by Mairi Chong
Fraser’s face reddened. He sat as if turned to stone, but all the while his mind was seething.
‘Anyway,’ Dr Hope continued, leaning back in his chair. ‘We don’t need to worry ourselves any further. Along with the rest of the prescribing errors, you’re going to sort it, I hear.’
Fraser swallowed and when it seemed clear that the doctor was allowing him to speak, he did so. ‘We seem to have got off on the wrong foot,’ Fraser said, disarmingly. ‘I came in here to discuss the cardiovascular patients and to say that I had been impressed with your attempts to deal with a difficult clinical area. I appreciate that it’s been tough, but you’re right. I am here to help sort things out. I hope we can do it together, as a team. That’s ultimately what I want.’
The doctor snorted. ‘How much are we paying you, Fraser?’
Fraser didn’t answer.
‘Too much if you think I’m wading through all of the diabetics with you. Together as a team? I heard you weren’t much of a team player in the past anyway in your previous appointments.’
Fraser gulped audibly and felt for his tie.
‘Don’t look so horrified, man. We do perform background checks on our prospective staff, you know. You run along and get started on the type-twos. I’ll be delighted to discuss the results of your reviews just as soon as you’ve done them.’
Fraser got up stiffly. His legs felt shaky and he wasn’t sure what on earth he should say. He had no idea what Mark had discovered about him. He didn’t dare ask.
‘Oh, and Fraser,’ Mark said, now returning to his reading. ‘If you think I’m a fool, you’ve another thing coming. Keep your hands-off Tracy, there’s a good lad. She’s cute but she’s well out of your league.’
Fraser wanted to reply, but the doctor waved a hand to dismiss him.
Making his way back to his office, Fraser’s mind was frantic. How horribly unfair to accuse him of carrying on with Tracy. Goodness knows what the man had heard, but had he been given the chance, he might have explained that he had done nothing wrong. He had a girlfriend after all and had no interest in Tracy. He ran over his conversation with the nurse and wondered how the girl must have warped his words and relayed them back to her lover. Fraser shook his head bitterly at the unfairness of it all. Oh God, what a mess. And what had Dr Hope meant about him not being a team player? What did that even mean? Was it something to do with Kiean Watts? But surely that had been cleared up. Fraser considered the man’s words and the menacing emphasis he had put on them. Was it simply all bluff and hot air? He recalled what Tracy had said, although he would no longer trust that girl or allow himself to be seen alone with her now. But hadn’t she said that it was Mark’s way, to grill new people when they arrived?
Throughout the rest of the day, Fraser repeatedly tried to dismiss the conversation as nonsense. All that week, in fact, the pharmacist, who had been so joyful in his new employment, and so full of ideas and vigour, became more suspicious of those around him, seeing enemies everywhere.
12
As far as Cathy was aware, the GPs were in agreement that they had made the right choice in employing the new pharmacist. So far, she had already seen an improvement in many of the repeat prescriptions. Fraser had taken the time to go through the more expensive medications, and most commonly prescribed ones, and where appropriate had changed the prescription over to the cheaper generic brand. This must surely have had a massive impact on their budget already, Cathy thought. It was such a simple thing too, but none of them had had the time or energy to attend to it before now. Cathy had also seen that Fraser was drawing up guidelines for their chronic disease management registers. This would mean that all the doctors would be singing from the same hymn sheet, so to speak. It was astute of the pharmacist and Cathy recognised that the effort to get things in such good order so quickly, must not have come easily.
‘Are you coming up?’ James asked, popping his head around her door. ‘I heard the nurses heading already.’
Cathy leaned back in her chair. She had been looking over plans for the methadone clinic. These past few weeks, she had drawn up a number of suggestions but had not thus far, felt it wise to discuss them with the team. Mark’s argument that he was unable to trust her with such a project weighed heavy on her mind, but driven on by a real desire to do good, she quietly looked into the matter. She discussed it briefly with the new pharmacist to test the water. He had seemed keen to help her, but even he had agreed that perhaps now wasn’t the time, given that he had so much to get in order first.
