Doctor On The Boil

by Richard Gordon

  The dean frowned. ‘Dark-room? What on earth were you doing in the dark-room?’

  ‘I was distracting her, sir. Had it not been for me, she would never have made the mistake, sir.’

  ‘Do you realize what you are saying?’

  ‘I do, sir. I realize that I could have let Miss Gray carry the can, sir. But that wouldn’t have been right. I knew that I had to take the blame.’

  ‘And the consequences?’ asked the dean sombrely.

  ‘Exactly, sir.’

  ‘Well, Mr Summerbee…’ The dean leant back and put his finger-tips together. ‘However much I must admire your honesty and decency, you have been responsible, through interfering with the – er, affairs of the X-ray department, for causing great anguish not only to Sir Lancelot Spratt but to all of us who are his friends.’

  ‘I’m fully aware of that, sir.’

  ‘You have particularly distressed me–’ The dean broke off. ‘What exactly were you doing to the girl? No, it doesn’t matter, these days nothing is left to the imagination in either literature or life. And, Mr Summerbee, you have distressed even more our new matron.’

  ‘The matron, sir?’ Terry was perplexed.

  ‘Yes, on the strength of it all, Sir Lancelot – Nothing, nothing. I’m afraid this is a very serious offence. You will assuredly have to come before the full disciplinary committee of the hospital – not the usual subcommittee, you know, which deals with your student pranks. And the full committee will certainly punish you severely, if only to justify the inconvenience to its members of being summoned to sit on it.’

  ‘They’ll throw me out, you mean, sir?’

  The dean nodded. ‘That might well be the likely outcome.’

  ‘Well…I suppose I’ll leave with a clear conscience, at least.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll make your way in some other career, with such shining honesty,’ the dean told him kindly. ‘Perhaps the Church?’ There was a knock on the door. ‘Come in.’

  ‘Do I interrupt?’ asked Grimsdyke cheerfully.

  ‘What is it, what is it?’ snapped the dean.

  Grimsdyke closed the door. ‘I gather there’s been something of an imbroglio about Sir Lancelot’s X-rays. I came to say that it was all my fault.’

  The dean looked bemusedly from one to the other. ‘What?’

  Grimsdyke nodded. ‘You see, I was in the darkroom with Miss Gray while she was sorting them.’

  ‘How big is this bloody dark-room?’ complained the dean.

  ‘Had it not been for my distracting her – delicacy prevents my giving more details in your presence, sir – she most certainly would not have made so uncharacteristic a mistake. I’m aware that I could easily have let poor young Miss Gray take all the blame. But I knew in my heart of hearts it was only right and proper that I should–’

  ‘He says he was fiddling about with the girl,’ shouted the dean, pointing at Terry. ‘What are you? A pair of cat’s-eyed Casanovas?’

  Grimsdyke made a gentle gesture of amused tolerance. ‘I’m afraid Summerbee is simply carried away by gallantry. Miss Gray is a most attractive young lady, sir. Summerbee just wanted to save her from the inevitable push. Didn’t you, old man?’

  ‘I did not,’ Terry said irately. ‘I was only telling the truth.’

  ‘You were nowhere near the dark-room,’ Grimsdyke insisted smoothly. ‘You were in the X-ray museum. I saw you go there myself. Let’s put it to the dean. Which of us do you believe?’

  The dean sat for some time with his head in his hands. At last he announced, ‘Dr Grimsdyke – I accept your word rather than Mr Summerbee’s. And don’t look so smug. I do so solely because long experience of you in the hospital, as a student and member of the junior medical staff, makes the notion of your trying to rape girls in X-ray darkrooms not only plausible but highly likely. As you are one of our doctors, my only course is to demand your instant resignation. Which will also save no end of trouble,’ he added thoughtfully. ‘If it had been Summerbee, I’d have had the fuss of convening that bloody committee.’

  ‘The letter will be on your desk in the morning,’ Grimsdyke promised with dignity.

  ‘Good. Now get out, both of you. And you might tell your fellow-students, Mr Summerbee, to confine their attentions to the nursing staff, who are very wisely always kept fully illuminated.’

  In the corridor outside, Terry asked with amazement, ‘What did you do that for?’

