Work Text:
Friday 21st December 2018
Click. Click. Clickerty click.
Fingers flew in a well-rehearsed pattern; a director of dancing metal needles, weaving through flying strands of wool.
A sharp tut was accompanied by a scowl of frustration.
“Oh, bugger.”
The dropped stitch received a glare of annoyance as the knitter paused to take a healthy gulp from a large glass of red wine which sat on the table in front of the squashy fabric sofa that she was currently nestled upon.
Weary eyes, at the stage where they were aching slightly from fatigue, glanced up to the mantelpiece where a pair of ornate hands were slowly patrolling a gilded carriage clock. A familiar whirr from the antique mechanism precluded a slow chime of twelve strokes.
“Is that the time?” a bleary mumble as she swept a cool hand across her forehead. A recent run of nightshifts were proving hard to adjust to, despite her many years’ experience. Sleep was a tempting yet elusive commodity at present.
“Still…” she held up the garment for inspection, “Nearly there.”
The ornately cabled jumper, finished in a very fetching dark green, was the final item on her gift list for the year and, despite the fact that she knew it was unlikely to ever be worn, she wanted it to be perfect.
Serena Campbell had first learned to knit in a vague bid to meet some of her mother’s exacting daughterly expectations. After several weekends spent untangling her wrists from a web of tangled fibres and countless impatient tantrums when the narrow loops of wool seemed to gain their own autonomy and refused to slide neatly from one needle to the other, she had mastered a basic knit stitch and concocted a slightly clumsily-finished blue scarf for Adrienne’s birthday. Several decades later, the innocent little scarf had still been hidden amongst Adrienne’s many clothes when she had finally steeled herself to clear out her mother’s belongings.
Much as her twentysomething self would outwardly disagree, she found a quiet peacefulness in knitting. It most certainly lent itself towards the development of the dexterity and concentration required of a vascular surgeon.
She’d knitted countless presents over the years.
Edward’s first Christmas present from Serena when they were both students had been a hand knitted pair of socks, finished with a pair of slightly cross-eyed reindeers. An indifferent shrug and mumbled thanks were hardly compensation for the hours of thought that had gone into their creation.
And then there was…
Serena smiled sadly as she looked up at the framed photographs of the smiling little girl with the gappy front teeth who beamed back at her from the mantelpiece.
A beautiful lace-knit baby blanket for Elinor which now sat forlornly in a keep box that she just couldn’t bring herself to look at just yet. The gut-wrenching agony of loss was yet to fade; she doubted it ever would. Instead, it had mutated into something more tolerable, a visceral flutter in her gut; some days capable of causing her untold agony, other days a gentle weight which sat alongside her.
This year, her love and anxiety had been outpoured in the form of a large pile of baby booties and hats for little Guinevere in an assortment of rainbow colours which filled a lavish plethora of neatly wrapped gifts which sat beneath the uniformly trimmed tree.
Always just that bit too much.
Serena’s lips twitched wryly as she worked upon casting off the final mossy green row of stitches which were to form the last row of the collar.
You could open a Hobbycraft franchise with that much wool.
Another Christmas present sat, not in honour beneath the tree but outside in the rain, abandoned in the nearest wheelie bin. A murky secret. Silky negligee; hallmark of a catastrophic error of both professional and personal judgement.
Once she had returned home from the wedding and the parting of ways, Serena had thrown the offending items in the bin with an angry sob.
She selected a needle and started to painstakingly join the knitted pieces together with a faintly trembling hand, tears burning at the edges of her eyes.
No matter how many times she had tried to reassure herself that parting from Bernie was the most sensible, mature, adult, considerate thing to do… she couldn’t quite yet bring herself to accept the steely narrative her common sense was offering.
I miss you…
“Auntie Serena?”
A shadow fell across her work as the bespectacled face of a concerned nephew hoved into view.
“Jason,” she replied in a tone far brighter than her mood. “Little one awake?”
“No.” Jason frowned slightly, “She’s sleeping, as is Greta. I just hadn’t heard you come up to bed yet and wondered where you were.”
“Keeping myself busy…” Serena gestured at the near-complete jumper that spread across her lap.
“Isn’t that Bernie’s present?”
“Yes.” A choked whisper.
