Doctor On The Boil

by Richard Gordon

  ‘That’s very handsome of you, sir.’

  ‘In return for such magnanimity, I should like you to do me a favour.’

  ‘Anything you care to mention, sir.’

  ‘Grimsdyke – you know that I am to be married to the matron?’

  ‘Everyone knows it in St Swithin’s, sir.’

  ‘Doubtless. Well, marriage has a certain sexual element in it.’

  ‘So I understand to be the case, sir.’

  ‘Of course, a bridegroom of twenty doesn’t give such things a second thought.’

  ‘You really think so, sir?’

  ‘I mean, they present no problem. But to a gentleman of my age…’

  ‘I see what you mean, sir,’ Grimsdyke told him sympathetically. ‘The old fires aren’t burning so brightly to put enough smoke up the flue?’

  ‘I should prefer to put it another way. If I found myself in the position – perhaps the equally unexpected one – of having to run from London to Brighton, what should I do?’

  ‘Buy a pair of roller-skates, sir.’

  ‘Go into training for the event, of course.’

  ‘I see what you mean! You want some of the old rejuvenation treatment?’

  ‘I dislike the term ‘rejuvenation’, which is unscientific. But I believe that with advances in endocrinology and suchlike, a great deal can be done to increase the performance, if not the pleasure. I gather – and this is pure hearsay – that certain discreet private clinics exist to provide such treatment?’

  ‘Exactly, sir. You couldn’t have asked a better person than myself.’

  ‘Knowing your proclivities, Grimsdyke, I imagined that you would be a mine of information on the subject.’

  Grimsdyke looked round and lowered his voice. ‘Dr de Hoot’s Analeptic Clinic. It’s quite convenient for London. I’ll write down the address.’

  ‘Thank you, Grimsdyke. It’s perfectly sound, I take it?’

  ‘Results guaranteed, sir.’

  ‘This de Hoot is respectably qualified?’

  ‘Of course, sir. Overseas university, though that’s hardly a bar to successful practice in England these days, is it?’

  Sir Lancelot took the scrap of paper from Grimsdyke’s notebook. ‘I am very grateful. I shall see you are sent an invitation to the wedding.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. You always did tell us to follow-up our patients, didn’t you, sir?’

  ‘Quite. Now I must go and tackle Bingham.’

  ‘And I must go to finish a rather agreeable lunch.’

  As Sir Lancelot disappeared in the direction of the manager’s office, Luigi himself stepped from behind the reception desk. ‘Not quite so quickly, Doctor.’

  A pained look came on Grimsdyke’s face. ‘Really, Luigi, if it’s your sinuses again they’ll have to wait until I’ve had my crêpes Suzette.’

  ‘You will not be enjoying your crêpes today, Doctor.’ The manager advanced. ‘I have just learned that Mr Eric Cavendish was alone with a young woman in his bedroom.’

  ‘That’s right. Not a bad-looking dolly, either.’

  ‘You did not inform me of this.’

  ‘Of course I didn’t.’ Grimsdyke sounded offended. ‘Surely you’ve heard of professional secrecy?’

  ‘You will have no professional secrets from me.’

  ‘I have certainly no intention of breaking my sacred Hippocratic oath for you or any other well tailored pub-keeper.’

  ‘You are fired.’

  ‘What!’ He was aghast. ‘You can’t fire me. I’m a doctor.’

  ‘It would make no difference were you an archbishop. If I dislike a man’s work, I fire him.’

  ‘What, because I wouldn’t grass on a bloke having a bit of fun with a bird?’

  ‘I am running a hotel, not a bordello. No guest whatever, not even Mr Cavendish, may have a woman in his bedroom. The waiter should have seen she left the suite after dinner. He will be fired, too. Besides, Dr Grimsdyke, I see that you have caviar for dinner, oysters for lunch, and champagne even for breakfast. If I did not fire you, the hotel would shortly have to close from the expense of supporting you. Please see the cashier and go.’

  ‘But…but where? I’ve nowhere else.’

  ‘That is your affair.’

  ‘I’ve a bloody good mind to stay on here as a guest, and put the boot up all of you.’

  ‘I should be delighted to welcome you in such circumstances, Doctor. Though I should regretfully be obliged to ask a deposit for the first week’s account.’

