3

‘I had my own table in the dining saloon,’ Grimsdyke went on, when we had rearranged ourselves. ‘I played host to five passengers. I can see them now.’ He stared round glassily. ‘Mr and Mrs Slingsby, the Reverend Peckhorn, Miss Hales – ghastly woman, all beads and spiritualism – and Major Dampier.

‘For some reason the ship’s Purser, who incidentally had the only nice-looking bits on board sitting at his own table, seemed to imagine that doctors enjoy talking only to interesting invalids. And this lot were certainly interesting – to themselves. They had enough wrong with them to restock the pathology museum in the Royal College of Surgeons.

‘“Doctor,” Miss Hales would begin, just as I was tucking into my plate of curry. “I’m sure you’ll be most interested to hear about my kidney. Just a bag of stones, that’s what the doctors called it. Why, I’m lucky to be here at all.”

‘She would then give a textbook account of her nephrectomy, ending up of course by claiming that her kidney was quite the worst the surgeon had ever laid hands on. Odd, isn’t it, that people wouldn’t dream of boasting in public about their bank accounts or front gardens, but when it comes to their illnesses there’s no holding them?

‘Of course, Mrs Slingsby immediately took up the challenge and weighed in with her goitre, which they’d invited surgeons from all over London to see taken out, and Major Dampier followed up smartly with his prostate and the Reverend Peckhorn with his jejunal diverticulum. I didn’t mind giving these organs my best and keenest attention at the right place and time,’ Grimsdyke concluded warmly.

‘But it was about the end having them served with all my meals.’

I felt this was the moment to pour him another brandy. He sat for some moments staring into the fire in silence, until Nikki asked gently, ‘How about Zoë?’

He gave a brief sigh.

‘I told you there were a few girls on board, didn’t I? Well, Zoë was one of them.’

‘Was she nice?’ I asked.

‘She was about six feet tall,’ he said, ‘and she shook hands like a pair of nutcrackers. She was also a born organiser. At home I bet she captains the tennis club and runs all the fêtes. On board she organised the Sports Committee, of which I found myself an ex officio member. There were about six of us, who met every morning in the Veranda Café, to arrange all those silly games people wouldn’t dare to be seen playing on dry land. That was fair enough. But pretty soon she was organising me.

‘The main trouble with a ship,’ he went on, taking another drink, ‘is that you can’t get away from people, except by chucking yourself over the rail – which I considered more than once. Everywhere I went, Zoë was sure to go. I’ve never met a woman with such a capacity for being round the next corner. And every time she greeted me with something like, “Haven’t you played your shuffleboard heat with Mr Carter-Berrison yet, you naughty boy? He’s been waiting half an hour and getting ever so shirty.” Nauseating, you’ll agree? Worse than that, she entered me for every damn contest going, from chess to high-diving. That was a terrible shock to a man whose daily exercise has for years been confined to winding up his wrist-watch before going to bed.

‘But worse disaster was in store. For some reason she took a tremendous fancy to me. God knows why. But you know how girls think doctors are wonderful? Particularly when they’re all decorated with gold braid and brass buttons. Rumours got round the ship. People began to giggle and give us significant glances over their morning cups of beef tea. Then one afternoon,’ he went on, his voice starting to shake, ‘when we were all alone in the games room and had just finished our ping-pong heat, she kissed me. I shall never forget it. It was like being run over by a tractor. After that I had to slink about the ship like a ruddy stowaway. Then the horrible woman wormed my address out of the Purser, and is probably at this very moment squatting on my doormat with an invitation for mixed hockey next Sunday.’

‘A soul-testing experience,’ I observed feelingly.

‘But a mere nothing,’ he continued with masochistic pride. ‘To my real trouble aboard.’

‘Surely there couldn’t be anything worse than Zoë?’ asked Nikki.

‘There was. In the person of her ladyship, my prime patient.’

‘The only reason you were there at all,’ I reminded him.

‘Knowing her psychological history, I suppose I should have been prepared for the worst when she came up the gangway, with her new husband and enough luggage for a touring pantomime. It soon turned out that she was one of those unfortunate people who vomit almost as soon as they see a sign with the words “Boat Train.”’

‘What a bit of bad luck, Grim,’ I sympathised. ‘They couldn’t even cure Lord Nelson of that.’

‘Lady Corrington started being seasick as soon as we got into the Channel. I treated her with antihistamines and hyoscine and so on, of course. But I might just as well have given her aniseed balls. Therapy was further complicated by Lord Corrington, who not only regarded her as a fragment of Dresden china but was a pretty nasty piece of work himself into the bargain.

‘“Can’t you cure a simple case of seasickness, Doctor ?” he used to bark at me every time I appeared in their cabin. “I should have thought the merest medical student would have known the remedy for that. Thank God I go to an osteopath!”’

