wasn’t how it was supposed to turn out. Six months ago – less than that – she’d been almost delirious with excitement, her new life opening up before her. She was going to prove herself, not just meet expectations but surpass them. By the time a year had passed she was going to have earned a reputation as the finest up-and-coming young trauma surgeon in London. She’d have a research programme underway, essential for any doctor aiming for the top jobs these days. Love, marriage, family – all of those were important to her, in a vague, undefined way. But they belonged in her future, several years from now, once she’d established herself. Her career was her current priority.
Now, four months into the job, it had all come to nothing. She’d earned a reputation as a surgeon, that was for sure. But it seemed she was on her way to earning a reputation as something else: a spanner in the works, a fly in the ointment, call it what you will. So there was no option but to change her plans. Not to give up her ambitions entirely, but to settle for second best.
It was something she’d never done before, something that went against every instinct, and it chafed at her like ill-fitting clothes.
Only when Melissa stepped off the escalator into the station above did she realise that something else was troubling her. No, tormenting her, and even more than the thought of giving up her post at St Matthew’s.
She’d been shying away from the knowledge that she would never see Fin again.
***
‘My hearing must be going.’
Professor Penney sat behind his broad oak desk with his hands splayed across the surface. An avuncular man in his early sixties, he often affected an almost comical look, with his tiny spectacles and tufts of untamed hair sprouting from the rim of an otherwise bald scalp.
There was nothing comical about his appearance now.
‘Could you repeat that please, Ms Havers?’
Melissa sat on the edge of her seat across the desk from the professor, suddenly feeling not like a confident trainee surgeon but rather like a nervous first-year medical student withering under the stare of a fierce interviewer in a viva voce examination.
‘I’m sorry, Professor Penney. But I’m handing in my notice.’ She glanced at the letter, still in its envelope, that lay on the desk between them. Melissa had typed it that morning after she’d made her decision. Professor Penney hadn’t touched it, hadn’t even looked at it.
He closed his eyes for a moment, lowered his head, took a deep breath. Then he gazed at her from beneath bushy, lowered brows.
‘I’ve been a doctor a long time, Melissa.’
‘Yes, Prof.’
‘Close on forty years. Since long before you were even born.’
‘Yes, Prof.’
‘And I’ve seen and heard some things in my time. Things most people outside medicine wouldn’t believe possible.’
‘I dare say, Prof.’
He drew another breath. ‘But I have never, never, heard anything that’s astonished me as much as this.’
It was Melissa’s turn to sigh. ‘I know how it must look, Prof. And as I say, I’m truly sorry. You’ve given me a wonderful opportunity here, you and Mr Finmore-Gage, and I’ll always be profoundly grateful to you for it. I’m letting you down by doing this. Betraying you. But it’s something I have to do.’
He gazed at her for a full ten seconds without saying anything. Then: ‘You know what I’m going to ask next, of course.’
‘Why?’
‘Why.’
She gestured to the envelope. ‘I’ve explained it in there.’
‘I want to hear it from you.’
Melissa had rehearsed her answer, knowing the question would come. Still, it came out hesitantly.
‘There are personal reasons for my leaving. An emotional conflict has arisen which makes it impossible for me to continue working here.’
The professor frowned, then shook his head. ‘I don’t understand any of that, I’m afraid. Perhaps I’m just too old to grasp this modern-day jargon. “Emotional conflict”? What’s that in English?’
Melissa had dreaded to have to elaborate, but had no choice. ‘My personal relations with certain staff members are such that the working environment would be compromised –’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ms Havers!’ The professor waved his hand as if chasing away some airborne irritant. ‘Enough of this mealy-mouthed nonsense. You’re a plain-talking woman normally. You don’t flannel about like this when you’re discussing clinical matters. Tell me in words of at most two syllables what you’re talking about.’
‘I’m in love with a member of staff.’ Melissa blurted the words and snapped her mouth shut afterwards as if they might try to crawl back in. There. She’d said it. Let the chips fall where they may.
Professor Penny sank back into his swivel chair, the ancient leather creaking. He let out a long breath. ‘Oh, is that all.’ The relief was heavy in his voice. ‘For a moment I thought you were going to confess to having accidentally bumped off one of the nurses or something.’
Bewildered, Melissa said, ‘But I don’t see –’
The professor took off his glasses and began to polish them absently. ‘Can’t you imagine how many times I’ve seen this before? Young doctors pass through this department every year. Confident, energetic young men and women bursting with vitality. Of course they fall in love from time to time. It would be unusual if they didn’t. We’re human, after all, not machines, even if often we’re expected to work like them.’ He replaced his glasses and peered at her, the kindness back in his gaze. ‘You’re a highly professional doctor, Ms Havers. And you take your job seriously. That means I have every confidence that you’ll rise above these “personal issues”, or whatever you call them, and get on with your work without letting yourself be sidetracked. People do it all the time. How? I can’t answer that, nor should I have to. You just… find a way and do it.’
Her face pounding with shame, Melissa said, ‘But you must have heard the… gossip.’
Again he waved his hand. ‘Oh, I never pay attention to anything like that. The moment anyone mentions something remotely salacious about a member of staff I change the subject, or walk away. I’ve never heard anything said about you, and
even if I had, I wouldn’t take any notice of it, unless you were clearly being maligned.’ He beamed, raising his eyebrows. ‘You need to learn not to take things so seriously, Melissa. Your job, yes, that’s important. But things like gossip, whispers behind your back – it all comes with the territory. Just ignore it. Life’s too short to worry about things like that.’
Melissa became aware that she was staring at the professor, and looked away. She felt deflated, yet at the same time a tiny glint of hope had arisen in her. Was he right? Was she making a big fuss over something that in the end wasn’t really all that important? And in the process, was she wrecking her own career?
Her eyes, roving around the room as she struggled with her thoughts and feelings, alighted on a photograph on the wall. She’d seen it before; it had been taken a couple of years earlier at the American Medical Association’s annual meeting in Boston, where Professor Penney had been invited to give a keynote speech. In the picture, the professor was flanked by the President of the AMA and another big name in the US medical field.
On the other side of Prof Penney stood Fin, a half-smile on his face, a wry look in his eyes.
Yes, Melissa could withdraw her resignation and make a go of her time at St Matthew’s. She could behave with the utmost decorum, steering clear of Fin in any situation where there wasn’t somebody else to chaperone them.
But she would still see Fin every day, and the knowledge that they would forever be apart would crush her. Destroy her heart, and her spirit. Better not to be reminded of him every day, each glimpse of him giving a fresh twist to the knife.
Melissa centred herself, focusing on her breathing. When she felt ready, she gazed levelly at the professor opposite.
‘Professor Penney, I appreciate what you’ve said. I really do. But my mind’s made up. I’m leaving the post in one month’s time.’
