Pets in Prospect - Malcolm D. Welshman [6]
Only with my whole arm crammed in up to my shoulder, elbow wedged in the bottom corner, could I get my fingers anywhere near the nest box. I cautiously inserted three fingers. What was I going to find? I felt the prickle of straw, the warmth of fur and then suddenly the pain of a creature’s teeth sinking into my index finger.
‘Ouch.’ My hand shot out of the nest box bringing with it a tan ball of fur which held on grimly, bouncing through the rodent playground as I extricated my arm from the cage. I inadvertently flicked my wrist. The tan ball sailed over my shoulder and crashed into the instrument trolley scattering scissors and scalpels.
I pounced. ‘Got you,’ I said. But missed.
Fred nimbly scuttled between the bottles of antibiotics. The youth stopped jigging to step nonchalantly round the consulting table and scoop Fred into his palm before dropping him into mine with a ‘Here, mate’.
I mouthed my thanks and stared down at my first patient. Fred the hamster. Not exactly a giant of the pet kingdom. Had five years of intense study really culminated in me being given the beady eye by this tiny little rodent? I scruffed the creature and turned him over. His eyes bulged. His whiskers twitched. With lips parted, two long, yellow incisors curled down like scimitars.
I scrabbled with my left hand for the nail clippers. Two snips and the teeth were restored to normal length.
‘He’ll be able to eat now,’ I said. I should have added ‘… and nip now’, since I suddenly felt Fred test his teeth by sinking them into my finger. They were sharp, very sharp, making me feel quite needled.
Beryl’s eye was quick to spot the splattering of blood on my white coat as I ushered Fred and Co. out into reception, my bitten finger crossed in an attempt to staunch the still dripping blood. ‘Paul,’ she warned, ‘I should get out of that coat before …’
‘Before I catch sight of you.’ The voice of Maria – sorry, Crystal – sang through the air. But it was far from melodious. By its icy tone, I was clearly not one of her favourite things.
Startled, I jumped round to find Crystal standing in the doorway of the office, arms folded, every pore oozing disapproval.
‘I think you’d better come in here a minute,’ she went on.
Beryl cast me a pitying look as I trailed across like some errant schoolboy approaching the headmistress’s study. I sensed I was about to face the music … but it wasn’t the sound of music I wanted to hear.
A WING AND A PRAYER
In the event, my anticipated hauling over the coals by Crystal turned out to be no more than a gentle admonishment. She’d been anxious to make sure I replaced my blood-splattered coat before seeing my next patient.
‘I realise you’re just finding your feet,’ she’d said. And hamsters just finding my fingers, I thought, my bitten index finger still throbbing.
‘Don’t hesitate to change coats whenever you need to,’ she went on. ‘Mandy will always oblige.’ She gave the sweetest of smiles.
Oh, that smile. Then, as in the future, I found myself zooming up an Austrian mountain as those coral pink lips curved and those soft, apple cheeks dimpled. ‘Do … re … mi … fah …’ – a long, long way to run? Yes. But definitely worth it. Crystal could light up my life any time. My ray … my drop of golden sun.
As for Mandy: doe … a dear? No way. I soon found out she was the Mother Superior of Prospect House. No novice nun was she. No Maria.
‘Another coat … so soon?’ she’d queried when I’d nipped down to the laundry room to ask for a replacement. Her spotless, crisp, creaseless habit (uniform) positively crackled with displeasure. The look she gave me nearly had me on my knees, clasping the gold chain round my neck – a small one, nothing too chunky, I wasn’t medallion man – while begging for forgiveness.
Beryl, on the other hand, tried to keep a motherly, less superior eye on me. Just the one eye as it happened. Eric was later to tell me that she’d lost her right eye in a childhood accident and had had it replaced by an artificial one.
‘And be warned,’ Eric