THE SUBJECT OF OFFICE GOSSIP
Disclaimer: All property of the BBC Author's Note: I really only watched Frankie because of Eve Myles and because it's set in Bristol, which was my uni city! But it soon became like a Who Fan's dream. Think about it: Gwen Cooper working with Sir Robert Macleish (from Tooth and Claw)and The Brigadier's daughter, going out with Shakespeare (from The Shakespeare Code) and one of her patients was Ray from Ashes to Ashes. Nerd alert! I don't think the Frankie fandom is very big, which is a shame as it's wonderful! "You're not finger painting with it, you can't just stab at it, you've got to be much more delicate. Show it some damn respect, woman," Matt berated her, managing to sound both appalled and incredulous at the same time, putting a protective hand over the jar of peanut butter. Karen looked down in confusion at the chocolate finger she still had poised in mid-air. She had just been about to dunk it. "How can there be a wrong way of doing this?" she snapped back at him, crest-fallen. "Give it here." "Like. That," Matt told her, jabbing his finger at her. "Prime example. You're one of those people who just bite into a Creme Egg, aren't you? And just eat it like a slice of bread? You are, aren't you?" He gave her a stern look and Karen avoided his eyes. "Yeah, so?" she mumbled guiltily, making a half-hearted grab for the jar, but he slid it out of her reach. Then he slammed his forehead onto his desk, making Karen wince at the noise. "God forgive this woman," he groaned, his voice muffled. "She knows not what she does." For the past few lunchtimes, now they had been 'experimenting' with the weirdest of food combinations for their latest inane project. This time it was a list entitled, 'Food Which Tastes Nice Even Though It Probably Shouldn't.' Yesterday it had been beef burgers made with glazed doughnuts instead of a bread-bun, the day before it had been deep-fried Mars Bars; an inspiration gleaned not entirely subtlety from Andy. Today? Today was Cadbury's chocolate fingers dipped into peanut butter. These days, the staff kitchen at the Clifton Community Nurses' Office had the same saccharine, fatty smell as a the food vans at the Bristol Harbour Festival. All the rest of the team could do was pretend to complain bitterly into their boring shop-bought sandwiches and look on in mild interest. Andy was leaning casually against the door frame of Frankie's office, Frankie herself fitting neatly under his arm. Both were wearing identical expressions of mixed bewilderment as they watched this food spectacle. "D'yae think maybe it's a southern thing?" Andy said in a stage-whisper to her, his breath ruffling her hair, making sure they could both hear him. "I think it's an English thing," Frankie whispered back, equally loudly, doing her best mock-horrified expression. "We're surrounded by them, Andy! English on all sides!" She smiled mischievously, her eyes crinkling as she began to sing and wiggle "Ennnglish to the left of me. Ennnglish to the right! Here I am, stuck in the middle with youuuu." "Us foreigners got to stick together," he quipped, seriously. "Och aye!" retorted Frankie, in her very best Scottish accent. Which, being naturally Welsh was nothing short of cringe-worthy. Andy grimaced and shook his at her, looking pained. "Oh. Oh nah. Don't do that." "Don't dae tha'!" mimicked Frankie, laughing, pulling a face at him. Andy looked at Matt for support. "That was," he began, nodding at him to continue, "Definitely Jamaican," agreed Matt. "Now," he said shortly, waving the jar of peanut butter at Andy and Frankie. "Are you two going to stand there criticising our haute cuisine or are you going to go out and tend to the sick and needy of this fair city?" Frankie patted Andy on the chest to get him to move. "The Hairy Biker has got a point. I've got an 80 year old lady and a size 5 pessary waiting for me," she informed him breezily over her shoulder as she walked back into her office to collect her coat and bag. "I can beat that," challenged Andy gruffly, also returning to his own desk to shrug on his coat. "I've got a 20 yr old lad who believes in do-it-at-home enemas," he told her matter-of-factly. "Whoaahh," protested Matt, holding his hands up. "Enough of that. Out. Right now, go on. He shook the packet of chocolate fingers at Frankie as she walked past him, "Here, take one. You're going to need your strength," he insisted, sounding faintly ill. "Thanks, my good man," said Andy, taking the biscuit instead of Frankie and steering her firmly towards the door before she could reach for another one. "Oi," she shrieked, scandalised as Andy immediately took a bite out of it. "What?" he shrugged at her, pretending to look innocent and chuckling to himself as they walked out of the office together. She dug him in the ribs with her elbow. None too gently, either. Matt watched them leave, his chin resting on his hand, his cheek all squashed up so that he looked almost disfigured. To anyone else he would look like he were dying of boredom as he sat beside Karen, grunting noncommittally at whatever TOWIE-infused article she was reading on Heat online. "Do you think those two might get together?" asked Matt quietly, looking sideways at Karen. Karen, who was concentrating on what she was reading, her mouth slightly open, frowned and didn't take her eyes off the computer screen. "Who? Joey and Chloe? They're related!" "Nooo, not that lot," tutted Matt impatiently in the loudest whisper-shout he could manage without anyone other