Doctor in Love (17 page)

“Rise and shine!” called Grimsdyke heartily. “
For I’m to be married today – today. Yes, I’m to be married today!
”

I sat bolt upright. “What time is it?”

“Eleven-thirty.”

“Good God! Only another three hours and we’ve got to be at the church!”

“Steady on, old lad! You don’t take three hours to get dressed on an ordinary day, do you?”

“But this isn’t an ordinary day. God!” I tried to stand up, but stopped abruptly. “My head! What on earth did you give me to drink last night?”

“Oh, just beer and whisky and gin and brandy and port and vodka and so on.”

I became aware of my surroundings. Grimsdyke’s flat resembled a ship’s cabin after a heavy gale, and I had been sleeping on the floor with my head on Dr Farquarson’s hat and wearing Tony Benskin’s jacket and a grass skirt.

“Where the devil did I get this grass thing from?”

“What, the skirt? From the girl in that night-club, of course.”

“What girl in what night-club?”

“Come off it, Richard! You couldn’t have been as blotto as that.”

“The last thing I can remember is when we were all thrown out of that pub. With Nikki’s brother slapping me on the back and telling me I wasn’t such a bad fellow after all.”

“The skirt came much later. It was the girl old Farquy kept wanting to dance with. Believe me, I’ve never seen the old uncle in such form since Scotland won in the last minute at Twickenham. Don’t worry,” he added, “she only gave you her spare one. You insisted it would go well in church with your lilac waistcoat.”

I groaned and laid down again. “Have you got any codeine?”

“Better than codeine. I’ve got a bottle of champagne in the oven.”

“In the where?”

“As Grimsdyke doesn’t indulge in home cooking, the oven’s useful for hiding such stuff from a crowd of determined dypsomaniacs, such as I entertained last night. Keeps it nice and cool, too.”

I shortly afterwards had the pleasant experience of drinking champagne in the bath.

“We’ve bags of time,” Grimsdyke told me. “There’s no need to worry, because you really haven’t got anything more to do. It’s in the enemy camp that confusion will be reigning unbounded until the Daimler with the white ribbons rolls up at the door.”

“We aren’t having white ribbons,” I said firmly. “We agreed on that long ago.”

“By the way, what music did you decide to have in the end?”

“Oh, the music,” I said lightly, as I started to shave with Grimsdyke’s razor, “I just left it to Nikki. It doesn’t matter a damn.”

“I’d say it was dashed important myself, old lad,” Grimsdyke said thoughtfully. “As she’s finally decided to marry you, I should be very interested to see whether she sticks to her own
Trumpet Voluntary
or whether she bows to the wishes of her future lord and master and orders the
Wedding March
.”

“Blast!” I exclaimed. “I’ve cut myself again. I’ll arrive at the altar looking like Banquo’s ghost.”

“If you feel anything like you look, Richard, I should think you’d be glad to find you bleed at all.”

That morning I began to realize what it was like to indulge in mescalin or suffer one of the odd psychological diseases which derange your time-appreciation. At one moment time would seem to drag by like an old horse on its way to the knackers, at another it flashed past like a spaceship, and at others I felt certain it was going backwards.

“I suppose you’ll think me bloody silly if I tell you not to look so worried,” Grimsdyke said to cheer me up, as I sat about in his spare dressing-gown. “But don’t forget you’ve only got to do it once. If Nikki discovers your true character after a couple of years and unloads you, you can marry the next one in a registry office.”

“Never again,” I said firmly. “Never, never, never again. Do you suppose everyone feels like this?”

“Ever since Adam had his thoracotomy.”

“I wish I hadn’t got this horrible vacuum sensation in my upper abdomen. I feel as if old Sir Lancelot Spratt had been at me on one of his demonstration days.”

“Have some more champers. Nothing like it for restoring the roses to the cheeks.” He looked at his watch. “Or perhaps we’d better be getting into our finery. Then I’ll pop down and get the car out.”

“Supposing it breaks down on the way?” I asked in alarm.

“Oh, it probably will. Then we’ll take it in turns to push. I say, this waistcoat’s pretty snappy. Did you hire it with the rest?”

“I’m glad you like it, Grim. Nikki and I had a difference of opinion about it. Do you think I ought to leave it off?”

“Leave it off? Not a bit, old lad. If you like it, wear it.”

“I’m not so sure, Grim. I really ought to do what Nikki wants.”

“Now see here, old lad. There’s nothing like starting off the way you mean to go on. You wear the thing. And keep your coat open, too.”

