Chapter Text
In a front garden on a quiet street in one of Holby’s leafy suburbs, Bernie Wolfe was making the most of her gardening leave by actually doing some gardening. Things had been so hectic at work lately that she had not had time to do much around the house or outside, and she was taking the opportunity to trim an overgrown bush, musing to herself as she wielded her secateurs.
“I had the weirdest dream last night: I dreamed that I’d been sacked, but then Serena came and kissed me, and then everything was fine. We even shared a ward all of our own! Perhaps it’s a sign that it’s going well at work - oh, Lofty - hello!”
She waved cheerfully at the young man as he skidded to a halt on his bike, but he looked glum as only Lofty could, and he wasted no time in breaking the news he had overheard.
“Ms Wolfe? Bad news - Serena’s quit her job.”
Bernie stared back at him, nonplussed.
“She’s quit - what the -? But what about our plan? That’s it, I’m going back. I’m quitting as well.” And she clipped her secateurs closed, tossing them in the porch, and strode towards her car.
Lofty intercepted her. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Ms Wolfe -”
“Bugger that, I’m going anyway. Unless - did Lexi give you a message for me?” She asked hopefully.
He shook his head. “Nothing - haven’t even seen her.”
Bernie’s shoulders sagged. “Never mind. It doesn’t really matter anyway. Off you go - get back to work, Nurse Chiltern. Thanks for bringing me the news - goodbye.” And she waved him off with a gesture that he was too timid to disobey. Tightening the strap of his helmet under his chin, he pedalled away in the direction he’d come from. Bernie watched him go, and she watched her hope disappear round the corner with him.
“Oh well, that’s that - it would have been a dream to work with her on Montague, or even Capulet - as long as she was there I would have worked on either, or another altogether - but if she’s gone and quit...”
A new resolve took hold of her. “I’ll do the same, and do - I don’t know what, but I can’t stay there now my dream has died.”
Her mind made up to quit her post at Holby, Bernie thought quickly through her options and her next moves. She would have to inform the hospital of her decision - a letter, she supposed, but how she hated writing letters! While she could scribble medical notes until the cows came home, putting words in any sort of order other than bullet pointed symptoms and treatments had always presented an insurmountable challenge to her. What she needed was a secretary or a PA.
“I saw a place somewhere round here the other day, a paralegal secretary or something like that; I’ll go and see if they can draw something up for me.”
She shoved her car keys back in her pocket and set off on foot instead, heading for the high street a few minutes away. Down a tatty side alley, with dust and litter swirling in the breeze, she found what she was looking for.
“Ah - here it is - Imelda Cousins Secretarial Services: I hope she knows her stuff. Hello, Ms Cousins? Anybody there?”
The door creaked as she pushed it open, and a bell clanged somewhere behind the counter. A voice came from the back room, followed by the appearance of a middle aged woman in an ill fitting power suit that had seen better days - as had its owner.
“Who’s that? I thought I heard someone come in.”
Bernie peered through the gloom and gave a little gesture, not quite a wave.
“They did - it’s me. I need a letter written, and fast - you look as though you need the work. I’m resigning from my job, with immediate effect if possible. Address it to Henrik Hanssen, CEO of Holby City Hospital, and signed by Berenice Griselda Wolfe - that’s me: don’t ask about the name, long story. Well, never mind all that, the question is, can you provide a note that will let me quit at once, today?”
Ms Cousins put her head on one side and sucked her teeth.
“I can: but I really shouldn’t do, because I worked there in HR last year, and to be honest, left in disgrace because I used employees’ names for a romance novel I got caught writing at work. I daren’t break the terms of my parole, and so -” she shook her head firmly - “I’m sorry, but I can’t help.”
Bernie put her hand in her pocket and bought out her wallet, waving it temptingly under Ms Cousin’s nose.
“I’ll pay you double…”
“Done.” Imelda whipped out a proforma and quickly filled out the pertinent sections, and shoved it over the counter for Bernie to sign.
“Just sign it here, and here - and once again, just here - that’s it. Just give this note to Hanssen and you’re done.”
Bernie laughed, a hollow laugh with no mirth behind it.
“I am - I’m done for good with all the bullshit politics that place runs on. There’s your money - and a bit extra. Get yourself a little something nice - a new blouse wouldn’t hurt, to be quite frank.” She counted out the notes and left them on the counter.
“Right, that’s me away, back to the hospital to hand this over to Hanssen - thanks.”
Even before the door closed and the bell let out its doleful chime, Imelda was already in the back room, squirrelling the notes away in a biscuit tin.
***
“Hello, Lexi? Are you there? Hello - it’s me!”
Lexi looked up from yet more paperwork, running a hand through her already dishevelled hair. It was Morven Shreve, the new girl that she had sent to Bernie’s house to make sure that she knew Serena’s plan.
“Miss Shreve: you got on well, I trust? All done?”
Morven sidled into the room, her hands worrying nervously at the file of papers Lexi had given her to pass to Bernie. Speaking rapidly, partly from nerves and partly from her own natural mile-a-minute personality, she explained.