‘Did you try all the traditional cures?’ I asked.

‘Oh, the lot – a raw egg in Guinness, bandaging one eye, cold compresses on the umbilicus. Eventually I decided that only psychiatric treatment would do. But like a chump I told his Lordship first that his wife was inclined to be somewhat hysterical, and that did it. He took this as a tremendous insult not only to his family, but to the entire British aristocracy.

‘There was quite a scene. He said something pompous about breeding, though everyone knows his old man only got a peerage by swindling the Government all the way through the last war. He stopped short of actually challenging me to pistols at dawn on the boat-deck, but he made nasty remarks to the Captain, who henceforward looked at me like the Duke of Wellington with his mind on Napoleon. It hurt my professional pride, old lad, apart from everything else, I redoubled my therapeutic efforts. I tried hypnosis. I told her to think about the Sahara Desert. But to no avail.’

‘Did you consider half a bottle of dry champagne?’ I suggested.

‘Of course I did. Just a terrible waste of good champagne. Every morning, regular as clockwork, the damn woman would be seasick. Why, even as we were sailing up Southampton Water today she lost her breakfast. It was just – what’s the matter, old lad?’

I burst into a roar of laughter.

‘Personally, I can’t see anything funny in it,’ he said, as Nikki joined in.

‘My dear chap! You really are an idiot. Why didn’t you think of asking her–’

‘I don’t find anything hilarious about the case at all.’ He sat looking like a man whose friends have just sportively set alight his newspaper. ‘She was an extremely trying clinical problem–’

‘But surely you remember what the rude obstetricians taught us at St Swithin’s? Always suspect the condition first in any female outside a nursery or a nunnery.’

‘I don’t follow you,’ he told me haughtily. ‘If you imagine you know the cause of seasickness–’

‘I certainly know the cause of this seasickness. In a few months’ time it’ll be pushed along in a pram.’

‘But that’s impossible!’ Grimsdyke exploded. ‘They’d only been married a couple of days.’

‘Grim, old man, really! After all these years of professionally studying human nature–’

‘Good God!’ He stared wildly into the fire. ‘Now you come to think of it – But damn it! I must say, it was ruddy unreasonable of the blasted woman.’

‘Any female between the age of nine and ninety–’ I quoted, as Nikki and I continued to laugh at his expense.

‘Well, I bet you wouldn’t have spotted it yourself in the circumstances,’ he muttered crossly. ‘But I’d like to have a look at his Lordship’s face when he finds out,’ he added, cheering up a little. ‘I knew he was just the sort of chap who’d cheat under starter’s orders. Anyone could tell that the fellow wasn’t a gentleman.’

The conversation flagged after that, and shortly Grimsdyke abruptly announced that he was tired and wanted to go to bed.

‘Poor old Grim,’ I said to Nikki, when we left him on my ramshackle camp-bed in the sitting-room. ‘I only hope the story never gets to the ears of Sir Lancelot Spratt.’

‘These things could happen to anyone,’ observed Nikki charitably.

‘Oh, I agree. But they only do seem to happen to Grimsdyke.’

It may have been Nikki’s curry, or it may have been punishment from my subconscious for mocking my friend, but that night I dreamt that I was a doctor on a vessel the cross between the Flying Dutchman and the Queen Elizabeth, with everyone aboard being sick in the teeth of a violent gale. And when I was woken by Nikki stirring beside me at daybreak, I felt definitely queasy myself.

‘I’ve just been sick,’ Nikki announced.

‘It must have been that curry,’ I said sleepily. ‘I’ll go and get you some bicarb.’

I had to disturb Grimsdyke as I picked my way to our domestic drug cupboard in the corner of the sitting-room, but he only grunted and went to sleep again. When I got back to the bedroom I was surprised to find the light on and Nikki sitting up in bed looking pleased with herself.

‘Here’s your soda bic.,’ I said, stirring the mixture. ‘I’ve made it strong enough to neutralise even Bombay duck.’

‘Darling,’ said Nikki. ‘Kiss me.’

‘Kiss you?’ I looked surprised. ‘But a moment ago I thought you were at death’s door?’

‘You know, you wouldn’t have been any cleverer than Grimsdyke,’ she said, holding out her arms.

‘Good God!’ I dropped the glass. ‘Do you mean you’re – ?’

‘Of course I am, my sweet. That’s why I became so weepy and emotional the other day when I thought you wanted to run away from me and go off to sea. Pure female hormones,’

‘Nikki darling!’ I cried, hugging her. ‘This is absolutely wonderful! It’s terrific!’

‘It’s only natural.’

‘But for God’s sake,’ I added quickly. ‘Not a word to Grimsdyke.’

‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘And do you know, it’s a funny thing but there’s nothing I want more in the world at the moment than avocado pears stuffed with tinned sardines.’