Twenty minutes later Grimsdyke and myself stood in front of the mirror, admiring the two elegant English gentlemen before us.

“What do I do with the hat?” I asked. “Carry it.”

“In church, I mean. They don’t have cloakrooms, do they?”

“Shove it under the pew.”

“Supposing I sit on it?”

“My dear chap, don’t go on making difficulties! It doesn’t matter a damn what you do, anyway. Everyone will be looking at Nikki.”

“True,” I admitted.

“Well, old lad. Off to the gallows.”

“You’ve got the ring?” I demanded hoarsely.

“Cosy in the waistcoat pocket.”

“And you won’t forget to pick up Nikki’s new passport in the vestry?”

“Not on your life.”

“Oh, and the telegrams. Reading them out afterwards, I mean.”

“I shall sound like the town crier announcing tax concessions.”

“What I’m getting at is… I mean, some of the chaps from St Swithin’s think themselves pretty funny at times, you know. They forget there’s all sorts of sticky relatives there to hear. You’ll censor them a bit, won’t you, if necessary?”

“Leave it to me, Richard. I shall let no shade of embarrassment cross your rosy path today. I remember I once sent one to a girl I knew on the stage, and like a fool I tried to be topical and wrote. ‘All the best for your first night’. Husband wouldn’t speak to me for months afterwards.”

“Well, that’s about all, then?”

“Yes, old lad. That’s about all.”

For a second we looked at each other. Grimsdyke and I had been the closest of friends since the day we had first met outside the lecture-hall at St Swithin’s, when we both faced life from the laughably low status of first-year medical students. Together we had cheerfully struggled or schemed our way through the course, and together we had made our first exciting forays into the world beyond the protective walls of St Swithin’s itself. Each of us knew enough comfortably to blackmail the other for life, and we would have readily shared our last crusts – provided there was absolutely no possibility of being able to swap them for half a pint of bitter. And now I was getting married, and it could never be quite the same again.

“Goodbye, Grim old man,” I said instinctively. We shook hands. “And thanks a lot.”

“Goodbye, Richard. And all the luck. You’ll need it more than me.”

“I don’t know if… I mean, you’re always a lot more cynical about these things than I am. I suppose you can’t understand how much I really love Nikki and how wonderful all this really is to me.”

“Of course I do, old lad. All my fooling about’s just to keep your knees from knocking.”

We stood clasping hands for a second, then Grimsdyke said “The tumbril awaits” and stuck my top-hat on my head.

We were soon in the car, through the streets, at the church. I had a blurred impression of the congregation, which seemed large enough to fill the Albert Hall. There was my mother and father, there was Dr Farquarson, there was Robin stalking the aisle to ask if you were friends of the bride or bridegroom. There was the Vicar, waiting in the wings. There was the organist, twiddling idly away and glancing into his mirror like a nervous driver in a police trap.

“Don’t worry, old lad,” Grimsdyke whispered in the front pew. “Twenty minutes and it’ll all be over.”

“But it ought to have started five minutes ago!” I hissed back.

“Haven’t you heard the bride’s always late, you idiot?”

“Perhaps she’s changed her mind.”

He shook his head. “Nikki’s a sensible girl, but not as sensible as that.”

Suddenly everyone stood up.

“Here you are, Richard. On your feet.”

Glancing down the aisle I had a vision of Nikki, white and radiant at the other end. The organist stopped twiddling and struck a chord. Then he broke into Mendelssohn’s
Wedding March
.

“Whacko!” said Grimsdyke delightedly, digging me in the ribs. “She gave in in the end, old lad! From now on, you’re the boss for life.”

And so we were married.

I’m sure that we shall live happily ever after. But I’m not so sure that Grimsdyke was right.

(in order of first publication)

These titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels

(in order of first publication)

(in order of first publication)

Published by House of Stratus

The Captain’s Table When William Ebbs is taken from a creaking cargo boat and made Captain of a luxury liner, he quickly discovers that the sea holds many perils…probably the most perilous being the first night dinner, closely followed by the dangers of finding a woman in his room. Then there is the embarrassing presence of the shipping company’s largest shareholder, a passenger over board and blackmail. The Captain’s Table is a tale of nautical misadventure and mayhem packed with rib-tickling humour. ‘An original humorist with a sly wit and a quick eye for the ridiculous’ – Queen

