“Up until now, you’ve always had decent reports from your appraisers and met all the competencies. I–I understand there’ve been some difficulties over the last few months.” He shifted again in his chair and the corner of one of his eyes started twitching. “And . . . well, that was all very unfortunate.” I felt Millie tense next to me, and when I glanced over I saw she was gripping the armrests of her chair so tightly her knuckles were white. “But,” he cleared his throat, “I’m afraid we won’t be able to sign off this portion of the training, as things stand. The appraiser’s report was . . . a problem.”
My head was throbbing again as I leant back in my chair. There was a pregnant pause. Everyone was waiting for me to speak, to make my case. But that just wasn’t going to happen. I’d been fighting my own battles for so long you’d think it would be ingrained in me to respond. During my other ARCPs, the panel had been lucky to get a word in edgeways. But now, I just wanted to stare at the peeling paint. I wanted to disappear.
“I’m going to start by focusing on Dr Murphy’s three-hundred-and-sixty degree appraisal dated three weeks ago,” Millie said in a clear and confident voice, and I darted her a surprised look. “Dr Murphy’s appraisal isverycomprehensive, providing numerous evaluations from her clinical and non clinical colleagues. She had a much higher response rate than the average.”
“We’ve read the appraisal, Dr Martakis,” Deanery Man said. He opened his mouth to speak again but Millie got there first and began reading aloud.
“‘Dr Murphy is one of the most dedicated genitourinary registrars I have ever come across. Her attitude towards patients and staff alike is second to none’; ‘Clinically, Dr Murphy is exceptionally competent for her grade. No other registrars can handle the busier clinics like her. She lights up the department’; ‘Kira makes me laugh every day. Before she joined the team, I hadn’t laughed at work in over a decade. She puts patients at ease and her diagnostic skills are excellent . . .’ Shall I go on? You should know: I have a photographic memory so I could recite her entire 360 appraisal – all twenty-three entries, and let me tell you, some of them go on for a loooonng time.”
“The 360 is not the only thing we’re looking for in order for her to pass. As I said, it’s unfort–”
“If you say that my friend being sexually harassed for months and then physically assaulted is ‘unfortunate’one more time. . .” Millie leaned forward as far as she could over her bump and lowered her voice, “I will pay for a barrister to represent Dr Murphy and we will sue the trust – be assured I have pretty much bottomless funds to accomplish this. Then, I will go to the press and tell them the true story of how a sexual predator with numerous previous complaints made against him was allowed to continue in an educational role. I have at least five women willing to speak up. After that, I’ll go the GMC, BMA and any other body I can find and Iwilldiscredit you.” She turned to the rest of the panel, her voice now ice cold. “I’ll discreditallof you.” The colour drained from all the faces of the panel apart from Prof, who was beaming at Millie, even though I was pretty sure she’d just threatened to discredit him.
“Listen, Dr Martakis,” Deanery Man began. He sat forward in a sudden movement and his chair scrapped back against the floor. The sharp noise felt like it snapped through my entire being and I flinched violently in my chair. The room fell silent and all eyes came to me. Millie laid her hand over mine and I realised how tightly I was gripping the armrests of the chair.
“You okay?” she whispered, and I gave a short, jerky nod, willing my heart rate to slow. I managed to loosen my grip on the chair so that the hand Millie wasn’t holding could come up to push some loose hair back behind my ear. To my annoyance, my hand was shaking so badly that even that small movement was an effort. There was an uncomfortable silence before Deanery Man cleared his throat.
He went on, now in a softer voice. “I’m sorry about what happened, but–”
“Oh, do shut up, Phil,” Prof said, cutting him off. He now looked absolutely furious. “I can’t say I usually take much interest in these things. Load of red tape and bollocks, if you ask me. We all know that Dr Shipman would have got all his sign-ups done in triplicate, and that this means absolutely sod all in the great scheme of things.”
“Well, I . . . ” Deanery Man, aka Phil, spluttered, but Prof put his hand up to silence him and his mouth snapped shut.
