taken a softer job driving an old bloke in the City. I reckoned the cabs were a bit rough for a chap with only six months to live.‘
‘Six months? How the devil did you get that idea in your head?‘
‘Why, from my notes, of course.‘
‘It was extremely improper of you to read them. Your case-notes are nothing to do with you.‘
‘I got what you wrote off by heart.‘ Crimes leant back in his chair. ‘ “A most interesting case. I must have him in St Swithin‘s for the postmortem. My provisional diagnosis is GOK.” Eh, Doctor? Now - as man to man, what does “GOK” stand for? After all,‘ he complained mildly, ‘I‘m the one who‘s got it.‘
Mr Spratt paused. ‘If you insist, it stands for “God Only Knows”. Look here, Crimes, I simply didn‘t want to hurt your feelings — ‘
‘Hurt my feelings? But, Doctor, it doesn‘t worry me a scrap that by rights I oughter be dead.‘ He produced his matchstick for running dentistry. ‘See here, sir, I believe in a bit of give and take. You keep an eye on the old ‘ealth, and I‘ll come every six months until the unfortunate eventuality what you‘ve prepared for takes place. That‘s a bargain, eh?‘
‘The interests of medical science — ‘ tried the surgeon uncomfortably. ‘There‘s just one thing, though,‘ Crimes mentioned. ‘I‘m forty next birthday, and you‘re forty-two. Pardon the liberty, I looked you up in my governor‘s Who‘s Who. So there might be a bit of a race of it in the final straight, eh?‘ He laughed. ‘But don‘t worry, sir,‘ he added affably, ‘I‘m a sportsman, and I can see you are too.‘
And now, Sir Lancelot reflected as he eyed his reluctant patient beside that blackboard, the fellow was actually employed in the hospital. It was like the lamb to the slaughter being taken on as a household pet.
‘I‘m glad you find the job congenial, Crimes,‘ Sir Lancelot nodded briskly. ‘I should avoid any heavy lifting.‘
‘I‘m sure that‘s good advice, Doctor.‘ He gave a wink. ‘We all begin to feel our age some time, don‘t we, sir?‘
Sir Lancelot strode into the crowd of out-patients without replying. That wink of Crimes‘ always had a stupidly uncomfortable effect on him.
‘Can I help you?‘
Sir Lancelot looked up. A pretty young girl in a smart mauve uniform stood smiling in front of him.
‘Help me?‘ he asked blankly.
He noticed a badge on her bosom saying HOSTESS. It‘s odd that our age seems to need a hostess at everything, from a transatlantic flight to a supermarket.
‘I expect you‘re a new patient, aren‘t you?‘
She gave a smile which was friendly and reassuring but not inviting. She had been trained specially to produce it.
‘My dear young lady, I assure you I can find my way perfectly well — ‘
‘Now, shall we go over here first?‘
The hostess took him gently by the sleeve. She had been trained specially to handle argumentative old men.
‘Miss Eernlove —‘
A nineteen-year-old girl with bright blond hair and jet-black eyebrows was leaning behind a counter in a mauve overall.
‘I have a new patient, Miss Eernlove. Will you take his particulars, please?‘
‘Name?‘ demanded the girl, her tone indicating the intrusion interrupted some particularly attractive private thoughts.
Sir Lancelot drew himself up. He didn‘t want unduly to offend these two females, but they had to be put in their place.
‘The name,‘ he announced majestically, ‘happens to be Spratt.‘
‘One “t” or two?‘ asked the girl.
‘Really!‘ harked Sir Lancelot. ‘I take it you are a new employee here? I should be obliged if you would kindly — ‘
‘Initial?‘ invited the girl tonelessly.
Sir Lancelot banged the counter.
‘Now, now!‘ The hostess gently waved a finger. She had been trained specially to handle violent cases.
‘Really, madam, I must call a halt to this... this... ‘
He glanced round wildly. There was nobody official in sight. No Sister Out
‘Six months? How the devil did you get that idea in your head?‘
‘Why, from my notes, of course.‘
‘It was extremely improper of you to read them. Your case-notes are nothing to do with you.‘
‘I got what you wrote off by heart.‘ Crimes leant back in his chair. ‘ “A most interesting case. I must have him in St Swithin‘s for the postmortem. My provisional diagnosis is GOK.” Eh, Doctor? Now - as man to man, what does “GOK” stand for? After all,‘ he complained mildly, ‘I‘m the one who‘s got it.‘
Mr Spratt paused. ‘If you insist, it stands for “God Only Knows”. Look here, Crimes, I simply didn‘t want to hurt your feelings — ‘
‘Hurt my feelings? But, Doctor, it doesn‘t worry me a scrap that by rights I oughter be dead.‘ He produced his matchstick for running dentistry. ‘See here, sir, I believe in a bit of give and take. You keep an eye on the old ‘ealth, and I‘ll come every six months until the unfortunate eventuality what you‘ve prepared for takes place. That‘s a bargain, eh?‘
‘The interests of medical science — ‘ tried the surgeon uncomfortably. ‘There‘s just one thing, though,‘ Crimes mentioned. ‘I‘m forty next birthday, and you‘re forty-two. Pardon the liberty, I looked you up in my governor‘s Who‘s Who. So there might be a bit of a race of it in the final straight, eh?‘ He laughed. ‘But don‘t worry, sir,‘ he added affably, ‘I‘m a sportsman, and I can see you are too.‘
And now, Sir Lancelot reflected as he eyed his reluctant patient beside that blackboard, the fellow was actually employed in the hospital. It was like the lamb to the slaughter being taken on as a household pet.
‘I‘m glad you find the job congenial, Crimes,‘ Sir Lancelot nodded briskly. ‘I should avoid any heavy lifting.‘
‘I‘m sure that‘s good advice, Doctor.‘ He gave a wink. ‘We all begin to feel our age some time, don‘t we, sir?‘
Sir Lancelot strode into the crowd of out-patients without replying. That wink of Crimes‘ always had a stupidly uncomfortable effect on him.
‘Can I help you?‘
Sir Lancelot looked up. A pretty young girl in a smart mauve uniform stood smiling in front of him.
‘Help me?‘ he asked blankly.
He noticed a badge on her bosom saying HOSTESS. It‘s odd that our age seems to need a hostess at everything, from a transatlantic flight to a supermarket.
‘I expect you‘re a new patient, aren‘t you?‘
She gave a smile which was friendly and reassuring but not inviting. She had been trained specially to produce it.
‘My dear young lady, I assure you I can find my way perfectly well — ‘
‘Now, shall we go over here first?‘
The hostess took him gently by the sleeve. She had been trained specially to handle argumentative old men.
‘Miss Eernlove —‘
A nineteen-year-old girl with bright blond hair and jet-black eyebrows was leaning behind a counter in a mauve overall.
‘I have a new patient, Miss Eernlove. Will you take his particulars, please?‘
‘Name?‘ demanded the girl, her tone indicating the intrusion interrupted some particularly attractive private thoughts.
Sir Lancelot drew himself up. He didn‘t want unduly to offend these two females, but they had to be put in their place.
‘The name,‘ he announced majestically, ‘happens to be Spratt.‘
‘One “t” or two?‘ asked the girl.
‘Really!‘ harked Sir Lancelot. ‘I take it you are a new employee here? I should be obliged if you would kindly — ‘
‘Initial?‘ invited the girl tonelessly.
Sir Lancelot banged the counter.
‘Now, now!‘ The hostess gently waved a finger. She had been trained specially to handle violent cases.
‘Really, madam, I must call a halt to this... this... ‘
He glanced round wildly. There was nobody official in sight. No Sister Out
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