Moons. Everywhere. 3
An attempt at a fic in the Frasier continuum. The canon says that Daphne has seven brothers. Only three appeared in the series. One other was referenced but never seen. And there's the mysterious Nanny, or Granny, or sometimes Grammy, Moon. Hold me back. I see "Tim Moon" as being played by David Rasche, the man who was, and remains, Sledge Hammer. (Now are there any Sledge fanfics out there? Trust me, I know what I'm doing.)
The following Monday at KACL radio. Frasier Crane is at his desk in the radio station with Roz Doyle attentively supervising from the booth.
" Thank you to Doctor Alambard for his fascinating discussion of the very real, and very distressing, condition known as obsessive-compulsive disorder." Frasier said, smoothly. "And while my guest counts up the number of ceiling tiles in the studio prior to leaving – for the thirteenth time – may I remind you his one hundred and thirty-seven books on OCD are available via most good booksellers..."
"One hundred and thirty-nine, Frasier." Roz corrected, cutting into the broadcast.
"His one hundred and thirty-nine books on the subject. Evidently two more were released at the weekend."
In the background, a low monotonous voice was intoning seventy-eight, seventy-nine, eighty...
"Let's go to a call. Roz, who's on line?"
"We've got Marianne from Issaquah on line three. She has a problem with kleptomania."
"Marianne. I'm listening." Frasier said, his voice exuding attentive concern.
"Is that Doctor Crane? Am I on air?" a worried female voice said.
"This is Doctor Frasier Crane. I'm listening." He smoothly made his voice exude avuncular warmth and concern. "I believe you have issues surrounding kleptomania?"
"Oh, yes, Doctor Crane!" Her voice shook with anxiety and worry. "Every time I go into a shop or a store, I just have to take something. Even though I can pay for it, I just have to slip something into my bag or into my pocket and walk out of the store, knowing it's there and I've stolen it."
Frasier relaxed. He'd been here before. His sister in law, Maris Crane, had gotten herself into trouble for this very reason. Although one of the richest women in Seattle, Maris was notorious for it. It caused Niles a lot of angst.
"Well, Marianne, some authorities say this is a survival of the old hunter-gathering instinct of the human race. The thrill of the hunt, the delight of the chase. Over time this mutated into the urge to collect, to gather, to accumulate. On a deep psychological level this sometimes points to underlying and unacknowledged wounds in the very psyche, fundamental wants and needs which are the root cause for which kleptomania is but the outward symptom. And on a practical day to day level, it can cause social embarrassment and community censure."
"Oh, you are so right, Doctor Crane!" Marianne said, excited. "It's causing me a lot of trouble and embarrassment and I wish it could stop..."
At this point a new voice cut in.
"Ma'am? While it's legally your right to make one phone call, we didn't expect it to be to the local radio station!"
"Who's that?" Frasier asked, sharply.
"Deputy Conley, Issaquah Sheriff's Department. And can I say, Doctor Crane, all of us here really enjoy your show?"
There was a moment of dead air.
"Well." said Frasier, collecting himself, "A great big shout-out to all of our friends in the law enforcement community in Issaquah. And may I say, Marianne, you would be far better advised to have saved your one call for seven this evening, when Eric Sundstrand, KACL's resident legal eagle, presents his You And The Law phone-in show? I fear your immediate problem is beyond the reach of psychiatry. And who's up next, Roz?"
"On line five, we've got Frank, who's a cross dresser."
"Go ahead, Frank, I'm listening."
"Doctor Crane, for as long as I can remember, I've had the need to dress in women's clothes. I'm really fed up."
"Why is that, Frank? It's more common than you would think. Society is in the main more tolerant, and I can put you in touch with several mutual-help groups for those who feel this need and seek to be mutually supportive..."
"Is there one for the larger transvestite, doc? I mean, you just don't know what it's like!"
"Ah. Weight and self-image issues?"
"Sure thing, doc! I look into the mirror and I see a fat dowdy frump. Have you any idea how difficult it is to find stylish attractive clothes for the plus-size lady? The whole goddam fashion industry is geared to people with visible ribs and no hips!"
