About Time

"But Mrs Sniggers, I can't go out like this."

"No, I suppose you can't. Wait a minute. Wear this." Without letting go of Eric, she reached behind her with the other hand, opened the top drawer of a tallboy, and pulled out an adult size chorister's surplice, white with purple trimmings.

Eric was thankful that it was but a short step to the doctor's house. Under other circumstances he would have been proud to be seen out with Joyce Sniggers, but not while he was wearing a frock, with the hand of the vicar's wife up the skirt, leaving no doubt as to what she was holding. Luckily, few observed his humiliation. One who did was Miss Knightley. To Eric's great relief, she addressed herself to Joyce Sniggers, taking great care not to let her gaze wander downwards.

"Thank goodness you were there to look after him, Joyce. Mind you take good care of the poor lad."

The doctor's wife, Sophie, opened the door to them. Before she could give any expression of amusement at the sight which met her eyes, Joyce fixed her with a stern stare, and said firmly, "Eric has met with a slight accident which needs medical attention to staunch the flow of blood. Please show us through." Her incipient merriment having thus been efficiently quenched, Sophie led them through to the surgery, where the doctor was waiting.

"Now then, young Eric, let's take a look, shall we?" He laid Eric down on the couch and lifted the hem of the surplice.

Joyce took Sophie by the elbow, saying, "I don't think the doctor will need any assistance. He will ring if he does," and led her from the room.

The doctor cleaned the affected area with surgical spirit.

"It's not much more than a scratch. Anywhere else on the body, we could slap a plaster on and it would be right as rain in twenty-four hours. But in this location, hygiene rules that out. Of course, I could put a stitch in it, but the scar tissue might give you bother later in life. If I referred you to the hospital, they wouldn't mess about. They'd have your foreskin off before you could say Jacob Rubinstein. You'll just have to keep it clean and try not to do anything that could start the bleeding. When you micturate . . ."

"Oh, I don't, doctor, honestly!" Eric protested.

"When you urinate, when you take a pee, don't wave it about to get the drips off. Just dab it with toilet paper. If it does start to bleed, use this." He gave Eric a styptic pencil. "It's what barbers use to stop small cuts bleeding. It stings, but it works. Oh, and Eric, no unnecessary friction, right? Have you got a girl friend?"

Eric shamefacedly admitted a deficiency in that department.

"Well, if you did have, you would have to tell her to take it easy. That's all. Your sister's a nurse, isn't she? If you get any problems, ask her advice. If she can't help, call me."

On his way out, Sophie lent Eric one of the doctor's raincoats.

* * *

Reviewing the events of the day as he lay in bed that night, Eric pondered on the unexpected manner in which his mishap had been dealt with. He would have expected an accident to so personal a part of his body to have aroused derision from females, and sympathy from his male colleagues. Instead, he had been mocked by Lovejoy and Fred, and treated with dignity by Mrs Sniggers, Miss Knightley, and Sophie Kendall. The women's matter-of-fact attitude, acting as if his injury were no different from a nose bleed, had spared him much embarrassment and humiliation. Eric began to believe that there was more depth to the female sex than he had hitherto suspected. His regard for his employer, on the other hand, which had never been in any danger of approaching the level of respect to which Lovejoy thought he was entitled, sank even lower, and before he went to sleep he gave some thought to how he might obtain retribution.

The following morning he arrived at work in good time, walking stiffly and with suppressed grimaces of pain. On seeing him approach, Lovejoy smirked and began to whistle 'The Colonel Bogey March'. Eric changed into his work apron, and said, "It's all right, Mr Lovejoy. I think I can manage." He went to the timber racks and began to take down an oak plank. "I'll be careful, Mr Lovejoy. I don't want to cause you any expense."

"Expense? Cause me expense? What are you talking about?"

"If I had to go into hospital, Mr Lovejoy. But the doctor said that if I take it easy for a week, it shouldn't be necessary for me to go into hospital."

"How would you going into hospital cause me any expense? You don't think I'd be buying you grapes, do you?"

"No, of course not, Mr Lovejoy. Only my sister Carol says that when they have people in hospital who have been injured at work, their employers have to pay for their treatment."

"Perhaps they do, Eric, and perhaps they don't, but that's neither here nor there, is it, because you haven't been injured at work."

"I have been injured, Mr Lovejoy. You saw it yourself."

"I know you've been injured, Eric, but it wasn't at work, was it?"

"Wasn't it, Mr Lovejoy?"

"You know very well it wasn't. It was up the clock tower."

"But I was there on your instructions, Mr Lovejoy, during working hours, Mr Lovejoy, and working under your personal supervision, Mr Lovejoy. I have been advised that under those circumstances a court would hold that the injury was sustained during the course of my employment."

Eric had trawled the innermost resources of his vocabulary to formulate this statement, and he could tell by the look on his employer's face that it had been worth it. Lovejoy could not imagine how, when, or why Eric would have sought legal advice, but the mention of "court" frightened him, and he could see the strength of the case that Eric had outlined.

"A week, the doctor said? If you take it easy for a week, you won't have to go into hospital?"

"That's what he said, Mr Lovejoy."

"Look, lad, put that plank down. We're not that busy just now. Why don't you go home and rest?"

"For a week, Mr Lovejoy?"

"Yes, if you like, for a week."

"On full pay, Mr Lovejoy?" Seeing Lovejoy's reluctance to accede to this suggestion, Eric added, "Because I can't afford to lose my pay. I'd have to come to work if I was going to lose my pay."

"Yes, all right, on full pay then."

"Full pay, Mr Lovejoy? Including overtime? Because I'd have to come work if I was going to lose my overtime."

"Yes, yes! Including overtime! Now just go home and rest!"

"Thank you, Mr Lovejoy."

Eric changed out of his apron, and left. As he went, Lovejoy saw his features twitch in another grimace of pain. Or was it, he wondered, a triumphant grin?

* * *