“I’vewritten up an appraisal for Dr Murphy. A very comprehensive one, containing all the relevant information. None of this box ticking.” He slid a couple of sheets of paper over to Deanery Man who took them and glanced over the content.
“But . . . but this should be in her digital appraisal record otherwise–”
“Jesus Christ, Philip, just listen to yourself,”Nigel’s voice surprised me enough to snap me out of my daze and glance across at him. Just like Prof’s, his expression was less than pleased. “We buggered up and exposed another trainee to that dangerous, disgusting predator. Have you got any idea of the ramifications of that? And you want to set back one of the best trainees we’ve ever had in the department so that she can’t qualify to fill the consultant job that we’ll need in three years time? Are you crazy? You do know there’s a recruitment problem across the board at the moment? Fill in thegoddamndigital appraisal yourself.”
If I was honest, I’d always regarded managers as a malevolent force in the hospital – only interested in efficiencies and budgets. But in that moment, I felt bad for my assumptions. They could probably rake in a lot more money in the private sector. Theychoseto work for the NHS. It wasn’t their fault the budget was limited. It didn’t mean that they didn’t care.
“Dr Murphy,” Nigel addressed me now, and I blinked at him but managed eye contact. “It’s clear to me that you’re not yourself. Given that you were attacked two days ago, that is hardly surprising.” He turned to Millie. “Dr Martakis, thank you for accompanying Kira today. I would appreciate it if you could make sure she gets home alright. She’s taking the next two weeks off.” I opened my mouth to tell him that was impossible, but he got there first. “I’ve got a locum, Kira,” he said, his voice now so gentle it almost brought tears to my eyes. “I know you were about to say that you didn’t need the time, and I know that’s because you’d be worried about your colleagues, but we won’t be dumping all your work on them. Someone will be covering all your clinics and on-calls. For once, you should try looking after yourself and not everyone else.”
I looked down at my shoes for a moment and blinked away the wet in my eyes, before looking up again.
“Thank you,” I whispered in a broken little voice that was so far from my usual Kira volume I could see everyone wince at the sound of it.
“Come on, Ki Ki,” Millie said. Her hand slipped into mine and she tugged me to standing. I gave the panel one last sweep, nodding at Prof and Nigel before I turned to leave. Deanery Man was looking a little pale and avoiding eye contact to shuffle through his papers on the table in front of him.
As Millie led me away, I heard Prof call my name and I turned to look at him again.
“Don’t let that bastard dim your light, Kira. You take a break, but don’t forget what I’ve said today: you’re the best trainee I’ve ever worked with – no jumped-up sad excuse for a man can take that from you.”
Chapter35
I had to try your way
Barclay
“Uh . . . hello, Mrs Murphy,” I said after I’d recovered my composure. “Is Kira alright?’
She rolled her eyes as I opened the door wider to invite her into my house. “No, she’s not bloody well alright, is she?” Mrs Murphy snapped as she bustled past me, the little bells and small mirrors on her gypsy skirt tinkling.
I was about to shut the door when I did a double take. My own mother was out there as well, and she looked just as pissed off with me as Kira’s.
“Well, don’t just stand there, care bear,” Mum told me as she too pushed past me in the direction of the kitchen, using the nickname she hadn’t employed in over thirty years. “Get that kettle on for a start. We could all do with some tea before I strangle you, I’m sure.”
I thought it best to just nod and keep my mouth shut. By the time I’d made it to the kitchen, Mum was putting the kettle on and pulling down the teabags whilst telling Henry that his shirt needed ‘a good iron’. Henry was sitting at the kitchen island eating his Rice Krispies and looking about as shocked at the influx of women in their sixties as I felt. Over the last month, Henry and I had totally swapped roles. Now I was the morose one, barely eating or sleeping, surviving on caffeine, adrenaline and misery; Henry was the one trying to make sure I ate actual meals, checking up on me in my office, trying to talk to me about my ‘feelings’. It was surreal. If I were in a better state of mind, I’d be pleased to see how far Henry had come, but at the moment I couldn’t see past my own misery. Once the kettle was on, Mum moved to Henry and kissed him on his cheek, before reaching under his chin to push up and close his mouth.