  Grimsdyke laid a fatherly hand on his shoulder. ‘My dear fellow, you stand only on the threshold of your career. I have at least got a foot in the door. It is of little consequence to me, leaving this dump. As a matter of fact, because of unexpected engagements elsewhere, I have been rather wondering these last few days how to get out of the place without being sued for breach of contract or something. You’ve had a narrow squeak – but go on your way rejoicing.’

  ‘I can never thank you enough–’

  ‘Please. You embarrass me. But you won’t be offended by a little advice?’

  ‘Of course not–’

  ‘Stay away from the X-ray department.’

  Terry grinned and hurried down the corridor towards the students’ common room. Grimsdyke watched him disappear, a knowing look on his face. Then he turned and made quickly for the front hall. To his gratification, Stella was hurrying up the stairs from the X-ray department in her white overall, with an armful of films.

  ‘Stella. So glad I caught you.’

  ‘Oh, hello, lover man,’ she greeted him without enthusiasm. ‘I’m just going to orthopaedics.’

  ‘Mind if I accompany you?’

  ‘Please youself, lover boy.’

  They started down the corridor. ‘All is well. About those X-rays you muddled up. You have not a little thing to worry about.’

  ‘I don’t get you, lover.’

  Grimsdyke slapped the chest of his white coat. ‘I took the blame.’

  ‘Oh. Did you?’

  ‘Don’t ask me how. But you may ask me why. I did it,’ he supplied the answer, ‘only to protect you. It resulted, I might add, in my having to leave the hospital myself. But what does that matter? You stand on the threshold of your career, while I at least have a foot in the door. Well?’ he ended, inviting admiration. ‘What have you got to say to that?’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘How about coming out tonight?’

  ‘No, lover. Not tonight. It’s my evening for social service.’

  ‘Then tomorrow?’ he continued eagerly. ‘I’ll collect you when you finish work.’

  ‘I won’t be here tomorrow, lover man. I’m leaving, anyway.’

  Grimsdyke came to a halt.

  ‘I’ve got a fabulous job,’ she told him. ‘Assistant to Godfri – you know, that dreamy photographer. Oh, it’s exciting – he’s got all sorts of fantastic plans for my future. Funny, isn’t it, it’s all because Terry introduced me to him that night at the Crécy.’

  ‘Funny? It’s not a bit funny,’ said Grimsdyke furiously. ‘First you ditch Terry–’

  ‘He’ll fix himself a bird,’ she said lightly. ‘Tell him to borrow another Rolls.’

  ‘And what about me?’

  ‘You can get stuffed,’ she said sweetly. ‘Lover boy.’

  Grimsdyke glared at her. ‘Lover bitch.’

  She hurried away, leaving him standing in the middle of the corridor. ‘I do a whole heap of good for everyone in sight, and what do I get out of it for myself?’ he reflected bitterly. ‘Damn little.’ He started walking slowly towards the main hall. ‘Ah well,’ he decided, ‘that’s what medicine’s all about, I suppose.’

  14

  ‘Good morning, good morning!’ said Sir Lancelot jovially. ‘Morning, Dean. Good morning, Josephine. My, you are looking well! Positively radiant.’

  ‘Why, thank you, Lancelot.’

  It was the next day, the Tuesday, and Sir Lancelot came down to breakfast after his first night under the Dean’s roof rubbing his hands and beaming at everybody.
/>   ‘Morning, Muriel. You’re looking pretty perky, too. Good party the other night?’

  ‘Super,’ she said glowingly. ‘Lots of fantastically interesting people. You know, not all those hospital types, who are inclined to be rather drippy.’

  ‘Quite right, you must broaden your horizons,’ Sir Lancelot told her approvingly, sitting down and spreading a large starched table-napkin across his knees in a businesslike manner. ‘You take my advice, and go to as many parties as possible while you’re a student. After you qualify, you won’t have the time. Remember, all work and no play makes Jill a very dull girl, and dull girls are as great offences against Nature as wet days in summer.’

  ‘Lancelot–’ began the dean.

  ‘And you, George?’ Sir Lancelot turned his benign eye on the dean’s son. ‘You treat yourself to some amusement, I hope? Why, you don’t even have to worry about examinations in this house. You know your father hides drafts of all the exam papers behind The Medical Encyclopaedia in his study bookshelf?’

