Free Doctor in Love by Richard Gordon

this an odd remark, but returned to the Crypt satisfied with my evening’s treatment.
    “There’s another call for Miss Porson,” said Miss Wildewinde the next day. “We never had anything like so much trouble from that family when Dr McBurney was here.”
    This time Cynthia had vague stomach ache. A couple of days later it was vague headache, and three days after that vague earache. Every time Mother took her temperature, packed her off to bed, and picked up the telephone. My work in the New Town was now increasing daily, the influenza virus was jubilantly starting the open season for human beings, and I decided that I must take a firm line. Besides, far from benefiting from my advice, the poor girl was becoming a flourishing neurotic.
    After I had examined Cynthia a few days later for a vague backache, I called Mother into the sitting-room and announced as weightily as possible, “Mrs Porson – I want to have a serious talk with you.”
    “Yes, Doctor?”
    “About your daughter.”
    “But of course, Doctor.” She gave me a smile.
    “Mrs Porson, you may think me perhaps rather young and inexperienced–”
    “No, no, not at all!” she interrupted. “Not a bit too young. Why, these days young people make up their minds ever so much earlier, don’t they?”
    “I mean, you may think me rather young to speak to you like this.”
    “Say exactly what’s on your mind, Doctor. I know just how you feel.”
    “Thank you. Naturally I wanted to mention it to you before saying anything to Cynthia herself.”
    “But how terribly, terribly sweet of you! And they say the younger generation are so inconsiderate.”
    “To be blunt, Cynthia needs marriage.”
    She threw her arms round me and burst into tears. “Oh, Doctor! Now you can call me mother, too!”
    My departure was a blur of Mrs Porson’s face, the chintz curtains in the hall, the gnomes in the garden, the white wicket gate… The rest of my rounds passed in a daze.
    “But how can the beastly woman possibly have got hold of the idea that I personally wanted to save her blasted daughter from the psychological scrap-heap?” I complained angrily to Dr Farquarson as soon as I got in.
    “A doctor’s a bit of a catch for any fond mother,” he said, trying to keep his eyebrows under control. “Though I must admit it’s an awkward situation for a young man.”
    “But what on earth can I do? And what a fool I’ve been! I thought even the Porsons couldn’t expect me to swallow the medicine as well as prescribe it.”
    Dr Farquarson twisted the bell of his stethoscope thoughtfully. “I’ll take over the Porson household from now on. Though I’m prepared to wager they’ll ask for their cards after a couple of visits.”
    But even this relief was denied me. The next night Dr Farquarson himself went sick. For several days he had been complaining of “the screws in the back”, and when I returned a syringe to the surgery after a late call I found him stuck in his chair.
    “It’s only the lumbago,” he explained, rubbing himself painfully. “Don’t you fash yourself, Richard – I’ll be as right as rain in the morning.”
    “Oughtn’t you to see someone?” I asked anxiously. “I could call up old Rogers. I saw him go into his surgery as I passed.”
    “No, no,” he said, with unusual weariness. “Don’t bother him at this hour. He’s as overworked as we are. Besides, I haven’t much faith in the medical profession, anyway.”
    “Will you let me have a look at you, then?” He hesitated, so I added, “You know you complain yourself about the pig-headed idiots who only go to the doctor feet first.”
    “I’m afraid this looks like a slipped disk to me,” I announced a little later.
    He sighed and admitted “Well, now you’ve said it, that’s what I suspected all along.”
    “Don’t you think you ought to see a specialist?” I asked with concern. “I could get you into the private wing at the local hospital. After all, we send them