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What a difference twenty-four hours makes….
Serena Campbell granted herself an approving nod in the full-length mirror as she stepped into a brand-new midnight blue gown, appreciating the luxurious slide of the silk underskirt against her naked skin as she slowly drew the dress over her shoulders. Reaching behind her back, she drew the fastening up slowly; trying to avoid catching the expensive fabric between the hungry metal teeth of the zip. A giddy smile of almost childish glee accompanied an excited peep into the hidden crimson depths of the shoebox which sat in pride of place upon the sumptuous satin bedcovers. A careful pair of hands gently slid the glossy patent heels from the safe cocoon of their box, taking time to appreciate the iconic red soles in an almost reverent fashion before carefully stepping into the peep-toe shoes.
It had certainly been a day of self-indulgence.
This time yesterday, you were sitting on the floor of your office knocking back a rather expensive bottle of shiraz…
She consulted her watch and swept her scattered essentials into a small bejewelled clutch bag, smiling to herself as she remembered Raf’s parting words as he had helped to steer her drunken frame into an awaiting taxi; brushing stray clods of earth from the hem of her coat.
“Come back as you.”
It had been so long since she had had the opportunity to even contemplate anything other than the increasing demands made on her time by the hospital board or by her mother, it was actually slightly bewildering to not have such a persistent, antagonistic shadow overhanging her every move.
Freedom was an intoxicating experience; a potent, albeit slightly terrifying elixir in its lack of structure or source of clearly mapped out goals to pursue. The geographical displacement of a solo visit to Paris had allowed Serena to shed the heavy weight of the emotional armoury required by her no-nonsense professional persona of ‘Ms. Campbell, Deputy CEO’, or the concerned ‘Rena’ identity who was forever attempting to single-handedly hold back the inevitable weight of her mother’s gradual decline whilst simultaneously shouldering the burdens of every other aspect of her demanding schedule. Whilst a liberating discovery, this recent sequence of events had led her to discover that just ‘Serena’ had almost never had time to flourish on her own and as such was at a bit of a loss as to know exactly what to do with herself.
Adrienne McKinnie–in rude health or crippling decline–had been the driving force in her life for as long as she could remember. At first, the proud exhibitor of numerous laminated certificates of commendation from the exclusive St. Winifred’s School who had somehow managed to juggle attending parent’s evenings and amateur school Shakespeare productions–Serena’s performance as Queen Titania was still regarded as legendary– whilst refusing to surrender the right to exercise her impressive business acumen in a senior finance management role, before eventually graduating to the central voice of steering encouragement who had guided Serena into securing a place at the university of her choice. It was her who had been the one whose vertiginous standards that Serena always sought to excel–and subsequently chastised herself for occasionally not meeting– and whose voice of approval that she continually sought. The rare time that she had strayed from her mother’s knowing voice of instinct–the source of steely dinner table interrogations which saw off many a prospective boyfriend– she had found herself eloping in an act of youthful rebellion with a certain Edward Campbell.
And look how well that turned out… she grimaced as the thought of her alcoholic ex-husband vomiting into her bridal bouquet flitted across her mind as she swept a long-line charcoal coat–trimmed with grey fur around the hood and cuffs–tightly around her and fastened the buttons with fumbling fingers.
The void in her life left by Adrienne was not one of grief– the gradual decline into obscurity and confusion had been heart-breaking to witness, and if truth be told, Serena had found herself grieving the loss of her mother several months before her final departure. It was instead, an uneasy sense of uncertainty about her exact purpose or direction which was proving to be more of a difficult challenge to unpick.
Still, she thought to herself as she pulled the heavy door of her hotel room behind her with a soft thud. You’ve got to start somewhere…Tonight, Serena, you can go anywhere you want, be anyone you want, do anything you want…and nobody is here to stop you. Be brave… see what happens….
A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she enjoyed the sound of her new high heels upon the marble floor. Stepping out gracefully into the chilly autumnal evening, she hailed a taxi and gave the driver instructions in her best French– perfect in terms of grammar; albeit with a distinctly English inflection clinging resolutely to her accent. Settling comfortably into the backseat, she watched the dazzling constellation of city lights sweep past as the car carried her safely across the bridge over the Seine.
“Île Saint-Louis,” Her taxi driver grunted over his shoulder and accepted the crisp Euro notes proffered to him with a curt nod of the head.