Doctor and Son Recovering from the realisation that his honeymoon was not quite as he had anticipated, Simon Sparrow can at least look forward to a life of tranquillity and order as a respectable homeowner with a new wife. But that was before his old friend Dr Grimsdyke took to using their home as a place of refuge from his various misdemeanours…and especially from the incident with the actress which demanded immediate asylum. Surely one such houseguest was enough without the appearance of Simon’s godfather, the eminent Sir Lancelot Spratt. Chaos and mayhem in the Sparrow household can mean only one thing – more comic tales from Richard Gordon’s hilarious doctor series. ‘Further unflaggingly funny addition to Simon Sparrow’s medical saga’ – Daily Telegraph

Doctor at Large Dr Richard Gordon’s first job after qualifying takes him to St Swithan’s where he is enrolled as Junior Casualty House Surgeon. However, some rather unfortunate incidents with Mr Justice Hopwood, as well as one of his patients inexplicably coughing up nuts and bolts, mean that promotion passes him by – and goes instead to Bingham, his odious rival. After a series of disastrous interviews, Gordon cuts his losses and visits a medical employment agency. To his disappointment, all the best jobs have already been snapped up, but he could always turn to general practice…

Doctor at Sea Richard Gordon’s life was moving rapidly towards middle-aged lethargy – or so he felt. Employed as an assistant in general practice – the medical equivalent of a poor curate – and having been ‘persuaded’ that marriage is as much an obligation for a young doctor as celibacy for a priest, Richard sees the rest of his life stretching before him. Losing his nerve, and desperately in need of an antidote, he instead signs on with the Fathom Steamboat Company. What follows is a hilarious tale of nautical diseases and assorted misadventures at sea. Yet he also becomes embroiled in a mystery – what is in the Captain’s stomach remedy? And more to the point, what on earth happened to the previous doctor? ‘Sheer unadulterated fun’ – Star

Doctor in Clover Now Dr Grimsdyke is qualified he finds practising medicine rather less congenial than he anticipated. But the ever-selfless Grimsdyke resolves to put the desires of others (and in particular his rather career-minded cousin) before his own, and settle down and make the best of it. Finding the right job, however, is not always that easy. Porterhampton is suddenly rife with difficulties – as is being a waiter, as is being a writer. And writing obituaries is just plain depressing. Doctor in Clover finds the hapless Grimsdyke in a hilarious romp through misadventures, mishaps and total disasters.

Doctor in Love In this hilarious romantic comedy, Richard Gordon awakes one morning with a headache. It takes him a while to realise he is ill – after all he is a doctor! Dr Pennyworth diagnoses jaundice and prescribes a spell in hospital. But amongst the bedpans and injections on Honesty ward, Richard falls in love – with his very own Florence Nightingale. However he soon learns that he has a rival for her affections, and unwilling to lose his love to the pachyderm Dr Hinyman, Richard sets out to impress… More medical mayhem from the hilarious Richard Gordon.

Doctor in the House Richard Gordon’s acceptance into St Swithan’s medical school came as no surprise to anyone, least of all him – after all, he had been to public school, played first XV rugby, and his father was, let’s face it, ‘a St Swithan’s man’. Surely he was set for life. It was rather a shock then to discover that, once there, he would actually have to work, and quite hard. Fortunately for Richard Gordon, life proved not to be all dissection and textbooks after all… This hilarious hospital comedy is perfect reading for anyone who’s ever wondered exactly what medical students get up to in their training. Just don’t read it on your way to the doctor’s! ‘Uproarious, extremely iconoclastic’ – Evening News ‘A delightful book’ – Sunday Times

Doctor in the Nest Sir Lancelot Sprat, surgeon and patriot, is finding that his faith in the British National Health Service is taking a bit of a battering – especially when the ceiling of his operating theatre collapses. It had already been a bad day…a call from Nairobi, a disagreement with Miss MacNish over the breakfast haddock, and a visit from Sir Lionel… Sir Lancelot’s single-handed battle to save St Sepulchre’s Hospital from closure creates a hilarious tale, complicated by two ex-students and three ladies only too willing to satisfy a widower’s sexual desires.

Doctor in the Nude Mrs Samantha Dougal is against it. Nudity that is. In a Soho strip-club, the Dean of St Swithan’s Hospital feigns indifference. Mrs Dougal’s husband, however, is totally in favour – and has just moved in with the Dean, who just happens to be his brother-in-law. The jokes positively spill from this elegantly written and languorously witty tale that includes Sir Lancelot, the Queen, a totally impractical new building, and the voluptuous young daughter of the trendy hospital chaplain. ‘The jokes spill forth fresh and funny… Not a book to read on a train: it’s impossible to keep a straight face’ – Sunday Telegraph