Always Believe

by Aimée

  After her time at the clinic, she was due for a visit at the local children’s hospice. When Emily Jones had asked her to go, Greyson had balked. Even with years of medical practice behind her, she still found it unbearably hard to see children die and to talk to the families afterwards. But at least, as a doctor, she could hide behind a poker face and a smoke cloud of medical jargon. In her new role, she couldn’t and was expected to interact with the families. The hospice provided help for the children and their families in many forms – not only medical support but also complementary therapies and counselling. The young patient she had come to see at her parents’ demand had Batten disease and Greyson believed it could be one of the worst possible illnesses for parents. To have a healthy, lively child who suddenly begins to have seizures, goes blind, loses muscle control - to know he or she will never become a teenager, but will slowly decline. The little girl smiled when she saw her coming, though, and when Greyson left the hospice after an hour of reading aloud The Princessy Adventures of Princess Petronella , drawing said Princess and talking with the patients, she felt almost happy, satisfied to know that the child had enjoyed herself for a little while.

  As she left the hospice, she couldn’t help thinking about Angela. Was it worse to see your child decline slowly or to learn of his or her abrupt death? Was it better to have time to grieve before the ultimate demise or only afterwards? She shook her head as if trying to dispel her thoughts – she would never accept the death of a child anyway. Too senseless, too cruel, too – illogical. As an army doctor she had had to deal with casualties daily, but when a child had died under her care in a field hospital, she had always rebelled against it. There had always been someone amongst her team who would say “God wanted this angel back with him” or something equally ridiculous, and she had had to bite her tongue many times not to lash out at the absurdity of such a pronouncement. Usually, afterwards, her team knew not to disturb her for the rest of the day. She would isolate herself and bite the head off anyone who dared talk to her. And now… Well, now, she was still as rebellious as before. Rebellion was an all too familiar state for Greyson. She prayed daily for humility and acceptance, for the unconditional faith she needed in her mission. Whenever she encountered abuse victims, young addicts or homeless pensioners, whenever she had to comfort families after a child’s death, her first reactions were still anger and resentment - a need to rant and rave against injustice before her rational self was able to take over and find the right words to help and console. Sometimes she thought of giving it all up – after all, she had other skills, useful ones. Why did she have to strive for what came the hardest to her?

  She suddenly decided she couldn’t possibly face her soulless flat and solitude – nor her essay – infallibility of the Bible, maybe – but it didn’t hold all the answers, and that evening, she didn’t think she could possibly be objective enough to get a pass grade. Unfortunately, the closing time for the shops in the high street was long past, and all she could find was a slightly dodgy-looking pub with loud drinkers. She sighed and tightened her scarf around her neck – she was still uncomfortable being seen in public in her “business” attire, especially in a pub. After ordering herself a lager, she found a corner seat and staring at the glass in her hands, she wondered for the umpteenth time if she was making a mistake – another one to add to her life list. Maybe after all she should remain a doctor – at least she knew she was an adequate one. She took a mouthful of beer and almost swallowed the wrong way as she lifted her eyes straight into Angela Arlingham’s.

  “Fancy meeting you here…” The redhead was holding a whisky glass and she looked almost guiltily at the doctor’s beer. “I guess you’re more reasonable than I am…” Greyson motioned for Angela to sit down and grinned: “You really want to invoke reason? You don’t have to explain – I know what it’s like to have a tough day.” She caressed her scarf round her neck, uncomfortably aware of what it was hiding. There was actually no reason why Angela shouldn’t know but warning bells rang into her head. Emily Jones had said Angela had not accepted her offer of help and wasn’t very fond of the church. Greyson, on the other hand, was getting rather fond of Angela. Not that anything would happen, of course, but they were on their way to becoming friends, and Greyson did not want to jeopardise that. She wasn’t that good at making friends that she could afford to risk a budding relationship.

