Doctor On The Job by Richard Gordon Page A

hand me my lunch?’ Brenda Bristols nodded towards the green-overalled girl standing uncertainly with a tray in the doorway. ‘I’m starving.’
    ‘Auntie Florrie –’ began Pip.
    ‘Shut up,’ the matron told him, plonking the tray on the actress’ knees.
    ‘Ugh,’ said Brenda Bristols. ‘Cold vichyssoise. Always gives me the gripes.’
    ‘If you don’t want it, you needn’t have it,’ said the matron furiously. ‘I’ll throw it down the loo.’ She opened the door of the bathroom. ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded, as Lord Hopcroft sidled shyly into the room, both hands holding the hem of his nightshirt tight across the top of his legs.
    ‘I came to borrow some toothpaste,’ he explained.
    ‘ Miss Bristols! Why have you a half-naked man in your room?’
    ‘He’s my guru.’
    ‘Auntie Florrie –’
    ‘Shut up. When were you admitted?’ she demanded of Lord Hopcroft. ‘What’s your diagnosis?’
    ‘I’m several months in the family way.’
    ‘My brain is going.’ The matron drew the back of her hand across her forehead. ‘It’s all the sheikhs and their habits. I should have stayed in the National Health wards, where the patients at least do what they’re told.’
    ‘Auntie Florrie –’
    ‘Shut up.’
    ‘Auntie Florrie, I refuse to shut up.’ The determination was so unusual for Pip, she rocked back on her heels. ‘Did I understand you to say that you canvassed Sir Lancelot to pass me in my surgery clinical?’
    ‘Of course I did,’ she replied shortly. ‘You’d never have got through by your own unaided efforts in a month of very wet Sundays.’
    ‘Thank you very much,’ he told her sharply. ‘Now I know your opinion of my mental abilities.’
    ‘Don’t get all dignified, Pip, please,’ she said impatiently. ‘I have tolerated you as an amiable half-wit for years. So has the rest of the family, with the calamitous if understandable exception of your adoring parents. Now look here, Miss Bristols,’ she switched her attention. ‘Your charms may be flaunted in every Underground station, where I might add the public draw on many interesting additions –’
    ‘Auntie Florrie!’ shouted Pip. ‘I may be a halfwit, but I was dedicated to becoming a doctor. And through my own efforts, if you don’t mind. You have bossed me and my poor parents about quite mercilessly for years.’
    ‘Pip, you must try and control your vile temper. It only makes you utter insulting falsehoods which you immediately regret. Miss Bristols, you may be meat and drink to Lord Longford and Mrs Mary Whitehouse –’
    ‘Auntie Florrie, you’re a two-faced prig.’
    She stared speechless.
    ‘Yes, you are.’ Pip was carried away. ‘You’re a complete phoney. You boast you’re a dedicated nurse. What do you do? Run a clinical clip joint. This wing charges breathtaking prices, and I’ll tell you exactly why. Because the National Health Service has become so ramshackle that a lot of people will pay almost anything, even all their savings, just to escape its clutches.’
    ‘Please keep that sort of talk for your disreputable friends,’ she said icily.
    ‘I shall,’ Pip returned firmly. ‘You wait and see.’ He raised his clenched fist. ‘Porter Power!’
    He left. He heard behind him an enthusiastic burst of applause from Brenda Bristols.

10
    ‘Harold –’ Pip came running in the sunshine back to the main block of St Swithin’s. He saw that his fellow-porter was unlucky enough to be burdened with another job that afternoon. Harold Sapworth was slowly pushing a low trolley loaded with crates marked MEDICAL SUPPLIES – URGENT into the goods entrance at the rear of the hospital. ‘Can you spare a minute?’
    ‘Long as you like, mate.’ Harold leant on the handle of his trolley and pulled an emaciated home-rolled cigarette from the top pocket of his brown coat. ‘No hurry. Got all day, if you want.’ He struck a match. ‘Where you bin? Out for a few pints? You looks pink