Serena Campbell, consultant general surgeon and Deputy CEO, wandered onto AAU, twenty minutes late for her shift. Those who did not know her would assume she was just taking advantage of her position by allowing herself to come in late, but no. No, Serena Campbell was always on time for work. She was punctual and hard working, and everyone knew it. So why was she twenty minutes late?
This wasn't the first time in recent months that Serena had been this late for work. And when she was here, well, she was different. Different in how she spoke, different in how she looked, different in how she behaved. And yet nobody seemed to notice. Or maybe they just didn't want to.
But Adrian Fletcher had noticed. He saw it and he was worried by it. He watched her dump her bag by her desk and shut the office door, her movements heavy and unwilling. She looked tired. Worn out. After her mother died, Fletch had feared that Serena might come off the rails a little – the pair had been very close and it had hit Serena quite hard – but she seemed to stay relatively steady. Maybe that was partly Raf's doing, because he had decided to try his best for Serena. Raf seemed to get on well with her, and he appeared to get through to her more than most people could ever manage. She was, as everyone knew, as stubborn as nothing else on this planet.
Was he the only one who saw it? Did anyone else? Raf? Cara? Arthur? Morven? Guy? Hanssen, even? No, Hanssen surely would have said something to her; but then, maybe he had and Fletch just didn't know about it.
What was he supposed to do?
He tried to tell himself Serena was just having an off-day, but she'd been having those kinds of days at least three times a week for a few months now. It wasn't an off-day. But what was he meant to say to her? Point out all her mistakes and then ask if she was OK? She would devour him before he even got to the stage of asking about her wellbeing.
Every day, it got harder to say and do nothing. He could go to Hanssen, over her head, but he feared it would do more damage than good, and he was a little frightened of doing alone.
"Penny for your thoughts," a delicate voice from his side said. He turned to see Cara Martinez next to him, looking down at her small frame.
Fletch didn't speak; he just returned his gaze to Serena, watching her log into her computer and sip coffee before she pulled her hands across her face.
"You've noticed." Fletch glanced at her, only to find her mirroring his expression of confusion and concern. "She's losing weight, too. That blouse was tighter on her a couple of weeks ago."
"Now that you mention it..." Fletch trailed off, unable to say anything else in agreement. "There ain't much we can do, is there?"
"Not really," Cara concurred. "Keep an eye on her, maybe, but that's about it."
Fletch could just imagine the reaction if anyone dared approach her about it. Their life wouldn't be worth living. But it was getting worse. He had to do something, didn't he? He couldn't leave her to career down a road that was obviously not good for her. It was with that thought, and the knowledge that someone else had seen what he did, that he headed to Raf's office, on the other side of the ward from Serena's.
He knocked on the door and rested his fingers on the handle. It was strange to think that he had wrestled with a patient's widower and Guy Self over a hand grenade in that room.
"Come in!" called the occupant. "Ah, Fletch," Raf smiled. Fletch did not smile. He was not in the mood. "What's up?"
"Serena," was Fletch's answer. "She's in late again."
Raf sighed. "I'd be annoyed if I didn't know her."
Fletch understood that. From anyone else, it would have been put down to laziness or poor timekeeping. But this was Serena Campbell. She wasn't lazy, so this new behaviour was concerning rather than irritating. "I'd say we should talk to her but we all know how that's gonna pan out."
Raf nodded his head. "Hanssen."
"Oh, no, Raf," Fletch found himself moaning. "He might make it a million times worse. And if she finds out we went to Hanssen, Gawd help us."
It felt strange to be talking about their senior consultant in such a way, but Fletch was sure they couldn't let her keeping going like this. She was burning herself out. Any idiot could see that. And, because it was Serena and they knew what she was like, they had very few options. "Have you got a better idea?" demanded Raf. Fletch couldn't say he did. "Exactly. This isn't normal, and Hanssen's worked with her longer than any of us have. He might have an idea of what to do."
"Maybe you should talk to her," Fletch desperately suggested. "You got through to her when her mum died."
"This is different," Raf replied. "She's in a worse state now. When Adrienne died, she was upset and she was a wee bit of a mess, but this is so much worse than that. She looks ill, Fletch. It's beyond what I can achieve by speaking to her."
Fletch exhaled heavily, knowing full well that Raf was quite probably right. Raf stood up and left the office, and Fletch followed him. "Dr. Shreve, Nurse Martinez," Raf beckoned the two women. "Fletch and I are going out to take care of something for a wee while, so if you need any help, give Ms. Campbell a shout, OK?" The women nodded and Raf stalked away with purpose and determination that Fletch was too wary to feel.
He followed once more, joining Raf in the lift. "Listen, you sure this is a good idea?" he tried once more to dissuade his friend, to buy some time. But it was perhaps time Serena didn't have, depending upon what was wrong with her. What if there was something seriously, life-threateningly wrong with her, and Hanssen knew about it? Then he and Raf would just appear nosy and disrespectful.