  ‘Lancelot–’

  ‘Good morning, Sir Lancelot.’ Miss MacNish appeared with a tray. ‘I’ve brought you your bacon and eggs, with some tomatoes and kidneys.’

  ‘Kidneys!’ muttered the dean.

  ‘You must eat a good breakfast and wrap up well, you know,’ the housekeeper added. ‘It’s treacherously chilly for this time of the year, and we mustn’t catch a cold, must we?’

  ‘My dear Miss MacNish,’ Sir Lancelot told her amiably. ‘That remark contains three mis-statements of scientific fact – a large breakfast will load me with undesirable calories, the common cold is a virus infection and no amount of outer clothing can act as a prophylactic. But I appreciate the kind thought,’ he added, picking up his knife and fork and starting energetically on the kidneys.

  ‘Lancelot–’ the dean tried again.

  ‘How did you sleep, Lancelot?’ asked Josephine.

  ‘As a top. Though I’m afraid the mice seem to have been nibbling that electric blanket. It emits some rather alarming sparks.’

  ‘Then you must have the one from Lionel’s bed. Our bedroom is so much warmer than yours. Change them over, will you, Miss MacNish? Now I must get going, while there’s still room to park. It’s my morning for the shops.’

  ‘Come on, George – time for the hospital,’ said Muriel.

  The dean found himself alone with Sir Lancelot, silently and steadily eating his breakfast.

  ‘Lancelot–’

  ‘Splendid plain cook, Miss MacNish.’

  ‘Lancelot, what are your plans?’

  ‘I am taking Tottie to lunch at the Crécy, and afterwards Bingham is meeting me there on his way to lecture at the RSM. I have a little business to discuss with him. I shall be back for dinner.’

  ‘I meant your plans in a wider sense,’ the dean repeated a little testily. ‘In connection with St Swithin’s, for instance. That suggestion you put forward about invoking the charter, to stay in the wards and still see patients.’ He gave a dry laugh. ‘You weren’t serious, of course.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t see any reason whatever to change that decision.’ Sir Lancelot started buttering a slice of toast.

  ‘Really!’ The dean bounced on his chair. Since joyfully breaking the news to Sir Lancelot that he was going to live, he had been steadily growing to doubt if it was such a good idea after all. ‘But of course, that will only be until you are married?’ he added hopefully.

  ‘Why should it be? Marriage is hardly a full-time occupation.’

  ‘I’ve just had a brilliant idea. For your wedding present – a world tour. By boat, of course. So much more leisurely. I’m sure I’d have no difficulty at all raising the fare, with a whip-round among the consultant staff.’

  ‘Now, that is very civil of you, Dean. Yes, I fancy we’d appreciate that. Much more acceptable than a pair of silver candlesticks.’

  ‘And when,’ the dean asked, ‘is the ceremony to be?’

  ‘Oh, not for a year or so yet.’

  ‘A year!’

  ‘It isn’t a shotgun affair, you know,’ Sir Lancelot told him reprovingly. ‘Perhaps the summer after this will see us hitched. As it hardly seems worth the trouble of establishing myself in bachelor quarters until then, I shall be staying on here.’

  ‘Lancelot…this cruise. Perhaps you’d care to go with your intended before the ceremony?’

  ‘What a disgustingly immoral suggestion.’

  ‘Well, how about going by yourself? After all, it seems a pity to spend an uncomfortable year living here when you could be seeing all sorts of romantic spots.’

  ‘Yes, indeed, Dean. You have a point there. I certainly shouldn’t object to finding myself in Australia for next winter’s Test matches.’

  The dean rose. ‘Good. I’ll discuss it with the others at St Swithin’s. Now I must go about my duties in the wards.’

  ‘Leave The Times behind, will you? I rather enjoy doing the crossword.’

  Sir Lancelot spent the morning in the sitting-room with his feet up on the sofa, at midday driving his Rolls to the Crécy. But it was not an over-joyous lunch. The sight of his fiancée seemed to dim the spirits which had burnt so brightly at breakfast, fanned as usual by the dean’s discomfiture. For most of the meal he ate without speaking, seeming more occupied with himself than with Tottie.

  ‘What are you thinking about, darling?’ she asked over her ice-cream with chocolate sauce. ‘At least, you’ve no longer those awful worries about your health.’

