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Driving Lessons
Chapter 14 Somebody Get Me a Doctor
"I like nurses," France said. He sounded high. He probably was. England had given him a cocktail of painkillers and a swig of whisky as they'd waited for a taxi to the hospital.
"Don't touch anyone, I'm warning you," England told him.
"Do you zink I can have some more drugs?"
"I think you've had quite enough," England said. "Besides, anyone wearing those pants has to be high." He added, trying not to look at Francis' tighter than tight jeans.
France pursed his lips.
They were sat in the local A&E awaiting a doctor to tell them what England already knew - that France had a broken toe (or toes).
A cab had driven them. Unfortunately, that cab had been driven by Denmark.
"Yo dude! You're gonna be laid up for a bit then. Is Dude England gonna nurse you?" Denmark loped up to them.
"Why are you the only bloody cab driver in the whole of bloody London?" England asked.
"Dunno," Den shrugged and handed them both polystyrene cups.
France didn't even attempt to drink from his but promptly emptied it into a nearby plant pot.
England looked suspiciously at his, "What is this?"
"Tea… I think. It might not be though. It's not beer." Denmark belched and crushed a beer can he had been holding and tossed it into the nearby plant pot.
"You can't drink in here!" a nurse told Denmark.
"Well, now I'm not!" Denmark replied, grinning at her. His hair looked crazier than ever as if he'd stuck his finger in a plug socket. He probably had, England thought.
"Excuse me, is it possible for my friend to be seen?" England asked, standing up.
But Denmark elbowed him out of the way and said to the nurse, "Hey you're a cutie! I've always liked nurses!" He was making an attempt to appear suave. But his t-shirt which had 'lost property' on the front and 'return to the King of Northern Europe' on the back, said otherwise.
The nurse tried to ignore them and walk on.
But England got her attention, "Er Miss? I've always had the utmost respect for nurses and I wondered if it were possible for my idiot friend to be seen?"
"She's not interested in you and Francis. She wants a real man. Not somebody who thinks Antiques Roadshow and a mug of Horlicks is a party," Denmark told England.
The nurse had already walked away.
"Yer know, I'm too sexy. I bet she's walked off to swoon or powder her hair or something," the dozy Dane told them and then swapped his attentions to the receptionist.
"So honey? You like Denmark?" he asked the woman behind the reception desk. She closed the shutter and pressed the 'security' button.
"It hurts so much…" Francis muttered.
"What? That the nurse didn't even look at you?"
"No, mon cher."
"Your jeans? Yes, they do look rather tight." England preferred not to think about France's tight jeans.
"Mon foot. I will never dance again." France leaned against England and promptly fell asleep/passed out due to the whisky.
"Well that's a relief for mankind, in my opinion," England said.
England considered buggering off to find someone but was stopped by a security guard holding Denmark by the Nation's ear. "This man says he knows you," the security guard said to England.
England looked the man straight in the eye and said, "I've never seen him before in my life."
"Matthias…" Francis mumbled next to him.
"Shush," England said as Denmark was dragged out.
"Arthur!" Denmark yelled in desperation as he landed on his arse in the entrance.
England nodded with satisfaction and went to the vending machine to get a cup of tea instead of the weird muck Denmark had bought him.
"Cup o' soup…" England muttered to himself as he perused the vending machine options. "Coffee with milk, coffee black, tea black, tea with milk…" He ignored the big Dane who was jumping up and down on the pressure pad outside the entrance, causing the automatic doors to open and close.
Finally, England wandered up to him with a fresh 'cup' of tea. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"
"Nah," Denmark shook his head. "Thanks for the payment. Not many customers pay me. It might be cos I get lost. It's hard being a taxi driver…"
England sighed, "You're a very bad driver, Denmark," he said finally.
"You need to check on your boyfriend," Denmark said pointing at France being led away by a nurse.
"We are not a couple!" England yelled and wondered how many times he was going to have to say this. He was about to say something else when he noticed France was missing. "Where'd he go?" he asked.
"Dunno," Denmark shrugged and his phone rang - the opening bars of 'Is this the way to Amarillo?' were heard (England's left eye twitched). "Just gotta take this… woah… Gil my main man!" he punched England's arm with delight. "It's Gil!"
"Gil?"
"Pru."
"Pru?"
"Gotta go, dude. He's having a problem with a pretty girl!" with that Denmark loped off like a large dog.
