Chapter Text
Paris. Auxerre. Dijon. Macon. Lyon. Avignon. Serena follows her route along the map on her phone. The train goes too fast to see much of the stations as they whizz through, but the countryside is beautiful. Spring has definitely sprung and the fields burst with colours. Fruit trees are pink and white, and wildflowers make for fanciful borders.
The train Serena is on is almost empty. She much prefers it that way. Above her head and at the front of the carriage is what amounts to her entire life. Three suitcases laden with her favourite clothes and books. The ones that she couldn’t bear to be parted with.
Her heart is also laden, but with grief and sadness. The wound left by Elinor’s passing is still bleeding and sore and the mere thought of her daughter makes Serena weepy and despair.
The more miles she puts between her and Holby, the better she feels, though.
Somewhere in her bag is an email she printed out. A friend of Sian that left England for the sunnier climes of the south of France and bought a farm and a vineyard, has rooms and work and is known to be a bit of a misfit. “He’s always looking for more people to come and help out,” Sian told Serena. “It’ll be good for you to leave home for a bit”, she didn’t say but heavily implied. Serena had already asked for and got a sabbatical, but had no idea what to do, so she’d emailed, and Pascal had replied eagerly.
Avignon marks a change in the landscape. The sun seems brighter. The hills are covered with vines and fields, and small medieval villages dot the tops. Even the air smells fresher.
The train lumbers past small stations with names that are difficult to pronounce. They’ve left the high speed rail track and now meander in the back country, over small rivers that glisten like jewels and across olive groves full of bees.
A family joins the train and Serena’s heart spasms painfully at the sight of the young girl with pigtails. She looks just like Elinor did at that age, so Serena looks out the window and breathes in and out until the yawning chasm of grief abates somewhat.
She arrives in Manosque and stands on the platform, a little lost. Her suitcases form a circle around her and she’s contemplating a move when a young man comes running towards her, a big smile on his face.
“Serena?”
She nods, bemused, and he leans to kiss both her cheeks. Only shock prevents her from kneeing him in the groin.
“I’m Olivier, Pascal’s nephew! He sent me to get you, but there was a...mouton? A sheep! On the road, so I had to take it down the hill!”
All of this said with a strong French accent. Olivier can’t be a day over 20, and he is built like a rugby player, with strong arms and tanned skin. Serena bets he’s popular with the ladies.
He grabs her bags like they’re filled only with feathers and off they go along the platform and out of the station. Serena is so bemused by the whole thing that she dumbly follows without a word.
“The van is over there. It’s only a 30-minute drive, but I have a cheese and some bread if you want? Also wine, but maybe it’s too early? I don’t know when British people drink? Is it only tea until 5?”
Serena blinks and laughs and they end up both laughing by a beaten up van that has seen better days. It feels good to laugh. Serena hasn’t laughed in ages, and it feels rusty.
“Is it my English? Sorry! My uncle says I speak too much!” Olivier says with a smile.
Serena shakes her head and watches as Olivier loads her bags at the back of the van. The sun is warm on her shoulders, so she shrugs off her blouse and is down to her vest top.
Olivier gestures to the passenger seat so she climbs in, smiling at the car magazines that litter the front of the vehicle.
“Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t clean! Uhhh, maybe just put them at the back. Ok, are you ready? Do you like music? I sing not very well but I like the British and American bands. Rolling Stones? Fleetwood Mac?”
So that’s how Serena finds herself singing The Chain and Satisfaction at the top of her lungs with a man child along winding roads. The windows are down because the van doesn’t have air conditioning “sorry about the hot!” And her hair ruffles in the wind and she breathes in the smell of cut grass and she feels like everything could be ok for the first time since Elinor died.
The farm and the vineyard sprawl over two hills and a valley, right next to the charming village of Puimichel. The main building sits on top of one hill and overlooks the whole domain. Pascal, Sian’s friend, shows off his kingdom with a proud sweep of his arm. He is Serena’s age and Serena already likes his easy smile and his careful mention of why she’s here. “Needed a bit of time away, yes? You’ve come to the right place.”