  ‘I was thinking about toenails in the bath on Sunday mornings.’ She looked alarmed. ‘My late wife had the habit of cutting hers there. As I rose later, I would find myself sitting on them. It was most unpleasant.’

  ‘What a peculiar thing to have on your mind.’

  ‘I was also thinking of long hairs all over the dressing-table, lipstick on the china, underwear drying above the washbasin, and foundation cream on the towels. There are many aspects of marriage one never sees until one is quit of it. Though of course, it will be quite different with us,’ he added hastily.

  ‘I should hope so!’

  ‘Tottie, you’re…you’re sure, you’re quite sure, you’re quite quite sure, you’re quite, quite absolutely sure, that you want to go through with it?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I?’ she asked sharply.

  ‘I only meant that you accepted my offer in possibly distracting romantic circumstances. I shouldn’t like you to regret anything said in an unguarded moment.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘Are you trying to get out of it?’

  ‘Really, Tottie! What a suggestion. How can you imagine such conduct after I had – well, taken advantage of you. And that’s not a thing I’ve done in my life before.’

  ‘I hope you’re not implying that I’ve made a habit of it?’

  ‘No, no, no, my dear…it’s just…well, when are we to have the wedding? I thought some time in the summer of next year. Or possibly the Christmas after that.’

  ‘I had in mind next Friday week.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘Perhaps that may be a little soon,’ she conceded. ‘We need time to make all the arrangements properly. There really is a terrible amount of detail, even for someone so experienced in administration as myself. Let’s say a month. Yes, we shall be married in a month,’ she told him, with a determination he had forgotten since the incident of the obstetric forceps on Coronation night.

  ‘As you wish,’ he said gallantly. ‘I take it that at our mature time of life a registry office will be acceptable?’

  ‘Not a bit. I’ve always wanted a white wedding.’

  ‘What, with orange-blossom and choirboys and cars with white ribbons?’ he asked in horror.

  ‘Yes, the lot. Anyway, the ward sisters at St Swithin’s expect it.’

  ‘What’s it got to do with them?’

  ‘They’re to be my bridesmaids. I’ve already asked a dozen of them. After all, it’s perfectly in order – they’re unmarried. I think they’ll
look charming in their long satin dresses.’

  Sir Lancelot held a hand over his eyes. ‘The whole thing’s going to look like fancy dress night in the old folk’s home.’

  ‘That wasn’t a very kind thing to say.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ll get married in whatever mise en scène and whatever sort of costume you care to suggest. After all, a wedding is primarily for the benefit of the spectators, like any other circus. Yes, Luigi?’ he asked as the manager approached.

  ‘A Professor Bingham was asking for you at the desk, sir. As you mentioned you had confidential medical matters to discuss, I had him shown into the private sitting-room attached to my office.’

  ‘That was most thoughtful of you. I’m afraid you must run along now, Tottie dear. Go and tell your bridesmaids I can hardly wait to see the lot of them in their gear.’

  The manager accompanied them to the front door. As Tottie disappeared, Sir Lancelot turned to him. ‘Just a minute, Luigi. Is your hotel doctor about?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Since resigning from his hospital, he has been spending all of his time – and eating all of his meals – in the hotel. Do you wish to see him?’

  ‘If you please.’ Luigi dispatched a page-boy. ‘I hope you think Dr Grimsdyke satisfactory? He used to be one of my students.’

  ‘He has perhaps a rather high opinion of himself.’

  ‘He always had. Still, he’s resourceful, which I suppose is important in a job like this.’ Sir Lancelot chuckled. ‘He dealt pretty well with that actor feller – what’s his name?’

  ‘Eric Cavendish, sir. He left over a week ago for the country.’

  ‘That’s it. When he strained his back trying to roger that little girl up in his room.’

  ‘Girl?’ Luigi looked mystified. ‘I heard of no girl. Dr Grimsdyke said the gentleman suffered the injury stooping to tie up his shoelace.’

  ‘Then he’s got discretion, too, which I suppose is even more important here. Ah, there you are, Grimsdyke. Would you mind leaving us a moment, Luigi? Professional matters, you know. Grimsdyke, I am prepared to overlook that you were the originator of a great deal of mental suffering on my part,’ Sir Lancelot continued as the manager withdrew. ‘The whole story of the X-rays has now, of course, come to my ears. Well, you caused me even greater mental suffering when you were operating under my directions as a student, I suppose.’