St Matthew's Passion

chapter Nine



In the event, Melissa didn’t make her decision until just before dawn the following morning.

One of a doctor’s most treasured resources was sleep, and once again Melissa had gone short. This time it wasn’t patients who’d kept her awake, but her own inner agony. She’d deliberately refrained form reaching out for help, hadn’t called her parents or her brother or Emma, even though she knew all of them would have been more than willing to talk to her. She had to make one of the most important decisions of her career, and such a personal event required her to come to her own conclusions, without the advice of others, no matter how well-meant or even well-informed it was.

Besides, she knew what everyone would say. That she was a fool even to consider it.

But as the cold January morning sky began to lighten beyond her window, she had a sudden flash of clarity, the kind of “eureka” moment she’d experienced when the answer to a puzzling clinical problem had clicked into focus. She sat up in bed, all too aware of the immensity of the conclusion she’d reached, but at the same time strangely relieved. She’d made her choice, she’d live with the consequences, and that was that.

She was going to leave St Matthew’s.

Her friends, her family, her colleagues would see it as utter madness. She’d been given this golden opportunity, a chance no surgeon would pass up but only a tiny proportion were ever offered, and she was going to throw it away. She’d get excellent references from Fin and Prof Penney, she was sure, and she’d have little difficulty getting a job elsewhere. But always, there’d be a question mark hanging over her. Why had she done it? Couldn’t she handle the pressure of St Matthew’s? Was she a difficult person, who lacked the ability to work as part of a team? Did she provide proof to the chauvinists within the profession that women, at the last, couldn’t meet the demanding standards expected of them? It wouldn’t be career suicide, quite. But it would hobble her progression, there was no doubt about that.

On the other hand, Melissa couldn’t stay where she was. She’d come to realise that now. After she and Fin had given in to their passion in his office and he’d pushed her away, she had assumed they could carry on as colleagues while ignoring what had happened between them. Recent events had shown that was impossible. She could no more deny her feelings for him – yes, call it what it was: her love for him – than she could refute what she saw with her own eyes around her every day. She knew Fin was the same, that even if she was able to suppress her desire for him, he’d struggle with his own attraction to her and it would spill over at inappropriate moments such as in the scrub room two days earlier.

Deborah was, in her own way, right. The department, the service, couldn’t be allowed to suffer because of the folly of one or two people. If the simmering tension between Melissa and Fin was unresolvable, as it clearly was, and was having an adverse effect on the smooth running of the service and by extension the care of the patients, then one or other of the parties had to remove itself from the scene. There was absolutely no question of Fin’s leaving. It was his department, for the most part; he’d built it up and made it what it was today. So the logical conclusion was that Melissa must go, and as soon as possible.

As a registrar she was obliged to give at least one month’s notice. Professor Penney would have no difficulty whatsoever in replacing her. There was a queue of budding surgeons stretching the length of the Thames who would fill her shoes immediately. If she gave her notice today, she could leave in the first week in February, and do locum work to keep herself afloat financially while she applied for more permanent posts.

Standing in the Underground train on the way to work, Melissa felt a heavy sadness weigh her down like a sodden cloak. This wasn’t how it was supposed to turn out. Six months ago – less than that – she’d been almost delirious with excitement, her new life opening up before her. She was going to prove herself, not just meet expectations but surpass them. By the time a year had passed she was going to have earned a reputation as the finest up-and-coming young trauma surgeon in London. She’d have a research programme underway, essential for any doctor aiming for the top jobs these days. Love, marriage, family – all of those were important to her, in a vague, undefined way. But they belonged in her future, several years from now, once she’d established herself. Her career was her current priority.

Now, four months into the job, it had all come to nothing. She’d earned a reputation as a surgeon, that was for sure. But it seemed she was on her way to earning a reputation as something else: a spanner in the works, a fly in the ointment, call it what you will. So there was no option but to change her plans. Not to give up her ambitions entirely, but to settle for second best.

It was something she’d never done before, something that went against every instinct, and it chafed at her like ill-fitting clothes.

Only when Melissa stepped off the escalator into the station above did she realise that something else was troubling her. No, tormenting her, and even more than the thought of giving up her post at St Matthew’s.

She’d been shying away from the knowledge that she would never see Fin again.



***



‘My hearing must be going.’

Professor Penney sat behind his broad oak desk with his hands splayed across the surface. An avuncular man in his early sixties, he often affected an almost comical look, with his tiny spectacles and tufts of untamed hair sprouting from the rim of an otherwise bald scalp.

There was nothing comical about his appearance now.

‘Could you repeat that please, Ms Havers?’

Melissa sat on the edge of her seat across the desk from the professor, suddenly feeling not like a confident trainee surgeon but rather like a nervous first-year medical student withering under the stare of a fierce interviewer in a viva voce examination.

‘I’m sorry, Professor Penney. But I’m handing in my notice.’ She glanced at the letter, still in its envelope, that lay on the desk between them. Melissa had typed it that morning after she’d made her decision. Professor Penney hadn’t touched it, hadn’t even looked at it.

