Fairy Godmother
By the time she reached Year 6, everyone knew that Lizzie Goodwin was destined to be a brilliant doctor. Once, the boy from next door took a spectacular tumble off the swings, managing to bash both his knees and his head in ways that would make most grown-ups weak at the knees. But 12-year-old Lizzie sprang into action, utterly unfazed.
“Harriet, fetch some water, a bandage, and the antiseptic!” she commanded her mate from the block of flats opposite, and Harriet scampered off without so much as a squeak.
By the time Mrs. Thompson, the boys mother, turned up in a panic (no one knows exactly how she heard), Lizzie had already cleaned, disinfected, and wrapped the wounds like a pint-sized Florence Nightingale. When Mrs. Thompson discovered who her sons saviour was, her astonishment couldnt be measured.
“My word, youll make a cracking doctor! A really good one. You kept your head better than half the GPs I know and youre only a kid! Mrs. Thompson marveled, giving Lizzie an approving pat. Some doctors could take notes from you, young lady.
Whenever school trips came about, everyone scrambled to be in Lizzie Goodwins group. Few people were keen to actually get hurt, of course, but with Lizzie about, it all seemed a little less frightening.
Then it was off to medical school, junior doctor internships, specialist rotations, the compulsory yearly courses. She ticked every box with the quiet precision of someone who truly cared.
One day, as the designated senior on duty, Dr. Elizabeth Goodwin now Mrs. Turner found herself holding the fort in the diagnostics department. Fortunately, her colleagues were a smashing bunch. Well, apart from the ageing Deputy Medical Director, Mr. Vernon Sedgewick: a champion grumbler, drama-magnet, and, unmistakably, an emotional vampire. If there was an argument to be had, hed sniff it out faster than a beagle. Lizzie had perfected the art of staying out of his line of fire, but only just one could never underestimate the emotional taxation of resisting his provocations.
The saving grace was that their meetings were mercifully sparse: a weekly patient review board, where new admissions were discussed, and everyone jostled to get through as quickly as possible. Yet, even those brief encounters felt about as joyful as a wet Monday morning.
Sedgewick rarely missed a chance to quibble with Dr. Turner, tossing in the odd barbed remark for good measure. It was obvious when she ignored his needling, he only got keener. Pure theatre.
Impossible man, shed grumble to her husband, Paul, over dinner. Honestly, I really try to be patient, but sometimes it feels like he wakes up wondering how best to provoke me.
Paul smiled reassuringly. Youll have him round your little finger soon enough. You could negotiate with NATO, Liz.
Their 13-year-old son, Matthew, chimed in: Seriously, Mum, if you get bored being a doctor, you could be a diplomat. They get paid loads more, too.
Ill keep that in mind, Lizzie chuckled.
Diplomatic she was, but still only human. She knew, deep down, that everyone has a breaking point even if hers was well-hidden.
The next day, at the usual review board, all trundled along according to routine until Lizzie presented the case of an elderly lady, about sixty, sitting across from them on the patient couch.
The usual protocol was simple: report, patient leaves (if able), and then the doctor, consultant, and Sedgewick would discuss things together. But not today. The anxious old lady piped up:
Just tell me, Doctor, is it really serious? Will I be alright? Ive still got my orphaned granddaughter to look after.
Her voice shook, and Lizzie could see tears threatening in her wrinkled eyes. Just as she opened her mouth to reassure her, Sedgewick barked:
With this diagnosis? Please, madam, your condition is so far gone no sensible doctor could promise anything! Why did you wait so long?
The poor woman was stunned, her lips trembling as Sedgewick ploughed on:
I know your sort! Put up with the symptoms, treat yourself with herbal tea and paracetamol, and only see a doctor when all goes pear-shaped! Were not miracle workers
Crushed, the old dear burst into tears and fled the room. Afterwards, Lizzie scolded herself for not putting Sedgewick in his place. But she had been in utter shock who talks to a struggling pensioner like that?
Their consultant frowned in disapproval. Yes, deep down everyone knew Sedgewick was right about early intervention, but surely he could show a crumb of empathy at least respect for her age!
And that was it. Lizzie snapped. Enough was enough time for the old bellowing windbag to get a piece of her mind.
Mr. Sedgewick, with the utmost respect, what has got into you?
Into me? he shrugged. Were not magicians, Lizzie, and patients need to hear it. Any doctor knows if you start treatment early you stand a chance.
Noticing the slight smirk on his face, Lizzies irritation doubled. He thought hed got a rise out of her. Lets see about that, she thought.
Yes, Mr. Sedgewick, youre right that most illnesses are easier dealt with early on. No one disputes that. But do you have any idea how much effort it took to persuade that woman to seek help at all? She actually trusted things might turn out well! And you trampled all over her little hope in five seconds flat. Well done!
Lizzie threw up her hands in frustration. Sedgewick, wrong-footed by her outburst, began to bluster, but found perhaps for the first time his usual bark met with real resistance. He knew now: Dr. Turner was made of sterner stuff.
He raged on but Lizzie barely heard him. She was in her own world; there was no working with this kind of negativity. The room cleared out, leaving her to breathe a sigh of exasperation. She wouldnt give him the satisfaction of crying, so she busied herself with paperwork instead.
A meek knock interrupted her from her brooding; she didnt lift her head, not expecting anyone gentle certainly not Sedgewick. Yet there he stood, clutching a bottle of valerian drops like a sailor lost at sea.
Dr. Turner, he stammered, please, take this and I I must apologise. You were probably right
Lizzie was more surprised at her own lack of triumph than his apology. Instead, she pitied him after all, people whispered about his loneliness. Was that why he was so prickly?
