Guy's Hospital, London, 1994
The tiredness was perpetual, but satisfying. Being accepted onto the team of a leading consultant, and one whose own rise through the ranks had been meteoric, was challenging and exhilarating. Connie had known on her first day on the ward that cardiothoracics was her calling. She still struggled to fit in with the cliquey, back-stabbing little circle of junior doctors, but now she had a goal, and she was determined to impress Mr Beauchamp. His reputation for being driven and pushing his people hard to get the most out of them was proving to be accurate, but she hadn't had any problems on that front. No one could push Connie Chase harder than she pushed herself.
She had volunteered to be part of his research team, unpaid of course, and on top of the 90 hour week expected by the Trust. It was exhausting but invaluable, with the added bonus of excusing her from having to socialise with her peers.
Tonight she had finished on the ward but needed to check a few things in the library, so she bundled her papers into a bag and wrapped her woollen scarf around her neck in anticipation of a chilly walk through the city. Pausing by the window, she saw the first flakes of snow falling in the darkness. The thought of a two mile walk to her digs laden with books was enough to make her consider the on-call room, but there were only so many nights she could spend at the hospital before she needed a fresh supply of clothes.
She recalled the evening a few months before when a car had pulled up next to her as she hurried along from one street lamp to the next, hearing her own heart beat and studiously avoiding eye contact with anyone else who might be out at that time of night. The sense of relief when she had seen and recognised his face was like a weight being lifted from her shoulders. He'd smiled and waved her over to his glossy black coupé to offer her a lift home. Of course she had tried to refuse out of politeness, but he'd insisted, and she had been glad that he had because it proved that he meant it, and that felt good.
There would be no lift tonight, Mr Beauchamp would have gone home hours ago. Though he'd never mentioned it, she presumed he did have someone to go home to. Still, she passed his office on her way out of the building, refusing to acknowledge to herself that this represented an entirely unnecessary detour, and stopped when she saw a crack of light at the bottom of the door. Perhaps she could just say goodnight, would that be acceptable? He might be busy and not want to be disturbed, but he didn't usually seem to mind her dropping by. The temptation was difficult to resist.
Still unsure, she lifted her hand to knock on the door but paused and instead lightly touched the varnished wood.
He won't be interested, you'll just embarrass yourself.
The door opened suddenly under her touch, and she stepped back, surprised.
"Dr Chase?"
She stared at him, wide-eyed, not sure what to say.
"You wanted to see me?" He continued, resting a hand casually on the door frame as he waited for a response.
"I... Umm..." Shit shit shit.
His expression softened and he seemed a little amused.
"Your heels give you away, I can always tell when you're coming down the corridor. I should inform you that they're inappropriate, but I rather like knowing where you are."
Connie cursed her red-hot cheeks and looked down.
"I'm just off." She muttered, trying to regain control of the conversation, "Well, to the library. Just thought I'd say goodnight."
A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth and he opened the door further, beckoning her in.
"If you've got time to go to the library, Connie, you've got time for a drink."
...
A pervading sense of emptiness descended on Bernie as they drew further and further from Connie's home. For things to end like this, after so many wonderful hours spent in each others company, it felt like such a waste. Was she overreacting? No, she quashed that thought as soon as it struck. Ric had warned her about Connie, and he had been right. Whatever her motivation, whatever the extent of the lies, it didn't matter really. Bernie wasn't going to be made a fool of again. The unfairness of it stung, badly, and she let out a sigh without realising it was coming.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Michael asked quietly, keeping his eyes on the road.
She gave him a sideways glance and considered whether she recognised him from the hospital. She didn't think so. Maybe he was a GP. His tone held genuine concern, but Bernie had been lost in her own thoughts and had no idea where to start with voicing them. She probably owed him something, though, given that she'd almost involved him in a car accident.
"Just a relationship that has probably ended." She mused. Had it really been a relationship?
"So you had an argument? Is that why you were upset? None of my business of course, I won't be offended if you tell me to drop it."
He glanced at her with a wry smile but quickly returned his gaze to the road.