  Grimsdyke shrugged his shoulders. ‘All right. I shall go and stay at a decent hotel. Tell the porter to collect my bags in five minutes.’

  ‘A pleasure, Doctor. And might I ask you please to leave us the bath-towels and coat-hangers?’

  With satisfied step Luigi made for his sitting-room, but hearing the noise of conversation discreetly turned away. Sir Lancelot was just coming to the point with Bingham.

  ‘I was always brought up never to discuss money after luncheon.’ The surgeon took a large pinch of snuff. ‘However, such delicate conventions no longer apply in our materialistic society. Bingham, that fifty thousand pounds which my accountants sent on to you–’

  ‘I have both the deed of gift and the cheque. Everything was accomplished very smoothly.’ He pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘A very efficient firm, I should say.’

  ‘Quite. Doubtless the money came as a surprise–’

  ‘Not from one who really knows you, Sir Lancelot. I am deeply grateful, nevertheless. It was a splendid gesture. But let me put your mind at rest–’

  ‘Yes?’ asked Sir Lancelot eagerly.

  ‘I shall certainly arrange for some small ceremony at the hospital, when we shall present you with an inscribed silver tray.’

  ‘I don’t want to be presented with a tray. I want to be presented with the blasted money. I want a refund.’

  ‘Out of the question, I’m afraid, Sir Lancelot.’

  ‘What! Don’t be stupid, man. You know perfectly well the circumstances of the gift. I thought I was going to croak. Now I’ve been brought back to life, I must have the wherewithal to support it.’

  ‘Absolutely out of the question.’

  ‘You…you…swindler I I’m not at all certain there isn’t a charge for false pretences somewhere.’

  Bingham leant back in his armchair. ‘Oh, it’s perfectly above board. After all, you signed a binding legal document. So there we are. The cash will come in very useful. We can’t milk the Blaydon Trust for everything.’

  ‘Very well,’ declared Sir Lancelot angrily. ‘Have it your own way. Not content with trying to snatch my body, you want to pick my pocket. But let me tell you one thing. I had in fact decided to leave you all in peace, once I’d got through this blasted wedding. But not now. I’m going to haunt your wards, Bingham. I’m going to breathe down your neck in the operating theatre. I’m going to squat in your laboratories. I’m not going to leave St Swithin’s until that fifty thousand is all spent – and I’m going to watch the disposal of every single penny of it, with an intensity which would make a tax-collector look like a one-eyed bat.’

  15

  ‘The sexual drive in human beings,’ declared Dr de Hoot, leaning back in his swivel office chair and putting his pudgy hands on his fat thighs, ‘is most interesting. Extremely interesting. What we see, of course, is merely the tip of the sexual iceberg. Underneath we can discern little – just a little – in the murky waters. What, one asks, is this iceberg composed of in the first place? Not homogeneous material like ice. Not by a long way. It is composed partly of complicated chemicals, the circulating hormones of our endocrine glands, which have been analysed and synthesized by modern science. It is composed of the sexual cells themselves, the spermatozoa and spermatogenic tissues, of the ovary and ova in the case of the female. Our iceberg also contains elements of physiology quite unconnected with the reproductive system. Indeed, every single system in the human body, be it the respiratory system, the skeletal
system, the nervous system, or the cardiovascular system, contributes in some way – and may I say, sometimes in a large way – to the efficient and painless functioning of the sexual being.’

  He raised a stubby forefinger. ‘So, the whole man, the whole woman, is involved in the sexual performance, the sexual desire. The sex instinct is not something which can be separated, shall we say, from the instinct to feed ourselves. It is all part of the man in toto. So what do we look for, as dominating the sex drive? We look for what dominates the person. The psyche! And here again, the study is complicated. The psyche, the soul of man, if you like – is itself the expression of many complexes, phobias, frustrations, obsessions, and so on. But it is the psyche and the psyche alone which must hold our attention constantly in the therapy of sexual weakness. In stimulating the psyche we stimulate the sex-drive, because the psyche controls le milieu interieur sexuel, the internal sexual environment of man.’

  ‘You mean, it’s all in the mind, Doctor,’ suggested Grimsdyke.

  ‘That would be about it,’ agreed Dr de Hoot, lighting a cigarette.