  “Seems that the universe really wanted us to have that drink,” Angela joked as she sat down. The accelerated heartbeat and the tingles she experienced each time she saw the blonde doctor had started and she wondered exactly why – if she was her most rational self, she would say she was allergic to the doctor’s perfume, but she was pretty sure the blonde did not wear any. Any other less rational explanation eluded her.

  “Seems so, indeed,” murmured Greyson as she searched her mind for a safe topic of conversation. She finally settled on “How did your day go?” – not very original but probably safe. Angela shrugged: “Oh, fine, same old, same old, you know. I had a meeting with other headteachers this afternoon, about the No Outsiders programme – I’m not directly concerned, it’s just for primaries, really, but the LEA wanted us all to attend. This whole thing is a bloody mess…” Greyson’s bewilderment must have shown on her face since Angela trailed off.

  “I’m sorry – you have no idea what I’m talking about, have you?”

  “Err – no, not really, sorry. I didn’t really follow the local news while in deployment, and since I don’t have any children, I probably don’t pay a lot of attention to education policies anyway. But tell me about it – you seem very heated up about it.”

  Angela grimaced: “I am. The programme isn’t the problem – the parents are. Not all the parents, obviously, but some of my colleagues have had parents removing their kids from their schools because of it. Sorry, I’m not explaining this very well – the No Outsiders programme entails teaching about the various sexualities in primary school – the LGBTQ issues. And a few heads have had to deal with very aggressive reactions from some parents – one of my colleagues has been spat on, another one has received anonymous letters.”

  “Oh – oh, I see…”

  “And you know the really idiotic thing? My colleagues have to deal with pupils from many different backgrounds – many ethnicities – and it isn’t always easy for them. But this programme has been a real vector of unity – against it! Because somehow – seems that Anglicans, Catholics, Muslims and Jews all think that we are going to teach their children how to become gay, and homosexuality is an abomination in the eyes of God, whatever name you give Him. Gosh – I just hate all those self-righteous bigots.

  Greyson bit her lips, now utterly uncomfortable, and hoped that Angela wouldn’t notice. This was certainly not a safe topic of conversation. She caressed her scarf, hoping it stayed in place and felt utterly ridiculous. She gulped down the rest of her beer and did not protest when Angela stood up and ordered them both whiskies. They segued into talking about their childhoods and Greyson discovered that the headmistress had been a rabble-rouser when she was at school. No wonder she had taken Julie’s acting-up in her stride. Or maybe it came with the job – the ability to keep a straight face when confronted to teenage shenanigans. In turn, Greyson confessed that she had been more of a goody-two-shoes – a straight A student, so quiet that the teachers often forgot she was there at all.

  “Right – so it was the army that turned you in such a chatterbox, then?”

  Greyson blushed – she had become a little less reserved since her childhood, and even if she wasn’t one for small talk, she could usually string two coherent sentences together. However, each time she had found herself with the other woman, the ability to make conversation had deserted her. She drank a swig of whisky, wanting the alcohol to have its usual disinhibiting effect, and yet at the same time feeling uneasy. She chided herself – she was a grown woman, a Lieutenant-Colonel, a doctor, a… It was the last label that made her uneasy – the only one unde
r which she really didn’t want anyone to see her the worst for drink. Angela must have thought her joke had make her uncomfortable since she immediately apologised and leant towards Greyson, putting her hand on the blonde’s arm: “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for – anyway, my father always says I talk enough for two. So if you don’t mind me talking your head off, I don’t mind if you just listen and nod at appropriate moments.”

  Angela’s fingers on Greyson’s sleeve sent little shivers down Greyson’s arm, all the way to her heart. This was going to end badly – she could not possibly fall for the redhead. Angela was straight, probably more than fifteen years younger than herself, she was in mourning for her daughter and she hated the Church… And yet, when they’d both finished their second drinks and Greyson stood up and said she had to go, she couldn’t help adding “Let’s do that again soon…” after her goodbye.

