George Marshall was running late. Again. It was the first day of his job as a senior registrar at the Greater Yorkshire District Hospital. George had moved to the north of the country after his divorce in September of 2014 in hope that a new beginning afresh would be the key for a better future. So far, the frost on his side view mirrors and the sat-nav indicating another 14 minutes to his destination, George was not convinced that a move to Yorkshire was particularly wise. He supposed that at least he could finally meet with his maternal side of the family. He never much had a chance to get to know his cousins when he was growing up. He did not have a chance to do much except study, growing up, George thought to himself, a little bitterly. Not much good it did to him. He was a 35 year old man with very little to say for himself. He was still poor. Still driving the same old Volkswagen and now his wife had left him. Still, there was the silver lining. He was finally doing his dream job. He had wanted to work in geriatrics since the day he graduated medical school. He was looking forward to the day. If only the traffic would move. George drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, impatiently and turned up the volume dial. Classical music from a bygone era filled the small blue Volkswagon car as Dr. George Marshall made his way to work.
George arrived a minute before his reporting time. He went right up to the reception desk and tapped his foot impatiently. The lady at reception glared at him and continued her phone conversation. George felt his ears go red.
"Please call the hospital for your urine test results within a week." The lady finished her phone conversation and finally, blessedly, turned towards George.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her blonde curls bouncing around her face as she looked up from her desktop.
"Hi. I'm Dr. Marshall. It is my first day at work. Could you point me to the geriatrics ward?" He even flashed his best smile but apparently the blonde lady was immune. She gave him a bored look and picked up her phone receiver again. After a brief conversation, during which she kept giving George dubious looks, he was told that Staff Nurse Lisa will meet him in 30 minutes in a ward called 'Downton', near the Accidents and Emergency entrance.
It was clear to George, that the hospital itself was old and needed serious funding. The exterior looked like it might have been the same original structure of 1928, when it was first built up. George bought himself a flat white from the hospital café and stopped next to the main Accidents and Emergency reception to read a little on the history of the hospital. A small plaque , situated underneath a metal statue of a 'Lord Grantham' told him that the hospital had been a merger between many smaller village hospitals – its main beneficiary being the man in the statue and the hospital than ran with his money. George shuffled a little closer to have a better look at the name. Robert Crawley, 5th Earl of Grantham. Vaguely, George felt that he might know the name. He racked his brain for an early childhood memory but gave up a few seconds later. Shrugging, he turned back round to wait for the staff nurse. After all, it wasn't as if this Robert Crawley was still alive today – why should George know who he was. He looked at his watch. 10 minutes.
Staff nurse Lisa was a smiley and warm nurse. She beamed at George from the moment she met him and did not stop beaming the whole day. Even when one of the patients threw her tray of food at her, Lisa only smiled and asked the patient if she would like some more food. George, although impressed, couldn't help feeling a little scared. Did anything actually annoy this woman?
"So how did you get into Geri medicine?" Lisa asked him whilst they took a few minutes break from their mid-morning ward round.
George laughed a little. "It was my granddad actually. Mother's father. Didn't know him well since he died when I was only six but he was my favourite person. I look at these people here and think well, couldn't help my granddad but I can help someone else's grandma or granddad."
George stopped for a moment and Lisa, sensing the mood, wisely stopped beaming at George.
"I look like him, you know," George said finally and glanced towards Lisa. She smiled softly, making her seem suddenly very wise.
"The hair?" she asked.
George glanced at the glass cabinet to his side and looked at his reflection, slightly distorted by the glass. The pointed nose, short cut black hair, tall figure and the grey eyes. Old photos of his granddad resembled the photos of George now.
"All of it," he replied.
The day progressed and George met the rest of the nursing team as well as the doctors who were on his team. The consultant also popped around for a while but she had to leave as her outpatients clinic was already overbooked. His last patient of the day was a new admission. No one had seen this patient before and it was left to George to get a medical history out of him. He had been referred straight from A&E downstairs. Apparently a teenager had found the patient walking around disorientated in the local high-street and had brought him to the hospital. George only had his age and name to go on:
George Crawley.
Date of birth: 15th of September 1921
TBC…
AN: Downton Abbey has seen my family and I through many hardships. With only the Christmas special left, I felt a need to write something for this world that Julian Fellowes has created. Perhaps this is my way of saying goodbye to the Crawley family and of course the downstairs staff. Saying goodbye to a part of my life too, as a personal chapter in my life also closes with this end of this series.
I hope you enjoy this small tribute. The second part of this story will be uploaded soon.