"No, we haven't argued. Not yet. I think... she might be seeing someone else."
If he was surprised by her use of the feminine pronoun, he hid it well. Bernie looked away.
"I'm sorry to hear that." He replied politely, offering no judgment or solutions, which came as a relief.
The conversation lapsed into awkward silence again. As they reached the traffic lights her phone beeped and she pulled it from her pocket. Seeing the message preview on the screen she sighed and put it back.
"Is that her?" He asked, apparently still concentrating hard on the traffic up ahead. Well good, Bernie thought, easier to talk when you don't have to look someone in the eye, even a stranger.
"Mmm. She wants to know why I left without saying goodbye."
A slight eyebrow twitch. Perhaps he was starting to look familiar, or maybe her mind was playing tricks on her.
"I see. Have you been together for long?"
"Not really, a few months." Bernie replied. Was she going to do this? Talk about her recently failed lesbian relationship with some random man she'd just met? Well, why the hell not. There was no one else to vent to after all. Ric would only say I told you so.
"She's not out at work." She continued, "I mean, I think this is new for her. She used to be married to a man."
A pause as he changed lanes and dropped down a gear.
"I imagine that makes life difficult for you too."
"In a way." She replied, thinking back to Serena's struggle to acknowledge and admit to her sexuality. Connie wasn't like that though, she wouldn't have cared what other people thought. Unless it was all just meaningless fun to her, a mere distraction until the next young registrar came along in a freshly ironed shirt...
Yours, always, M.
No, that wasn't the flirtatious scribbling of a junior colleague, it implied history.
They pulled into the main car park and drew to a halt. Michael turned to face her with what was presumably intended to be a comforting smile.
"I hope things work out for you Bernie. Clearly this woman doesn't deserve you. If I were you I'd move on, put it behind you."
Bernie smiled in return, but didn't feel any better. She was already planning how to get through the day without going anywhere near the ED.
"Thank you for the lift." She managed politely before closing the car door behind her.
...
No reply.
Connie knocked her phone off the bedside table in frustration and sank back into the pillows. The bitter taste of guilt and her dwindling sense of self-respect were too much to face. An email to Charlie had been sufficient to inform them she was taking the day off sick, and that wasn't too far from the truth.
She pulled the duvet back round herself into a cucoon and closed her eyes.
...
It was late, and Connie hadn't wanted to have this discussion now, but he'd given her no choice. At least the department was quiet; if it ended badly, there wouldn't be many of her fellow juniors around to pick over the bones.
She had closed the office door carefully behind her just in case.
"I thought we were a team."
His tone was hash and accusatory, and he stood abruptly to pace around the office. She kept quiet, aware of the dangerous path the conversation was taking, and willing herself to maintain some dignity.
"I don't understand why you need to go anyway. You can continue your training and be an excellent surgeon here, it's the best teaching hospital in London for God's sake."
He waited until she was forced to cover the silence with a response.
"You know it's the best thing for my career, it's an incredible opportunity." She answered weakly, the carefully rehearsed words tumbling uncomfortably from her mouth.
"An opportunity that will take you half way around the world, away from your family, your friends..."
She smarted at the reference to her father and felt anger rising in her chest. How dare he say that, knowing everything that she had confessed to him. A dead mother and a gambler for a father gave her no reason to stay, quite the opposite. As for friends, did she even have any anymore?
"And from me." He added finally as he stopped in front of her, reaching out to touch her shoulder.
She uncrossed her arms to brush him away but he took advantage of that, grabbing her wrist tightly as if she had raised it to slap him.
"Connie." He spoke her name softly, intimately. "Don't leave."
"Let go." She warned, but he wasn't letting go, he was holding her with an iron grip. Taking no notice of her half-hearted protest, he rested his other hand on her waist and stared at her.
Was this what she thought it was? After the years of flirting, drinking together, the unfulfilled desire and countless missed opportunities... he was offering her this now?
"Michael..." She warned, willing herself to be strong.
"Come here." He said quietly, tugging her closer and sliding his hand round to the small of her back. They had never been this close.
When he dipped his head and their lips met, she knew he'd won.
...