‘Coming,’ she replied to James. ‘Is Mark back yet? I saw he had a late call.’
James shrugged.
Things still weren’t good between the two partners. James had all but ignored his other partner following his outburst that day. Whenever their paths crossed, there was an awkwardness. Mark seemed oblivious to the matter but James would make any attempt to excuse himself from the conversation and retreat to his room. Cathy knew that things couldn’t go on like this. She had endeavoured to speak to James about it, but he was obviously still too annoyed.
Pushing back her chair, Cathy got up and together they climbed the stairs to the meeting room. Brenda and the nurses, along with Linda were all there. Cathy and James took their usual seats and then Mark came in looking slightly wind-swept.
‘Late call,’ he explained breathlessly. One of yours, Cathy I’m afraid. Not good. Mrs Davidson on the Jedburgh Road. I’ll give you a rundown after the meeting. She’ll need a follow-up visit first thing in the morning.’
Cathy nodded. ‘Put it in the book, Mark. I’m doing house visits tomorrow anyway.’
It had taken the other two GPs a full month to allow her to take on-call sessions again. Cathy, although exhausted at times, felt that she was really getting back to full speed once more. Her appointments were now the same length as Mark’s and James’s. The only difference since before she had gone off sick now, was that she had to see her psychiatrist six-weekly as a requirement by occupational health. Cathy had no qualms about doing this if it meant she could continue to practice medicine. The last meeting with her doctor had gone well. He had been surprised at how swiftly she had returned to full-time work, and had warned her that this might in the future have to change if the stress began to build up once more. The antipsychotic medication seemed to be working well and as she had had no relapses despite the pressure of returning to work, he had been hopeful about her prognosis.
‘Before Fraser arrives,’ Brenda said, ‘I just wanted to give folks a quick heads-up. We have an add-on coming tomorrow I believe. A GP trainee who Mark will be supervising for the period of a month. It’s out of the ordinary circumstances but if he gets on well, he might come back as a registrar with us next year.’
‘Where’s he come from, Brenda? Why wasn’t he with the rest of the trainees when they came for their induction days earlier?’ Cathy asked.
Brenda turned to Mark.
‘I’m doing a favour for an old medical-school friend of mine,’ Mark said with a smile. ‘His son, that’s the lad coming, has had a bit of a change of heart. He was all for renal medicine and I think my pal said he had got his part-one of the MRCP, but I think he’s crashed out and is looking to change to general practice. Quite smart, so I believe. I don’t think he’ll be any trouble. We’ll do the usual with him. I’ll have him shadowing me and then he’ll perhaps sit in with the other GPs to see their consulting styles also, if that’s alright. Brenda’s going to draw up a timetable for him and he’ll be in with the nurses one day. I’ll speak to the district nurses and the pharmacist also, just so he can see how things work around here.’
‘Where’s he going to go, Brenda? We’re short on rooms,’ Cathy asked.
‘He’ll not need one for now Cathy. It’s really just an introductory thing. He’ll share Mark’s room. Everyone alright with that?’
The GPs and nurses nodded.
Fraser was the last to arrive. He smiled around the group and apologised for keeping
them waiting.
‘No, we’re indebted to you really, Fraser,’ Brenda said. ‘You’ve taken on a lot as it is, without this also.’ Brenda turned and addressed the room. ‘Folks, Fraser has prepared a little presentation for us, as we agreed. I think this is a good opportunity to get everyone together on a regular basis so we’ll try to make it the norm, perhaps a monthly educational slot. I don’t expect Fraser to do all the work. Maybe the GPs can take it in turns to present a case or a topic of personal interest.’
At this, Mark rolled his eyes. ‘Jesus, Brenda. I thought it was just a one-off. As if we haven’t got enough to do,’ he said, but Brenda chose to ignore the comment and smiling brightly, she turned again to Fraser.
‘Now, are we ready?’
