Doctor in Clover by Richard Gordon

sorry for the chap. Personally, there was nothing I’d have liked less than being a consultant at St Swithin’s, having to wear a stiff collar every day and never being able to date up the nurses, but it had been Miles’ ambition ever since he was cutting up that dogfish. And I rather felt that Connie, too, fancied herself in a new hat running the hoop-la with other consultants’ wives at the annual hospital fête. Besides, Miles was the brightest young surgeon St Swithin’s had seen for years, and I should have felt a bit of a cad not helping so worthy a practitioner along the professional path.
    ‘If you didn’t get on at St Swithin’s,’ I tried to console him, ‘you’d find a consultant job easily enough in the provinces.’
    ‘But it wouldn’t be the same thing. And, of course, Connie and I would have to leave our home.’
    I nodded. Since the waiter episode girls had been in and out of my life like people viewing an unsatisfactory flat, but I’d always retained a soft spot for Connie. The thought of her confined for life to a place like Porterhampton upset me so much I’d almost have had another go at living there myself to prevent it.
    ‘In such delicate circumstances,’ I suggested, ‘I take it you’d more than ever like me tucked away in some respectable job?’
    ‘Exactly.’
    ‘Find me one, old lad, and I will. I can’t possibly face Palethorpe for months, of course.’
    ‘I have some influence with the Free Teetotal Hospital at Tooting. They’ll be needing a new house-surgeon next week.’
    ‘And the week after, I’m afraid, as far as I’m concerned.’
    Miles stroked his pale moustache.
    ‘A pity you didn’t keep your position on the Medical Observer . At least it utilized your talent for the pen respectably.
    ‘That was a congenial job,’ I agreed, ‘until the old editor banished me to the obituaries.’
    The Medical Observer was the trade press, which lands on doctors’ doormats every Friday morning and is widely appreciated in the profession for lighting the Saturday fires. It has an upstairs office near the British Museum in imminent danger of condemnation by the health, fire, and town planning authorities, where I’d been assistant to the editor, a thin bird with a wing collar and severe views on the split infinitive.
    ‘You can’t imagine how depressing it was, writing up dead doctors from nine to five,’ I told Miles. ‘Though I composed my own for the files while I was there, and a jolly good one it will be, too. Yours isn’t bad, either.’
    ‘I am gratified to hear it. Perhaps you should go abroad? An oil company for which I do insurance examinations are prospecting up the River Amazon in Brazil. They have a vacancy for a medical officer on a five-year contract. The salary would certainly appeal to you. And you just said you could do with some sunshine.’
    ‘But not five years of it, all at once.’
    Miles began to look irritable again. ‘I must say, Gaston, for a man in your position you’re being extremely difficult to please.’
    ‘Oh, I don’t know. If I’m going to sell my soul I might as well get a decent price for it.’
    ‘I do wish you’d discuss the subject of your livelihood seriously.
    ‘I was just about to, old lad. I don’t suppose you could advance me ten quid, could you? Resigning abruptly from Porterhampton left me a month’s salary short.’
    ‘You know I am against loans among relatives. But I will agree if you accede to my suggestion about the psychiatrist. I am certain that’s what you need. I can easily arrange for you to see Dr Punce, who manages the aptitude tests for the oil company. He rather specializes in whittling down square pegs.’
    I don’t share the modern reverence for psychiatrists, mostly because all the ones I know are as cracked as a load of old flower-pots. But the financial blood was running so thinly I accepted.
    ‘I suppose you have no serious plans at all for maintaining yourself?’ Miles asked, putting