They walk amongst the young vines, the olive grove, the orchard, the fields of rapeseed and corn. Pascal introduces Serena to the goats and the cows. To the horses. To a pig named Martha that is pregnant and very friendly. To the two dogs, Ping and Pong, both collies that run around like alarmed bees. He shows her the hives, the milking station, the stables.
“You can do whatever you want, Serena. I don’t know what...what you need, but you can work in the fields, or with the animals, or you can have a look at my accounts, because I’m just a farmer and I don’t understand all this excel? The tables?”
She wants to cry at how gentle and understanding he is. Instead she just nods and they have dinner with Olivier and a few others at a big communal table in the rustic kitchen.
Pascal is obviously quite the magnet for misfits.
There is Olivier, who is delaying university to see if farm life is for him. And then there is Julie, an artist who sometimes rents an outbuilding to paint abstract views of the countryside that are apparently very popular. She is covered in shawls and smells of patchouli and talks of auras, which makes Serena smile.
Across the table, Ramzi and Kader try their English with Serena and from what she understands after a few broken sentences, they’ve had a few run ins with the law “just for taking some things!” And do the heavy lifting around the farm. They both have bulging muscles and brim with energy.
Next to them, there is an older man that smokes a roll up cigarette and looks like he’s seen everything. That’s Emile and he’s been a farmer for ever, he tells Serena in careful French.
Pascal’s wife, Valerie, heads the table. She’s clad in overalls and laughs easily. Her English is pretty basic, but with Serena’s French they manage to chat about the little outbuilding they’ve put Serena in. It’s single level but it has a small living room and kitchen, and Serena’s chosen one of the two bedrooms that opens onto the sloping fields. It’s basic but gorgeous. Valerie warns her that the dogs like to sunbathe by the front door, but Serena likes the idea of having them as company.
After toasts for Serena’s arrival, everyone heads to bed. Serena stands by her new bed, in her new home, and bursts into tears. It’s not all sad. She’s exhausted, but also relieved. She’s made the right choice she thinks. The people are kind and the place beautiful. She sleeps the entire night through.
From then on, the days bleed into one another. Serena tries her hand at everything. She discovers an affinity for driving tractors. She loves to look after the horses after their hard days in the fields. She overhauls Pascal’s excel spreadsheets. She drives into Puimichel with Valerie to do the shopping. She’s good with Martha, the pregnant pig, and becomes the only one that can give her her blood pressure medication.
She feels needed. Useful. Grounded and aware of her body for the first time in for ever. Days in the fields and around the farm tone her body and lighten her heavy heart.
Her first month passes, then her second and her third. She comes to cherish the communal dinners and the lunches taken outside. Olivier likes to join her if he can, and he talks and talks and makes her laugh. It seems like the sun always shines and the olives grow and the corn gets higher and higher.
Serena likes to take walks as the sun sets over the hills. Everything is quiet after the busy sun-drenched hours and even the animals are calm. She has a spot under a big olive tree at the edge of the grove, where she likes to sit and think. The air is sweet and the bees buzz around in the branches, and Serena feels at peace there.
In the middle of summer, in Serena’s fourth month at the farm, Pascal takes her aside as she comes back from checking the bee hives.
“I’ve had a call from my friend Simon. He’s with Médecins sans Frontières, and he knows this doctor that got injured in Afghanistan. She’s British and she needs a bit of rest and sunshine before she can go back to work.”
Serena smiles at the thought of another stray joining them. Over the months she’s seen people come and go, some for a few days, others a few weeks. They all needed a bit of rest and to gather their strength before going back out into the fray.
“Is it ok if she shares the petite ferme with you?”
The petite ferme, the rather grandiose name for her outbuilding, has become Serena’s home and sanctuary.
