PART ONE
Charlie Fairhead slammed his paper down in fury as he finished reading the main headline. The paper hit the surface with such force that his coffee sloshed and spilt all over it.
"Damn," Charlie cursed and attempted to wipe the table clean with a damp cloth. Scowling at the headline, it read: NHS TO FACE NEW CUTS TO EMERGENCY DEPARTMENTS, Charlie rose from his seat and donned the familiar blue scrubs of his position. Even without the news of more cuts, today was not destined to be a great day for Charlie and he knew it. Already faced with an understaffed department, Charlie was displeased to discover the sight of Henrik Hanssen hovering by reception.
"Ah Mr. Fairhead we've been expecting you," Hanssen drawled in his posh vocal tones.
"Mr. Hanssen, to what do we owe this pleasure?" Charlie replied sarcastically. Hanssen stared grimly.
"I dislike pointless small talk so let's cut to the chase." Charlie did not like the sound of this and mind did a sudden jump to the article he had read only minutes before. Hanssen lips developed a cruel upturn. "The board would like to see you at one o'clock," with that message delivered Hanssen turned away leaving a worried Charlie rooted to the spot. Then, Hanssen turned to look at him again. "Do you like vomit Mr. Fairhead?" Hanssen asked in his most alarming manner.
"I'm sorry?"
"I believe your first patient of the day has arrived. See you at one o'clock." Charlie looked down at his feet and saw that they were covered in vomit. He groaned.
"Mrs. Fletcher!" Charlie called looking out into the mass of ill and injured patients that made up reception. There was no reply. "Mrs. Fletcher?" Charlie called again. Like clockwork, Mrs. Fletcher responded.
"Is it my turn?" she croaked. Mrs. Fletcher was elderly. She hobbled on her walking stick towards the cubicles, Charlie's offer of a wheelchair had been met with flat but determined refusal.
"Charlie, could you take a look at Mr. Danes in cubicle nine?" Mads asked as Charlie began to examine Mrs. Fletcher. Seeing that he was busy she quickly added, "when you're done with Mrs. Fletcher of course." Charlie nodded. Satisfied, Mads drew the curtains and left.
"So Mrs. Fletcher what seems to be the problem?" Charlie inquired kindly. Mrs. Fletcher winced painfully as she attempted to sit up on her trolley
"It's my chest, my ticker feels all funny," Mrs. Fletcher said in a faint voice. Charlie did his best to make her comfortable while he waited for the doctor to take a look. A short while later Adam burst into the cubicles, perusing his notes.
"Mrs...Fletcher. I'm Dr. Trueman and I shall be your attendant for the foreseeable future."
"As I was just telling this kind gentleman, it's my heart Dr. Trueman. I think it's on the blink."
"Let's take a look at you," Adam said as he pulled his stethoscope from around his neck.
Suddenly a loud commotion could be heard coming from cubicle nine. Voices were raised and the sound of medical equipment being kicked over filled the air.
"What the blazes?" Charlie asked as he made his way out of Mrs. Fletcher's cubicle to find out the cause.
"I don't want to sit on this sodding trolley for another second! Do you understand me? I. Am. Sick. And. Tired. Of. Waiting," the disgruntled patient of cubicle nine could be heard saying. Mads was seen to be visibly distressed as the patient flew into another tirade of uncalled for insults. Charlie, always dependable Charlie, came to the rescue.
"Calm down sir. I suggest you calm down right now," Charlie said sternly. The patient responded by spitting at him. "That's not winning you any friends sir, so why don't we just help you back on to your trolley and let us continue treatment."
"Do you know how long I have been waiting for?"
"Tell me," Charlie said plainly.
"Ten bloody hours. Five of which I spent sitting in that ghastly reception and five on this effing trolley!"
"I'm sorry you've had to wait so long but I won't tolerate violent behaviour towards my nurses," Charlie said with force. "So what I suggest is, you get back on the trolley and let us continue with treatment. It shouldn't be much longer." At last the man conceded. "And if I catch you speaking to Mads like that again, you're out. Consider this a final chance," Charlie told him.
The clock struck one o'clock and Charlie found himself waiting patiently outside the board room waiting to be called inside.
"Enter!" called the voice of Chief Executive Officer Mark Williams. Charlie pushed open the door and walked inside. "Sit down," said Mark with a genuine smile. Charlie obliged, shooting a suspicious look at Hanssen.
"Let us get down to it then," said the voice of NHS Trust Chairman, Terence Cunningham. Charlie began to feel more than a little worried. "As you know Holby City has been looking into the best ways to decrease expenditure and regretfully that has meant the loss of some much loved figures."
"Two of whom resigned anyway," Charlie interjected thinking of the recent losses of respected colleagues Connie Beauchamp and Joseph Byrne both of whom had made the decision to resign within weeks of the other.
"Quite," said Hanssen smoothly.
"The fact of the matter is that you're not getting any younger are you Mr. Fairhead," said Cunningham sardonically.
"What exactly do you mean by that?" Charlie growled feeling insulted.
"Only that within a short period of time you'll soon be thinking of retirement," interjected Mark quickly.
"I have a granddaughter to raise, I'm not exactly going to seek retirement in the current climate," Charlie replied angrily.
"Charlie, Charlie, please," Mark said.
"What Mr. Williams is desperately trying to avoid telling you is that we have decided to make you redundant Mr. Fairhead," Hanssen interrupted. It took a while for the full force of this announcement hit Charlie. He felt winded, betrayed.
"This just takes the biscuit," Charlie said with fury.
"Mr. Fairhead if there was any other way, we would have taken it," said Cunningham.
"However there wasn't so we went with this idea," Hanssen finished.
"Charlie?" Jay was looking concerned as Charlie stomped down the stairs towards him. "What's up gramps?" Charlie did his best to perfect a smile.
"They're making me redundant," he said, his smile turning into a grimace. Jay was taken aback.
"They're what!" he cried in anguish. "That's ridiculous, you're Charlie Fairhead," Jay continued. Charlie smiled.
"Not any more, Jay. Not any more."
TO BE CONTINUED...