On Call : Dr. Daisy Dashwood writes........

I came round with a splitting headache, punctuated every 3 seconds by Mary bouncing on my bed and singing "Wakey wakey Daisy, wake up lazy Daisy!"

"Bugger off Mary," I groaned, turning over and pulling the covers over my head.

She cruelly pulled them back off again, threw them over her shoulders and began hopping from foot to foot, singing "Somebody was drunk last night, somebody was drunk last night!"

Exposed to the world, my baby pink bunny pyjamas on view, I sat up (out of necessity, not choice) and focussed one bleary eye on the clock.

"Ten to nine! Shit!" Why didn't you tell me earlier Mary!" I moaned, swinging one leg out of bed and then, as a sledgehammer of pain exploded through my head, thought better of it and flopped down on the bed again.

"Oh, I thought it would be much more fun to leave you to your own devices," she smiled. "Besides, I wasn't sure if you would be alone or not?" She emphasised the word, in a crap mock French accent.

Alone? I sat bolt upright, in a cruel parody of l'Hermitte's Sign. I cast my mind back to the night before. Sparky Richards-Hedde had indeed taken us out for an Indian. 23 pissed Junior Doctors laughed, got drunk and sang rude songs around a big old table in the 'Bombay Duck'. The 'Bombay Duck' was cheap and cheerful; consequently, Sparky was able to channel the Stifimax funds into the drunks budget whilst still forking out for a decent meal (and Naan) for everyone.

After the meal, we had conga-d towards 'The Stoned Pony', one of the less crap local hostelries. I remembered Sparky leering at my breasts whilst shoving another white wine spritzer at them. A vague notion of Mary and Darren singing "Hi-ho, silver lining" at the Kareoke-fest swam before my eyes and I shuddered. After that, my entire memory was a blank.

"What, er happened Mary?" I asked, rubbing my head and trying to decide whether I wanted to be sick or not.

"How much can you remember?" she asked quizzically, her head on one side.

"Not a lot," I admitted.

"That's perfect!" she exclaimed in glee, before reverting to the 'Somebody was drunk last night!" song.

"Please Mary!" I pleaded. "Just tell me I didn't snog the Sparkmeister!" Please God, anything would be preferable to that. Even Darren.

"Well……….." she said thoughtfully.

"Mary!" I cried, sitting up in bed. Then, another wave of nausea washed over me and I grabbed the bin.

"Oh Daisy," she said, comfortingly putting an arm around my shoulders. "I want to torment you by keeping this from you, but seeing you looking so, well, bedraggled and pathetic, just makes me want to, well, mother you."

"Thanks Mary," I sniffed.

"Here," she said, proffering a lacy hanky with the initials 'M.C.' embroidered on it. "Blow."

"Thanks Mary," I said weakly, reaching for the hanky and taking a deep breath. Unfortunately, this action had an adverse effect on my diaphragm and caused me to vomit spectacularly into the bin.

"Eugh!" said Mary.

"Hhhhhhrgh!" I said, as another wave overtook me.

"Why do I always have to save your bacon," said Mary crossly. "I would leave you to work off your hangover, as you so richly deserve, but you'd probably fall asleep and aspirate and frankly, we just don't have the bed space for that."

I looked pitifully up at her, snot hanging from my nose.

This was her undoing.

"Oh come on," she relented, sitting (a careful two feet) away from me.

"What did I do Mary," I said miserably. "Did I snog Sparky?" Visions of John Jones floating away whirled around in my head. At least, they did as best they could, There was a severe lack of anything to float in this morning. This called for urgent re-hydration therapy.

"Well," she said. "Remember the 'Stoned Pony?'"

"Uh-huh," I said cautiously.

"Well, Sparky was leching over Janey," began Mary. "He was all over her, and I suppose, being used to the attention, Janey just deflected the unwanted attention."

How did Janey do it, I wondered?

"Then, he went that little bit too far. He crossed the line between fatherly figure and out and out lech. The invisible barrier between friend and molester. The……."

"I get it Mary," I interrupted. We were already 15 minutes late for the Ward Round and I wanted the story before Mary realised this.

"OK, sorry about that," she apologised. "Got a little bit carried away. Anyway, he tried to kiss Janey and being a sensible girl, she pushed him right off."

"Brave Janey!" I said. "Er, where do I come into this?"

"Oh, I'm just getting onto that part," she said with relish. "When Janey so successfully rebuffed Sparky, he was understandably dented. He obviously wanted somebody to latch onto and make him feel more a man."

"Tell me it's not……….." I begged.

"Oh, it is," she said solemnly.

"Balls!" I said miserably. If I'd pulled Sparky, chances were John would never so much as talk to me again.

"So, there you and he were, chatting away like two characters in an old Western Saloon," she continued.

(????????????????????)

