Doctor In The Nude by Richard Gordon

Author:Richard Gordon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Doctor In The Nude
ISBN: 9780755131044
Publisher: House of Stratus
Published: 2012-12-27T00:00:00+00:00

13

‘I don’t suppose you know any amusing stories?’ the dean asked his wife gloomily as he entered their sitting-room at six-thirty that Monday evening. ‘It’s getting quite desperate. Surely they must tell funny stories on the committee of the League of Friends?’

‘I’m afraid we take ourselves rather seriously, dear.’

The front door slammed behind him in the hallway. ‘Who’s that?’ he asked irritably.

‘Auberon. He’s dining with a film producer at Les Ambassadeurs.’

The dean unlocked the corner cupboard. ‘How much longer is the fellow staying here? Surely he must go back to Samantha in Guildford, if only to collect his laundry? I’m fed up with him wearing all my things. If he does kill himself, he might at least do it in his own underpants.’

‘It’s remarkable how your clothes fit him, dear. Considering Auberon looks so much more robust than you do.’

The dean snorted, pouring two glasses of sherry. ‘I’ve never understood how Samantha managed to put up with a vacuous slacker like him as long as she did. Particularly when she expresses so often the robust Victorian virtues of hard work, thrift and carbolic soap.’

‘You never mentioned you saw Samantha while you were marauding all alone round the strip joints of Soho, after the rugger club dinner last Thursday night.’

The dean spilt his sherry. ‘Who told you that?’

‘I have my sources of information.’

‘I had to show I was a good sport, that’s all.’

‘Like the time when you were a houseman at St Swithin’s, and rang the nurses’ home fire alarm so you could rescue them in their nighties with ladders from the windows?’

The dean coloured. ‘Anyway, the performance last Thursday was extremely boring. To a man like myself, who has seen more naked flesh than Samantha or Lord What’s-is-name have had hot dinners. Besides, I was with Lancelot. He insisted we left early, before the two girls in the bath really got interesting.’

Josephine laughed. ‘It’s always nice to have confirmed that your husband is a perfectly normal man like any other.’ The telephone rang. ‘I’ll answer it. It’s probably the League of Friends.’

The dean poured himself another sherry. He sat in his armchair, sipping slowly, listening to his wife’s indistinct voice in the hallway and wondering which viper in his well-bitten bosom had split on him. He had suffered another strenuous day, but now he could relax for the evening – a good dinner, perhaps a little Mozart, a glance through the Lancet. He looked at his watch. He wondered what time that strip show started. It could be curious to see what those girls did in the bath.

Josephine came back. ‘Who was it?’ he asked.

‘Samantha.’

‘Oh. Wanted Auberon, I take it?’

‘No. She didn’t even want Auberon to know she’d telephoned.’

‘Where is she? In Guildford, doubtless?’

‘She’s in jail.’

‘Well, I suppose she can’t be expected to stay at home all week…’ The dean jumped up. ‘Where did you say?’

‘In jail. To be more exact, in the cells at Curzon Street police station.’

‘How in God’s name did she get there?’

‘By shoplifting and assaulting a policeman.

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