absorb all the information he shot at them. He didn’t seem the type to repeat himself, and she wouldn’t draw any further attention to herself by asking questions. The cursed gift she had for bringing out the worst in attractive men always resulted in the highlighting of her own inadequacies.
One of these days she would coast through life like everyone else apparently did, without worrying about how she looked to those around her. But for now those cruel voices still whispered in her ear, sneering at her appearance, telling her she wasn’t good enough to be here.
Lost in her own thoughts, she drifted into the hub of A&E behind her colleagues. As they attended the bedside of an elderly man Lola suddenly became all too aware that everyone was watching her with expectation. This time she definitely wasn’t imagining it. Henri Benoit folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for something from her.
Breath caught in Lola’s throat and she stared back blankly, wondering what it was she’d done wrong this time.
‘Excusez moi for interrupting your daydream, Doctor. This patient needs bloods to be taken and I was asking if you would kindly oblige.’
This second dressing down from him was well deserved. She’d let her mind drift from the present into the all-consuming memories of the past.
There was no way she’d ever make a success of her medical career if she couldn’t get a handle on her personal issues. Something told her Dr Benoit wouldn’t wait around for her to get with the programme, and she owed it to the patients to focus on their problems instead of her own.
With sweaty palms and jelly legs, Lola stepped out of her corner. ‘Sir, I’m just going to take some blood.’
Following procedure, she kept the patient informed of her intentions as she approached the bed, trying to keep the tremor in her voice at bay. There was no place for uncertainty in the frantic pace of Accident and Emergency, and she would need an air of authority if she hoped to gain any respect around here. Any wavering in her confidence would only serve to alarm those under her care.
Unfortunately, nerves appeared to have completely got the better of her.
‘Sorry, I can’t seem to find a suitable vein…’ A warm flush infused her whole body as she tapped the patient’s arm and attempted to insert the needle a second and a third time.
‘One of the key things to remember in these early days is to ask for help when it’s needed and not let a patient suffer for the sake of your ego. I’ll take over from here.’
Every one of Lola’s fears were realised as the registrar used her as an example to the rest of the group of how not to be a doctor. The nodding dogs were probably grateful they weren’t the ones under the microscope.
Henri Benoit’s hand brushed hers when he took the needle from her and the rolling in Lola’s stomach reached a crescendo. She backed away for some breathing space, praying she wouldn’t embarrass herself any more than she already had by throwing up on his shiny black shoes.
‘All done.’
With an ease that Lola envied he finished the job and bagged up the vials for the lab. Once he’d settled the patient again he returned his attention to the group. Although she got the distinct impression he was mainly addressing her.
‘The best way to learn is on the job. So get acquainted with the Duty Nurse and assign the patients between you. I’ll be around if you need me.’
Lola’s shoulders sagged with relief when he left her and her fellow rookies to go it alone.
Naturally, as soon as Dr Suave was out of the picture, she functioned as well as any other member of staff. All further procedures undertaken after that debacle in the morning went as smoothly as they had done in her training. And in any areas where she did need some assistance she turned to the nurses for guidance. They were more than helpful, given that she showed respect for their position and experience—which she suspected some new doctors failed to recognise as an asset.
However, she couldn’t seem to shake off her disappointment in herself, replaying that monumental cock-up in front of her boss over and over again. At periods during the day she found herself frowning and wincing, which probably looked strange to people not privy to the abject humiliation going on her head.
The end of the day couldn’t come quickly enough, and when her shift was over Lola changed into civilian clothes and headed straight for the exit. Her face turned up to the heavens, she let the rain fall and cleanse her weary skin, as though it would somehow wash away everything that had happened back inside those doors.
The umbrella she was eventually forced to put up proved scant protection from the elements. It blew inside out several times as she joined the throng of people heading towards the city centre. She’d agreed to meet Jules, her flatmate, for a night out, and after today she’d earned it.
Most evenings she preferred to study, but Jules had insisted on helping her celebrate her first shift. As an F2, a Foundation Doctor in her second and final year of the training programme between medical school and specialist training, she’d taken it upon herself to instruct Lola in the ways of hospital life inside and outside of the wards.
‘We’re going to a new place tonight that all the girls in work are talking about. Somewhere you can really let your hair down,’ Jules had told her when she’d given her the address of the venue.
For Lola, that was even more terrifying than facing another shift with her French Fancy.
‘In burlesque, the emphasis is on the tease rather than the strip.’
Miss Angelique’s delicate accent filtered across the dimly lit room to reach the ears of her most reluctant pupil.
In Lola’s imagination the exotic sight and sound of the instructor should have transported her to a fabulous Parisian nightclub, where glamour and sophistication went hand in hand. Unfortunately the rumbling sound of buses outside and the accompanying smell of diesel through the open window were a constant reminder that she was stuck in a dingy dancehall in Belfast’s city centre.
‘When did Northern Ireland become a hotspot for the French populace?’ she muttered to Jules, who she now held entirely responsible for her bad mood. Prancing around as some trussed-up, half-dressed version of herself with one of Benoit’s countrymen bossing her around wasn’t exactly the perfect remedy for all that ailed her. ‘Tell me again—why am I doing this?’
‘To prevent you from ending up as some sad sack with only her books for company,’ Jules said, before her attention wandered back to the stage, where Miss Angelique moved seductively to a teasing big band soundtrack.
‘Maybe I like the sound of that.’ Lola pouted, and watched enviously as the instructor demonstrated a dance with oversized fluttering fans, never giving away more than a glimpse of the ivory silk corset she wore.
The stunning Frenchwoman projected a confidence in her body she could only dream of. Oh, how she longed to experience that freedom of movement, absent of any self-conscious thought, even for a short while. But owning her own sexuality, regardless of other people’s perceptions, was a skill Lola doubted even the fabulous Miss Angelique could teach her.
A pack of savage teenage boys had robbed her of ever having any confidence in her own skin. Their laughter still rang in her ears, and she could still see their sneering faces looming above her as they’d