“But, hasn’t she gone back to Nairobi?” Jason persisted, watching curiously as Serena worked to try and fasten off with fingers which refused to obey her instructions.
“Indeed she has.” Serena’s fixed smile was crumbling fast at the edges.
“Are you going to send it to her?”
“No.” the denial was choked in reply.
“Oh. But–”
“Jason! Enough!...Oh, I’m so sorry!” Serena’s eyes were wild with panic as she heard the sharp rebuke leave her lips.
Jason, to his credit, stood his ground undeterred.
“I still don’t understand why you and Auntie Bernie are so determined to not be together. It’s getting quite tiresome trying to persuade you that you love her beyond all measure. You’re both being too noble to see quite how idiotic you’re both being.”
Serena’s mouth had set into a thin line.
“Jason… Bernie and I do want to be together… but we know on a practical level, it just never works between us. Even though she was prepared to give up everything, move back to Holby, I would always feel like I was the one that held her back from doing what she loved. You do see that, don’t you?” her voice was gentle, almost beseeching him to see her point of view.
Jason’s face softened slightly as he added, “I know that you worry about me, Auntie Serena. Greta, Guinevere, we’re going to be fine. Please don’t think that you sacrifice everything that made you happy because you think it’s your duty. We do like having your help, but we don’t always need it.”
He paused, a little unnerved by how silent Serena was.
“Auntie Serena?”
After what seemed an eternity, she spoke.
“Jason, why is it I never listen to you?”
There was a faint sheen of tears glistening in her eyes.
“I don’t know…” Jason shrugged, “Perhaps because you don’t like what I’m saying?”
A sound which was half sob and half chuckle came from Serena. “Possibly.”
She smoothed out the now-completed garment which sat in her lap before catching her nephew’s eye.
“I suppose this is too nice just to sit in my wardrobe forever…”
Three days later: Christmas Eve
A warm breeze hit Serena squarely in the face as she stepped out onto the tarmac of Nairobi International Airport.
A neatly wrapped present sat at the top of her case, although given the inclement weather she couldn’t help but think that a jumper in Kenya at this time of year was potentially as useful as a chocolate teapot.
A short taxi ride to the hospital and she couldn’t help but feel a burning sense of de ja vu as she walked across the tarmac swath of the carpark, present tucked under her arm, only to have her eye caught by a familiar slender figure who was bent over beneath the bonnet of an ambulance, spanner held between her teeth as she tinkered with the recalcitrant engine.
Evidently today was a case of ‘all hands on deck’.
Serena took her time to survey Bernie, savouring her in her natural habitat, starved eyes drinking in the familiar curves and contours of her silhouette.
Why did I ever let you go? How good could things have been if we'd had a chance?
She cleared her throat, “Engine been growling or whining?”
The blonde medic froze.
Serena took a deep breath, “Hello, Bernie.”
Bernie Wolfe turned around and drew herself up to her full height, a perplexed expression decorating her face.
Serena’s heart sank.
You stupid, stupid woman… why on earth did you come?
“Serena? I–, what on earth?” Bernie stumbled.
“Surprise?!” Serena muttered sheepishly, “We’re really not good at this whole surprise visit thing are we?” she added as an afterthought.
Clusters of agitated words starting to fly from her lips in a flurry of anxiety upon Bernie’s continued silence. “I’m sorry, I just missed you so much, I should never have said what I said, you can put my bins out any time of year, of course you could…oh, I’m talking absolute… I’m sorry. and… I, here, I bought your Christmas present with me...” she quickly passed the present to Bernie and turned quickly upon her heel with a sniff, cursing her inner stupidity.
“No, wait.” A cool hand landed upon her shoulder before she had even made three steps away.
“Serena,” A soft, smile stretched lazily across a sun-kissed face. “Oh, I’ve missed you so so much.”
A pair of strong arms enveloped her in a tight hug, a familiar waft of cotton-fresh laundry detergent clung to her clothes as she felt the familiar warmth of Bernie Wolfe surround her, the most comfortable she had felt in months.
“Merry Christmas,” a gentle voice whispered in her ear.
“Merry Christmas, Bernie” she breathed into the soft blonde strands of hair.
What the future held, neither of them knew, but in that moment, nothing else mattered apart from the fact that they were together again once more.