  Chapter 12

  Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails ~ 1 Corinthians 13:4-8

  Once back home in her small flat, Greyson eyed her computer with animosity – she didn’t have the smallest wish to finish her essay. Instead, she made herself a cup of tea and switched on the BBC. After all, if she watched more television, it might give her a few safe topics to talk about if – when – she saw Angela again. And meanwhile, it would keep her thoughts away from the headmistress. Some kind of period drama was going on and Greyson glanced at the clock – 8.10 – no need to go back to the beginning, she would surely catch up. She relaxed and hoped she would get caught up in the intrigue. Indulging in her secret passion – historical sagas – hadn’t been on her priority list lately. Soon enough, she realised that even she had heard about the series – a prime time series about a 19th century lesbian had made a lot of magazine covers. Not long into the programme, she realised that she wouldn’t be able to lose herself in it completely – the main character, Anne Lister, played by Suranne Jones, bore a strong resemblance to Elaine Lambert, Senior Medical Officer during her time at the British Medical Hospital in Rinteln.

  The woman fascinated the young and naïve doctor she had been then. So much so that in Elaine Lambert’s presence she became even more awkward than usual, clumsy and tongue-tied. Which meant that she earned herself more reprimands from the sharp-tongued Major Lambert in a month than in all her years at med school. At first, she accepted the reproofs meekly enough, telling herself they were probably either deserved or the woman’s way of bullying her. After all, she had had her fair share of harassment from senior consultants during her first years and she had survived, so she would cope with a few more months of it. Moreover, she totally understood that the Major had to rule with a fist of iron, being a woman surgeon in a military facility. What worried her a little was that she sort of welcomed the criticisms. The hint of a smile or anything that could be construed as a compliment from Major Lambert and she lit up and walked on air for the whole day. Even then, it had taken her so long to understand… To understand why the woman started appearing in some of her dreams, too – and not in the more innocent ones. She had never felt like that about anyone else – certainly not with George. In the end, it had taken a harsher row than usual to spell it out for her…

  Greyson and Elaine Lambert had been on call for about thirty hours. Major Lambert wasn’t one to mollycoddle her trainee – if she was in theatre, so was the younger doctor. Greyson had nothing against that, as she found surgery fascinating – she even hesitated between that and general practice. However, on the day “it” happened, they were just both having a quick nap after a gruelling operation when a nurse rang the on call room about one of their earlier surgeries.

  Muttering an expletive, Elaine Lambert jumped up, woke up Greyson and rushed to the ward. The woman who’d been apparently sleeping peacefully was now awake, or at least her eyes were open, but unfocused. The major drew the sheet to expose the abdominal suture site, and saw it was red and swollen.

  “Damn it! Nurse, start her on an IV of Cefazolin 50, and find me a theatre – now! You- scrub in with me – now!”

  Stiff from tiredness, Greyson scrubbed in wearily.

  “We’re losing her! She’s crashing!”

  “We are not losing her! Lieutenant Walsden, we need that IV in - now!”

  “I – I’m trying, but…”

  Greyson was doing her best, and she knew Elaine knew it, but the snapping hurt all the same.

  “Don’t try – do it – or get out of this theatre! I’ve got no use for incompetence!”

  Of course, this made Greyson fumble even more, and drop the catheter she was holding.

  “Step aside, now! I’ll do it myself! Get out of here, you useless waste of space!”

  Rooted to the spot, Greyson hesitated, unsure if the older woman meant it. However, as she looked at the eyes unhidden by the surgical mask, their meaning was clear enough, and she walked to the door, biting her lips in order not to cry. She thought about going back to the on-call room but she knew she would be disturbed. It was freezing outside, but she didn’t care. She snatched her coat from her locker and went outside, where she found a short flight of stairs, somewhat out of the way. She hunched over the steps, put her head in her hands and let her thoughts invade her head. What if she failed her surgery rotation? Would she have to repeat the year? Would she be thrown out of the Forces then? Or maybe, after all, she just wasn’t good enough to be a doctor. Maybe she was just a fraud…Maybe… She felt someone sitting down beside her and putting a hand on her arm. She lifted her head and almost jumped out of her skin when she saw Elaine Lambert. The older woman’s eyes, so full of anger before, were now almost… Almost pained. Greyson stared back at her lap, unable to look the major in the face. What did she want with her? When the other woman swallowed audibly and began to talk, Greyson thought she was dreaming.