"And then he started to get a bit more friendly. I mean, I would have stopped you, but you never know what you're thinking and if this was your big chance to escape spinsterhood, then I certainly wasn't going to be the one to stand in your way."

"Next time, Mary," I said weakly, "you have the go-ahead to ruin my future happiness."

"Well, John did a pretty good job of that for you," she said.

I sat up again, ignoring the nausea.

"Er, Mary. What exactly did John do?" I asked tremulously.

"What did he do?" she exclaimed. "I can't believe you can't remember! See, that's what too much alcohol does to you. I hope that's you learned your lesson, I said…………"

"Mary!" I screeched. "Please. For the love of God, just tell me what happened between me and John last night."

"Daisy!" she scolded. "Stop blaspheming!"

"Sorry Mary," I said contritely. "Please?"

"Oh, go on," she said, shifting up the bed. "Sparky was leching over you and you were blatantly in no position to stop him. So………………."

She dragged it out cruelly. I was in torment. I felt like the poor souls in Hell. I caught Mary looking at me. God, I even felt bad for thinking impure blasphemous thoughts in front of Mary now. Stop it Daisy, I caught myself. She can't hear your thoughts.

"I know what you're thinking," said Mary.

Damn! How did she do that?

"And you're thinking that you snogged Sparky."

"Please just put me out of my misery and tell me there were no tongues involved," I said miserably.

"Well, that would be……………eek!" she squealed, leaping to her feet in a display of acrobatic excellence. "We're late!"

"Well, doh!" I said sarcastically. "Er, I mean, oh no!"

"Gotta dash!" she said, grabbing 'The ECG made Easy' and making for the door.

"Mary!" I called, flinging on a skirt and wriggling into some shoes. I grabbed a jumper and legged it after her. "You have to tell me what happened last night!"

I hated those mornings where you had to get dressed on the way into hospital.

"Oh my goodness, we're so late!" fretted Mary.

I'd only ever seen her this flustered that time when she'd lost her 'Best of Philip Schofield: The Wonder Years' compilation tape. That had been a trying fortnight.

"C'mon Mary," I wheedled. "Please?"

"Look, after he got Sparky off you," she panted, flinging open the hospital door, "he and you disappeared."

"What happened!" I yelled, beside myself now.

"I don't know!" she flung back. "But you certainly couldn't walk!"

"Please try to remember!" I urged. The Ward was in sight. It was a case of living on borrowed time.

"Why don't you ask John?" she said, before being swallowed up by a sea of nurses and OTs.

Was she mad? Of course I couldn't ask John. That would be like admitting I was so wasted I couldn't recall how I'd gotten home. Which was, truth be told, the case, but John looked the type who would go for a nice, wholesome girl and a drink-sodden lush who reeked of schnapps probably wasn't what he had in mind for himself.

How had I gotten home? Had we walked back together, talking nineteen to the dozen, discovering how we were made for each other? Or even in companionable silence? Yes, companionable silence would be good. Or, I groaned, as I thought of the most likely option, had I tried to snog him, missed, fallen flat on my face, and had to be carried home in an ambulance? It would not be the first time.

"Nice top," said a passing nurse.

I swiftly pulled my jumper over my head to hide the bunny family.

"It's my lucky top!" I called after her, defensively.

I swallowed and wished I hadn't gotten quite so pissed. Whatever was John thinking? Come to think of that, where was John? There was Dr. Sinclair, beating a relentless path through the diabetic heavyweights, fighting a constantly losing battle to lower their BMIs. And there was Poppy, looking harassed and reeling off at least 20 different commands to her JHO.

John. There he was, writing furiously. He looked, most unfairly, immaculate. I looked down to make sure my bunny pyjamas were truly out of sight this time. Phew! He paused, as if in thought, and looked up. His eyes caught mine. I tried to look away but found I couldn't. I felt that if I looked at him one more minute, then I might die or my face might burn up, but I still could not turn my eyes away from his. I screwed them up, trying to fathom his expression. It looked, well, expressionless. How could the rest of the ward be oblivious to the kinesis passing between us?

Enough. I had to know. I stepped towards him.

"Hi John," I smiled tentatively.

"Hi Daisy," he said, clearing his throat and giving me a brief smile.

"I……………" I started to say, just as he said "You were………"

"Sorry!" we both said.

Then, "You go on! No, you!"

"Is that the Flopsy Bunnies, Daisy?" said Dr. Flett, peering at the design on my top. "How delightful! Champion, champion," gesturing paternally with his arms in an all-encompassing sweep. "Now, Daisy. I have an urgent case for you. There's an old lady in the Geriatric Wing with a T score of 2.5. I need you to go down and prescribe her some urgent alendronate."

"But Dr. Flett………." I said hurriedly.

"Just give her some fucking alendronate!!!" he thundered.

"Er, OK," I said meekly, and scurried off.

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