|
Post by PamA on Jan 5, 2006 13:40:21 GMT 1
Wednesday morning
“She’s late!!” Julia practically spat the words out. “It is nearly half past eight and she should have been here half an hour ago. I’ll have to put this in the report to the school when they ask for it.” “Julia, do you know where she lives? I asked her yesterday but she was a bit, well, unforthcoming. Told me on the estate in Letherbridge.” “That doesn’t give much away does it? No Sarah I don’t seem to have any details about her at all. I must have a word with whoever’s responsible for these placements. I’m not at all happy with..........” Before Julia could finish her sentence the front door swung open wide revealing a new, revamped Pandora. Her hair looked as if she’d cut it herself with a pair of garden shears, and the short skirt and tracksuit top had been replaced by tracksuit bottoms and an off the shoulder stripy jumpy. The horizontal stripes did nothing for Pandora’s rather ample figure. “So, what yer think then?” She asked, turning round slowly so they could get the full picture. Julia and Sarah watched open mouthed. “Well, say somefink!” Pandora insisted. “It was your idea Sarah. You said I should dress more like you. And I’ve copied yer hairstyle as well.” “Please,” Sarah whispered to Julia, “please tell me I don’t look like that!” “If you did,” Julia whispered back, “I would never have employed you. You’re going to have to speak to her again I’m afraid.” “No way!” Sarah said out of the side of her mouth. “You can speak to her this time.” “Well?” Pandora said sharply, “Aren’t you gonna say somefink?” She did another twirl and this time they noticed that she had only cut the front of her hair. The rest was tied back in a thin ponytail creating an even more bizarre element to her new look. “The hair’s good, ain’t it? Did it meself.” She added proudly. “I’d never have guessed.” Julia said sarcastically. “Pandora I think we should have a talk later on today, don’t you?” Pandora shrugged her shoulders. “My office, after lunch,” Julia added. She turned to Sarah and in a low voice said, “Find her something to do in the staff room, anywhere in fact but reception. We can’t have patients seeing her like this she’ll scare them!” Sarah laughed. “What about the stock cupboard, the stationery one I mean? It could do with a bit of a tidy, Julia, we’ve been saying it for ages.” “Not sure we could trust her not to make it worse. No, I think the staff room is the safest place. Give her the magazines to sort through. Tell her to dump any more than three months old and look through them for any interesting medical articles. That should keep her occupied.” “Excuse me, I am `ere you know.” Pandora looked at them both indignantly. “Sorry Pandora,” Julia apologised, “We’re just trying to decide what you should do today.” “Well,” Pandora stretched her body in such a way that her ample bosom appeared to grow even larger, “I thought that seeing as I’ve got this new look you might let me behind that desk, you know, like doing fings for patients, booking in an that.” “Oh no,” Julia’s eyes opened wide in alarm, “I don’t think you’re quite ready for that yet. We need the magazines sorted. You can sit in the staff room, chuck out the one’s older than three months but make sure you cut out any medical articles. O.K.?” “What?” Pandora exclaimed. “You want me to go through all them poxy magazines! I didn’t come `ere to do that sort of fing. I told my best mate Cassandra that I’m going to be a receptionist and she said `I bet you’re not’ and I said I am because all I have to do is look like that Sarah and they’ll let me be one, and I do look like her now and Cassandra said I look really cool, like real mature, and now you say I won’t. Oh shut up!” “Does she do this often?” Julia asked in amazement. “Occasionally,” Sarah said with a sigh. “Oh no,” Julia said, “Patients are arriving. Get her out of here quick!” Sarah bustled Pandora through to the staff room. “It’s a really cushy job,” she told the reluctant girl. “All you have to do is sit in here and look through magazines, make coffee, put your feet up.” Pandora’s eyes widened as she realised that Sarah was quite right. It was a cushy job! She settled herself in the most comfortable chair and took a magazine from the top of a pile and began to idly flick through it. She was still sitting there reading the same magazine when Faith came in an hour or so later to make coffee. “Hello there,” Faith said to engrossed girl, “you must be Pandora. I’m Faith, the practice nurse.” Pandora glanced up. “I suppose yer after me box an all,” she said moodily, “It’s in me bag.” She pointed to the large handbag that lay on the floor at her feet. “Excuse me?” Faith looked puzzled, “What are you talking about?” “Don’t tell me you don’t know about me box! Thought that Sarah had told everyone.” “Oh that box.” Faith replied innocently, “Well I suppose I may as well have a little peep.” Faith smiled at Pandora who merely gave a look of disdain and went back to perusing the magazine. Faith reached in to the bag and took out the box. “What do I do?” she asked turning the box round in her hands. “Open it!” Pandora sounded exasperated, “What else yer gonna do with it?” Faith slowly opened the lid of the box and peered inside. At first she saw nothing, but gradually what appeared to be a light mist spread slowly over the bottom of the box.
..........................................................................................................................................
“You look the business. In fact you look bloody fantastic!” Faith said to herself as she admired her reflection in the full-length mirror. She ran her hands down over the skirt of her beautifully tailored suit, and turned slightly sideways so that she could admire the effect her high-heeled shoes had upon her legs. Faith looked around her penthouse apartment and sighed with pleasure. She still found it hard to believe that this was really her home, albeit one she didn’t own but lived in rent-free, thanks to her boss – Guy Devlin. Any moment now Guy would be here to pick her up and take her to one of the most important meetings of her life. In a way she wished she could drive herself in the convertible BMW that had been presented to her a few days ago. She loved the yearning looks the car got from other motorists when she pulled up beside them at traffic lights. Still, there’d be plenty of opportunities to take it out for a spin and Guy’s car wasn’t one to be missed. A `beep’ from the entry phone told her he had arrived and she walked across to answer it. “I’m on my way down,” she told him and, picking up her briefcase and handbag, she made her way to the lift.
to be continued...................