Frasier put his head in his hands.
At the end of the show, he petulantly complained to Roz that the standard of mental disturbance in Seattle was really plummeting downhill.
She listened, passively, and asked
"So what do you want, Frasier, a chainsaw murderer or a serial strangler?" She paused, and reflected. "Although that would sure help the ratings. The Zodiac Killer in New York chose to ring his local radio station and boast about it, and their ABC percentage went up like you wouldn't believe.."
"Well, if one of your old dates might oblige..." he said.
She changed the subject.
"Speaking of dates, Frasier, Alice and I had a really good time with Tim Moon on Saturday. She was so excited about going aboard the big ship!"
"You took your daughter on a date? That'll send out a signal to the poor guy. Can you imagine Lord Nelson taking Emma Hamilton on a tour of HMS Victory, and she were to bring her daughter? British history would have changed. England expects that every man should do the decent thing and offer to make a honest woman of the single mother from Seattle. Please form an orderly line on the poop-deck."
"Frasier! It wasn't really a date in the date sense. Just a nice day out with a nice guy showing us round. And Alice really liked him! Oh, and I took your father's good advice."
"Which was?" Frasier asked, interested despite himself.
"Marty said some of those stairways aboard a warship are really steep. Boy, he wasn't kidding! He said if you get invited to tour a ship where the sailors haven't seen a woman for months, wear trousers. Else you get a crowd of sailors and Marines clustered under every ladder looking up, and some of those guys will have cameras. Frasier, he wasn't wrong! It amazed me how many gals hadn't figured that one out."
"So in the end, which skirt did you wear?"
"Frasier!"
She would have said more, but Bulldog bustled in with his unspeakable sound-effects trolley. He was still bouncing on his toes like a combination of a boxer in the ring and a semi-housetrained puppy, but he was sporting facial bruises and a blacked eye.
"Hey, doc!" he said, nearly running the trolley over Frasier's feet. "Great weekend! And you?"
"Fan club convention?" Frasier asked, surveying the battered face. "Enthusiastic date expressing her undying love for you?"
"Nothing like that, doc." the Bulldog said. "I was in this bar downtown. These English sailors were harrassing these chicks. Now me, I hate to watch a good American broad getting hit on by Brit sailors. It just ain't right to see a chick get dissed, you know?"
"Your respect for women knows no bounds. And like a good chivalrous knight errant you stepped in to admonish them, am I right?"
"You bet, doc! So we traded a few punches, right?"
Bulldog mimed the left-right-left head-ducking action of a prize fighter in the ring.
"And then it got crazy, doc, a few tables got tipped over, drinks got spilled, everybody's fighting, the broad I'm trying to rescue gets offended and she hits me.." he pointed to his eye. "No gratitude. Right, doc? And before I knew it, a Navy shore patrol and some Seattle cops are busting in, I said to the Brit guys there's a back door here, leads to an alleyway, come on, and me and the guys I'd been fighting are running for it. And they say I'm not bad for a Yank and I can throw a good punch, and I'm saying I know a really low dive on Meredith. Then we're all best buddies drinking and hitting on chicks together, and the Bulldog's showing these guys what American broads really go for! Great night, doc, but hey, I'm the Bulldog!"
He honked the horn and did a touch-down victory shuffle. Roz shook her head in disbelief.
"Surprised you're here, Roz. Else you got through three thousand new guys in town already!" The horn honked again.
She made to hit him. Frasier stepped between them quickly.
"Why not stop by for a drink, Roz? You can tell us about your weekend." Frasier offered.
Three hundred and fifty-nine, three hundred and sixty...
Frasier paused.
"Oh, and if kindly hands could lead Doctor Alambard out of the studio..."
They listened to KACL on the drive back to Apartment 1901. Kinsley Square to Queen Anne Heights was a short drive; somebody with more time on their hands could walk it inside three quarters of an hour. (2)
And hey, on a related note, I heard a lot about European soccer at the weekend. Kinda forced to, with all these guys in town who ain't got a clue what real football's about! Apparently there's this soccer coach in England who got the big boot for humping the club physio's wife. You get that? His club was apparently flyin' high up the rankings and in line to win the Brit version of the Superbowl but they drop the coach for something that ain't got squat to do with sports. Total bee-ess, man, but these Brits are weird that way...(1)
"He's like a great big puppy that hasn't yet been housetrained." Frasier reflected.