He closed his eyes for a moment, lowered his head, took a deep breath. Then he gazed at her from beneath bushy, lowered brows.

‘I’ve been a doctor a long time, Melissa.’

‘Yes, Prof.’

‘Close on forty years. Since long before you were even born.’

‘Yes, Prof.’

‘And I’ve seen and heard some things in my time. Things most people outside medicine wouldn’t believe possible.’

‘I dare say, Prof.’

He drew another breath. ‘But I have never, never, heard anything that’s astonished me as much as this.’

It was Melissa’s turn to sigh. ‘I know how it must look, Prof. And as I say, I’m truly sorry. You’ve given me a wonderful opportunity here, you and Mr Finmore-Gage, and I’ll always be profoundly grateful to you for it. I’m letting you down by doing this. Betraying you. But it’s something I have to do.’

He gazed at her for a full ten seconds without saying anything. Then: ‘You know what I’m going to ask next, of course.’

‘Why?’

‘Why.’

She gestured to the envelope. ‘I’ve explained it in there.’

‘I want to hear it from you.’

Melissa had rehearsed her answer, knowing the question would come. Still, it came out hesitantly.

‘There are personal reasons for my leaving. An emotional conflict has arisen which makes it impossible for me to continue working here.’

The professor frowned, then shook his head. ‘I don’t understand any of that, I’m afraid. Perhaps I’m just too old to grasp this modern-day jargon. “Emotional conflict”? What’s that in English?’

Melissa had dreaded to have to elaborate, but had no choice. ‘My personal relations with certain staff members are such that the working environment would be compromised –’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ms Havers!’ The professor waved his hand as if chasing away some airborne irritant. ‘Enough of this mealy-mouthed nonsense. You’re a plain-talking woman normally. You don’t flannel about like this when you’re discussing clinical matters. Tell me in words of at most two syllables what you’re talking about.’

‘I’m in love with a member of staff.’ Melissa blurted the words and snapped her mouth shut afterwards as if they might try to crawl back in. There. She’d said it. Let the chips fall where they may.

Professor Penny sank back into his swivel chair, the ancient leather creaking. He let out a long breath. ‘Oh, is that all.’ The relief was heavy in his voice. ‘For a moment I thought you were going to confess to having accidentally bumped off one of the nurses or something.’

Bewildered, Melissa said, ‘But I don’t see –’

The professor took off his glasses and began to polish them absently. ‘Can’t you imagine how many times I’ve seen this before? Young doctors pass through this department every year. Confident, energetic young men and women bursting with vitality. Of course they fall in love from time to time. It would be unusual if they didn’t. We’re human, after all, not machines, even if often we’re expected to work like them.’ He replaced his glasses and peered at her, the kindness back in his gaze. ‘You’re a highly professional doctor, Ms Havers. And you take your job seriously. That means I have every confidence that you’ll rise above these “personal issues”, or whatever you call them, and get on with your work without letting yourself be sidetracked. People do it all the time. How? I can’t answer that, nor should I have to. You just… find a way and do it.’

Her face pounding with shame, Melissa said, ‘But you must have heard the… gossip.’

Again he waved his hand. ‘Oh, I never pay attention to anything like that. The moment anyone mentions something remotely salacious about a member of staff I change the subject, or walk away. I’ve never heard anything said about you, and even if I had, I wouldn’t take any notice of it, unless you were clearly being maligned.’ He beamed, raising his eyebrows. ‘You need to learn not to take things so seriously, Melissa. Your job, yes, that’s important. But things like gossip, whispers behind your back – it all comes with the territory. Just ignore it. Life’s too short to worry about things like that.’

Melissa became aware that she was staring at the professor, and looked away. She felt deflated, yet at the same time a tiny glint of hope had arisen in her. Was he right? Was she making a big fuss over something that in the end wasn’t really all that important? And in the process, was she wrecking her own career?

Her eyes, roving around the room as she struggled with her thoughts and feelings, alighted on a photograph on the wall. She’d seen it before; it had been taken a couple of years earlier at the American Medical Association’s annual meeting in Boston, where Professor Penney had been invited to give a keynote speech. In the picture, the professor was flanked by the President of the AMA and another big name in the US medical field.

On the other side of Prof Penney stood Fin, a half-smile on his face, a wry look in his eyes.

Yes, Melissa could withdraw her resignation and make a go of her time at St Matthew’s. She could behave with the utmost decorum, steering clear of Fin in any situation where there wasn’t somebody else to chaperone them.

But she would still see Fin every day, and the knowledge that they would forever be apart would crush her. Destroy her heart, and her spirit. Better not to be reminded of him every day, each glimpse of him giving a fresh twist to the knife.

Melissa centred herself, focusing on her breathing. When she felt ready, she gazed levelly at the professor opposite.

‘Professor Penney, I appreciate what you’ve said. I really do. But my mind’s made up. I’m leaving the post in one month’s time.’

His eyes followed her as she rose.

‘Is there nothing I can say that will dissuade you?’ he said quietly.

‘I’m afraid not.’

He shook his head sadly. ‘Then do what you must. Such a waste.’

