10

‘Things then started to get rather difficult,’ Grimsdyke went on.

I was wondering how our education at St Swithin’s had equipped him to manage this problem of practical medicine.

‘You know what it’s like dealing with one of these cases, Simon? Just the same as playing with a pet tiger. They’re all very nice and friendly, but you can’t be too certain when they’re going to bite your head off.

‘A chronic alcoholic not being the most suitable of drinking companions,’ he continued, ‘I tried to edge away. But the old boy would have none of it.

‘“Let’s mull over old times, Bill,” he said.

‘He insisted we had lots of friends in common, which I’d never heard of and were probably all dead anyway. So I decided that the only plan was to humour him. With any luck he’d either go to sleep or drop off the stool and break his ruddy neck. But he’d just asked me how dear old Romano’s was doing when my clinical instincts came to the fore. Remembering that such cases must be forced to take a little solid protein occasionally, I said, “Don’t you think you ought to have a bite to eat?”

‘“Eat?” He sounded as though I’d suggested we sent for a chess board.

‘“Well – just a ham sandwich, or something.”

‘“Ham? Damn it, man!” he shouted. “Are you trying to kill me? The doctor’s put me on a salt-free diet. George! Two more rum swizzles.”

‘An uncooperative patient,’ Nikki murmured.

‘Exactly. I mentioned something about enough being enough, and the old boy started to become very excited. Knowing what would happen if I upset him, and not having a strait-jacket handy, I gave in. After all,’ he explained, ‘I have over the years developed a fair tolerance for the drug alcohol. I had a modest confidence that I could sit him out, particularly as he’d probably been at the rum swizzles since breakfast. So I joined him in another couple, while he told me he was the younger son of an earl and started singing “Abide With Me”.’

Grimsdyke started to take another drink of beer, but hesitated.

‘It was then I began to feel some unusual symptoms myself,’ he said.

‘Simon,’ he asked, after a pause. ‘Do you remember that housemen’s party we had in St Swithin’s? The night we decided to fortify the fruit cup with a little absolute alcohol from the path. lab.?’

‘I don’t think any of us can possibly forget it,’ I told him.

At the time our cellar in the Medical Officer’s Quarters was reduced to a bottle of claret and a bag of oranges. To celebrate some fellow-resident’s engagement Grimsdyke suggested making a claret cup of the type popular for young ladies’ birthday parties, but adding some of the pure ethyl alcohol used to prepare microscope slides of bacteria.

‘After all,’ he had explained at the time. ‘It’s the methyl sort of alcohol that makes you end up as an interesting article in the Lancet. This is perfectly pure C₂H₅OH, exactly the same as you’d get from a bottle of champagne if you distilled it instead of drinking it.’

‘But even ethyl alcohol’s got to be treated with respect,’ I had told him doubtfully.

‘Exactly, my dear chap. People simply make the mistake of forgetting it’s seventy-five over proof, and not adding it in judicious quantities. This is all going to be done highly scientifically. I’m going to scrounge a pipette from the biochemistry lab. and slip fifty millilitres into the mixture whenever the party shows signs of flagging. It’ll be as precise as an intravenous infusion.’

This worked excellently until Grimsdyke had taken several glasses of the cup himself, when his impatience increased while his inhibitions diminished and he started tipping it from the Winchester quart hidden under the table. Some remarkable scenes had then ensued, and even when we’d cleared up all the foam we still didn’t know where to bury the empty fire-extinguishers.

‘My clinical state that evening at St Swithin’s,’ Grimsdyke continued at our hearthside, ‘was exactly reproduced in the Savoy Hotel, Poparapetyl. I had vertigo and diplopia and my stomach felt as though someone had been at it with a bicycle pump. Even old George the barman woke up and looked worried – though probably only because we hadn’t paid for the drinks. Anyway, he helped me off my stool and into a bedroom next door, while the old boy was deep in conversation with a stuffed monkey. I collapsed on an old iron bedstead with one leg off, wishing I were nicely tucked up in St Swithin’s with an ice-bag and lots of trained nurses.’

He stopped, seeming pale even at the recollection.

‘Then you passed out?’ Nikki asked sympathetically.

‘Graduates of St Swithin’s Hospital, madam, do not pass out. Remembering my ill-spent youth, I focused my eyes on a spot on the ceiling, which turned out to be a squashed cockroach. But at least it rallied the neurones for action. It became pretty obvious that I couldn’t be found on my first day dead drunk in some shanty. It also became obvious that if I stayed there I should rapidly be consumed by orthoptera. So after a bit I took a deep breath, got up, grabbed my hat, and without looking right or left started up the road home, hoping I was going in the right direction.

‘I shall never forget that walk. Going out it had seemed a fairly easy half mile, but now it was like crossing the Sahara. The only thing that kept me going was the thought of my cool white air-conditioned couch at the other end. I’ve heard a good bit about the evils of drink in my time, but it wasn’t till then I realised what the chaps with the big drum at the street corner really meant. But at last I staggered into my bungalow, hoping to heaven no one had seen me, and collapsed on the counterpane.’

