Confessions of an Ice Cream Man. Timothy Lea

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СКАЧАТЬ as purple and ghastly as he did a few minutes ago and I consider throttling him back into a medically interesting colour. Probably not a good idea.

      ‘You had better give me your address and telephone number,’ I say to Valentina. ‘Just in case the repercussions of your inadvertent but ill-considered action are even more serious than I anticipate them being.’

      ‘I will come in with you,’ says the lovely creature. ‘You get out while I find somewhere to park.’

      Half an hour later she is with us refusing a lukewarm cup of tea and a crumbling wad. The out-patients smells of disinfectant and babies and the benches have been polished shiny by countless millions of bums two hours late for their appointments.

      ‘Good job I’m a bleeding emergency,’ croaks Sid. ‘Some of those poor sods are going to die of old age before anyone gets round to them.’

      ‘Mr Chow? Mr Banwagi? Mr Ndefru?’ Nobody moves and the nurse goes away again.

      ‘They must have nipped out to get their free specs and dentures,’ says Sid. ‘You noticed that, did you? Not one of them was English.’

      ‘Ssh,’ I say. ‘Don’t be rude. Think of Valentina.’ I don’t think she has heard Sid because she smiles and goes on reading her edition of the September 1955 Exchange and Mart. Sometimes I wonder where they get the reading matter that is strewn about in these places. The British Museum must have a snappier collection.

      ‘Three hours I waited here on Thursday to end up with an Indian doctor,’ says the woman sitting next to me. ‘I didn’t mind that but then he started reading my medical card upside down.’

      ‘It’s not right, is it?’ I say.

      ‘Some of the nurses are all right but I wouldn’t trust them with a syringe. I mean, it’s right back to the jungle for them. I’ve had them trying to inject into the bone.’

      ‘Feeling better, Sid?’ I say.

      ‘And that Doctor Balbutti,’ says my neighbour. ‘He’s so nervous he terrifies you. He chewed the rubber out of his stethescope while I was describing my symptoms.’

      ‘Mr Noggett? Doctor will see you now.’

      ‘I don’t think it’s necessary,’ says Sid. ‘I’m feeling a hundred per cent now.’

      ‘Nonsense!’ I tell him. ‘Your head is only hanging onto your shoulders by a thread.’ I lower my voice. ‘Belt up if you want to take this Italian bird for a few bob.’ I drag Sid to his feet and am disappointed to find that Valentina is tagging along.

      ‘Mr Noggett?’ says the nurse looking at the three of us.

      ‘The man with a neck like a turkey on Boxing Day,’ I say, nodding at Sid. ‘I hope you’ve seen suffering, love, otherwise you might as well chuck the whole thing in and wander across to the kiddies’ clinic – don’t nod your head, Sid. It could be fatal.’

      ‘Only the patient, please,’ says the nurse coldly. She is obviously a hard nut and I believe that they can turn like that.

      ‘But I’m the only one who knows the symptoms,’ I say. ‘I saw the whole thing. If it’s a question of settling damages, my presence is invaluable.’

      ‘Not at the moment it isn’t,’ says the nurse brusquely. ‘Wait in there. The doctor will call you if he needs you.’

      ‘You’ve got a white one, Sid,’ I say as he goes through the door. He does not reply because his head is tilted right back. This is probably why he crashes into the instruments trolley and breaks half a dozen thermometers.

      ‘Now it’s gone to his eyes,’ I say as we are shown into a small room containing a bed trolley. ‘That is serious. I was hoping the big game hunting was going to take his mind off the singing.’

      ‘Big game ’unting?’ says the bird, her eyes widening.

      ‘“Noggett of the North,” they used to call him,’ I say. ‘The very whisper of his name used to start the caribou migrating. He could shoot the centre out of a washer at twenty paces.’

      ‘But a washer does not ’ave a centre,’ she says.

      ‘Hmn. Maybe he was fooling us all these years.’ I can see I will have to step warily with this chick. She is not as stupid as I would like her to be.

      ‘What do you want of me, Mr Lea?’ she says, taking a deep breath and giving her knockers the freedom of her sweater to do it in. Her lips tremble and I am reminded of such sultry temptresses as Silvano Manure and Melina Mercury – a girl who could really put your temperature up.

      ‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘I just want to remind you that there’s a man’s life at stake out there. That’s got to be worth something. Maybe you didn’t mean it but you’ve got to face up to the fact that because of you he may end up as some kind of vegetable –’ a beetroot by the look of things. I am enjoying my role. I always saw myself as more of a Raymond Massey than a Richard Chamberlain.

      ‘I repeat, what do you expect me to do about it?’ Her eyes are as green and level as the baize on a billiard table – only slightly less wide as well.

      ‘Let’s face it,’ I say. ‘This thing has got to go to court – or there again, maybe it hasn’t.’

      ‘What do you mean?’ she says.

      ‘I’d have thought it was obvious,’ I say. ‘If you anti up a few bob out of court we may be able to avoid a lot of unpleasantness. I mean, imagine the effect on a jury of seeing that poor creature out there and knowing that he was never going to sing Mozart’s “Cosy fanny” again.’

      ‘Cosi fan tutte,’ she says.

      ‘Just as you like,’ I say. ‘If you prefer the original it’s all the same to me. This is no moment to split hairs over the arts. There are more important issues at stake – that man’s future for example.’

      The bird looks at me levelly and then takes a step to my side.

      ‘I zink I know what you are getting at,’ she says. She suddenly slaps the rubber sheet on the trolley bed and there is a loud ‘swalch’ which makes me jump. ‘You are trying to bedmail me.’ She reaches up and pinches one of my ears.

      ‘Ouch!’

      ‘If I sleep with you, you will forget the ’ole thing?’

      ‘Look,’ I say. ‘You’ve got it all wrong. Nothing was further from my mind. I was thinking purely in terms of a financial settlement to compensate for the injuries received by my unfortunate brother-in-law. Anything that might occur between us would arrive naturally in the fulness of time and as a result of a deep and meaningful relationship. It would be spontaneous and very beautiful.’ I glance at my watch. ‘Are you doing anything this evening?’

      ‘I ’ave no money. I ’ave only my body.’

      It is strange but a feeling of relief accompanies my reception to these remarks. ‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Well, what about that car?’

      ‘It belongs to the business. СКАЧАТЬ