|
|
|
Post by PamA on Jan 16, 2006 17:59:15 GMT 1
Wednesday morning continued
Guy Devlin was the head of Devlin Pharmaceuticals, a company that was fast becoming a leading light in the development of drugs for a number of chronic conditions. He’d inherited the business when his father had suffered a heart attack and decided to take early retirement. Charles Devlin and his wife, Nora, now lived an idyllic existence in Spain, although occasionally Charles would come to England and look over the business to see how his son was managing. So far he had no complaints. Guy looked appreciatively at Faith as she joined him in the foyer of the apartment block where she lived. “You look great,” he said, taking her hands in his and leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. “Thank you kind sir,” Faith replied giving a little curtsy and, smiling warmly at him, followed him to his car. She liked Guy. He was a good boss, caring of his staff and always rewarding those who worked for him when the opportunity arose. It had been a difficult decision for Faith to give up nursing and move in to the business world. Guy had often come in to the Surgery to drop off catalogues or samples and had always stopped for a chat with Faith when the chance to do so arose. At first she thought he was looking for an affair but his frequent references to his wife and children soon had her realising that he had no interest in her on that score. What she didn’t realise was that Guy saw something beyond the nurse’s uniform. He liked her manner, the easy way she had of speaking to people and he saw in her his perfect PA. When he first muted this idea to her she’d simply laughed, but as she thought about it and realised the future opportunities it might offer her, she began to think that she would be a fool not to give it a go. Three years ago she’d left her job and joined Guy and had never regretted it. She was more than a PA. Guy trusted her to put forward proposals and talk to different health authorities. Her nursing background gave her kudos with those she came in contact with. They knew she was no empty headed bimbo hired to look good next to Guy. No, Faith was a force to be reckoned with. - intelligent and knowledgeable on medical matters. Today she and Guy were visiting Letherbridge Health Authorities. Faith was hoping to drop by and see her old friends and colleagues once they had done their presentation on di-chlorophrulin B, the latest drug to emerge from Devlin Pharmaceuticals. She hadn’t seen any of them for some time and was feeling apprehensive at the reception she might get. Long hours and her job went hand in hand, and the times she wasn’t working were often spent entertaining clients or simply catching up on things she needed to do for herself. She hadn’t forewarned them that she was coming and wondered now whether it would have been more prudent to give them a quick call to tell them of her impending visit. “Penny for them,” Guy said, turning his head to look at her. “You’re very quiet today Faith.” “To be honest I was thinking about the visit to the Mill. I’ve never even seen it despite countless invitations. Supposing they don’t want to see me now and I turn up? It could be so embarrassing!” “I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you. Damn, there’s some diversion up ahead. We’re going to have to take the back roads to have any chance of getting there on time.” Guy turned the car down the narrow road that ran between the shopping mall and the cinema complex. “This should lead us on to the old Letherbridge Road,” he explained to Faith. “With a bit of luck, and providing that everyone else hasn’t had the same idea of turning off, we should be at the Health Authorities with a bit of time to spare.” As they drove along Faith read over her notes once more, glancing up now and again to see how far they’d travelled. “Well,” she said to Guy, “it seems pretty straightforward. Hopefully they’ll be satisfied with our presentation and we won’t get any awkward questions.” “Awkward questions?” Guy sounded puzzled. “Why should there be any awkward questions?” “Joke!” Faith exclaimed with a laugh. “Where’s your sense of humour Guy?” By now they had almost reached the turn off for Letherbridge. Suddenly, with an exclamation of “What the hell?” Guy slammed on his brakes. In the road, directly in front of them, a woman lay surrounded by shopping bag. Her face was covered with blood and, as they watched, she got herself on to all fours and struggled to get up. “She’s alright,” Guy said, “If she can stand up she’s alright.” Faith stared at him in amazement. “We should at least make sure she’s not badly hurt, see if she needs an ambulance. We can’t just leave her Guy.” “Look Faith, if we stop now we’ll be late for our appointment. We need to get di-chlorophrulin B marketed as soon as possible. There are lots of other drug companies in competition with us you know. And, Faith, don’t forget, if you get out of the car to see how she is, you’re going to get covered in blood by the looks of things, and that won’t go down well. We get this contract and you’re in for a very nice fat bonus.” Faith looked at Guy and then at the woman. She loved the lifestyle that her job afforded her but the nurse inside her knew what was the right action. “But what’s more important Guy?” Faith asked him. “How will I live with myself if I do nothing?” She closed her eyes and sighed.
..........................................................................................................................................
“You alright?” The strident tones of Pandora brought Faith back into the present. “Yes, I’m fine.” Faith looked in puzzlement at the box, closed its lid and replaced it in Pandora’s bag. “And, what’s more, Pandora, I have the best job in the world even if it isn’t the best paid. You just remember, my girl, there’s more to life than money and possessions.” Faith made her coffee and left. Pandora sat and smiled to herself.
to be continued......................
|
|
|
Post by PamA on Jan 28, 2006 18:19:26 GMT 1
Wednesday lunchtime
Pandora was still reading the magazines when Sarah and Jimmi came through to the staff room at lunchtime. “Do you think she looks a bit like me?” Pandora asked, thrusting a page from a magazine under Sarah’s nose. “My mate Cassandra reckons I’m a dead ringer for her.” She added proudly. Sarah looked from Pandora to the picture of Kate Moss. “Well, I guess you’re both female. You do have that much in common with, erm, Kate Moss.” Sarah glanced across at Jimmi who was trying his best not to laugh. “Pandora, this is Dr. Clay. He’s fairly new at the practice.” Pandora looked up, her eyes opening in amazement as she caught sight of Jimmi. “He’s well nice,” she mouthed to Sarah, while giving Jimmi the benefit of a fluttering of her eyelashes and a flirtatious look. Jimmi looked almost frightened at the sight of Pandora’s efforts to flirt with him and glanced at Sarah in alarm. “It’s alright Jimmi,” Sarah quietly reassured him, “she’s quite harmless.” Jimmi grinned. “You’re sure about that?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “What’s he saying?” Pandora asked Sarah, “Didn’t anyone ever tell him it’s rude to whisper!” “Sorry Pandora,” Jimmi looked at her apologetically. He put his head on one side and smiled at her. “Forgiven?” he asked. Pandora gave a deep sigh. “Suppose so,” she answered him and went back to looking at her magazine. “So,” Jimmi enquired, “where’s this famous box then?” Pandora pointed to her bag. “In there,” she answered him. “Alright if I have a look?” Even as he spoke, Jimmi bent down to the capacious bag that lay on the floor next to Pandora’s chair. Pandora sighed again. “Am I bovvered? Do I look bovvered?” Jimmi looked in puzzlement at Sarah who simply shrugged her shoulders. He opened the bag, took out the box and held it up in front of him. “So, what do I do?” he asked Pandora, “Open it up and pretend I see something in it? Make up some juicy story, maybe?” “It really does work.” Sarah assured him, “We’re not making anything up. Although, come to think of it, no-one has told what they’ve seen.” “Right.” Jimmi exclaimed with a grin, “Probably because they haven’t seen anything but want you to think they have.” “You try it,” Sarah said, “then tell me we’re all making out that we’ve seen things.” “Alright.” His face was now beaming, “If it will make you happy, I’ll do it.” He opened the box with a flourish and peered inside.