‘But,’ Grimsdyke went on sadly, ‘a doctor’s work is never done.’

‘You mean you didn’t even have time to sleep it off?’ I asked.

‘I suppose I must have dozed for a few moments, but suddenly there was a terrible knocking on the door. I got up, feeling like the Drunken Porter with Macduff on the mat. Outside I found the Poparapetylian turnkey I mentioned earlier, in a bit of a state.

‘“Come quick, doctor, sir!” he said, grabbing my coat, “one of the bosses taken mighty sick, my word!”’

‘Much worse than a Casualty call after a St Swithin’s party,’ I observed.

‘It was like coming round from one of Tony Benskin’s anaesthetics. But never have I shirked my professional duty, old lad. The brain was functioning pretty clearly, even though I did feel someone had replaced my spinal cord with calf’s foot jelly. If the big noise from the office had chosen this moment to give in to his blood pressure, as the only doctor in sight I had to cope.

‘While I trudged after the turnkey for miles, trying to remember the right treatment for hypertension, I made a big resolve – at the end of the month’s job, Grimsdyke would be shipped back to the temperate climes. Even Monica Fairchild was preferable to massive necrosis of the liver.

‘But at last we came to a halt.’

‘“In here, Doctor, sir,” the chap said. “Very bad case, Doctor.”

‘I felt the scene looked vaguely familiar. Sure enough, here we were again at the Savoy Hotel. I thought my patient might be the old boy, but he was sitting in his place as usual and merely said, “Doctor? Why, it’s old Jim Parsons from Harley Street, bless me. Can’t have set eyes on you for years. Still looking after all those pretty actresses?”

‘Then – can you imagine my feelings? – the turnkey showed me into the room which I had with such suffering just evacuated. George the barman must have hurried off, scared stiff, to find the doctor. And here I was – the only member of the profession who’s ever been called out for a consultation on himself.’

‘And I don’t believe a word of it,’ said Nikki. ‘You’re just having Simon on, to get your revenge for Lady Corrington.’

‘Every word’s true, on my Hippocratic oath,’ Grimsdyke insisted. ‘If you don’t believe me, go out to Poparapetyl and find out.’

‘Whatever happened, it’s a very good thing you didn’t stay there,’ she decided.

‘You can do quite enough damage to your liver during English licensing hours,’ I added.

‘J’y suis, j’y reste, anyway,’ said Grimsdyke lightly. ‘If it’s all right with you, Nikki’s kindly offered to put me up, as I can’t get the Aussie out of my flat for a bit. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d better go and get my kit out of the car.’

As soon as Grimsdyke was out of earshot I gave Nikki a paraphrase of my conversation with Sir Lancelot.

‘Jolly decent of the old chap, don’t you think?’ I said warmly. ‘Even though scholarships and grants and so on have changed the scene even since we were medical students ourselves, it’ll be no end of help having some of Sir Lancelot’s cash in the till.’

‘A thing like that needs an awful lot of thinking over,’ said Nikki.

‘Oh, come, darling! It’s the sort of offer any man would jump at these days.’

‘I think I’d very much rather bring our children up independently.’

‘I know, dear, and so would everyone. But once we’ve got another mouth to educate–’

‘And it would be simply terrible having a man like Sir Lancelot shaking his will at us for the rest of his life.’

‘Well, perhaps so,’ I told her awkwardly. ‘But anyway, with Sir Lancelot it’s almost impossible to refuse.’

She stared at me. ‘Simon! You don’t mean you accepted – just like that?’

‘But how on earth could I do otherwise? It would have been easier for the Prodigal Son to announce that he didn’t care much for veal.’

‘Simon, really!’ She sounded rather annoyed. ‘You are sometimes the biggest–’

‘Hello, hello!’ exclaimed Grimsdyke, reappearing with his bag. ‘Sorry to butt in. If you two want a family row I’ll go out and water the geraniums.’

‘We haven’t quite started throwing the crockery yet,’ Nikki told him, smiling.

‘How long are you staying, Grim?’ I asked, glad to drop the subject.

‘About a fortnight, if that’s agreeable.’

‘Perfectly. If you don’t mind sharing a bed with Sir Lancelot Spratt on Tuesday week.’

‘I’m off on Monday night,’ said Grimsdyke promptly.

Nikki gave a gasp.

‘He’s not actually coming here?’

‘I’m afraid he didn’t give me even half a chance to put him off. But don’t worry, dear – honestly. He’s not always like you saw him in your surgery finals. He’s really a kind-hearted man. It’s just that he hides his light under a bushel.’

‘Yes, and the trouble is the bushel keeps bursting into flames,’ said Grimsdyke.

‘I suppose I must just try and rise to the occasion,’ said Nikki anxiously. ‘I can always keep my confidence up by remembering I’m doing about the only single thing in the world he can’t.’