England shuddered, not realising the implication of what Denmark had told him.
England, however, had a more urgent problem. He could hear Francis talking:
"My full name is Francis Louis de Chevalier Bonaparte Bonnefoy. My date of birth is…"
England skidded into a cubicle. The curtain, bizarrely adorned with cartoon characters, entangled his head. He was faced with a child with a saucepan stuck on his head. He did a double-take just in case it wasn't actually one of his fellow Nations (it had happened before) "Sorry, so sorry, sorry. I do apologise," he said and hurried out.
He managed to find the correct cubicle after two more attempts. The heavily pregnant woman who had yelled at him had been most unreasonable, he'd thought.
"Twenty-second of September…" France was telling a nurse with a clipboard.
"Really?" England panted as he skidded in.
"Oui! Ze date ze Republic was established," France said proudly.
"You're a history buff?" the nurse asked, scribbling on her clipboard. She looked at England, "Shall I put you as next of kin?"
"Good God, no!"
The nurse looked at him and then back at France, "Full date of birth?"
"Twenty-second of September…" France began again and then stopped and looked at England for help.
"1966," England said suddenly. (He doubted telling the nurse France was over a thousand years old would go down well.)
"I do not look so old!" France exclaimed in horror.
"That's only a year older than me," the nurse said and glared at him.
"Ah, but you wear it so well," France purred.
England shook his head.
"Why are you wearing a curtain, mon cher?" France asked England.
"How did this happen and when did the pain start?" the nurse asked.
"Around 1059. The pain began straight after I met him and has never let up," England said, trying to pull the cartoonish curtain from around his head.
"You two sound like me and my husband," the nurse said.
"We're not a couple!"
France nodded.
"So what did you do?" the nurse asked as she looked at France's foot.
"Well, I invaded Calais and there was the Hundred Years' War…" England began.
The nurse ignored him but made a note on the clipboard that said 'Psych ward?'
"He dropped a desk on my foot," France said.
"No, that's not true. We were lifting a desk off a car," England tried to explain.
"You were lifting a desk off a car?" the nurse repeated and looked confused. "Why?"
"A German car," France told her with satisfaction as if this explained everything.
"Really?"
"Yes, it fell out of a window," England explained doggedly.
"It was a Louis XIV," France said.
"This Louis, was he there?" the nurse asked.
"He is a French King," France said. "He was the Sun King!"
"Sunking?"
"Oui, it fell onto a friend's car,"
"Well, I think the term friend is pushing it a bit, Francis," England laughed.
The nurse looked at him and wrote 'sociopath' on her clipboard.
"He's not our friend," England confided to her.
"Non, he invaded me!" France cried.
The nurse looked horrified.
"He doesn't like us. Even before we dropped a desk on his Mercedes," England explained.
"And then Ivan turned up," France said, smiling.
"Ivan? Is he a friend of yours?" the nurse obviously didn't need this information but seemed curious about the whole weirdness.
"God no!" England blurted out.
"Shush! He might hear you!"
"In here?" England looked around.
The nurse was now examining France's foot and noting with amusement that he was wearing pink nail polish. "He sounds scary," she muttered.
"He is scary. A big scary Russian who shouts kolkolkol," England said, warming up to the subject.
The nurse looked up, "Did you say kol kol kol?"
"Yes."
The nurse shook her head, "Well it's probably nothing but we had a man in last week with a piece of bathroom plumbing stuck in his head and all he could shout was kolkolkol."
France and England exchanged glances and shuddered.
"Perhaps it was your friend?" she said as she bustled out to order an x-ray.
"I don't think so," England whispered, going pale. "I think it was his victim…"
And then England received a message on his beaten up phone.
"Ah see! I told you it would be good that you can now get picture messages!" France said.
It wasn't good in England's eyes. Not when he saw a picture of Denmark and Prussia tied up back to back, their mouths gagged and a caption over it that said 'Bring me Vanya or they die!'.
"Miss Belarus is getting really good at technology isn't she? I wonder what phone she has?" France said, unhelpfully.
England shook his head but he had other problems, his phone buzzed again and he realised he'd missed fourteen text messages. All were from China.
All were getting more and more threatening. He looked at France questioningly.
France shrugged and then, as if on satellite link, jumped and said, "Ah oui! Your date! With Yao!"
England groaned.