..........................................................................................................................................
Jimmi was standing outside St. Phil’s hospital gazing up at the facade and feeling extremely pleased with himself. He knew that there’d been several candidates for the position he was about to fill but it was he, Jimmi Clay, who’d been the successful one. He felt he would almost burst with pride as he made his way up the steps and through the entrance into the main reception area. He was glad that the hospital was well signed inside so that he easily found his way to the office he’d been told to report to. He didn’t want to be in the position of having to ask the way so that everyone would know he was the new boy. It suited him better to walk purposefully as if he’d worked in a hospital all his life. He finally came to an office door with a brass nameplate secured to it. The name on the plate was that of a Clive Francis. Jimmi rapped sharply on the glass panel set into the door. “Come in,” a voice boomed from inside. Jimmi entered, closing the door as he came inside. A well-built, grey haired man sat behind a desk that took up a great deal of space in what was a rather small room. The desk was littered from one side to the other with all sorts of bits and paraphernalia; so much so that Jimmi wondered how Clive Francis was ever able to find things he needed. “Ah,” Clive stood up, “Mr. Clay. Welcome on board,” then added, almost as if he could read Jimmi’s thoughts, “I know it’s a mess but I know where everything is.” He gestured to Jimmi to sit down. “Well,” he continued, “I hope you’re going to be happy with us and our little team. You’ll get to meet them all in time.” He began to hunt around on the desk, finally pulling open drawer after drawer, until he said, “Ah here it is - your name badge. You’ll need that to get around the hospital. Don’t want you getting thrown out on your first day, do we?” Clive laughed loudly at his little joke. Jimmi pinned the badge to the lapel of his jacket, looking down at it proudly, a broad grin spreading across his features. “Pictures not that good,” Clive commented, “but none of them are!” He laughed again. “Right, I expect you’re itching to get down to work young man.” He leafed through a pile of notes that lay on the desk immediately in front of him, and then swung round to look at the computer screen that sat on a wooden trolley near to the window. “Let me see,” he tapped his fingers on the desktop. “Yes, I think we’ll start you off with Mrs. Bellamy. She’s in the female surgical ward F5. Make your way up there and I’m sure one of the nurses will point you in the right direction.” He handed Jimmi a piece of paper. “This’ll tell you all you need to know. Good luck.” He smiled to himself when Jimmi had left the room. He had a feeling that this one was going to be the best member of his team yet. Yes, Jimmi Clay could go very far indeed.
to be continued.....................
|
|
|
Post by PamA on Feb 2, 2006 13:48:44 GMT 1
Wednesday lunchtime continued
Jimmi settled quickly into his job at the hospital. By the end of the first week he had established himself as a great favourite with the patients, particularly the female ones, and a great favourite with the nursing staff. He knew how to switch on the charm when necessary and that, together with his boyish looks and winning smile, assured his popularity throughout the hospital. Clive Francis saw in Jimmi a younger version of himself, and did everything he could to encourage the young man and build up his confidence, although in truth Jimmi was not exactly lacking in the confidence department. Friday evening Jimmi joined Clive at the Letherbar for a quick drink. It had to be quick as Jimmi had arranged to meet up with a very pretty blonde nurse, who worked in the Accident and Emergency Department, later that evening. “So, Jimmi, how have you enjoyed your first week with us?” Clive asked him. “Yeh, it’s been pretty good. Think I’m gonna like working with you.” Jimmi sipped some of his beer, “It’s a really friendly place to work. Yeh, it’s good.” “Glad to hear it,” Clive responded, “I can see you and me becoming quite a team. We both know what’s what’s, if you know what I mean. Reckon you picked up a few tricks from your last place, if you get my drift.” Clive winked at him and Jimmi’s face broke into a broad smile. “You know,” Jimmi said, “when I came out of that Young Offender’s institute I thought it would be really hard to get a job. I can’t believe that you took me on just like that.” “Oh, I believe in giving people a chance my boy. Now what about another drink before you go.” “Alright just one more, then I have to get going.” Jimmi sat waiting for Clive to come back. He thought about his life and how it just seemed to be getting better and better. He had his own room, his own little car and a job as a porter at the hospital. He grinned to himself as he remembered suggestions made years ago that he should go for counselling. As if that would have made any difference to his life. He laughed quietly to himself, closing his eyes and shaking his head as he did so.
........................................................................................................................................