Fraser looked around the room, his eyes unable to settle on one individual. While they had been talking, he had gone to the computer at the far end of the table, quickly slotted a memory stick into the machine and found what he was after. Now that all eyes were on him, the pharmacist clicked the mouse with a flourish. He looked up from the screen over which he had been bent and for the first time since entering the room, beamed around at them all.
‘Overdoses: Accidental and Deliberate, and Common Poisons,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘I chose a fun topic to start off with, because I know the chronic disease management stuff is a little heavy.’
Fraser was an amiable person and very boyish in manner. If he had noticed Mark’s rudeness, he was too professional to show it. Cathy had already got the impression that Mark disliked the pharmacist. She watched Mark as Fraser spoke and saw the GP frowning. She had no idea why. Fraser was clearly an asset to the practice and since he had arrived, he had probably saved them a lot of money. Cathy had been impressed when he had also enthusiastically suggested ‘educational slots’ during practice meetings.
The presentation lasted approximately fifteen minutes. Fraser had prepared a variety of slides with plenty of illustrations and not too much text. Cathy, who sometimes found herself wearied by the number of educational talks she had to attend, found the presentation both entertaining and informative. He had obviously gone to great trouble to go through the past records and summarise all of the attempted overdoses that the practice had seen during the last five years. He then presented a couple of slides on domestic and agricultural poisons and the potential risks of each of these too. Even Brenda asked a couple of questions at the end, which was something she rarely did.
‘Well Fraser, on behalf of everyone, thank you very much. Really informative,’ Brenda concluded. ‘We can have a chat later in the week about the next meeting’s topic. Everyone happy?’
The three GPs smiled their thanks and Fraser promised to distribute print-outs that he had produced, detailing the presentation, to the clinical team in the morning.
The following day, Brenda introduced Cathy to their new temporary team member, the son of Mark’s friend from university. Although Cathy hated to label people, she found herself taking an instant dislike to the man, thinking that he came across as slightly too blasé.
‘This is Tom,’ Brenda said to Cathy.
The man who was carrying a rucksack shifted the bag further up his shoulder and went to shake Cathy’s hand.
‘Alright?’ he said.
His handshake was clammy and slightly loose.
‘Dr Moreland,’ Cathy introduced herself. ‘Nice to meet you.’
Cathy watched as he relaxed back again, slouching his weight on one leg. Tom glanced around her room.
‘So, you’re with us for a month or so? I believe Brenda’s drawn up an itinerary for you. You’ll get what you put in, of course. If you’re interested in a career in general practice, then show that to us, and we’ll give you every opportunity to get stuck in.’
The man smirked but didn’t reply.
‘Right, on to Dr Longmuir next,’ Brenda said, leading Tom from the room.
As he left, the young doctor looked at the sign on her door. He turned. His eyes were mocking and Cathy couldn’t understand why.
‘Oh Tom?’ Cathy said before the door closed. ‘What did you say your second name was?’
‘Jackson,’ he smiled. ’I’m Thomas Jackson. I’m so looking forward to working with you Cathy. I think general practice is looking more appealing by the minute.’
Cathy had always been rather intuitive and as he left, she felt slightly sick, but she dismissed the feeling hurriedly. No doubt she was quite mistaken. Jackson would turn out to be just like all the other trainees they had mentored.
13
Come Wednesday evening, Fraser had riled himself into a frenzy. He was jumpy and on edge all the time. He had sent Sarah home to her parents that night following a dreadful evening meal together, telling the confused girl he had a headache. In truth, he needed space to think.
Dear God, what a day it had been. Fraser ran over the events repeatedly as he strode up and down in his living room. How on earth had it happened? What were the chances of them meeting again? Jackson; his nemesis. The man he despised above all others. And after all this time, when he was settled and just beginning to make a go of things in his new job too. He had even thought that he had begun to win over Dr Hope with his last presentation. Things had been looking up.