“Of course. It’ll be good to talk medicine again,” she replies.
Pascal thanks her gratefully. Serena is full of wonder again at how generous Pascal is. He is a mentor to three young men, is patient with their mistakes and always keen to show them what he knows. He is a loving husband. His house is open to all who need it, and Serena has stopped counting the days when a friend of a friend stopped by and needed a place to stay.
The farm makes her think of a commune, and Pascal makes it work, somehow. Hard edged men like Ramzi and Kader get along with old timers like Emile, and Olivier is becoming quite the man under Pascal’s careful tutelage.
Serena’s at the station waiting for this British doctor, and she thinks about how far she’s come since she was there last.
Her grief has dulled. She still has bad days where she spirits herself away to be with her thoughts. When that happens, Valerie gives her half a Brie and a baguette and pushes her out the door. Serena walks and cries and walks some more, and when she comes back in the evening she feels drained but renewed.
The sun is strong. She’s wearing a dress because she spent the morning cleaning out Martha’s pen and her farm clothes had got all dirty.
The train enters the station; the same one Serena took four months ago. She doesn’t have much to go on, for this doctor, apart from her name, Berenice, and that she’s around Serena’s age. Pascal’s communication skills are pretty rudimentary, just like the wi-fi connection and phone signal round the farm.
So Serena scans the passengers that leave the carriages. There aren’t many. She moves a bit to let a family pass and then she spots her. A lanky blonde with a lost expression on her face. Serena’s heart quickens and she rakes her hands through her hair for some unknown reason.
“Berenice?” She asks softly when the blonde walks past her.
The other woman stops and gives her a shy smile and Serena thinks she’s beautiful with those dark eyes and that unruly fringe.
“Yes. Um, Bernie, please.” Serena likes her voice. It’s deep and smooth.
“Bernie. I’m Serena.” They shake hands with self conscious smiles and Serena isn’t used to British reserve anymore.
She takes one of Bernie’s bags, she only has two, and they walk towards the exit.
“Have you had a good journey?”
Bernie walks with a small limp, but otherwise seems fine, Serena diagnoses quickly.
“Yes, all pretty straightforward.”
Serena nods and flashes her a bigger smile that is met with a slight pinkening of Bernie’s cheeks.
“This is us,” Serena says as they reach Pascal’s old pick up truck.
Bernie doesn’t comment on the state of the car, just gets in a little gingerly. She’s wearing skinny jeans and a white linen shirt, and Serena looks at her slender hands for a second as she starts the truck. They don’t look injured, which is a small mercy for a doctor. Serena stays silent as she negotiates the tricky roundabout near the station, but then curiosity gets the better of her.
“You’re a doctor?” She asks as they trudge along.
Bernie nods and then grimaces.
“A trauma surgeon. Well, was, really. I haven’t operated since...since the accident,” she says quietly.
Serena nods and then something clicks. “Wait. Are you Bernie Wolfe? From the RAMC?”
Serena can feel Bernie’s surprised eyes on her and she smiles.
“Yes, um, how did you...?”
“I’ve read some of your work. Fascinating stuff. Emergency laparotomies in trauma situations, if I remember correctly,” Serena explains excitedly.
It seems so surreal to be in this beaten up truck with Bernie Wolfe of all people. The woman is a legend and her reputation precedes her. Serena had no idea she got injured.
“Yes, that was me. Is me. I, uh, so you’re a doctor too?”
“Serena Campbell, vascular surgeon and head of AAU at Holby City, at your service,” Serena says with fanciful bow of her head.
Bernie laughs, eyes gleaming.
“I’ve heard of you, too! The vascular surgeon with an MBA!”
Serena is suddenly giddy with pride and she’s glad she knows the road so well, because her attention is wavering. To be known by someone of Bernie’s calibre is a delicious head rush.