Youre not wrong either, Mr. Sedgewick, she replied, softening. But our job is to heal and sometimes, hope is the first medicine. You know that as well as I do.
Yes, yes, of course, he mumbled, distracted.
It was a remarkable transformation. But Lizzie wasnt one to let opportunities slip.
Mr. Sedgewick, she exhaled, just remember: I wont tolerate anyone you or otherwise questioning my professional judgement in front of a patient, be they porter or Prime Minister, nor raising their voice in my presence.
Yes, Dr. Turner. Understood.
Good, Lizzie thought, glancing at the clock. Loads still to do.
An hour later she visited her patient, Mrs. Veronica Green, who was now propped up in bed beside a riot of tulips. The old dear beamed, Your boss visited! Brought me flowers, apologised, even promised to do everything possible to get me well!
Excellent news, Lizzie smiled, squeezing her hand. Well have you up and about in no time. Youre still a lady in her prime!
Comedienne! laughed Mrs. Green.
A month on and Mrs. Green made a fine recovery. On discharge, Sedgewick presented her with a posh box of chocolates.
These are for your granddaughter, he muttered, awkward but sincere, and handed over a bouquet of roses.
Such lovely flowers! Thank you, doctor its been an age since anyone gave me a bunch! Mrs. Green beamed. And thank all you doctors for getting old biddies like me back on their feet.
Sedgewick could only muster: Well, Id say, come again, but lets not tempt fate. Though, do drop by if you fancy a cuppa. And take care, alright?
Staff and patients alike were gobsmacked. Whats gotten into him? everyone thought. No one imagined Sedgewick even knew what kindness sounded like.
Thereafter, relations between Lizzie and Mr. Sedgewick became, if not warm, at least amiable. Theyd share coffee after meetings, or cross paths in the hospital café. He even opened up one afternoon:
No joy in life, Lizzie, he sighed. No wonder Im difficult. Lifes flown by and I never quite caught it, you know?
How can you say that? Lizzie exclaimed. Youre the deputy director thats a big deal!
He shrugged, Yes, but Id swap it all for a little happiness. Once, maybe. Its drifted away.
Oh, you softy, Lizzie thought, amused, but she held her tongue and just listened. The more she knew him, the more she realised she liked the old grump.
This didnt go unnoticed. The nurses gossiped over tea and scones in the hospital kitchen on Fridays, their mid-week treat. There theyd pile the table with flapjacks, fairy cakes, jam tarts, and the worlds best homemade strawberry jam.
One week, senior nurse Audrey gave Lizzie a knowing look, What did you do to Sedgewick? He even smiles these days!
Oh, nothing much, Lizzie waved it off. Turns out the secrets simple.
Is it, though? cloakroom manager Mrs. Beale muttered, sceptical.
Its true. Its about confidence and self-worth everyone can have them, porter or chief consultant. Dont let anyone say otherwise.
Thats all well for you, youre the legendary Dr. Turner, but Im just a cleaner! bleated young Janice, shivering at the thought of Sedgewick.
Now, dont you start. Everyones got worth, and confidence never hurt a soul, Lizzie replied firmly.
Thats right, nodded Dr. Gale, the psychiatrist. Especially with the energy vampires. Stand your ground, theyll leave you alone theres nothing in it for them then!
I think Sedgewicks just a lonely man, mused Vera from the kitchens. Everyone murmured agreement except Lizzie, who now understood that better than anyone.
Girls, have I missed anything juicy? burst in a panting Elsie, the linen manager.
Hardly, youre just in time. Were discussing Mr. Sedgewick, Dr. Gale said with a wink.
Then youll know Sedgewicks getting married! Elsie blurted.
Get out!
Youre having a laugh!
Hellll freeze over first! The kitchen rang with disbelief and squeals.
Lizzie, dont say you had no idea, smirked Audrey.
None whatsoever! Lizzie insisted, bemused. We chat a fair bit, but never about romance.
Unsurprising, said Tamara, the hospitals psychologist. Men like him never let anyone know how human they are, not straight away.
Whos the lucky lady, then? Janice asked, voicing Lizzies own thoughts.
Not sure exactly, Elsie said, pouring tea. Seemingly some patient.
Really?! gasped Vera, but Lizzie found she was smiling knowingly.
Dont you think this news calls for something stronger? she said loudly. Teas all right, but I reckon a bottle or two of wine wouldnt go amiss.
Everyone cheered and raised a toast to Sedgewicks happiness maybe matrimony would soften the old bear.
The next day, while Lizzie sipped coffee post-rounds, Sedgewick approached, radiant in a way that suggested hed either won the lottery or finally had a good hair day.
She decided not to spoil his surprise; let him have his moment.
Youre looking chipper, Mr. Sedgewick! she greeted him with a smile.
I am indeed, Dr. Turner. In fact, Im getting married!
No! Congratulations! May I ask whos the lucky lady? I hope shes a good one?
Shes the best there is, he beamed. Its Veronica the very lady you told me off about. I decided to act. Looked up her records, popped round on some follow-up pretext
You sly dog! Lizzie laughed. Well, thats a marvellous choice!
I thought so too. Also Id be chuffed if youd come to the wedding with your family, of course. Without you, Id never have met her. Honestly, Lizzie, you ought to be a diplomat.
Oh, stop. If two people are meant to meet, fate finds a way.
Her heart swelled.
And, my, didnt he scrub up well for his wedding! Mrs. Green looked splendid, too. Gone was the frail woman so desperate to survive; instead, Veronica, with her smart new bob and deep-brown hair, looked years younger. She never tired of thanking Lizzie for giving her another shot at life and maybe, just maybe, at love too.