Stepping elegantly out of the cab was akin to falling through a hole in time- the same bustling nightlife surrounded her curious senses, little snatches of jazz music wafting idly through the chilly air of the exclusive Parisian district, the noisy hubbub of evening diners frequenting their usual haunts; miniature vignettes of other people’s lives which still enchanted Serena after several decades. She suddenly found herself seeing the world through the excited perspective of all of the combined romantic imaginings of her twelve-year old self, an excited flutter of anticipation stirring within her chest, hungry eyes eagerly drinking in the cultural delights as she strolled gently along the riverside, listening to the wind in the branches of the slender trees which stood as sentries along the waterfront.
A soft smile of delight dawned upon her lips as she paused outside the faintly dishevelled exterior of an unassuming little bar: slightly tired, artistically flaking olive paint peeling from the window sills, the interior aglow with a soft orange light as a pair of waiters bustled around the small interior. “Still here, after all this time…” a fond twinkle appeared in her eyes as she remembered her first sip of wine, stolen furtively from her mother’s unattended glass in this particular smoky little café. It felt right that this should be the site of her first evening out in Paris since that first enthralling visit many moons ago. The start of a new beginning.
Stepping carefully across the threshold, Serena was struck by the familiar sensation of adult perspective, realising that the room was somewhat smaller than her youthful memories suggested. A cursory glance around at the numerous seated groups of people chattering away merrily made her painfully aware of her solo status, a twinge of doubt almost enough to have her turn upon her heel and leave before her resolve held and she strode to the bar with a faux confidence; seating herself carefully upon a stool and ordering a glass of red wine.
She had barely had a chance to take a sip from her glass before becoming aware of the presence of another person standing hesitantly behind her.
“Mind if I join you?” low alto tones enquired, a cool hand resting gently upon Serena’s shoulder. “Only, it’s getting a tad lonely sat in here all on my own...”
Turning abruptly in her seat, the mysterious English-speaking stranger transpired to be a tall, statuesque blonde with lightly tanned skin and a pair of sparkling dark eyes which regarded her interestedly from beneath a stray lock of soft fringe. Thin spaghetti straps from a close-fitting black cocktail dress traversed the peaks and valleys of a pair of stunning collarbones, revealing a swan-like neck which was framed by little wispy tendrils of pale hair escaping from an artfully messy bun. A beautiful vision, whose fingers still lingered gently upon the small expanse of bare skin at the top of Serena’s shoulder. A delicious shiver, potentially erotic in origin, danced teasingly along the length of her spine.
Serena suddenly became aware that despite turning around and staring unabashedly at the other woman that she was yet to utter a single word in reply.
“Of course,” her reeling brain finally re-established the necessary neural connections with her larynx. “Feel free,” she added with a nervous smile as her heart independently decided that it would be appropriate to embrace the continuing theme of youthful nostalgia and started thudding with the overwhelming ferocity of a dawning teenage-crush; the like of which Serena had not experienced in decades.
“Serena Campbell,” she offered her name in greeting to her new acquaintance whose eyes seemed to have found it impossible to detach themselves from hers. “Pleased to meet you?” she tailed off inquiringly.
“Bernie, Bernie Wolfe…” came a soft reply from her right as the taller woman used her superior height to elegantly swing a free leg over the adjacent barstool, briefly exposing a lengthy expanse of calf which was clad temptingly in semi-opaque black hosiery.
Serena hastily took a deep gulp from her glass, mind reeling at her body’s unexpected reaction to the mysterious stranger.
Well, there’s an unexpected revelation... her inner voice added amusedly. Still, it’s not as if there’s anyone else here that you know to embarrass yourself in front of… why don’t you at least see where this goes….
“It’s short for Berenice,” her new companion supplied with a slightly, evidently assuming Serena’s lack of immediate reply was in confusion.
“Bérénice….” Serena tried out the unfamiliar name, rolling the vowels around her tongue with a subtle French overtone. “Appropriate for our surroundings, indeed…”
“Well, it’s actually Major Berenice Griselda Wolfe,” the other woman added with a slight shrug of her shoulders, “But personally, I believe that my parents were just resorting to cruelty with that middle name… “
“No, no, I’ve heard far worse…” Serena added with an amused little smile. “So, Major?”
