Old-Fashioned, or Another Story With Ghosts

Chapter 16. Coffee appears at breakfast and the social heath care is tested

***

The weather decided to choose team winter in the most certain way. 

It was Monday. The count till Friday began. 

Greg was getting ready for breakfast. His phone was resting on the bed steaming with the dozen of voice messages from his former employer. Margaret made it super clear about 'former' part, after he texted her back he was not in the city and wouldn't handle The Lord Of The Rings styled make ups for five people in two hours. She was not happy about it at all. Greg even learnt some new London expressions specifically designed for unreliable employees. And even texted that he was grateful for their partnership. He wouldl inform her when he'd be back in town and ready to continue to work together. 

Margaret didn't bother to answer.

Greg began to understand the idea of etiquette he had been reading about yesterday till falling asleep. About freeing the one from the rules to manage other business. And feel secure.
His backpack was ready on the chair, with the sketchbook, pencils and the phone charger. As well as his parka and rainbow coloured Peruvian hat.
Which he was going to wear after leaving the premises. James or Wilkins would be hurt by seeing it, sure thing.

The full basket of ruined drafts  was pushed far under the desk away from the sight. Old James did not want to be portrayed. Or channeling was bad.

James somehow looked fresher today, and Greg hoped there was no interfering with old James during the night. 

Charlotte remained quiet, too. Greg was not sure whether it was good or bad. He did not loose free time, though.  After dinner, his vivid imagination had many different scenarios  for...well after-dinner.

Toasts were good, though. Definitely. And salted salmon, too. Too bad oatmeal had tons of carbs in it, and also cherry jam. 

"I, er, I'd like to get to London today. There is... an important meeting I should attend. I mean, really important. Sorry. I'll be fast, promise. There is a train back at 2.25, I'll be back around 5."

"Oh, you return to the tea." James smiled, moving a toast holder closer to him. 

James, in his turn, was observing his companion. Who looked at the toasts  with a certain amount of suffering in his features. James doubted it was about table manners, though. It was difficult to eat a toast wrongly. And even if Gregory did, that would not be of any important case. "I'll ask Wilkins to prepare a car."

"Er...I'll, m, to the station, yes, thank you. I think I'll take the train. M24 is going to be busy on my way back."

James nodded. "I'll ask to meet you in the evening, then. Do you mind if an old friend of mine joins us for dinner? He called yesterday after dinner, I was obliged to invite him."

Greg stared at him like he was not understanding the question. Finally, he shrugged, and nodded awkwardly. "Um, yes, sure, of course. It's-it's ok. I mean, all right." He was going to add the place belonged to James, after all. But that seemed rude somehow. "This is great. That your friend is coming."

Of course, Greg already hated the upcoming fucker. Who was going to blow up their mutual flow with James. And jealousy was out of the picture and had nothing to do with it. "Well. I'll go now. Thank you, breakfast was, um, exquisite. Thank you. I'll continue working on the portrait, don't worry."

James poured some more tea in the cup. "My dear Gregory, I fear you are taking my words in a bit of a wrong way. My idea appealed to your creativity in the purest form. Creativity doesn't work under pressure. Especially under pressure from within."

Gregory returned the gaze and after some hesitation nodded. "You have the point. I'll try to eliminate some pressure."

James refilled his cup of coffee and saluted with the tea.

Coffee was a huge step from Wilkins.

***

Bentley stopped near the train station building. Greg fell out with  the driver's contact number in his phone. The driver was redheaded, slightly overweight, and had smiling wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. He was much older than Greg, and surely was laughing at him on the inside. Like all staff. Absolutely.

Greg giggled nervously fetching the train last second before the doors got closed. Dragged the sketchbook from the backpack, watched at it for a couple of seconds, then pushed back and leaned on the window scrolling through the Instagram feed. Chanel's Boy collection was as cool as their Instagram. 

Or it seemed so. 

He gasped and opened Safari typing "A-level practise tests free" in the search box.

Monday Hontercombe hospital was less crowded than any other time of any other day, so Greg was waiting only for two hours to step into the sacred space of GP's cabinet. 

"Gregory Bay?" An exhausted doctor who could use some hair treatment and sunlight nodded him to sit without looking up. His white robe knew better times and even a washing machine. Some weeks ago.

"Hello. I, m, I'd like to make a health screen. Blood, everything. To make sure I don't have anything wrong."

The doctor chuckled finally glancing up. Greg recognised the gaze. 

Of course, the doctor did no comment. No need. "Fine, what symptoms do you have?"

"None. I'm fine. I want to know if I'm not..."

"Regular use of condoms will lower the risks of most STDs, though the most effective way is to have intercourses with one partner making regular check-ups..."

"I am making regular check-ups! Well, I'm trying to make them right now, and I'm not sure what you're taking about here..."

The doctor shrugged. "Your folk rarely come to our folk without symptoms. You don't want to talk, you're right. No prescriptions without analysis. The nurse will print out the papers and safe sex recommendations. Contacts for free psychological help in abusive relationships are on the wall near the desk. Tell the next one to come in, have a good day."

When Greg fell out from the hospital hall with the bunch of papers on his hands, he felt his face burning and head dizzy. The intact part of him was distantly curious how it was possible to put so much humiliation on somebody during so little time. 

Or James just spoiled him with respect. Also possible.

His analysis were for three days later. And would be ready in three more weeks.

Greg was standing in the middle of the street for a while. Then googled "private clinics near me".

He felt like wasted time when fell out from the train a quarter to 6 pm instead of promised time. Of course, he texted James he would be back later. Of course, James was polite, kind, and understanding and answered Greg not to worry and not to rush. And that dinner will be served when he arrives.

That sounded too family for Greg's taste. 

Far too.

He dozed out on his way back, and almost slept through his station jumping out into cold darkness and rain. And realised he forgot to tell the redheaded driver when he arrives at the station.

Shite.

***