  “Lieutenant Walsden… I owe you an apology. I don’t usually lose it in theatre, and I’ve seen much worse than this but– I shouldn’t have snapped at you… I’m used to acting quickly - you’ll see - on the battlefield, you just do – you don’t have time to really evaluate the risks, to think… I guess that’s why it appealed to me so much. No time to get lost in your brain.”

  Risking a glance at the older woman, Greyson saw she seemed genuinely upset, and bizarrely, even though she had managed to stop herself from crying until then, she began to sob. Mortified, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve and tried to apologise: “I’m sorry, Major – I… Sorry.”

  If she had looked at Elaine Lambert, she would have noticed the woman looked supremely uncomfortable. Elaine patted her on the back a little awkwardly and tried to calm her down with a murmured: “There, there, hush now…” which only made Greyson cry harder. Then she was in the older woman’s arms, and Elaine was caressing her hair and kissing her head, holding her tight. Robbed of breath as much from the crying as from Elaine’s extraordinary behaviour, Greyson hiccupped a few times and fell silent, enjoying the strong arms around her. A few minutes later, when Elaine let go suddenly and jumped up, Greyson felt abandoned – bereft. She missed Elaine’s first words: “… Never done that. It was unprofessional and… Totally against… I apologise, Lieutenant Walsden. If you want to denounce me, you have every right – I won’t deny anything.” Greyson opened her eyes wide – her dream had come true and the older woman felt – what, guilty? She looked at Elaine and saw that the major was indeed the picture of guilt. She couldn’t meet Greyson’s eyes and her hands shook slightly. Greyson took the colonel’s hands in hers and leant towards her, begging the woman to finish what she had started. Their eyes finally met and Elaine’s mouth captured Greyson’s, pulling her into a long, deep kiss. When their lips parted, Greyson unconsciously licked hers to savour the taste of the older woman a little longer. An
urgent tug on her hand made her come back to reality. “Lieutenant Walsden – do you understand what this means? Do you realise how many lines I have crossed? I’ve been fighting against my – my attraction to you from the first time I saw you, but – I never thought I’d be weak enough to yield to it. I – we could be court-martialled for this! Thrown out of the army. I’ve just jeopardised your whole future!” And Elaine had fled, leaving Greyson love-struck, bereft and completely bemused… Greyson sighed – the young wide-eyed doctor she had been then seemed eons away from the jaded pre-menopausal woman she was now. She brought her attention back to the screen with difficulty – her memories were pulling her down a dangerous lane. At the end of the episode, she switched the television off and went to bed with her e-reader. Much too early to go to sleep, although she had a busy day ahead in the morning – her first marriage preparation session with a couple – after her usual day at the clinic, of course!

  When Greyson left the clinic around five thirty, she realised she had no idea who she was going to prepare for marriage. Reverend Jones had told her they were a lovely young couple, but other than that she hadn’t given her a lot of information. She nodded to Maisie automatically as she left, only partially acknowledging the receptionist’s “Goodbye for now, Dr Walsden!”, worried about not knowing what to say or do. What if she said the wrong thing and put them off marrying? She stopped in a coffee shop to gather her thoughts and took a few notes, getting lost into remembering as much as possible of her training and her readings, until she realised night was falling and she was late. She swore under her breath when she realised that of course, she had left the details of the young couple in her office – she wouldn’t be able to phone and warn them she would be late. When she arrived breathless and with her hair in a mess, she found her receptionist and a young man waiting in the church’s garden. That was unexpected, and more than a little unwelcome. Not that she had anything about the young woman, but she had hoped to keep her two lives separate a little longer. Anyway, it wasn’t Maisie’s fault, and she plastered a smile on her face before going to meet them.