The Knife

There comes a time in every top lion’s life when he is going to be challenged for the king’s job by younger and fitter underlings, and, eventually, he is going to have to give way, move on and leave the field.

First come the challenges, then the fights and struggles to maintain control, and eventually the pain of letting go, feeling loss, and coming to terms with isolation.

Prof. Leaman was the picture of a great patrician. He was tall and lean with an upright bearing, and he spoke with the confidence of a highly educated man. On meeting him, despite these attributes, and his aggressive bluster, I observed, fleetingly, moments of sadness in his angular face as he recognised his inevitable fate.

Jenny, his fusspot secretary, eventually released an appointment for me and gave me my instructions for meeting the great man. Rowing Club, 7.30 am sharp and finish at 8.00 am. Surgeons are early birds by nature as they have much prep and planning work to do before they start their morning lists of operations.

How should I use this precious 30 minutes? We would have to use some of that time to get to know each other, and then use what was left to discuss the problems that had been outlined to me by Sue – yes, she had stopped running down the corridors for a few minutes to give me the brief.

Well, I need not have worried. I didn’t get a word in edgeways. His opening salvo included: “What do you do? You appear to be some sort of graduate.” On explaining my background, and qualifications, in an effort to establish some rapport and gravitas, I was met with: “What’s this nonsense degree in a meaningless subject…”

Leaning forward and peering over his specs, he told me that his underling, Mr. Cordell, had let him down; he (Leaman) had brought him in, taught him everything, and now he’s gone and punched his colleague. “Can’t stand him,” he barked. “I’ve sent him into exile at the Hill – get rid of him.”

And with that, he was gone. Continue reading →