  De Hoot was a small, round man of faintly olive colour with oval metal-rimmed glasses on the end of his stubby nose, and long black straggly hair which ringed his bald head and merged imperceptibly into an untidy beard. He wore a fresh white smock, buttoned round the neck. He sat in a large room with mullioned windows and a Tudor fireplace, which he used for an office. Nobody knew exactly where he came from – he claimed to be Swiss, though seeming an unlikely figure in Alpine scenery.

  ‘I suppose people tend to dwell on their sex lives quite a bit,’ Grimsdyke continued thoughtfully. ‘I mean, it’s rather more enjoyable to mull over in the bus than your income-tax.’

  ‘Some think of nothing else,’ de Hoot told him with assurance. ‘Particularly in these self-indulgent times, when people expect to enjoy to the full every pleasurable bodily sensation possible, and perhaps some which simply are not.’

  ‘A sort of “Orgasms for All” attitude? It would add a bit of variety to the placards on a demo.’

  ‘Dear me, yes. You know, so many otherwise perfectly happy young women come along here telling me they’re suicidal because they haven’t had an orgasm – using the term, my dear Doctor, which their mothers never mentioned and their grandmothers never knew existed, like some item in a recipe. Or perhaps they regard it as some other infuriatingly fallible modern necessity, like the telephone. I sometimes wonder if both were simply clever inventions of the Americans.’ He leant back, blowing smoke towards the vaulted ceiling. ‘Well, Doctor. When would you like to start?’

  ‘It would be convenient this very evening. I left my previous job rather unexpectedly at lunch-time. A matter of professional principle was involved – I couldn’t stay in the place a moment longer.’

  ‘Fine. I have no assistant at the moment. It isn’t easy to find a young practitioner who can successfully radiate confidence – which is the secret of our success.’

  ‘It’s good of you to offer the job, I must say. After all, we only happened to meet when you were doing research – when we were both doing research – in that strip club.’

  ‘You brought Mr Cavendish here, Doctor,’ beamed de Hoot. ‘More like him, and you will have well justified your appointment.’

  ‘There’s just one point – I haven’t the faintest idea what I’m to do.’

  ‘You can start by giving the injections.’

  ‘What of?’

  De Hoot looked a little hurt. ‘Surely you have heard of my famous formula ZX646Q?’ He indicated some sealed phials of clear liquid on his desk. ‘It is highly secret, naturally. A king’s ransom wouldn’t buy it, nor torture drag the prescription from my lips. It is an amazingly powerful and quick-acting aphrodisiac, prepared by complex chemical synthesis from a rare plant growing only on the foothills of the Andes. It was known exclusively to the Inzo tribe, now totally extinct – they were slaughtered every one by their enemies, because they were growing so numerous so quickly through their amazing sexual stamina.’

  ‘What’s it really?’

  ‘Distilled water.’

  ‘Doesn’t do any harm, I suppose?’

  ‘None at all. I sterilize it carefully up in my bathroom.’

  ‘And it works?’

  The sex-specialist chuckled. ‘Wonders! Come and see.’ He rose. ‘We shall do a ward-round. You haven’t yet set eyes on the working part of the establishment.’

  ‘Nice little place you’ve got here.’

  ‘I agree.’ De Hoot looked through the open leaded windows at dusk falling across the gently-sloping, tree-shrouded neat fields of Kent. ‘It was a stately home, left to me because I made the last years of its owner so amazingly happy.’

  They went through a green-baize door into a panelled hall with a large table in the centre and some suits of armour round the walls, leading to a thickly-carpeted oak staircase.

  ‘And here is sister.’ De Hoot smiled at a girl passing with a glass of hot milk on a silver tray. ‘You seem impressed.’

  ‘What a dolly. And that uniform…not quite see-through, but a distinct improvement on St Swithin’s.’

  ‘The atmosphere is important,’ explained de Hoot. ‘To be surrounded by pretty girls in seductive garments by itself increases the male sexual desire. The psyche, you know, as I said.’

  ‘But where do you get them from? Most nursing schools go in for reliability rather than bodywork.’

  ‘Various theatrical agencies. But a surprising number have played the parts of nurses in films and television productions. They seem appreciative of the generous salary. The stage is, alas, a badly overcrowded profession.’