“I couldn’t find her street - my phone ran out because I used the sat nav all the way, and then I got pulled over ’cos they saw me holding up my phone next to my face, although I wasn’t talking - I’m not daft - just trying to hear the sat nav when it died. And by the time they let me go I had to come back here - I’ve go to go to yoga class tonight - I can’t be late…” she trailed off as she saw the thunderous look that Lexi was giving her.
“For fuck’s sake, Morven, this isn’t a game: two surgeons were depending on that note! So Bernie still doesn’t know Serena’s resignation’s just a ruse, so if she hears about it, she’ll think it’s for real. All right: let’s think. What’s best to do right now? I’d better go tell her myself, and let Serena know what’s going on.”
***
As Lexi was leaving the hospital, John Gaskell was sneaking back in, in breach of his peremptory termination at the hands of his former friend Henrik. He had brought along his PA, Meena Chowdhury, who didn’t yet know that he’d been fired, and together they made their way up to Capulet.
Gaskell held his hand out imperiously.
“Let’s have those flowers, Meena, please: I’ll go and leave them on Serena’s desk. No woman could resist such blooms as these - they’re bound to make her want to work with me, although for some reason she seems to think she’d rather leave.”
Clicking his dictaphone on, he muttered, “The adult human female is quite odd this way, for I am clearly the superior male of all those in her orbit at work, so why should she not wish to work with me? Further experimentation is required.”
Unable to hear exactly what he was saying, but feeling inexplicably uncomfortable, Meena backed away from him and gestured to an alcove in the corridor.
“I’ll, um - I’ll wait just here if that's all right with you: I’ll let you know if anyone’s coming.”
Gaskell nodded absently. “I’ll take this bouquet to Serena’s desk. I know she’s gone, but someone’s sure to take her personal belongings back to her.”
But no sooner had he deposited the flowers on Serena's desk than Meena waved frantically at him, and he clicked the dictaphone on again.
“The female juvenile has made a sign: so someone’s on their way - I’d better hide.”
He and Meena concealed themselves behind a vending machine in the corridor just as Bernie strode onto the ward, followed by Lofty. Bernie, who had not managed to shake the young man off properly since he came to her house, tried once more to dismiss him.
“Right, off you toddle, Lofty - thanks again. You needn’t wait around, just head straight off. I’m sure that you've got better things to do than watch me carry out dull admin tasks.”
“All right - take care, Ms Wolfe. I’ll see you soon.”
He raised a hand to her and reluctantly turned away back down the corridor, but as soon as her attention was elsewhere, he stepped neatly behind a filing cabinet.
“I’ll wait here all the same - she’s not herself.”
Professor Gaskell, who had seen them arrive, but had not noticed Lofty ducking into his hiding place, whispered to Meena, “That’s Bernie Wolfe who got Petrenko fired, which led to my Ms Campbell leaving! Now what’s she up to? Further devilment to get me into trouble, I suspect.”
He slithered out from behind the vending machine with his odd, sidewinding gait and challenged her.
“Ms Wolfe! What do you think you’re doing now? You lost me my assistant, and my trial’s been cancelled thank to you!”
Bernie barely turned a hair.
“Oh, piss off, lizard boy - who even cares? Everyone knows you’re a fraud. You know when you speak into your dictaphone? It doesn’t actually make your voice inaudible, and everybody’s heard your sneaky, snakey plan to fake your results - your time’s up, pal.”
He closed in on her angrily, but her merest gesture sent him skittering away. As he scarpered, she called after him, “I’ve left a file of proof with HR: there’s a P45 in the post for you.”
Dusting off her hands as though she had actually had to manhandle him, Bernie spoke with some satisfaction.
“That’s one job done: now for the next. To Hanssen’s office, to give him this note.”
And she headed straight for the stairs, not even waiting for the lift to take her to Hanssen. In a state of shock and outrage, Meena came out from behind the vending machine.
“What the hell was that? Have I really just been working for some fraudulent lizard freak? That’s it - I’m going to fetch security.”
She stormed off in pursuit of justice. From the opposite end of what was rapidly becoming the busiest corridor in the hospital came Lexi, wringing her hands.
“Oh, god, it’s gone tits up and no mistake! By the time I got to Bernie’s she’d already left. If I can find her soon there might be hope -”
Lofty interrupted her, as he stepped out from behind his filing cabinet.
“Oh, Lexi - there you are - thank God it’s you! It’s Bernie. She’s gone nuts - I think she’s quit!”
Lexi swore. “Fucking hell, today gets worse and worse. You’re joking, right? Please tell me it’s a hoax.”
Wide-eyed as ever, he shook his head, setting his dark curls bobbing. “I told her that Serena quit, and so she came back here to do the same, I think.”
Right on cue, the unmistakeable clip of Serena’s leopard print heels announced her arrival.
“Everything should be worked out by now. Where’s Bernie - is she here to take me home? Tomorrow we’ll come back and start anew without Professor Gaskell on our backs!”
Lexi winced.