“Royal Army Medical Corps…” Bernie added, “I’m just stopping over here for a night on my way back to London. Hoping to finally re-join my regiment and get back to Afghan after several months of rather tedious physio on an old back injury. Last night of freedom and all that.” A quick motion to the bartender saw another glass of red wine settle comfortably next to Serena’s glass. “I’m hoping I’ll get a clear bill of health, anyway. The past few months have been somewhat trying…”
Serena’s eyes flitted downward to the tanned hand which reached forward to claim the glass, observing the faint, white ghost of a wedding band circling the ring finger of Bernie’s left hand.
“Ah, yes…” Bernie’s eyes followed hers. “That was the other car-crash to come out of this year…” the corner of her mouth twitched abruptly, almost in pain. “To find your marriage over after twenty-five years…”
“I’m sorry…” Serena patted her gently on the back of the hand, surprising herself at such a tactile move towards a near stranger. “Been there myself…”
“Ah, but I doubt it was your fault though?” Bernie bowed her head slightly in shame, “I don’t see you being the sort to fall for a female colleague and then have the added issue of your husband finding out…” She took a swig from her glass. “Ah well, it was all my own fault in the end…”
Serena’s stomach flipped in an uneasy combination of uncertainty and hopefulness. She had been in the position of being constantly cheated upon herself… and yet, she would be lying if she said that there wasn’t the slightest sliver of her which had leapt in hope at hearing Bernie’s admission towards falling for another woman.
Honestly… what are you thinking? Her internal voice chastised her carefully.
“So, anyway,” Bernie abruptly changed the subject, “What brings you to Paris, Serena? It seems to be the getaway destination of choice at present…”
Serena chuckled, “Well… if I told you that at this time yesterday evening I was drunk-burying my mother in a hospital flowerbed, before my darling daughter and colleague surprised me with–”
Her explanation was cut short by the sound of Bernie spitting wine everywhere in an uncouth display of shock which earned her a displeased glare from nearby diners.
“I’m sorry?! Drunk-burying?”, the blonde choked. “Remind me to never get on the wrong side of you…”
“It was her ashes in fairness…” Serena added with a nonchalant sip from her own glass, sneaking a playful sideways look at Bernie. “And I’ve now been swept off to Paris by the combined scheming of my daughter and colleague in order to rest, recuperate and attempt to test the groaning restraints of my credit card balance…”
“Blimey…” Bernie slowly puffed out her cheeks as she took in the deluge of new information. “So, I take it you’re a fellow medic then?”
“Consultant vascular surgeon none-the-less, based at Holby City Hospital, Wyvern.” Serena offered with a slight bow of the head.
“My kind of girl,” Bernie replied with a flirtatious twinkle that made Serena temporarily weak at the knees, “I’m a trauma specialist, myself…”
“Nice to meet a fellow female surgeon,” Serena extended her arm slightly in offer of a handshake which Bernie chose to accept: slowly closing her slender digits around Serena’s proffered hand in a tender gesture, two sets of fingers executing a slow tango as they danced around each other in gentle exploration. A jolt of desire flickered and pooled deeply in Serena’s chest.
“Likewise…” Bernie murmured, her thumb ghosting lightly across the top of Serena’s hand, before her eyes collided devastatingly with the brunette’s, generating an electric spark which only served to add to the rapidly densifying atmosphere between the two women.
Why not? You’ve said you were going to be brave….
“Please, I hope you don’t think me too forward, as we’ve only just met…” Serena began tentatively, “but would you like to join me for dinner tonight? Seems a shame to waste such good company…”
“That would be wonderful,” Bernie smiled eagerly in reply: finally, reluctantly retracting her hand and feeling a lonely pang of absence immediately as she relinquished her soft grip.
“Thank you,” Serena added shyly before requesting a menu from a nearby member of staff in fluent French.
"Evidently you have many talents, Ms. Campbell…” an impressed comment came from her right as Bernie raised an eyebrow in a manner which could faintly be construed as suggestive if viewed in the right light.
A pink blush which spread slowly across the pale cheeks of the brunette confirmed that she had indeed interpreted the statement in that particular manner.
The evening passed in a flurry of delicious food, many glasses of wine and a never-ending supply of conversation which ranged from friendly enquires about the activities of each other’s respective children, professional gripes, personal motivations to a broad spectrum of other topics.