than Karen hearing him. He nodded towards the door that Frankie and Andy had just disappeared through and gave Karen a meaningful look. "Fra-" she began, loudly, too taken aback to remember to keep her voice down. "Sorry! Frankie and Andy?" she whispered, shooting Matt an apologetic look as he glared at her and wheeled her chair closer to his. "Are you being serious?" Matt gave an enigmatic shrug and grinned at her. "It's not impossible. He's single. She's single. He's always round at hers for a takeaway," he pointed out, swinging side-to-side on his chair. Karen shook her head and helped herself to a chocolate finger. "No," she decided, chewing. "She's just come out of a four-year relationship with Ian. She almost got engaged to him, she wouldn't start seeing Andy," she insisted, loyally. Matt looked unconvinced. "Yeah but you're just thinking about Frankie," he said with a smirk. "I'm on about Andy. You know, 'Strike whilst the iron's hot,' and all that." Karen gaped at him like he had grown an extra head. "He wouldn't," she insisted, though she didn't sound too confident. "Andy's not like that. Andy's lovely." Matt snorted. "Course he's like that," he said in a sing-song voice, still managing to whisper. "He's a bloke." "Nah," replied Karen doubtfully, looking at the door, again. "I don't think they'd risk not being friends. Anyway, she's his boss," she reminded him, shortly, as if that settled it. "She's probably not allowed." Matt rolled his eyes at her. "In the same way as she wasn't allowed to see any patients when she was suspended and still went to see Robbie Preston?" he pointed out, smugly. Karen smiled but tried to hide it, unable to come up with any response to that. "You know, you gossip like a woman," she teased him, turning her attention back to the Heat and scrolling down for another story. "I give them until Christmas," he said firmly, still swinging idly from side to side on his chair. "Bet you ten quid." Matt grunted in thanks as Karen placed a steaming hot cup of tea beside his empty bowl of what had contained Coco Pops and didn't look up from his work. "I think the proper response is, 'Thank you very much, Karen, Happy Friday,'" she said cheerfully as she took a seat back at her own computer, logged on and ripped open a breakfast biscuit. "Happy Friday," he replied, distractedly. Normally he would have only been too happy to chat to Karen but unfortunately he was a man and he couldn't multi-task. The practice timetable had been amended to within an inch of its life; patients had been rescheduled; clinics had been cancelled and reinstated at obscure times; there wasn't a single day that looked normal. Monday and Tuesdays' 8.15 to 10.45am clinic had been cancelled. So had the afternoon clinics. Thursday and Fridays' 15.00 to 17.30 clinics had also been cancelled for all of this week. And the next. And the week after that. The thing is, they were all... "Has Dr Evans had a house land on top of her or something?" he asked loudly and without preamble as he wheeled himself into the front office, where the receptionists and secretaries sat. They all looked up at him, wearily, all of them about as alive-looking as a pair of curtains. One of them tittered sarcastically. "Oh, you've noticed, then?" she said sharply, giving him a dirty look. "I've noticed that all of her clinics have been cancelled for the next three weeks, yeah. Where am I supposed to send all of her patients who need follow-ups, ey?" he asked, impatiently. "She's on annual leave," sighed the manager. "Dr. Stryder's going to take as many of her patients as he can...the rest," she shrugged and squeezed the bridge of her nose. "Who knows? We'll just have to see if the Registrar's up to it." Matt frowned, sensing that something wasn't quite adding up. "Is she all right, then? Dr Evans? She didn't have any holiday put in the diary," he probed, looking from the manager to the other two receptionists in turn. "She's gone and given herself frostbite, I reckon," dead-panned the youngest. "Look, Dr Stryder rang up late last night and said that Dr. Evans was going to be off for the next couple of weeks. So we've been doing over-time, trying to get all of the patients that really need seeing into clinic today, OK? There. You know as much as us." "We've still got about fifty telephone-review patients to reschedule," piped up the other receptionist irritably, glaring at Matt as if it were somehow his fault. "As well as do everything else which there already isn't enough admin staff for, so unless you fancy making a couple of calls and have a man shout the odds at you about his wife's infected gums, I suggest you go back to your district nurses and leave us to worry about Dr Evans," she ranted, waving a creased list of hand-written telephone numbers at him. Matt didn't so much as blink at her snippy tone. He looked from the crumpled list in her hand to the receptionist and back again. "If she's got infected gums, should she not be going to see her dentist?" he asked curiously, gesturing vaguely at his own teeth. The receptionist gave a long-suffering sigh and looked up at the ceiling. "Well you'd think so, wouldn't you? I did try telling him that but no, patients know best as per usual," she replied, sounding much calmer but very fed up. Matt took the list of patients' contact details off her and frowned at it, deep in thought. "And these are all relatively low-risk patients who just need a telephone review appointment rather than an actual visit?" queried Matt. "Yeah." "Leave