A Girl’s Guide to Kissing Frogs. Victoria Clayton

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СКАЧАТЬ don’t see why I should leave,’ Sebastian protested. ‘I’m not squeamish.’

      ‘Ah, but I’m going to put it in her derrière.’ She gave him an arch look. ‘And you can take away that champagne. She’s on nil by mouth until after her op.’

      ‘All right, I’ll come back later. Don’t do anything stupid, Marigold,’ he added by way of valediction.

      ‘Your boyfriend’s awfully handsome,’ said the pretty nurse. ‘Just a teeny prick.’ I bit back the obvious retort. It was actually quite a large prick but as nothing compared with the agony of my foot. ‘Well done!’ The nurse patted my arm sympathetically. ‘You’ll start to feel woozy very soon. Nothing to worry about, dear. Mr Proudlock-Jones is a wonderful surgeon. You couldn’t be in better hands.’ She tapped my cheek with her finger, then went away. I felt comforted by so much kindness. My mind began to unravel as whatever had been in the syringe swirled in my bloodstream. It was a glorious feeling.

      ‘Hello, darling,’ said Lizzie’s voice what seemed like five minutes later.

      ‘Oh, Lizzie,’ I said sleepily. ‘Thanks … coming … see me. Going … have operation … soon.’

      ‘You’ve had it,’ said the pretty nurse, beaming over Lizzie’s shoulder. ‘It’s all over, dear, and it went very well. Mr Proudlock-Jones is very pleased with you.’

      ‘Oh, good,’ I said, though I couldn’t think why he would be. I hadn’t actually done anything, as far as I was aware.

      ‘Would you like to sit with your friend for a while?’ said the nurse to Lizzie. ‘I’ll pop back later. Press the bell if you want anything.’

      ‘I say,’ said Lizzie. ‘This place is utter bliss, isn’t it? Fancy a chocolate finger biscuit?’

      ‘Not … just now.’

      I must have dozed again, for when I came to Lizzie was deep in the copy of Tatler that came courtesy of the Wyngarde Clinic. ‘How are you feeling?’ Lizzie leaned forward sympathetically. She had quite a lot of chocolate at the corners of her mouth.

      ‘Okay. No pain. Thirsty.’

      ‘Nurse Thingummy’s been back and she said to give you little sips of water if you wanted it.’ The water was iced and deliciously refreshing. ‘Marigold, do you think I could possibly have a bath in your wonderful bathroom? Ours is heated by the range and Granny always lets it go out during the day to save coal. I haven’t had a hot bath in years.’

      ‘Go right ahead.’ I waved my hand in a lordly way.

      I woke up again a little later to hear the sound of splashing and lots of oohs and aahs.

      ‘Crikey!’ said Lizzie through the open door. ‘I didn’t know water could be this hot.’

      ‘You’d better not faint,’ I said, ‘because I’m in no state to fish you out – oh, hello!’

      ‘I’m Anthony Proudlock-Jones.’ A middle-aged man with a pinstriped suit stretched over his corpulent form strode into the room and seized my hand in his plump smooth one. ‘We’ve met before but you were unconscious.’ He chuckled throatily in a way that suggested whole humidors of cigars. ‘I’m sure they’ve done a good job of plastering you up.’ He lifted the bedclothes to look at my leg. ‘Yes, very nice. You had a nasty comminuted fracture of the metatarsals. I oughtn’t to blow my own trumpet, but I think it’s true to say that in any hands other than mine you’d be waving goodbye to your career.’ He rubbed sausage-like fingers together. ‘But I’m reasonably confident it’ll heal all right. Take it easy for the next six weeks, then we’ll take the cast off and have another dekko.’

      Reasonably confident? I felt perspiration spring out on my forehead at the suggestion of a doubt.

      ‘Remember, no gymnastics! You can wriggle your toes but that’s all. Patience is a virtue, virtue is a grace and Grace was a little girl who wouldn’t wash her face, ha ha!’ He breezed out to dispense healing and wisdom to the next patient.

      ‘Help!’ called Lizzie as soon as he’d gone. ‘I didn’t dare move. I’ve probably given myself third-degree burns. I had to suck the flannel to suppress bloodcurdling screams. I’ll just put in some cold.’

      Mr Proudlock-Jones had put paid to sleepiness for the time being. While torrents of water flowed into the bath, I asked myself what I would do if his confidence proved for once to be unjustified. No course of action occurred to me. If I could not dance I could not live. Of course it would be all right. It had to be.

      ‘This is the most sensual experience I’ve had in years.’ Lizzie’s voice, floating through the open door, had gone down several tones and was gravelly with relaxation. ‘Much better than sex. And no evil consequences.’

      Six months ago, Lizzie had fallen insanely in love with a Russian guest artist who, when wearing a wig and full make-up, looked slightly like Rudolf Nureyev. Certainly from behind the resemblance was remarkable. He had stayed only three weeks before being recalled to Leningrad and, two months after that, the company had a whip-round to pay for Lizzie to have a termination at the handy little nursing home in Southwark where all the female dancers in the company went when self-control or rubber failed. Since then, Lizzie had been much less keen on sex.

      ‘And generally much less worrying,’ I said, sitting up and helping myself to a biscuit to begin the process of repair. It was the first thing I had eaten for thirty-six hours and it tasted extraordinarily delicious. ‘No fretful evenings waiting for the bath to ring. No need to agonize over whether the bath thinks you were insufficiently enthusiastic and imaginative. One good thing about making love with Sebastian is that he’s so self-absorbed one might as well be an inflatable – Hello, Sebastian,’ I said loudly as he walked into the room. A violent splash came from the bathroom followed by silence.

      ‘Well! You’re looking quite a lot better already.’ Sebastian picked up the bottle of champagne, untwisted the wires and popped the cork. He picked up my glass and chucked the iced water over the artificial roses. ‘We’ll have to share this.’

      ‘I probably oughtn’t have alcohol so soon …’

      ‘Oh, rubbish! It won’t hurt your foot. Drink up.’ He held the beaker-full of foaming liquid under my nose. ‘It’ll relax you.’

      Actually I was feeling quite relaxed already, but Sebastian was forking out zillions for my operation and my room so I could refuse him nothing.

      ‘Go on,’ he said, ‘finish it.’

      The chocolate biscuit was powerless to counteract the effect of the champagne when it hit my otherwise empty stomach. When it combined with the remainder of the anaesthetic that was still in my bloodstream, I felt as though I had been shot into outer space in a large pink rocket. The world grew distant and all the consequences thereof.

      He stroked my bare arm. ‘Mm. You’ve lost a couple of pounds.’ Sebastian was as obsessed with body shapes as the rest of us. ‘Don’t overdo it. You’ll start losing muscle.’ I wanted to say that it was nice of him to care but whatever part of my brain was in control of my tongue seemed to be paralysed. ‘It’s not unattractive, though.’

      I set off on an orbit of the earth and very colourful it was, too, just like those photographs СКАЧАТЬ