“You alright Jimmi?” Sarah’s voice dragged him back to the present. “You’ve gone really pale.” Jimmi closed the box and thrust it angrily into Pandora’s hands. “I suppose you think that’s funny,” he said angrily, turning on his heels and stomping out of the room. “Oh dear,” Sarah exclaimed, “don’t think he likes your box Pandora.” Pandora smiled, “Not everyone does,” she said, “ Although when he’s cooled down he might realise what a lucky boy he’s been.” Sarah stared at Pandora, “Do you know what we see?” she asked her, “And how comes you suddenly sound perfectly normal?” “How should I know what you see? Fink I’m some kind of whatsit? Medium or somefink. Oh shut up.” Pandora reverted back to her normal mode of speech, glaring at Sarah and opening up another magazine with a great deal of accompanying noise. Sarah went in search of Jimmi. She was concerned that he was so upset by the box and wanted to make sure he had calmed down. She found him in his room, sitting at his desk staring into space. “You okay?” she asked him. He gave her a weak smile, sighed and said, “I guess so. Just a bit of a shock to see how my life might have turned out. Never given it much thought before.” “And,” asked Sarah, “is your life better than the one you saw in the box?” Jimmi quickly replied, “You wouldn’t believe how much better!” “Good!” Sarah smiled at him before turning away; leaving his room and making her way back to reception. Julia looked up from the reception desk as Sarah approached. “You look very thoughtful, and what on earth was the matter with Jimmi? Came through here like a charging rhino!” “He was a bit upset by Pandora’s box,” Sarah explained. “Julia, there’s something very odd about that girl. It’s like she’s, I don’t know, acting or something. Just now she spoke in a perfectly normal voice and manner and when I pointed it out to her she went back to her `Vicky Pollard’. She is seriously odd.” “Well,” Julia replied, “I’m inclined to agree with you but we have to take what we’re sent. Although I wish Heather Clark had warned me before placing her here.” Julia picked up some papers from the reception desk. “Right, I’ll leave you to it. Mac’s taking me out to lunch.” “That’s nice,” Sarah looked wistfully at Julia’s retreating back. “It must be nice to have someone to take you out for meals,” she thought to herself but then, remembering the images of married life with Nathan, she added, “then again, maybe not.” George came into reception. “Is Pandora in the staff room?” she asked and when Sarah affirmed that she was indeed still there, George rubbed her hands together and said, “Oh good!” before making her way through to where Pandora sat still reading the magazines. “So where is it?” George asked, practically buzzing with excitement. Pandora pointed to her bag and George lifted the box out carefully, opened it up and peeped inside.
..........................................................................................................................................
George was standing in the hallway waiting for Ronnie to come home from work. She was chewing on her bottom lip wondering how to explain to Ronnie about their unexpected houseguest. She heard the sound of his car pulling into the driveway, counted to thirty as she waited for his key to turn in the lock, and took a deep breath. Ronnie came bustling in but before she had a chance to explain, he kissed her on the cheek, dropped his briefcase on the floor and said, “I’m going to have a soak in the bath before dinner.” He ran up the stairs whilst George stood, teeth gritted and eyes screwed up, waiting for the outburst she knew would come. And come it did. Within a relatively short space of time Ronnie appeared at the top of the stairs. “George,” he said, a look of complete bewilderment on his face, “there’s a penguin in the bath.”
to be continued..........................................................
|
|
|
Post by PamA on Feb 9, 2006 12:54:14 GMT 1
Wednesday late lunchtime
Ronnie ran down the stairs, chasing after George who was making her way through to the kitchen. He caught her by the shoulders and turned her round to face him. George smiled weakly at him but didn’t say a thing. Ronnie lowered his head so that he could look into George’s eyes. “Please George,” he said, “please tell me that the penguin isn’t called Pippa.” George took a deep breath before replying, “I would really, really like to be able to tell you that it isn’t, but, well, it is.” George bit her bottom lip waiting for Ronnie’s reaction. For a moment he simply stared at her, incredulity written all over his face. “That’s Pippa?” he finally said, “Pippa the missing penguin?” George nodded. “She’s rather sweet isn’t she Ronnie? And she’s not going to be here long – just till tomorrow afternoon.” “Sweet!” Ronnie exclaimed, “Sweet! She’s stolen George. I don’t care how sweet she is she shouldn’t be here.” Ronnie ran his hand through his hair before continuing, “I suppose this is something to do with Nigel Stokes.” “You know he doesn’t like to be called that Ronnie,” George said peevishly. “Okay. I suppose this has something to do with Cockroach or whatever his name is.” “Ronnie! It’s not Cockroach, you know full well it’s not!” George said indignantly. “Oh of course, how could I forget?” Ronnie replied in a more than sarcastic tone of voice. “The Caterpillar, isn’t it? The Cat for short as he tells me every time he turns up here. So, George, what’s the story behind Pippa’s appearance here? And why here? Why couldn’t he keep it at his place?” “Oh Ronnie,” George sounded exasperated, “you know that’s the first place the police would look!” “And we’re probably the second. How the hell did he get her here without being spotted? There’s not a newspaper in the country that’s not followed the story of,” Ronnie paused making quotation marks with his fingers, “`Pippa the missing Penguin’.” “If you’d have seen the conditions she was being kept in, Ronnie, you’d understand why I had to help.” “Wait a minute,” Ronnie looked at her suspiciously, “How do you know the conditions she was living in? You didn’t, oh no George, you didn’t help steal her did you?” “Of course not!” George said huffily, “What do you take me for?” Ronnie looked suitably chastened. “Sorry George,” he apologised, then after a moments thought added, “Wait a minute, how do you know about her conditions if you weren’t there?” “The Cat told me.” “And you believed him?” “Why shouldn’t I? I mean what’s he got to gain by making it up? Look Ronnie, Pippa will be gone by the time you come home tomorrow until then, well, just pretend she’s not there.” “Great George. Every time I go to the bathroom I’ll do what? Pretend I’m hallucinating, that it’s not a real penguin but just a figment of my imagination? Somehow I don’t think that’s going to work, do you? And how am I meant to have a bath?” “You can shower you know. You don’t have to have a bath.” George retaliated. “But maybe I want to relax and, maybe, I don’t fancy having a shower with a penguin as an audience!” George sniggered. “I don’t actually think Pippa will be interested in your, um, bits.” “Very funny.” Ronnie looked less than amused. George looked at him appealingly. “Why don’t you come up and feed her with me? I think that’ll help you to bond with her.” “George, I don’t want to bond with a penguin. I don’t want a stolen penguin under my roof and, what’s more, I don’t want Cockroach, Caterpillar, Nigel whatever you want to call him, under my roof either.” George slipped her arms around her husband and rested her head on his chest. “She’ll be gone tomorrow, Ronnie, I promise. Just the one night, that’s all I’m asking, just one night.” Ronnie sighed. “Why oh why,” he asked himself, “did he always let her talk him round.” Out loud he said, “Okay, but it is just one night. When I get back from work tomorrow I want to find the house penguin free. Understood?” George nodded. “You know, George, you could get into serious trouble for harbouring Pippa. She is stolen goods. Where’s Nigel, sorry, the Caterpillar going to take her anyway?” “There’s a sanctuary up in Scotland that’s agreed to sneak her in with their other penguins. It’s.........” Ronnie placed a finger on George’s lips. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I can’t be a party to this George, you must know that.” From upstairs a strange noise filtered down into the hallway. “She’s hungry I think,” George disentangled herself from Ronnie, “I’ve got fish for her in the kitchen. Better feed her, eh?” “Go on,” Ronnie replied, “I’ll start dinner while you see to her. What is dinner by the way?” “Erm, it’s sort of fish.” George looked at Ronnie who was staring at her incredulously “Fish? Not the same fish as...?” Ronnie pointed to the ceiling, George laughed. “No my dear,” she said, “Not the same fish. Similar but not quite the same! Ours is cooked for one thing.” “What am I going to do with you?” Ronnie shook his head in despair then reached out and took her into his arms. “What will you do next!”
