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NEW AUTHORS SHOWCASE |
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09-01-04 (p3) |
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The Squirrel Awakes by John Palmer |
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Synopsis
After years of tedium and bad luck David Lambert is given the chance to snatch a top job with all the benefits. All he has to do is complete four bizarre tasks in one week and one of those tasks involves a visit to his family doctor dressed as a woman.
Chapter One It was three minutes before the appointment when Nipper screeched the Cadillac to a shuddering halt outside Doctor Thompson’s surgery. David was in a panic because he knew that even if he was just a few seconds late the super efficient Miss Armstrong would have erased his name from the list and consigned his medical records to some dark corner, unlikely ever to see the light of day again. With great difficulty David extricated himself from the front seat and waddled up the surgery path like a pelican with a football up its bum. The reason for this strange gait was the fact that, having no time to return to the flat, a new pair of black, one size fits all tights had been purchased and heaved on in the cramped confines of a speeding, turning, bouncing Cadillac which was rather like trying to apply make-up while competing in a bucking bronco contest. To add to David’s difficulties this pair of tights had been designed as ankle socks for a midget with the waistband barely reaching his upper thigh and the gusset hovering just above the hemline of his dress.
As David approached the reception desk Miss Armstrong was bent over some paperwork and only caught sight of him out the corner of her eye. “Yes” she demanded in a voice so imperious that David considered curtseying before he answered. “Good afternoon. I’ve got an appointment with Doctor Thompson at two o’clock. Miss Armstrong glanced at her watch rather than at David. “Cutting it rather fine aren’t we?” she suggested and David was not brave enough to disagree. “Sorry but I was somewhat delayed by a fracas in a transport cafe” David apologised. “Name?” “Trucking Tinas” Miss Armstrong sighed deeply and with sinister deliberation lowered her pen that had been poised over her list of appointments before looking up properly for the first time. David’s disguise was good enough not to ring any alarm bells just yet. “What I meant was, what is your name?” she spoke slowly as if she was Princess Michael addressing Kensington Palace’s cat. “Lambert” replied David refraining from touching his forelock. Miss Armstrong’s gaze switched back to her appointment list and a little shake of the hand started but was quickly controlled. The glasses that hung round her neck on a chain were placed on the end of her sharp nose and this time the look was more detailed. “I have Mr. Lambert on my list” she said, her voice full of challenge and suspicion. “That’s right” agreed David. “I haven’t been feeling myself just lately”. Miss Armstrong leaned forward to see over her desktop so she could take in the complete form that stood before her. The poise and confidence that were her trademark in this environment that she controlled so rigidly was starting to crumble. Her eyes moved slowly upwards until they met David’s which, by now, were positively twinkling. Miss Armstrong sensed a troublemaker and she didn’t like troublemakers in her reception area. “May I ask the nature of your visit Mr. Lambert?” she enquired hesitantly, not sure whether she wanted to hear the answer. “Personal” said David, refusing to be drawn. “You are one of Doctor Thompson’s patients I presume?” posed Miss Armstrong but with little confidence as she had David’s records on top of a neat pile next to the patient’s list. David pointed this fact out to her. “If you care to check my records there, you will see that I’ve been a patient of Doctor Thompson since 1954. In fact it was Doctor Thompson who attended my Mother when she was pregnant with me which means Miss Armstrong that I have been coming to this surgery longer than you have”. “Only just.” countered Miss Armstrong who prided herself on the fact, that after thirty years of service, she knew everyone’s medical history better than the Doctor. She racked her brain for a mention of insanity in David’s records but it wasn’t there. She played her final card. “Doctor Thompson has a student with him today Mr. Lambert. You don’t mind is she sits in do you?” “She?” queried David, a sight waver in his voice. Miss Armstrong sensed a weakening. “We do have female student doctors you know. Some of them are very young and sensitive as well” “No I don’t mind her sitting in at all” replied David quickly. “In fact” he beckoned Miss Armstrong forward and leant over the desk to whisper confidentially in her ear. “She may be able to give me some specialised advice, you know, woman to woman” “What sort of specialised advice” Miss Armstrong whispered back. David glanced round as if checking that no one else in the waiting room was listening. “Like where I can get a decent fitting pair of tights” confided David stepping back and lifting the hem of his skirt about six inches to reveal his dangling gusset. Miss Armstrong had seen quite enough and dismissed David with a wave of her hand. “Take a seat Mr. Lambert” she cried with an extra emphasis on the Mister which attracted startled looks from the other waiting patients, the majority of whom seemed to be expectant mothers. One such rotund lady rounded up her other two offspring and took them to the far end of the waiting room, well out of David’s reach. David himself took a seat near the door and as he crossed his legs he took great care to pull the hem of his skirt well down. Some of the children crawling around the floor might take an indecent interest in what he had up there. The low hanging gusset made sitting even more uncomfortable and David was more than pleased when Miss Armstrong called his name. “Mr. Lambert. Doctor Thompson will see you now” she shrilled. “Take these in with you please” She handed David his records. David smiled his thanks and minced his way down the corridor to Doctor Thompson’s room mainly out of bravado and for the benefit of Miss Armstrong who he knew would be watching him every inch of the way. David knocked on the door, went in and advanced towards the desk where Doctor Thompson was intently studying an article in the Lancet. David hoped it was more up to date than some of the magazines in the waiting room, otherwise he could finish up being prescribed a course of leeches. Doctor Thompson spoke without looking up from his magazine as David placed his records on the desk. “Take a seat Mr. Lambert. I won’t keep you a moment” The young lady in the crisp white coat who was sitting next to Doctor Thompson had been smiling sweetly at David but on hearing the word Mister the smile froze on her lips. David smiled at her and put a finger to his lips and she obviously had a sense of humour as the smile unfroze and she too placed a finger to her lips. She probably thought it was student rag week. Doctor Thompson was still engrossed in the article that had caught his very weak eyes and the glasses he wore to read through reminded David of the bulbous glass that used to be in old sweet shop windows. Doctor Thompson introduced his companion as Doctor Helen Mortimer, put down the magazine and started rubbing his eyes vigorously. “Now then Mr. Lambert” he wheezed “What seems to be the problem?” David decided to milk it for all it was worth. “I’ve got a boil on my bum” Doctor Mortimer grabbed a tissue off the desk and used it to disguise a giggle. “Is it a big one?” asked Doctor Thompson, thoroughly disinterested and with his head back, eyes closed, relaxing. “My bum or the boil” enquired David politely. “The boil of course” snapped Doctor Thompson. “Massive” replied David as Doctor Mortimer struggled to control mounting hysterics.
Only one third through the first of the four tasks and the big question is, will David live to fight another day? |