They spend the rest of the drive talking about their respective careers, and even though Bernie’s is full of excitement, Serena has plenty to contribute as well. It’s a delight talking to Bernie. She’s clever and passionate and her hands move as she talks. Serena is relieved to see the farm because she wants to spend more time with her new friend and she doesn’t want to drive into a tree.
Pascal gives the grand tour and Bernie meets the crew, and then Serena shows her the petite ferme. She watches as Bernie looks around, a small smile on her face, and laughs quietly when Bernie stares at the view. The sun is setting over the valley and the fields are golden. The sky is almost orange, the light turning the small clouds pink.
“Gorgeous, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I...I don’t think I’ve ever lived somewhere as beautiful as this,” Bernie says in an awed whisper.
Serena gets it. She felt the same for weeks. She’d forget and then would stare out the window for hours.
When Bernie offers to make her a cup of tea, Serena knows they are going to get along just fine.
For the first few weeks after Bernie’s arrival, Serena takes it upon herself to show their new recruit the ropes. Despite her limp, Bernie is strong and eager. She loves to walk amongst the fields with Ping and Pong, and the dogs fall in love with her the very first day. In fact, all the animals of the farm seem smitten with Bernie. The goats are docile when Bernie comes to get them for the night. The cows follow meekly when Bernie leads them to the milking station at dawn.
It’s obvious that Bernie prefers mornings. She gets up with the sun and helps Emile with the morning tasks, leaving the youngsters to sleep for an extra hour. When she comes back from the milking station, she makes tea for Serena in their small kitchen and they both watch the mist burn off as the sun rises over the hills. Serena likes those mornings most of all. Just her and Bernie sipping their tea and talking quietly. She finds herself looking forward to these moments, can’t help the smile on her face when Bernie hands her a steaming mug with a shy, pleased look in her eyes.
During the day, even when they do not work together, Serena finds a way to see Bernie. She brings her lunch as Bernie helps repair a fence down the hill, or she drops by on her way back from the hives, spends a few minutes talking to her as Bernie feeds the goats. Serena has always looked for female friends throughout her career. She’s never been one to compete with her female peers, much preferring to band together to make life easier.
At Holby there was a definite lack of women her own age, and the loss was keenly felt.
Bernie is everything she could possibly want in a friend. She’s clever and funny and capable. She’s independent. She seems to find Serena interesting in return, and it becomes routine to see them together on the farm.
One evening, at the end of summer, Serena is under her olive tree. She’s had a hard day, her grief so overwhelming she finds it hard to breathe. The bark against her back feels solid, and this grounds her. She’s trying to get her heartbeat under control when she hears footsteps. She’s about to whirl around and snarl something cutting when she realizes it’s Bernie.
“Valerie told me you’d be here. I hope it’s ok. It’s just…I hadn’t seen you all day, and I wanted to make you sure you were fine?”
Bernie looks so earnest and kind that Serena nods and moves to make space next to her.
They sit in silence for a while, the birds chirping the only sound for miles. Bernie is wearing overalls that are too big for her, and she’s rolled up the sleeves and the legs up to her knees. Her skin is tanned, now. And her hair much lighter. She’s chewing a piece of straw, her fingers digging idly into the earth by her feet.
Anyone else would ask and prod, but not Bernie. Bernie seems happy to just sit there.
The breeze picks up, ruffling their hair, blowing Bernie’s fringe into her face. It must tickle, because she laughs, and Serena suddenly thinks she looks beautiful. It’s not the first time. Serena has got eyes, after all. But there is something about having Bernie’s solid presence next to her when she’s feeling so vulnerable. Something just out of reach. Serena just knows she would like Bernie to stay by her side for ever.
“My daughter died six months ago,” she suddenly says.
The birds fall silent. The wind dies down. Even the branches above them seem to still. Bernie’s breath hitches and she turns to face Serena, her face serious.
“It was a car accident. Well, coupled with drugs. She seemed fine and then she was gone,” Serena says, her voice flat.
Bernie scoots closer and loops an arm around Serena’s shoulders. It’s the first time they’ve really touched.