“Ah yes - Serena. Now, about that. Look - you’ll laugh when you find out what’s happened now. Bernie thought you’d quit for good - and so - it’s almost funny, really, when you think about it - she’s done the same. She didn’t get the message, and she came in with a dossier of evidence to make sure Gaskell got fired, then handed in her own resignation.”
“What?”
Fletch shuddered at the familiar tone, and Lexi took a step back as Serena closed in on her.
“You heard me right, I’m sorry to say. It seems she’s gone to hand her notice in, my new assistant having failed to let her know that your own resignation was just a ruse to get Professor Gaskell off your case.”
Serena threw her hands up in despair.
“Then what’s the point of my even being here? If I can’t work with Bernie, then I really do quit. We’ll go and find somewhere else to work: a hospital in Kiev; a refugee camp in the Sudan, or go to hashtag Kenya, hashtag now - oh god, she’s got me doing it as well!”
Laughing almost hysterically, she pulled a pen out of her handbag and wrote quickly on the nearest paper to hand - the back of a patient file.
“Look, here you go - my work here’s done.”
Dear Hanssen,
It’s been real and it’s been fun, but real fun? I wouldn’t say so, no. Sort these stupid wards out, before their squabbling ends up with the death of some poor patient caught in the crossfire.
Yours sincerely,
Serena Campbell, lesbian.
“Go on - take it.”
As she pushed the folder at Lexi, trying to get her to accept it, Meena came back in with several security guards trailing, somewhat baffled, in her wake.
“I’m telling you, he showed his true colours to Ms Wolfe and then he slithered off that way! You’d better go get Hanssen, double quick.”
But even as the security guards gurned at each other trying to work out what she was talking about, Hanssen himself bore down upon the ward, followed closely by Jac and Sacha, both having to rush to keep up with his long-legged stride.
Hanssen’s tone was fearsome.
“What’s this I hear about my good friend John? A fraudster all this time, and made his escape! I should have known: it explains how he seemed able to source new data quite so quickly. Now Lexi, tell me what else has been going on, please.”
Well aware how ludicrous was the tale she was about to spin, Lexi took a deep breath.
“Where to start! Brace yourself, Mr Hanssen. Right. Bernie Wolfe from Montague has quit; and now Serena Campbell of Capulet has done the same. We’re leaking staff this week like a dripping tap. First Petrenko broke poor Arthur's arm, then Bernie incapacitated her. Professor Gaskell, as you know, is gone back to the sewers where his kind belong, and all because of this feud between the wards, though no-one can remember how it started.”
Hanssen’s frown grew impossibly deeper, fiercer.
“Ms Naylor; Mr Levy - what have you to say? Your rivalry has caused all this mess. Consultants, Registrars, F1s, F2s all perpetuate the argument - and everyone loses. Take one another’s hands and shake, go on - I will not stand another day of this.”
Henrik Hanssen with his dander up was not a man to be naysayed, and Jac was the first to relent under the pressure of his glare.
“Come on, then, Sacha - put your paw here. We’ve lost good staff this week from both our wards. For me, Serena’s gone, and Frieda too, and you’ve lost Bernie Wolfe - that’s a heavy blow.”
Sacha nodded solemnly.
“Add to that poor Arthur - and I guess we have to count John Gaskell as a loss? Agreed - this feud has cost us far too dear, so let us put an end to it, right now.”
He held out his hand, and although she approached with some suspicion - for old habits are hard to break - Jac Naylor took it and shook it firmly, with as much strength as she could muster. Only when a small tear showed at the corner of Sacha’s eye did she release him, but Sacha, being Sacha, rather than retaliate, simply shrugged as though to say “Wha the hell,” and crushed her in a mighty bear hug.
While all this had been going on, Lexi had noticed a rustling noise from one of the bays, and with a sigh of relief, she proclaimed, “The feud is over - and there’s more good news. The contract that I had our ladies sign was not, as they each thought, a simple one to let them work together on one ward, but to create their very own anew. Officially it’s known as Mantua ward: acute assessment unit’s what it’s for, so co-leads they’ll be on our new AAU.”
So saying, she drew back the screens around the bay, where Bernie had been listening with baited breath to these extraordinary goings on.
Hanssen, whose frown had transformed into a beatific smile, extended a hand to Bernie, and the other to Serena.
“Our thanks are due to Lexi for this trick. Today was shaping up for tragedy until she put her cunning to good use. I’ve had a word with the orthopaedics team, and Frieda’s hand will mend, and Arthur’s, too. I’ll reinstate them when the time is come - and send out security to deal with John.”
At that, a cheer rose on the ward, and throwing a quick glance at Lexi to convey their gratitude, Serena Campbell and Bernie Wolfe, co-leads on Holby City’s new Mantua ward, stepped into each other's embrace and kissed as passionately as any Romeo and Juliet, re-writing their own happy ending.
***
Our story’s done: all’s mended with a trick,
Just as it ought to be in good fan fic.
Forgive Professor FlimFlam all her sins
Against the Bard of Avon - for love wins
O’er tragedy - yes, comedy’s the thing
For turning hate to love, and so we sing:
For never was a tale of greater love
Than of Serena and her Bernie Wolfe.