to be continued...................................................
|
|
|
Post by PamA on Feb 17, 2006 13:38:49 GMT 1
Wednesday late lunchtime continued
George is chained to a tree. Around her a motley bunch of men and women of all ages, shapes, and sizes, are singing `We shall not, we shall not be moved’ as loudly as they can. They are waving placards that say `Save the Letherbridge Oak’ and various different versions of the same message. A press photographer is taking pictures and a number of police officers are milling around looking bored. A large mechanical digger is standing idle and a several workmen wearing hard hats are glaring at the protesters. Ronnie appears, pushing his way through the crowd until he comes face to face with George. George beams at him. “So,” she says, “you’ve come to join us after all.” Ronnie looks down at his smart suit, white shirt and silk tie, “Does it look like it?” he asks her a note of irritation creeping into his voice. “I thought you were as keen to save the oak as we are,” George replies, petulantly. “Anyway,” she continues, looking curiously at her husband, “how did you know I was here? I never told you I was coming today.” “It really didn’t take too much working out George. As soon as I heard the news report on Radio Letherbridge I had a pretty good idea that you’d be in the thick of it. Mind you, I didn’t expect to see you chained to the tree, thought that would be more in Nigel’s, sorry, I mean the `Caterpillar’s’ line of duty.” “He had to go and check up on something, otherwise it would be him. I’m just standing in until he gets back.” George explains. “Funny, isn’t it, that he’s never around when things heat up. I mean, we harboured the penguin, you’re chained to a tree and Nigel is, sorry, where exactly is he?” “I’m not sure,” George replies, “he didn’t really say. Just said he had something he needed to do and he’d be back later.” Ronnie raises his eyebrows and sighs. “He won’t be back till this is over George. He’s taking you for a mug.” “No, you’re wrong,” George says vehemently, “ He cares passionately about this tree. We all do. I mean, you wouldn’t want to see it chopped down just to make way for a bypass would you?” There is a moment of hesitation before Ronnie answers her. “To be honest George, I really don’t care.” George looks shocked. “You can’t mean that, “she says, indignantly, “Of course you care.” “I’m sorry George. It’s a beautiful old tree I’ll grant you that, but given a choice between that tree and a bypass that will cut a fair bit off a journey into Birmingham, there’s no competition!” “But you said that you were with me all the way on this one. Are you saying you lied to me?” Ronnie shrugs his shoulders. “I suppose I am. I’m sorry George I just don’t have these, well how can I put it, convictions that you do.” “But someone has to care Ronnie, someone has to protect the environment, look after it for future generations. You knew how I felt about these things when we met. Why didn’t you tell me then that you didn’t feel the same way?” “George,” Ronnie looks at her tenderly, “I would have told you anything to keep you happy. And I have put up with all your different causes over the years. I’ve even put up with the `Caterpillar’ for your sake. It’s because I love you. Anyway, if you remember when we first met you were all set to be a doctor.” George purses her lips. “So, it was a doctor you were hoping to marry not someone who fights to protect the planet, who wants to make a difference?” “My darling girl,” Ronnie reaches out and strokes her cheek, “you’d have probably made far more difference as a doctor than you do as an environmentalist.” George turns her head away so that Ronnie’s contact with her cheek is broken. She is angry and can’t believe that Ronnie has deceived her all these years. Some of the things Ronnie had said, though, were making her think. It was true that Nigel the `Caterpillar’ was often missing when things came to a head, and really and truly there was no reason why Pippa the penguin couldn’t have been safely secreted at his place. The police had never called on him about Pippa and there was probably no concrete reason why they should. She had forgotten her childhood dream of becoming a doctor, and Ronnie’s words made her wonder whether doctoring wouldn’t have been the better choice. “It’s never too late,” she thought to herself. “Environmentalist, doctor? What should I be?” As the thoughts raced round in her head she closed her eyes.
.........................................................................................................................................
George hastily shut the lid down on the box and, just as hastily, placed it firmly back in Pandora’s bag. “You alright?” Pandora asked her looking up from her magazine and staring at George. “Yes! Why wouldn’t I be?” George gave Pandora a rather phoney smile. “After all, I’m a Doctor aren’t I? Best job in the world. Wouldn’t want to be anything else.” “You sure you’re alright?” Pandora asked again, looking at George as if she’d stepped in from another planet. “Perfectly, thank you.” George replied and, with head held high, made her way out of the staff room. Pandora watched George’s retreating figure and smiled smugly to herself.
to be continued............................................
