Given the gibberish they had just heard from Tobias. Ruby, Pearl and the others were inclined (to a greater or lesser degree) almost to agree with Eddy.
Tobias, who was now recovering some of his composure, if not his breath, glared daggers at Eddy and insisted that he'd actually been there, risking life and limb amongst a huddle of desperadoes, and he KNEW what he had heard.
Eddy hooted, insisting that Tobias was so dim he couldn't identify a herring on a plate.
Ruby told them both to calm down. She began, carefully and patiently to interrogate Tobias about what EXACTLY was said, by whom, to whom, and what precisely this ‘crab’ that the doctor produced had looked like.
At length, Ruby felt that she had a little more solid information to act upon, and announced, with a theatrical flourish, as was her wont:
“Crabs and patty bows, eh? Pearl; this absolutely confirms our suspicions that something gravely wrong is afoot. So, not only am I going to seek a consultation from Doctor Hariman, tomorrow; I also feel it is about time I had tea with the Reverend. I haven't seen him for ages, and I'm sure there must be something I can do to help the village’s fête – and yes, I DO choose my words carefully.” She smiled and nodded. “I shall arrange it directly, first thing in the morning.”
Tobias didn't want to be around when the Doctor arrived.
“He gives me the creeps.”
Eddy countered that the creeps were nice compared to what the doctor had given Mr Yates to ‘cure’ him of his haemorrhoids.
Tobias wasn't sure what haemorrhoids were, and didn't really want to know; they didn't sound nice at all. If it had anything to do with Doc Hariman, then it couldn't be pleasant.
Eddy chuckled malevolently and agreed.
“For all of his bad points, a doctor who recommends two Biryani curries a day for two weeks as a treatment for haemorrhoids must at least have some sense of humour.”
Just not a very pleasant one, that's all.
***********
True to her word, the very next morning, Ruby made two phone calls. Firstly to Doctor Hariman, who confirmed that, yes, he could see Ruby this afternoon at around two thirty; secondly to Reverend Phullaposi, who said that, certainly, he would be delighted to see Ruby and discuss her plans for the village fête the following morning at ten.
Ruby smiled contentedly, nodded and winked at Chen as she replaced the receiver.
So far, so good. That was phase one of her plan completed. Phase two was simple. She jumped into her little silver car and pottered down the road to the nearest town centre to buy some of her favourite biscuits from Marks and Spencer. She was very particular that these had to be the store's own brand. She also wanted a certain blend of tea; one that would compliment and intensify the whole tea and dunkies experience for the doctor. Again, she was quite specific.
She chuckled to herself as she popped her purchases into her shopping basket.
Chapter 7
Tea and No Sympathy
Two thirty arrived, and so did Doctor Hariman.
Chen was watching him with an untrusting eye from within his globe, and Eddy was observing apprehensively from the vantage point of the bookshelf.
Ruby met him at the door.
“Ahh, Doctor, so good of you to come at such short notice...”
“Not at all. Not at all. My pleasure. I hope that the complaint is not.... Threatening?” replied the Doctor in the most oily, congenial manner he could.
Ruby was hunched a little as she opened the door and carried on the act by rubbing her back as she showed the Doctor to a chair.
“No. No. No, just temporarily irritating, I believe.... You see, I'm not as mobile as I once was. Age has such a debilitating effect on one's perambulations and this back twinge is becoming an ever increasingly frequent pain – if you'll excuse the pun.”
The Doctor gave his best impression of a warm smile and asked if he might examine her.
When Ruby nodded, he pressed here on her back, there on her spine, prodded her a little in the ribs, then stepped back, put his hand on his chin and said, simply: “Hmmmm...”
“Hmmmm... ?” echoed Ruby, wishing for a fuller prognosis.
The Doctor confessed that he could not actually find anything wrong: She might have trapped a nerve; it might be that her mattress was too soft and that she needed more support while sleeping – or it could simply be that Ruby was getting old. Whatever the cause, however, he didn't really want to prescribe any painkillers, because it seemed to him that people were far too eager to cram any kind of random medication down their throats these days – and once people get started on pills in a case like this, you could never really be sure where they would stop.
“Of course,” the Doctor added, tapping the side of his head with his index finger as he did so, “It could
