Read Online Doctor in Love by Richard Gordon - Free Book Online Page B

Mrs Porson whispered outside the bedroom door. “You will make allowances, Dr Gordon, won’t you? Here’s the doctor, dear,” she announced, entering. “Let Mummy do your pillows and make you comfy, now.”
    Cynthia turned out to be a pale, dark, subdued, but pretty girl, sitting up in bed in a flowered nightie, and aged about twenty.
    “Good morning,” I said, trying not to look surprised. “And what’s the trouble?”
    “She’s got one of her feverish bouts, doctor,” said Mother, behind me. “I took her temperature this morning and it was ninety-nine point six. So I said ‘Off to bed you go, my girl, and we’ll get the doctor.’”
    “Quite. Well, Miss Porson, Have you any particular symptoms?”
    “She had a headache just above her eyes and buzzing in her ears,” said Mother.
    “And do you often get such attacks?” I asked the patient.
    “Yes, doctor,” replied Mother immediately. “About every six weeks. She’s very delicate, aren’t you, dear?”
    “I’m not,” murmured Cynthia, her lower lip protruding almost imperceptibly.
    “Yes you are, dear,” Mother wagged her finger, with fairly playful reproach. “Mother knows, dear.”
    “There’s nothing physically wrong with Cynthia,” I said to Mrs Porson, accepting a cup of coffee downstairs afterwards. “Her temperature’s quite normal by my thermometer.”
    “But I know how careful one has to be. Cynthia’s so delicate, particularly now the nights are turning chilly.”
    “Quite. Has she any job?”
    “Oh, no, Doctor! She’s such a help to me in the house.”
    “I see.” The diagnosis was now becoming clear. As Dr Farquarson sometimes put it, it isn’t only the obstetricians who have the privilege of cutting the umbilical cord.
    “You know, I think you’d find her general health would benefit from some outside interests.”
    “But she’s such a shy girl, the poor dear.”
    “Has she any boy friends?”
    Her mother looked surprised. “Why…no, Doctor. No, none at all.” She added quickly, “It’s not that she isn’t interested in the opposite sex, of course.”
    “I wasn’t suggesting that for a moment,” I said with a smile. “I’ll come and see her tomorrow, if I may.”
    “You really must have supper with us one evening, Dr Gordon,” Mrs Porson invited from the front door. “How about next week?”
    I wasn’t anxious to be involved in the private lives of my patients, but I accepted – partly because of the family connexion, and partly because it would be an evening away from the Crypt and Mr Tuppy. I hoped meanwhile that Cynthia would find some presentable youth to take her to the pictures, because girls who have regular dates with young men don’t develop regular headaches.
    The supper was a dismal meal. Mr Porson, who seemed to be some sort of iron merchant, talked only about business. Mrs Porson talked only about her daughter’s health. Cynthia talked about nothing at all.
    After the meal I suddenly found myself alone with her in the sitting-room. She seemed a pleasant girl, though she appeared to lack all the things mentioned in the advertisements. She hadn’t anything to chat about except her symptoms, until she sighed and said, “I often wish I could go away. For a long, long sea voyage, for instance. I’m sure it would do me ever so much good.”
    “Well – why don’t you have a try? You might get a job as a stewardess?”
    “I’ve thought of that. But I couldn’t really leave Mummy.”
    “Perhaps one day the time will come when you’ll have to,” I said, as she looked so miserable. “You know – starting a home of your own.”
    She gave one of her rare smiles and began talking about the garden.
    “You’ve done absolute wonders for Cynthia,” whispered Mrs Porson as I left. “She’s quite a different girl since you’ve taken her in hand.”
    “I’ll tell my father next time I see him,” I smiled back. “Oh, Dr Gordon,” she breathed. “Do you really mean it?” I thought