Pets in Prospect - Malcolm D. Welshman [4]
A crimson glow spread up her scrawny neck to lose itself in a heavy pan of make-up. ‘Well, I do my best,’ she croaked.
‘Of course you do, Beryl. You’re indispensable. The place couldn’t run without you.’ He gave her another reassuring smile. ‘Now tell me, what’s tomorrow looking like?’
Beryl tapped a few buttons on the keyboard, her nails clicking across them. ‘The computer says …’ I waited, unaware that this phrase, and the inevitable ‘no’, would eventually trip off millions of tongues thanks to Little Britain. Her good eye looked at the screen while the other stared blankly at me. ‘… Crystal’s booked solid. As usual.’ The good eye wandered back up to me. ‘But that’s no surprise. She’s so … so popular with the clients.’
Eric cleared his throat quietly. ‘And my list? What’s that like?’
‘Oh, you’ve got stacks left.’
‘And ops? Any booked for me?’
There was a sharp intake of breath. ‘Not tomorrow, Eric. It’s Tuesday, remember? Crystal’s orthopaedic morning. She’s got two pinnings, a cruciate and a patella luxation to deal with. Mandy’s already got the theatre set up.’
‘Yes, of course. Good of you to remind me.’
Did I detect a note of sarcasm there? A bit of irony?
Whatever, Eric turned to me, his baby-faced features still wreathed in smiles, his eyes twinkling. ‘The wife’s a dab hand with the scalpel. Cutting-edge surgery and all that.’ I quickly found myself being shunted into the operating theatre. ‘It’s not really my forte,’ he went on, ‘so I’m happy to leave all the complicated stuff to her. But I don’t mind doing the odd spay or castration. Just to keep my hand in.’
We were now standing in front of a very complicated-looking anaesthetic machine. As if reading my thoughts, Eric said, ‘Looks a bit of a monster, doesn’t it?’
I nodded and fiddled absentmindedly with one of the knobs. There was a sharp ‘pfss’ and the needle on the nitrous oxide cylinder gauge shot up.
Eric appeared not to notice. ‘But don’t worry. Mandy, our senior nurse, is in control of all the anaesthetics. Knows what’s she’s doing. Got high standards. But then, of course, she was trained by Crystal. So it’s what you’d expect.’
The needle on the nitrous oxide gauge continued to register an escape of gas despite my furtive efforts to turn it off. I began to feel light-headed. Funny. Very funny. What a laugh this all was.
The theatre door suddenly swung open and a head popped round. ‘Everything all right?’
‘Ah, Mandy,’ exclaimed Eric. ‘Let me introduce you to …’
‘M-M-Mitchell,’ I interrupted, my voice high and squeaky as I tried to fight back an attack of giggles. No use. ‘P-P-P-Paul Mitchell?’ I squealed, feeling my lips crease back in an idiotic grin. ‘Pleased to meet you … hee … hee … hee …’
There was the sharp click of heels across the polished floor as Mandy marched over to the anaesthetic machine and snapped off the valve I had been playing with. A plump, round-faced girl, she looked a picture of prim efficiency in her starched green uniform and bob of neat, auburn hair. She arranged her generous lips into a thin smile before turning to rearrange the endotracheal tubes with which Eric had started to nervously play, placing them back into their neat rows, graded in size.
‘Anything you’d like to ask me?’ she queried, giving me a hard stare that said, ‘This is no laughing matter, mate.’
My lightheadedness evaporated in an instant.
Eric came to my rescue. ‘Thanks, Mandy. But I think we’ve dealt with everything now.’
He and I tiptoed out of the room leaving Mandy minutely checking the anaesthetic machine for signs of further tampering. I half expected her to whip out a duster and start polishing its knobs.
Eric rolled his eyes up as the theatre