At the door she glanced back, saw the professor hunched over his desk, his fingers steepled in front of him, his brow furrowed.



***



Melissa was in the canteen, queuing up at the hot food counter with an as yet empty tray, when a hand clamped around her arm. Startled, she looked round to see Emma, grim-faced. The other registrar marched off towards one of the unoccupied corner tables, half-hauling Melissa with her. At the table Emma sat her down on one of the chairs and dropped down opposite her.

‘Have you lost your mind?’

Melissa shrugged. Professor Penney might not be a gossip, but he certainly didn’t keep Melissa’s resignation a secret for long. ‘You’ve heard. I was going to tell you later, after work.’

‘I’ve heard, because Prof asked Jenny to write a letter to Human Resources asking them to draft an advertisement for Mr Finmore-Gage’s registrar post.’ Jenny was the professor’s secretary. ‘She grabbed me as soon as she saw me, and let me know. You know how she can’t keep a secret.’

‘Everyone’s bound to find out, sooner or later.’ Melissa was torn between the weariness of knowing that she was going to have to have this conversation with countless people in the next few days, and a desire to explain her actions to Emma, who was after all a friend. ‘You probably know why I’m doing it.’

‘Is it because of Fin? Has he hurt you in some way?’ Emma put a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my God. He hasn’t got you –’

Melissa laughed despite herself, waved her hand. ‘No, nothing like that. And he hasn’t hurt me either. Not really.’ That was a lie and she knew it. ‘I just can’t work alongside him any more. People are talking. I’m being driven slowly round the bend. It’s not good for anyone, my being here.’

‘It’s good for me,’ Emma said quietly. ‘What am I going to do, the only girl here? They’ll eat me alive.’

‘You’ll be fine,’ smiled Melissa. ‘But I will miss you. All of you.’

Emma was silent for a moment, looking down. Then she said: ‘I take it there’s no point in asking if you’ve thought this through?’

‘I’ve thought about nothing else for the last twenty-four hours.’

‘What will you do?’

They talked for a good twenty minutes, about alternative training schemes, job opportunities. To Melissa’s surprise Emma didn’t try any further to argue her out of her decision, and in a way she was relieved: it was as if Emma understood her reasons and respected them, even if she didn’t agree.

At last Emma said, ‘Have you told Fin yet?’

Melissa hadn’t, and felt guilty about it. By rights he should have been the first person she told. He was her immediate boss. Professor Penney was head of the department and it was to him she’d addressed her letter of resignation. But according to protocol, and out of simple courtesy, she ought to have approached Fin first.

She hadn’t, because he’d been at a conference that morning, away from the hospital, and she didn’t want to delay setting the process in motion in case she had a chance to reconsider and get cold feet; so she’d cornered the professor in his office before his morning rounds. Melissa knew there was another reason, however, and that was plain cowardice. She was dreading telling Fin, seeing the look on his face, and what was more she didn’t know if she’d falter at the last moment. At least now she’d made it official with Professor Penney so there was no turning back when she did speak to Fin.

Before Melissa could reply to Emma, a familiar voice behind her said: ‘Told me what?’

Emma stared over Melissa’s shoulder, her expression frozen. Melissa looked round and saw Fin, lunch tray in his hands, approaching. His look was wide-eyed, innocent, curious. He couldn’t have heard the news, then.

Fin hovered by the table, seeming aware of the silence that had fallen. ‘I was going to ask if I could sit down… but if this is a private conversation, I don’t want to disturb you.’

He hadn’t sat and eaten with Melissa, just the two of them, since before Christmas. Obviously Emma’s presence, a third party, made him feel more comfortable.

Emma started to say, ‘I’ll go –’ but Melissa motioned her to stay seated.

‘You might as well stay.’ She nodded at Fin. ‘Please, join us.’

Glancing from one woman to the other, he drew up a chair and sat.

Melissa said, ‘Fin, I’m leaving the job.’

His face, normally so expressive, went utterly still. Masklike, even.

‘Leaving.’

‘Yes. I’ve handed in my resignation this morning.’

He took in a long breath, expelled it.

‘Melissa –’

Emma stood this time. ‘I’m out of here. I have to get back to the wards.’ Before Melissa could protest, her eyes shooting daggers at her friend, Emma was heading off across the canteen.

Fin changed seats so that he was opposite Melissa. Now the mask had slipped, and although the rest of his face remained impassive, in his eyes she saw naked anguish.

‘Melissa, you don’t have to do this.’

‘But I do, Fin. You know it’s for the best.’

‘It’s because of me, isn’t it.’

‘It’s because of us. Neither of us will be happy if I stay. Not in the long run.’

His eyes never left hers, and he barely blinked. ‘Is there anything I can do to persuade you otherwise?’

‘Are you willing to reconsider? About us? Could we be together?’

She saw a slight clenching in his jaw muscles as he struggled with something that threatened to rise to the surface.

‘It’s… not possible, Melissa. As I said before.’

‘Then there really isn’t any more to say.’ Her voice was gentle, surprising her. She laid her hand on the back of his, briefly.

Then she rose and turned and walked out.