Pets in Prospect - Malcolm D. Welshman [88]
Mr Patel scratched his turban. ‘Oh … must have been about a metre or so.’
‘And you say Sid’s about two metres plus? Uhm. Well, there’s an outside chance the pad could pass through.’
‘But with the plug on, surely not?’
‘No, no. I’ll snip that off,’ I said and reached for the nail scissors.
Beryl flew off her perch when Mr Patel re-entered reception with his creaking basket and it was left to me to book an appointment for a week’s time.
The situation hadn’t changed much when next I saw him except that the flex had now disappeared.
‘Well at least it must be moving through,’ I commented. But I wasn’t too happy. Sid was due for another of his weekly meals but so far had turned his nose up at the rat that had been offered him. ‘Let’s get an X-ray just to see what’s going on.’
‘More like what’s going through, eh?’ joked Mr Patel, sounding remarkably unperturbed by the whole incident as I ushered him into the waiting room.
‘Who’s going to help?’ My question echoed down an empty corridor. Somewhere I heard the clatter of feet and a door slam. There was a muffled cough behind the closed door of the office. Oh, so we were all playing hide-and-seek now, were we? Peek-a-boo … I’ve a snake for you.
There was the skid of tyres on the gravel, the roar of an engine dying. Sounded like Crystal had arrived back from visiting one of her special clients.
‘So what have you got there, Paul?’ she asked, sailing into reception and looking at the wicker basket I was about to drag down to the X-ray room. ‘Your washing?’
The basket hissed and rattled. I explained.
‘He sounds a bit lively to me,’ said Crystal. ‘Perhaps we ought to pop him in the fridge for a while. Get him cooled down a bit and then get him X-rayed. I’d be happy to help. Haven’t seen an anaconda in ages.’
Well, this was a first, having Crystal help me out. Go for it, Paul. Go for it. I did, clearing space in the fridge and squeezing the basket between the shelves before returning to the office to find Crystal talking to Beryl. She broke off her conversation as I entered.
‘Beryl tells me you’ve been seeing quite a few exotics lately,’ she said, smiling at me. Ah, that smile … those rosy lips … that cupid bow. So like a … a prolapsed rectum sprang to mind. Oh really, Paul, that’s disgusting.
‘You’ve had a skink with a prolapsed rectum,’ Crystal was saying.
‘Oh, yes,’ I said, taking a deep breath. Get a grip man.
‘And a tarantula.’
I nodded, looking across at Beryl who had turned a whiter shade of pale. Spiders, snakes and the like were definitely not her cup of tea. Talking of which …
‘Good idea,’ said Crystal when Beryl suggested making one. ‘I’d love a cup.’
The scream that emanated from the kitchen had both Crystal and I leaping from our seats. Oh my God – Beryl. Our thoughts were as one. Tea … milk … fridge … snake! Beryl staggered in, trembling like jelly, a hand covering the right side of her face.
‘Here, sit down,’ said Crystal, easing her into a chair.
‘It was such a shock,’ uttered Beryl, shaking her head. ‘I opened the fridge door and there it was. Coiled round the semi-skimmed. I just didn’t expect it.’
‘No, of course not,’ said Crystal. ‘You can blame me for that. It was my idea. So sorry.’ She put an arm round Beryl’s shoulder and patted it. ‘Can I get you anything? ‘
Beryl, the hand still covering half her face said, ‘I wouldn’t mind a cigarette.’ She looked up at Crystal with her good eye. ‘If that’s all right with you.’
I saw Crystal’s arm quickly retract from her shoulder. Wow. Beryl was pushing her luck a bit. There was a strictly ‘no smoking’ policy in the hospital and Beryl knew it. Guess she was just playing the sympathy card. It worked.
‘I’ll get your bag,’ said Crystal after a moment’s hesitation. ‘Up in reception, is it?’
‘Ah, that’s better,’ sighed Beryl once she’d lit up. She tilted her head back and