He pictured Jackson’s look of delight when they met. Fraser had been up in the coffee room having a friendly joke with Irene, the older practice nurse, who he found himself liking more and more for her almost-maternal kindness. Fraser had turned around on hearing Brenda enter the room.
‘More people to meet,’ she said. ‘Irene, Fraser. This is Tom, our new trainee for the next month. He’ll be shadowing Mark mostly, but no doubt you’ll bump into him also.’
‘Welcome, Tom,’ Irene had said. ‘Don’t be put off general practice by Dr Hope. He sees the world through different eyes to the rest of us.’
Fraser had found himself standing in stupefied silence, staring open-mouthed at the man.
Jackson composed himself far quicker. ‘Nice to meet you Irene, Fraser,’ he had said with a smirk.
Thankfully, Brenda had led him away to show him the library and meeting rooms, but Fraser’s legs shook so much he was barely able to make it down the stairs to his room. There he had sat, unable to work for the entire afternoon. Repeatedly, he tried to distract himself from thoughts of Jackson, by looking at the chronic obstructive airways register, but it was so hard to concentrate.
Fraser tried to soothe himself. They were both older now. Jackson had perhaps matured. He might also be ashamed of his juvenile exploits in the hospital. But when Fraser ran through their meeting up in the coffee room and the young doctor’s triumphant smile, he knew that it was not the case.
In the end, Fraser closed his computer and sat hunched at his desk until four o’clock came and he was safe to creep from the doctors’ building. How could he ever work in the place now, knowing that that man was under the same roof?
Fraser knew that Jackson would find a way to twist the unfortunate coincidence of their meeting to his own benefit. And now, without question, Fraser felt he was like a sitting duck, awaiting his fate. His position was impossible. He had done wrong as a young pharmacist, but my, how he had paid the price for his mistake, and ten times over.
Back home, and as the evening wore on, Fraser allowed his thoughts to take hold. He wondered if the chance meeting had really been just that. Had Jackson been following his career? Fraser wouldn’t put it past him. How simple to key into a computer Fraser’s name and to track him to the pharmacy in which he previously worked. Fraser remembered that his details had of course been quoted in the local press when that appalling drug addict had died. Had Jackson seen the papers? Did he know about Fraser’s error in dispensing the methadone? Had he read the report on the inquest?
It was all too easy to research a person if one wanted to. Fraser thought of the practice website and how he himself had done just this before applying for the job. And now, having had his photograph taken, he was ther
e, along with the rest of the medical team, a brief synopsis of his career and interests for anyone to read. Did the vindictive rat know all about him?
Fraser, having distractedly paced the room a good twenty times, re-seated himself in his armchair with a whisky to take stock of his position. If his past misdemeanours came out, it would undoubtedly be the end of his job at the practice. It would be the end of his career as a whole, he would be essentially unemployable with such a black mark against his name. He did not know for sure, but if the story came out, he thought Sarah’s love for him would be tested to its limit. She had supported him through the methadone mix-up, but the past mistake in the hospital had been more than just a blunder. His prolonged criminality showed he was capable of devious planning. Fraser couldn’t blame poor, innocent Sarah, if she did decide to bail out, not knowing this side to him.
Irritably, Fraser pulled himself out of this line of thought. It would do no good to continue with this melancholy nonsense. Regrets were utterly useless now. Fraser must face whatever was coming, but when he thought about his life, the one he had built from nothing. the hours of work he had put into his current position, he knew that he could not give it up for anything.
The more Fraser considered things, the more convinced he was that if Jackson was out of the way, he might continue to lead a happy life free from worry and doing the job he loved and at which, he was actually very talented. Fraser compared the difference that he had personally made to the practice in the short time he had been there, with the spiteful existence Jackson had clearly led. Admittedly, the man was a doctor, but what kind of a clinician might he be, injecting poison into people’s wounds and twisting a scalpel in their injuries? From his time in the hospital, Fraser had heard that he was disliked by many. The nurses found him condescending and the colleagues who weren’t part of his inner circle said that he was dangerous and spiteful.