|
|
|
Post by PamA on Feb 27, 2006 13:48:44 GMT 1
Wednesday afternoon
“Pandora would you be a sweetie and take this through to Mac?” Julia handed the girl a mug of strong black coffee. “Knock on his door and wait for him to say `come in’. Don’t just go barging in.” Pandora sighed and raised her eyebrows. “What d’you think I am? I don’t wanna go barging in and find him examining some old biddy, do I?” She shuddered at the thought. “All wrinkly and saggy – yuck.” “He hasn’t got any one with him at the moment Pandora. Afternoon surgery doesn’t start till 4.” Julia patiently explained. “And, don’t forget, you’ll be old and wrinkly one day.” Pandora made a snorting noise before stating, “I don’t think so! Not if I can help it.” Before Julia could say any more Pandora left the room and made her way to Mac’s room. She tapped on the door. “Come in!” Mac cried out. Pandora entered and when Mac saw she was bringing him a drink he pointed to a space on his desk and said, “Put it down there will you.” Pandora did as he asked and made to leave the room. “Wait a minute,” Mac called after her, “don’t rush off.” Pandora turned back into the room. “How are you enjoying your work experience? Do you think this is the sort of thing you’d like to do when you leave school?” Mac asked her. Pandora looked around the room as if seeking an answer to Mac’s questions. “Well?” Mac queried when no answer was forthcoming. Pandora gazed at the ceiling as if the answer to Mac’s question would miraculously appear there. Mac was just about to challenge the girl again when she suddenly started to speak. “We-e-e-el-l-l,” she began, “I don’t fink I want to be a Doctor. You’d have to touch too many old people and fat people and they’d all be sick as well and `ave `orrible things wrong with them like leprosy or somefink and `ave spots and rashes and be sneezing and coughing all over you. That is so revolting! And I don’t fink I’d like to be a nurse either cos you have to stick needles in people and that’s pretty `orrible and then you’ve gotta take blood out of people and test their wee and that is sooooooooo disgusting I don’t wanna even think about it. And reception is really boring cos you `ave to be nice to everyone and some people are sooooo rude and they need a good telling off but you `ave to talk like polite to them, don’t you? An it’s like really you wanna say `oh shut up’ but you can’t cos they’d only complain an then I’d be in trouble and `ave to explain what happened, like yes but, no but, all I did was tell them to shut up and now you’re telling me off. That is sooooo unfair!” Mac stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at Pandora and shook his head as if to clear it. “So,” he finally said, “you wouldn’t want to work here?” “That’s what I said innit?” Pandora replied. “What would you like to do then?” Mac said, mildly relieved that this girl wouldn’t be inflicted on any Doctor’s surgery for the long term. “I fink I’m going to pursue my dream of being a fashion model,” Pandora answered, “Get like a portfolio thingy together and send it off to some agencies.” Mac looked at the girl and found it difficult to suppress a grin at the thought of Pandora on the catwalk. “Well, good luck,” he said, “hope it works out for you. Now you’d better get back to what you’re meant to be doing or Julia will be telling me off!” Pandora left the room and Mac smiled to himself. “A fashion model!” He said to himself and chuckled. It was as he picked up the patient’s file he’d been perusing before Pandora’s interruption, that he noticed she’d left something behind on his desk. Pandora’s box sat invitingly in front of him. Yesterday he’d missed his chance to look inside the box, not that he particularly believed that it was in any way magic, but he had to admit that he was more than a little curious to see what all the fuss was about. He looked up at the door, half expecting Pandora to return to claim her possession. It suddenly struck him that he didn’t remember seeing the box in her hands when she’d come in to his room with his coffee. He was fairly sure that she’d been carrying the mug with two hands when she put it down on the table, so where and how had the box come to be here now? Mac ran his hands over his head as he tried to make sense of the mysterious appearance of the box. He picked it up, turning it round in his hands, examining it from every angle, until finally opening the lid and peering inside.
........................................................................................................................................
“So, how long has little Bertie had this problem?” Mac asked the rather stout lady standing at his side. “It’s been happening on and off for some time now. I’d say a good 6 weeks or more.” “Right Bertie,” Mac said to his patient, “Let’s have a good look at you. We’ll soon find out what’s causing that cough.”
to be continued.............................................
|
|
|
Post by PamA on Mar 17, 2006 13:29:47 GMT 1
Wednesday afternoon continued
Mac gave little Bertie a thorough examination. “Ah,” he finally said, as he peered into Bertie’s throat, “I think this is the root of the problem.” Mac picked up a pair of long forceps and gently pulled something from Bertie’s throat. “Looks like a piece of a rubber ball.” Mac examined the object before dropping it into the waste bin. “That should have sorted his cough out,” Mac explained, “Poor chaps been trying to clear it from his throat. As for that other business, I’ve shown you what to do when he starts dragging his bottom along the ground, so you’ll be able to deal with it yourself from now on.” “Thank you so much Mr. Maguire. You know Bertie means the world to me. He’s all I’ve got since my husband died.” Mac smiled at Bertie’s owner. “I know,” he said kindly, “A dog can be a great companion. Now, let me show you out.” Mac opened the door of his consulting room and ushered Bertie and his owner towards the reception area. Bertie’s owner went to the desk to settle her bill whilst Mac called in his next patient. “Parsons.” He called out. A small, balding man, carrying a wicker cat basket stood up and followed Mac into the consulting room. “I see that you’ve only just registered with us. I just need to take a few details down. Let’s see, the, um, cat’s name?” “He’s called Sidney, but he’s not a cat.” Mac turned to look at the man. “Sorry,” he said, “I sort of assumed the cat basket contained a cat. So what is Sidney then?” “He’s an American Corn snake,” the man explained. “Bought him off a man in the pub.” “Snakes aren’t really my thing. I’m afraid I know very little about them but I’ll see what I can do. What’s the problem with Sidney?” “He won’t eat. Been off his food ever since I got him home. I’ve tried him with all sorts of things but he won’t eat nothing.” “Right. Well I’ll have a quick look but it’s really not my field of expertise. I can recommend a vet that’s more into exotic pets.” Mac lifted the lid off the cat basket and the snake’s head immediately came into view. It stretched itself higher and higher until its head was on a level with Mac’s. “This is no American Corn snake,” Mac gasped, “It’s far too big.” As Mac spoke the sides of the snake’s head flared out and a forked tongue shot in and out of its mouth. “It’s a King Cobra!” Mac was so afraid he could scarcely breath. He signalled to Mr. Parsons to help him but, much to his dismay, heard the sound of his consulting room door closing as Mr. Parsons made his rapid escape. He was alone with the reptile and could only hope that Mr. Parsons would do something to get Mac out off this predicament. The snake stared at Mac then opened its mouth very wide ready to strike. Much to Mac’s surprise the snake spoke to him. “Mac,” it said, “Wake up. You’re having a bad dream.” Mac opened his eyes. His wife was standing next to him, holding in her hands a cup of coffee. “What on earth were you dreaming about?” she asked. “You seemed to be petrified about something or other.” “I was dreaming I was a vet and this guy brought in a Cobra for me to look at and it was about to strike when you woke me,” Mac explained. “You! A vet! Can’t see you sticking your hand up a cow’s backside.” She placed his coffee down on the bedside table as she spoke. “Drink this whilst it’s hot. You need to be up and ready in an hour.” “Actually,” Mac said sipping his coffee, “I did once toy with the idea of being a vet or a doctor.” “Can’t imagine you doing either.” Mac gazed up at is beautiful young wife. “Guess you can’t,” he said, “And just imagine if I’d gone down that route I’d never have met you. Don’t think vets and doctors get to meet many page three girls, do they?” “Probably not,” Crystal said with a smile. She walked across the room and looked at herself in the dressing table mirror. “So,” Mac asked her, “what will you be doing today?” Crystal was busy posing, piling her long blonde hair on top of her head and looking at the effect. “Shopping maybe,” she answered, “I need to get something new for the `Hello’ magazine spread we’re doing next week. Probably a few different outfits.” “Don’t you think you’ve got enough to choose from already?” Mac said. Crystal sighed. “We’ve got to look really good darling. No half measures. I want people to be reminded about me. Could lead to some modelling or even a television appearance. It’s all right for you. You do your commentating and everyone remembers that you once won the British Open, but me – well they just remember me for, well, getting me kit off. I want to be,” Crystal paused as she tried to think of an appropriate word. “Sophisticated?” Mac suggested. “Yeah, that’s right. Sophisticated. That’s what I wanna be.” Mac looked at his wife and sighed. She was lovely, great looks and great figure, but sophisticated! That was something she would never be.