Right now, Fletch had to agree with Raf: Serena looked ill. Very ill.
In a daze, he found himself at Hanssen's door, up on the fifth floor, and wondered how on Earth they were going to approach the subject with the cold, intimidating, inscrutable Henrik Hanssen.
"Come!" called the voice Fletch had secretly hoped would be absent. They entered the office, and even Hanssen seemed just the tiniest bit surprised to see them. "Gentlemen," he greeted them, gesturing to the two chairs on their side of his desk. "How can I help you?"
Fletch couldn't help but notice that Hanssen's manner was one of over-politeness, almost like a receptionist in an upmarket hotel. He couldn't find the words to answer him; speaking to the Swede about Serena was proving to be much more daunting than speaking to Raf had been.
Finally, Raf spoke up. "Have you seen Serena Campbell lately?" he asked of the CEO.
"Ms. Campbell is the Deputy CEO," Hanssen replied. "Our paths do cross from time to time." Fletch resisted the urge to roll his eyes – was that Hanssen's way of saying that he saw Serena fairly often? Why couldn't he just say as much. "Is there a reason you ask?"
Raf glanced at Fletch, with an almost pleading look, until Fletch eventually steeled himself to open his mouth. "Yeah, she was late for work today," he explained.
"She will have her reasons, I'm sure."
It was infuriating. Fletch couldn't tell if Hanssen knew what was going on or not.
"It's been happening a lot, Mr. Hanssen," he found himself explaining. "At least twice, maybe three times a week. And then once she's in, well, she ain't right."
"In what way?"
It was impossible to know whether he was being challenged for talking to Hanssen about a consultant, or whether he was genuinely as interested, concerned and downright confused as he himself was.
"Well, Nurse Martinez made a comment about Serena having lost a bit of weight this morning," Fletch said, dropping the act of calling her 'Ms. Campbell.' He was here about Serena, and he didn't care what Hanssen thought of his concerns, as long as something was done to help her.
"And she's pure white most of the time," Raf added. "And she's distracted. Tired. She's starting to lose interest in things."
"Such as?"
Fletch sighed. He didn't want to say it to Hanssen, because he knew the man would find it hard to associate it with what happened here at work. "She doesn't come out anymore. She doesn't socialise."
Hanssen did not answer him, but Fletch could tell from the look on his face that he was struggling with the concept of it being abnormal for someone not to go to the pub after a crap shift. "Look, Mr. Hanssen," Raf broke the tense silence. "We're not here to grass Serena up. We're here because we're worried about her and we don't know how to deal with her to try and help her."
Hanssen stiffly nodded his head before he eventually spoke. "Thank you for airing your concerns, gentlemen. I shall address the situation as best I can."
Fletch could not resist letting out a soft chuckle. "But this Serena we're talking about," he added what Hanssen obviously was too polite and respectful to say himself. Hanssen's curt nod was the only indication that he knew just what he was up against, and the only indication Fletch had that this situation was news to him.
Knowing they ought to have been getting back to AAU, Fletch stood up. "Thank you," both he and Raf said in unison, before they left the office with sensations of dread and relief battling one another for dominance.
Serena left her office to assist Morven Shreve, who was unsure about which tests to order on a particularly puzzling patient, noting that Raf and Fletch were walking out of the lift together, probably just back from grabbing a quick coffee.
Completely on auto-pilot, Serena examined the patient and explained to Morven which tests to order and the symptoms that made each test necessary. Morven was a bright young doctor, but Serena knew how hard the job could be when the mind decided to erase itself momentarily of all its basic medical knowledge.
The moment she had made sure Morven ordered the right tests from Cara, Serena felt her mobile vibrate in her pocket. She looked at the screen and found it was Henrik Hanssen who was calling her; she didn't regret persuading him back here, but at the present time, she didn't want to deal with him. However, she knew she had to. "Hello," she answered as she stepped back into her office.
"Ms. Campbell," she heard him greet her. "How are you?"
That was a strange question for Hanssen to ask, since he was, after all, Hanssen, but she put it down to him being in his version of a good mood and answered anyway. "I'm fine. What can I do for you?"
"I was wondering if you had time in your schedule for a meeting with me this afternoon," he said. Now she knew why he was being 'nice' – he wanted her to make time for a meeting.
"What time?" she asked, quickly running through the day's commitments in her head.
"How does three-thirty suit you?" he suggested.
Annoyingly, she was indeed free between three o'clock and four-thirty, unless there were any disasters. "Yes, that's fine." She went to ask what the meeting was to be about but decided she didn't really care. It was still time stuck in a room with Hanssen, after all.
"I shall see you then."