“Well, that was excellent.” Bernie commented as she set down her spoon with a satisfied clink of metal upon china.
“Mmm-hmmm,” Serena added in contented agreement before closing her eyes with a blissful smile and slowly sliding the final morsel of a delicious chocolate tart into her mouth; wearing an exquisite look of indulgence upon her face. A pale pink tongue darted out playfully to capture the few stray crumbs which clung stubbornly to the edges of her mouth.
It was Bernie’s turn to take an unnecessarily large gulp of wine.
“Shall we?” Serena motioned tentatively towards the river bank as they settled the bill.
“Why not?” Bernie returned with a soft smile as she buttoned up a pale duster coat and swept an elegant blue and green silk scarf around her neck.
“I’ve always loved Paris,” Serena looked fondly across the river as the two women strolled slowly along the cobbled pavement, a faint blue smoke from Bernie’s cigarette drifting hazily between them as she exhaled deeply whilst listening to Serena’s recollections.
“My mother first brought me here when I was twelve… I was so excited, I almost wet myself… of course, she was in meetings from dawn until dusk, but just occasionally we ventured out and took in the sights. Just me and her….”
“Adrienne sounds like a wonderful woman from what you’ve told me about her this evening,” Bernie added as they paused to lean against wrought iron railings and take in the bustling city view.
“Oh, she was. Such a force, so full of life… she drove me mad, but my word... she was as sharp as a pin until the dementia took hold… from then it was a slow, painful decline right up until the end.” Serena’s voice was slightly thick with emotion as she brushed an agitated hand through her bobbed hair.
“But, from the sounds of it, you did your absolute best,” a friendly arm slipped uninvited around her shoulders in a soft embrace, skilled fingers jettisoning the smouldering cigarette butt to the floor. “It can’t have been easy.”
Serena leant into the foreign source of warmth with a gentle sigh. In an uncharacteristic display of frankness into her own feelings, possibly due to the generous quantity of wine consumed in that evening, she chose to whisper a quiet reply.
“I spent so much of my life trying to please her… oh, it sounds so horrible… but now that she’s dead, I feel that I can finally be myself….” She sniffed softly, a wry smile crossing her lips, “but ironically, that is proving to be somewhat of a challenge... to let go… to be myself…”
Dark eyes looked up beseechingly at Bernie. “And, truth be told, I’m still not quite sure what on earth to do…” “I–” A sudden wobble from her tipsy frame toppled her off balance in her new shoes, stumbling sideways and bracing herself in preparation for the bruising, humiliating arrival upon the nearby cobbles which never came.
A swift pair of arms darted out and caught her, wrapping tightly around her waist and pulling her close.
“There… I’ve got you…. I’ve got you, Serena…”
Bernie’s face was close, close enough for Serena to see her own scared reflection in the other woman’s eyes. Heart fluttering wildly, she for once chose to abandon her reservations and attempt a little recklessness of her own making. Serena chose to be brave and leant forward from within her safe cocoon in Bernie’s arms, closing the distance between herself and her rescuer until two pairs of soft lips met in a gentle kiss, which was eagerly reciprocated by the tall medic. A faint moan escaped from between Serena’s parted lips as she wound exploratory fingers through Bernie’s hair, delighting in her decision to act upon her own instincts.
They eventually broke apart with a series of short kisses as though each loathed to be the one to finally break away, returning each time for one last peck.
“I think I’ve wanted you to do that all evening…” Bernie murmured approvingly against Serena’s lips.
“I think I have too…” Serena agreed shyly as she tucked a stray thread of hair behind Bernie’s ear.
It was a beaming Serena Campbell who strode back onto AAU several days later to be greeted by Raf Di Lucca. Buoyed by the memories of a wonderful, albeit fleeting romantic weekend with Bernie Wolfe, she smiled secretively as she unwound a familiar green and blue silk scarf from around her neck and returned to the everyday chaos of her ward, stepping into her usual managerial persona with ease.
Her phone bleeped as she closed her office door behind her with a soft click.
- Decided against London in favour of a slight career change… starting work in a place called Holby City Hospital very soon…See you tonight? B xx
A fond smile greeted her hastily typed reply to the affirmative.
Paris had indeed been the new beginning which she had been seeking.