to be continued...................................
|
|
|
Post by PamA on Mar 27, 2006 17:40:00 GMT 1
Wednesday afternoon continued
By 9 0’clock Mac was showered, dressed and eating a hurried breakfast. Crystal was still in the process of deciding what to wear for her shopping trip, and had already discarded countless outfits as being too dated, too copied or too unflattering. The latter had to be taken in to consideration just in case a photographer from some celebrity magazine should spot her going in and out of the shops. Mac came up to the bedroom to say goodbye to find her standing in front of the mirror, holding two garments alternatively in front of herself. “Which do you think?” she asked him. Mac looked at them both as she continued to pose with first one and then the other. “That one.” Mac pointed vaguely in her direction, thinking that women’s clothing was not in his arena of expertise. “Which one? Be a bit more specific Mac.” Crystal said petulantly. “The green one. O.K?” “It’s not green. It’s turquoise. Not sure the colour does much for me.” “So wear the other one then.” Mac could scarcely hide his impatience. “If I ever marry again,” he thought to himself, “I think intelligence will be higher on the list of priorities than looks.” “I’m off,” he said, giving Crystal a quick peck on the cheek. “But which shall I wear? You can’t go till you’ve helped me decide!” “Crystal, I don’t care what you wear. A bin liner if you feel so inclined. Now I have to get going or I’ll be late at the studio.” Before Crystal could utter another word Mac hurried from the bedroom. He made his way down to the forecourt of his house where his newest and most favourite toy stood gleaming waiting for him – his Jaguar XK convertible. Mac ran his hand lovingly over the side of the car as he opened the driver’s door. He slid inside, inhaling the smell of new leather and wrapped his hands around the steering wheel. Mac sighed with contentment as he turned the key in the ignition and the engine sprang to life. He had before him a drive of almost two hours to reach the studio but in this his latest acquisition, it would be a pleasure. He turned out of the gates and on to the road. The motorway was less than a mile away and once on there he’d be able to see exactly what this car was capable of. As he turned in to the main road, he decided to fold the roof back. It was a beautiful day, warm and without a breath of wind, just the right conditions for an open top car. He slowed slightly in order to look at the controls; trying to remember which button he had to push to make the roof retract. Before he had a chance to push the button there was an almighty crash, and the car pitched forward. “What the.........?” Mac exclaimed before jumping out of the car to see what precisely had happened. A woman was standing looking at the back of Mac’s car and the front of her own, which were, very slightly, intertwined. “You stupid man!” the woman exclaimed as soon as she spotted Mac, “Why the hell did you suddenly slow down like that?” “Me stupid! You must have been travelling far too close to hit in me like that! Look at my car. Just look what you’ve done to it!” The back of Mac’s beloved Jag was not particularly badly damaged - a dent on the boot, some scratches on the paintwork and a broken light. “Look at yours!” The woman cried in disbelief, “Look at mine. It’s not fit to drive!” The front of her car had buckled in and steam was pouring out from the damaged radiator. “I have a really important meeting to get to and, thanks to you, I am not going to get there!” She stood, arms akimbo, glaring at Mac. “You’ve got an important meeting! I have to be at a television studio in just over an hour.” Mac retaliated. “Well, at least your car is driveable!” She stopped and stared at Mac. “I recognise you,” she said, “Didn’t you win some golf thing once?” “The Open – years ago. Haven’t played for a long time, not professionally anyway.” Mac felt ridiculously flattered that this woman had recognised him. “Now I just commentate.” “And that’s what you’re doing today I suppose.” Mac nodded. “The world won’t come to an end if you’re late for that, you know.” “Doubt if it will come to an end if you don’t make your meeting!” Mac retorted. “No, but it will affect a great many people. Look I don’t want to be rude and I don’t want to get in to an argument about whose fault this is, I just want to get to where I’m supposed to be. Would you, please, give me a lift to the nearest taxi rank? We can exchange details on the way.” “What’s so important that you need to be there?” Mac was, by now, very curious to know what it was that mattered so much to her. “I’m part of a hospital management team in Letherbridge.” She explained. “Today the new budgets are being allocated and I want to make sure that the money goes to the right people - the medical staff and the patients. If I’m not there I know full well that some money will be siphoned off to areas that shouldn’t be considered – creating more bureaucracy for a start.” Mac hesitated. Doing a detour might make him late but, well, there was something about this woman that made him feel obliged to give her a lift to wherever she wanted to go. No, not obliged. He wanted to give her a lift, spend more time in her company. “Get in,” he said, opening the passenger door for her. “So,” he said as he settled down beside her, “what do I call you?” “Julia,” she replied. “You can call me Julia. Tell me,” she continued, “does your life really satisfy you? Your golf and whatever else you do, does it make you happy?” Mac mulled the question round in his mind, thought of his trophy wife, his palatial house, and his collection of motorcars. He’d be a fool to be ungrateful for the life he had, but did it make him happy, really happy? If it did, would he always have to be making new acquisitions because he’d got bored with the old ones? Even his job of commentating no longer held the thrill it had once done. “Am I happy?” he said out loud and closed his eyes to consider the question.