it with me, I have a man for the job," he said simply, wheeling back towards his own office but stopping just before he got to the doorway. "Oooh, err...have you got a spare head-set, by any chance?" Matt dropped about ten sets of patients' notes on Andy's desk. "And that, my friend. Is your lot." Andy scowled at him, unimpressed. He was trying to look authoritative but it was hard to take him seriously when he had a head-set on, complete with a sticky-out microphone. He looked like an extra from an insurance advert. "I'm a nurse," he complained to Matt, sounding very put-out. "Not working in a call-centre. You canae make me do this, I've got patients to see." "You're a nurse who can't drive, write or put on a dressing," Matt reminded him. "Right now, I'm a better nurse than you, mate and I failed O-level Biology." Andy grimaced. " What did they say was up with Dr. Evans, anyway? Why've I got to ring all her patients?" "Annual Leave," said Matt darkly, raising his eyebrows. "Whatever that means," he added conspiratorially under his breath as he left to go to his own desk. "Morning, Frankie!" he added by way of greeting as Frankie came blustering into the office, already taking her coat off. Andy's head shot up at the mention of her name and he held Frankie's gaze for half a second before pretending that he hadn't. Frankie came to a stand-still in front of his desk and stared at him, one hand on her hip. "Hold on, Matt," she said holding her hand up to stop him from wheeling away. "My senior nurse is sitting with a head-set on," she remarked slowly, looking Andy up and down. "Please tell me you've taken his photo?" Matt laughed. "Not yet, no. He's ringing Dr Evans' telephone-review patients," he informed her helpfully. "And he's going to do it with a big smile on his face. We've been practicing, haven't we?" he sniggered, winding Andy up. "Go on, say it. Say, 'Our records show that you may be due a new boiler.'" Andy didn't pay him any attention. He narrowed his eyes at Frankie, suspiciously. "Did you know that Zoe was going on Annual Leave?"he asked her, watching her expression carefully. "She mentioned something about it last night, yeah," replied Frankie off-handedly, Andy raised his eyebrows at her but didn't say anything. "Have you had breakfast?" asked Frankie, quickly changing the subject. She pointed at Andy sternly, "Have you?" Andy gestured to his sling and his bandaged arm with his chin. "Was'nae my highest priority this morning." "Ok, I'll make you some toast, yeah? With butter and a coffee?" offered Frankie chirpily. "I'm not an invalid, Franks," he muttered. "No, you're not," agreed Frankie, with a note of warning in her voice. 'But you've lost the use of both your arms, Andy so do you want breakfast or not?" She gave him her best, 'don't mess with me,' look that she usually reserved for patients who spun her a line to explain why their blood sugar was so high even when they insisted that they had been sticking to their doctor-approved diet. "I'm not even going to ask how you manage to go to the toilet," joked Matt, leaving them to it. "Or anything else for that matter," he added, waggling his eyebrows at Andy from across the room as he got to his desk. Frankie tutted at his infantile humour and Andy tried his best to keep a straight face, like a boy who had been caught causing mischief in class. "What?" she asked defensively, noticing he was watching her. Andy gave her a look and something about it made Frankie move closer to his desk, knowing she was the only one who was meant to hear. "You," he said quietly, shaking his head. 'You just can't turn off being a nurse, can you? You're talking to me like I'm one of your patients." Frankie glanced quickly around the office to check no one was listening, making sure it seemed as natural an action as possible. As if she were just checking to see who was in and who wasn't. "Well, you are," she countered stubbornly. "You've got this twisted," she told him, gently shaking his sling. "What have you been doing with it?" Frowning, she leaned over him and adjusted it so that it was a little bit tighter and sitting straight around his neck. She tried not to think about the fact that she was right in his personal space. Again. "Do you kiss all or your patients?" he asked under his breath, his voice hoarse. Frankie ignored him and carried on checking his sling, making sure the flaps were tucked in neatly. She sighed through her nose. "Only when they're 'armless," she murmured back, not looking at him. Andy snorted and when Frankie straightened up she caught his eye and grinned at him. She opened her mouth, about to say something when from between them, the phone started ringing, completely putting her off. "For God's sake," growled Andy. He cleared his throat and looked away from Frankie, getting back into professional mode. "Clifton Surgery, you're through to Dr Evans' phone." Andy's brow furrowed for a moment in concentration, listening to whatever the patient on the other end was saying. "OK, can I take your name please?" he asked gently. "Right, Karen. Hi..." Frankie's mouth twitched as she listened in on his side of the phone-call. Her eyes slid over to the kitchen, where, through the window, she could clearly see Karen talking quietly into her mobile phone, her face bright red from trying not to laugh. Andy, looking very uncomfortable, followed her gaze and... "KAREN!" he thundered. The entire office erupted into peals of laughter.
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