“I started obsessing over her file at work, and I got…I was in a very bad place. So I took a sabbatical and ended up here,” Serena continues, her voice wavering now.
Bernie draws her closer and the tears come just as Serena puts her head on her shoulder. It’s all a bit messy and raw, but Bernie smells of freshly baked bread and that awful soap she insists on using, and Serena buries her face in Bernie’s neck.
“I miss her so much, Bernie,” she sobs as she clutches Bernie’s knee.
“Of course you do,” Bernie whispers in her hair. “Tell me her name.”
“Elinor.”
“A beautiful name,” Bernie replies, and Serena can feel her smile against her temple.
Truth be told, Serena avoided this very conversation. She wanted to keep this budding friendship light and casual. Didn’t want to burden Bernie with her grief and her pain. So she avoided talk of children, just knows that Bernie is divorced. Not anymore.
“She was brash and arrogant, and we fought more often than not. But she was mine,” Serena says, and the pain is so bright that she hiccups.
Bernie holds her tight and lets Serena talk. The whole thing comes out. The accident, but also the fights and Edward, the sorry state of her marriage and her acrimonious divorce.
When she finishes the sun has set and the air is chilly. But Bernie does not move. They stay in each other’s arms, in the dying light.
“I’m sorry, I think I ruined your shirt,’ Serena says after a while.
Bernie laughs and shakes her head.
“That’s ok. I don’t mind.”
Serena straightens, misses Bernie’s body heat the second it’s gone.
“Thank you. For this,” she says, a little embarrassed now that they are looking at each other.
Bernie’s eyes are kind and soft in the dusk.
“Anytime. We surgeons have to have each other’s back, right?”
“Right,” Serena agrees, her eyes on the ground. “And same here. Your back. I’ve got it too, I mean,” she adds, her cheeks burning.
Bernie has a kind soul and only nods, and when she offers a hand to help Serena up, Serena takes it gladly.
Their friendship shifts from then on. They become inseparable. Pascal jokes that they are as close as Ping and Pong.
The vendange, the grape harvest, starts in September and it’s all hands on deck for three weeks of intense work. Pascal gets seasonal workers to help them, and the farm is filled to bursting with students eager to earn easy cash.
Serena and Bernie work side by side, row after row, basket after basket. From dawn until dusk. It’s hard, but it is also very satisfying to see the fruits of their labour being carted off to the winery.
As they work, sun beating on their shoulders, Serena gets to know all about Bernie. She learns about the RAMC, about the IED that blew her up, about her divorce and the strain on her and her children’s relationship. It’s a whole life. A full one. Serena finds it fascinating.
On the last night of the harvest, Pascal hosts a thank you party. It’s a good excuse for copious amounts of wine and food, and soon the guitars are out. They light a bonfire. The stars are bright in the night sky, and the sounds of conversation and music echo down in the valley.
Bernie manages to steal a bottle of wine and her and Serena drink it while they listen to Kader serenade the group. Serena bets none of the young women in attendance would kick him out of bed. At the edge of the circle they formed, Olivier is chatting with Pascal but making eyes at a young student from Avignon. Who is making eyes back, Serena notices with a smile. She leans towards Bernie to share her gossip, but finds Bernie is already close. They are touching from shoulder to hip, and it makes Serena flush. She blames the wine and the heat of the fire. Everyone is a bit drunk and merry, and they are surrounded by twenty-somethings that are all going to pair off. No wonder Serena is feeling a little off kilter.
Bernie hands her the wine with a smile. They’ve been drinking straight from the bottle, and Serena feels very conscious of where Bernie’s mouth has been. People start dancing. The flames flicker on laughing faces, and bodies twist and turn in the shadows. The air smells of summer, still, and Serena feels giddy and happy.