......................................................................................................................................
“Mac I need to you to sign these letters for me.” Mac opened his eyes to see Julia standing next to his desk holding some papers in her hands. He smiled up at her. “I do love you, you know,” he said. Julia smiled, “I know,” she replied, then spotting the box on his desk added, “So you’ve had a look. You’ll have to tell me all about it later.” “Nothing to tell really,” Mac replied. “Now let me have those letters.”
to be continued.............................................
|
|
|
Post by PamA on Apr 11, 2006 13:02:14 GMT 1
Wednesday afternoon continued
Mac quickly signed the papers that Julia had placed in front of him. “Thanks,” Julia said, “I should be able to catch the afternoon post with these. Now, shall I take the lovely Pandora’s box back to reception with me, or would you like to do the honours?” Mac thought back to the earlier conversation he’d enjoyed with the girl. Well, perhaps not exactly enjoyed as he’d been totally bemused by the long string of words that had issued from her mouth. He smiled at Julia, picked up the box and said, “You can have the honours.” Back in reception Sarah was attempting to explain to Pandora the system they used to book in patients. Pandora was staring open mouthed at the computer screen, seemingly following every word of Sarah’s explanation. “Quite simple really,” Sarah said as she finished her guided tour of the computer system. “Although,” she added, “you won’t be doing any of this. Just thought you might like to know a bit more of what’s involved in running the reception desk.” “It’s dead easy,” Pandora replied, “think you try to make it all sound so difficult so you’ll come across as smart and everyone will think `Oh she’s so clever doing what she does’ but I could do it with me eyes shut.” Pandora put her hand to her ear pretending to talk on the phone, “Hello do you wanna doctor cos we’ve got lots ere and you can see whoevers you want, and we’ve got nurses too and they can bandage you up like if that’s what you need, or stick a needle in you or whatever, so what time do you wanna come in cos we can fit you in whenever you like. Four o’clock? Yes that’ll be fine and you can see Doctor, erm, thingy, whatsername the lady one. See, that’s all you have to do!” A bemused Sarah struggled to find the right words to correct Pandora and, in the end, found herself weakly saying, “You didn’t get the patient’s name.” Pandora spoke again into her imaginary telephone, “So what’s yer name? Got it now,” she said triumphantly to Sarah. At this point Sarah was relieved to see Julia approaching the desk. “Here,” Julia said, handing the box to Pandora, “you left this in Mac’s room.” Pandora took the box and tucked it in to her bag. “Bet he looked in it!” She said with a triumphant grin on her face. Julia declined to answer. “I’m going out for a while,” Julia told Sarah, “I need to get these letters sent by special delivery. Shouldn’t be long. You, young lady,” Julia pointed at Pandora who was engaged in the habitual study of her fingernails, “ can get back in that staff room and finish sorting out those magazines. I think you’ve spent more time reading them than doing what you were meant to do.” Julia left the building whilst behind her back Pandora pulled a face at her and stuck out her tongue. “That’ll do missy,” Sarah admonished her, “best do as she says and get back to work. You don’t want to make her angry, believe me!” Pandora flounced off in the direction of the staff room, with a last backward glance at Sarah and a muttered, “Oh shut up,” under her breath. An hour later Julia arrived back at the surgery. “Everything ok?” she asked Sarah, “Madam been behaving herself?” “Everything’s fine. As for madam I’ve looked in on her a few times and she appears to be working. You know, Julia, it’s going to be a very long fortnight and what on earth we’re going to find for her to do, heaven only knows. One things for sure we have to keep her away from the poor unsuspecting patients.” Julia sighed, “Yes you’re right on all accounts. There must be some other jobs we could find for her to do. Think about it Sarah, between us I’m sure we can come up with something. Meanwhile I’ll go and see how she’s doing.” Pandora was, as usual, sitting reading one of the magazines. When Julia entered the room she glanced up and thrust the open journal in front of Julia’s eyes. “I’d look good in that wouldn’t I?” Julia took the magazine out of her hands and studied the picture of the waif like model clad in a skimpy white bikini. Julia tried to imagine the slightly overweight, pale skinned Pandora dressed in this way. An involuntary shudder travelled down her body at the picture her mind had conjured up. “Well?” Pandora asked again, “I mean she’s not that much thinner than me and my mate Cassandra’s got a bikini and she’s fatter than what I am and she put on this fake tan and she’s kind of gone this strange orange colour and it’s gone all patchy like, and Wayne says the patches make her look like a giraffe but that’s rubbish cos giraffe’s are tall and thin and Cassandra’s not like tall and thin, and Wayne’s stupid anyway cos he likes Alison who’s meant to be dead posh but she’s not cos she goes in the multi-story carpark with anyone and she says that Wayne is not a good kisser but that’s rubbish as well cos he kissed me once and it was really good like and Cassandra was dead jealous cos she really likes him. So shall I gets it?” Julia was totally bemused by this sudden outpouring of words. “If you want to I suppose,” she answered weakly. Pandora smiled triumphantly. “How’s the sorting going?” Julia asked her. “It’s all done. Bits cut out there.” Pandora pointed to the small pile of magazine clippings on the table. “Well it looks like you’ve done a good job,” Julia smiled at the girl. “You may as well go home now. There’s nothing more I can think of for you to do at the moment. So we’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.” Pandora picked up her bag and turned to Julia. “Yeah, right,” she said and headed out the door.
to be continued..............................................
|
|