  ‘But all this actually gets results? I mean, not with simpletons, but with intelligent world-weary old men?’

  ‘My dear Doctor, there are clinics in Switzerland patronized by great writers, great soldiers, great statesmen from all over Europe. You read of them in your newspapers. Serge Voronoff in Monte Carlo years ago treated princes by the score. He gave them extract of monkeys’ testicles–’ monkey-gland’, you know. God knows what the others inject. Water has at least the advantages of purity and inexpensiveness. In medicine as in everything else, what you want to believe you do. In short, a little of what you fancy does you good, does you good.’

  Two laughing long-haired youngsters in identical jeans and sweat-shirts appeared through the front door and chased each other upstairs.

  ‘That is Mr and Mrs Drummond. They are here on their honeymoon. They have benefited a great deal. When they arrived they were so devoted to the idea of unisex, until I examined them I was giving all the female advice to Mr Drummond and all the male to the wife.’ They started upstairs. ‘I also make a strict rule of no smoking or drinking or rich foods for several years after discharge. That in itself makes for athleticism in the libido department, as you know.’

  As they reached the head of the staircase, another pretty girl in white nurse’s uniform came running down the corridor, looking anxious. ‘Ah, Mr Cavendish is feeling better,’ said de Hoot with satisfaction.

  The actor greeted Grimsdyke warmly. ‘A great place this, Doc. Maybe more cramped than I’m used to–’ He indicated the small plain room. ‘But it’s doing me the power of good.’

  ‘I’m afraid the nurses will have to attend you in pairs, Mr Cavendish,’ de Hoot told him sternly. ‘I do not wish to spoil our fun, but we must not outgrow our strength, must we? Remember, we are still convalescent, as it were.’

  ‘Anything you say, Doc. For what you’re doing, I’d eat out of your hand.’

  ‘And I’m afraid I must ask you to share your room for your last two nights – we are always under great pressure to find beds, you understand.’

  ‘A dolly?’ Eric asked eagerly.

  ‘I regret not. A middle-aged surgeon, one Sir Lancelot Spratt. He should be here any minute. Another patient you have sent our way, Doctor,’ he added gratefully to Grimsdyke.

  ‘I know the guy,’ nodde
d Eric Cavendish. ‘We’ll get on fine.’

  ‘I think I’d prefer to be out of sight when Sir Lancelot arrives,’ Grimsdyke put in. ‘You see, he – well, he’s somewhat conservative in his views of medical treatment. He may take one look at the nurses and walk straight out again.’

  ‘That is something which has never happened in the clinic’s history,’ de Hoot assured him. ‘But if you like, I’ll ask sister to show you your private quarters.’

  ‘Splendid idea.’

  ‘Have you any plans for passing the evening, Doctor? We are somewhat isolated here.’

  ‘I shouldn’t think it would be difficult to find a little amusement.’

  ‘If you’re at a loose end, you might like to join our karate class. The nurses are very keen on it. Some of them could kill a man quite easily, you know, with one chop of the hand.’

  16

  The following morning Grimsdyke again climbed the red-carpeted oak staircase. As he reached the corridor, two pretty nurses came running past him with expressions of alarm.

  ‘Cavendish has certainly responded to treatment,’ he murmured. He looked up, to find the girls pursued by Sir Lancelot in his tweed knickerbockers.

  ‘Grimsdyke,’ Sir Lancelot greeted him jovially. ‘I think this place is all you cracked it up to be.’

  ‘It seems to be doing you good already, sir.’

  ‘Pray disregard the females. That is only a little game Cavendish invented to kill the time. But I must say, I feel a different man already. It’s a remarkable pharmaceutical, that ZX646Q.’

  Grimsdyke looked puzzled. ‘That what, sir?’

  ‘The drug. That de Hoot gives intramuscularly.’

  ‘Oh, you mean the sterile…yes, the sterile injection, sir. Tremendously powerful. It would put a herd of buffalo on heat.’

  ‘And in the family way into the bargain, I should imagine. I do think he should write up his cases for The Lancet, or at least publish the chemical formula. It’s a crime against humanity, keeping it secret. Exactly as if the nature of penicillin had been suppressed for commercial reasons.’