It’s gone past one when they stumble back to their petite ferme. The light of the fire is behind them and the path is dark. The sounds of the party fade as they round the main building. The moon helps them find their footing, but the wine and a few loose stones make Serena stumble as they reach their destination. Bernie grabs her by the waist and they twist and laugh and Serena ends up with her back pressed against the stone wall, Bernie’s body hot and soft against hers. She gasps and the world stands still. Bernie’s eyes are dark and they burn Serena’s skin.
They look at each other. Bernie’s hands are still on Serena’s waist.
Serena blinks, stunned by the desire pooling low in her belly and between her thighs. Suddenly everything make sense. Needing to be close to Bernie all the time. The connection she’s felt from day one. The butterflies in her belly every time Bernie walks past or smiles at her. Bernie.
Who is still looking at her with her dark eyes, obviously letting her decide. Bernie the noble Major.
Serena leans closer and breathes in Bernie’s scent. The soap, the smoke from the fire, the lingering smells of summer. It makes her head spin in the most delightful way. She hasn’t felt like this in ages, if ever. She wants to kiss and lick every inch of the woman in front of her, and even though that should terrify her-the woman part at least- it doesn’t.
Bernie is silent but her body is warm and willing. She appears calm, but she’s just as nervous as Serena, judging by the slight tremble of her hands.
“I would very much like to kiss you,” Serena whispers, her mouth inches from Bernie’s.
She smiles when she hears Bernie’s breath stutter. She sees Bernie close her eyes briefly and her stomach muscles clench at how much she desires her. Bernie nods and Serena leans in.
Bernie’s lips are very soft, and they taste of wine and Serena never wants to stop kissing them. She reaches to tangle her hands in Bernie’s hair and she tugs until Bernie gasps and her hips surge forward against her, pinning her against the wall.
It’s all a bit hazy after this. They kiss and kiss. Bernie cups her cheek with a trembling hand and splays the other on Serena’s hip, and they slot their legs so that Serena finds herself grinding against Bernie’s toned thigh. It’s glorious, and messy, and Serena would not have it any other way. Bernie is free with her sighs and her moans and the very sounds make Serena kiss harder and deeper.
It’s only when Ping and Pong come barrelling past that they separate, breathless and eyes wild.
“Good lord,” Serena says after a second, her heart beating crazily in her chest.
Bernie laughs, her fringe hiding her eyes until Serena brushes it away. The gesture is intimate and they freeze, lost in each other’s eyes once more.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” Bernie says.
The words curl into Serena’s belly and nest deep within her. As much as she wants to take this further, she is very conscious of the wine they’ve both drunk. While normally this wouldn’t bother her, Bernie feels different. She wants to savour her like the finest vintage.
She kisses Bernie’s cheek, makes sure to drag her lips along Bernie’s jaw. Bernie gulps.
“Can I interest you in dinner in the village tomorrow?” Serena asks before she loses her nerve.
She wants to do this right. And she is very good at dating. She wants to watch Bernie blush and stammer as Serena flirts and quips. And the village has a very good brasserie with outdoor sitting under a big olive tree.
“I would love to,” Bernie replies, her cheeks pink.
Serena rewards her with a kiss that quickly gets out of hand. She wants nothing more than to drag Bernie inside, but she manages to restrain herself after one last nip of Bernie’s delectable lower lip.
“Good. Until tomorrow then,” Serena whispers.
Bernie’s eyes are on her lips, and Serena hears her breathe in shakily before stepping away.
“Just so that we’re clear, I want to do this sober. That’s all,” Serena says firmly.
Bernie smiles and nods, but Serena can see that her shoulders aren’t as tensed. They haven’t discussed their dating life after their respective divorces, but Serena reckons there is a story there.
The small house is dark, but Serena navigates it easily enough. She wishes Bernie a good night, and in the safety of her bedroom she lets out a shaky breath.
Bernie Wolfe, of all people, she thinks with a smile.
It takes her a while to get to sleep, hot and bothered by images of Bernie pressed against her.
All in good time, she promises herself.