" Guess that's why they call him the Bulldog! At least he doesn't leave puddles all over the studio floor." agreed Roz.
They laughed together, in a moment of shared humour. Then Roz looked thoughtful.
"Will Tim be at your place, do you think?"
"Well, Daphne might be showing him round town. But Dad likes him well enough."
"Frasier, your dad likes Simon."
There was a thoughtful silence. She said
"Alice thinks he's wonderful. He did a nice thing for her on Saturday. It worked for me too, as I'm a bit short of cash right now."
"You'll have to tell me." Frasier said.
She told him in the elevator up to the nineteenth floor. Frasier digested this.
"And you plan to tell people about that?" he said, incredulously, as they stepped out.
"Oh, come on, Frasier. It all worked out!" she said. "Hey, we're here!"
Frasier noted she seemed enervated and happy. He also noticed, as they entered, that his brother Niles looked nervy and shaken up. Marty was grinning all over his face, which put his older son immediately on guard, whilst Daphne looked inscrutably serene.
"Hi, Frase!" said Marty. "You gotta hear this!"
"Where's Donny?" Frasier inquired.
"Ach, still down the precinct collecting Daphne's brother." Marty said, off-hand. "Don't worry, it's all sorted out! No cop ever wants to take on a trained pitbull attack lawyer like Donny, and anyway I had a word with the desk sergeant."
Frasier heard only the trigger words. A Moon brother. Lawyers. The precinct. Dad using his old police contacts to smooth things over.
"What happened?" Frasier inquired, with forced calm. Roz Doyle looked amused. She knew Moon brothers too.
"I'll make some, er, coffee." Daphne offered, standing up. "The way you asked for it, Mr Crane."
"I sure want to see this." Marty replied, mysteriously.
Niles' hand was visibly shaking over a brandy glass. He looked distinctly wobbly.
"We went out for a morning constitutional at Café Nervosa." Niles began. "We generally agreed Timothy Moon needed a coffee education. Well, we were accosted on Kinsley Square – you remember, Frasier, where Derek Mann called you out for a fight?"
"How can I ever forget. Carry on." Frasier said, grimly.
"We were accosted by a trio of thuggish-looking gentlemen, who invited us to hand over such valuables and cash as we possessed. Well, I was reaching for my emergency mugger's tribute – oh, thank you, Daphne, I need a coffee... and Tim stepped a pace forward and said..."
"Well, what's in it for me?" Tim Moon asked, conversationally.
The spokes-mugger glanced at one of his accomplices. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go. Maybe this limey in the fancy uniform wasn't used to American ways yet.
"What do you mean, buddy, what's in it for you?" the spokesmugger asked, slightly incredulously.
"Just give him the money, please!" the faggoty nerdy-looking one said, urgently. He was holding out a wallet. One of the muggers reached for it, but then the tall girl with the long dark hair had stepped between them, blocking his way. She didn't seem too intimidated, either.
"Just clarifying the rules of engagement." the Limey said, cheerfully. He smiled. It was not the sort of placatory smile a scared mark put on to appease as he passed over his wallet. "So in this transaction. If I give you my money and watch and soforth. What do I get in return?"
"You don't get damaged, that's what you get! Nobody gets hurt. We don't touch the lady."
"I see. And if the lady doesn't want to be touched or otherwise accosted?"
The spokesmugger looked down to see the uniformed Limey was wearing a pistol holster. But it looked kinda empty. Even so, it began to dawn on him that a guy in a military uniform might not be an easy mark.
"Does the uniform I'm wearing say anything to you?" the Limey said, pleasantly. The green beret? The capbadge? No, no reason why it should. Yet."
"Ah come on, this is wasting time!" one of the other muggers said, impatiently. He reached into his jacket. The faggoty one whimpered.
"Don't worry, Doctor Crane." the girl said, as she stood there impassively. "I won't let them hurt you."
She's a Brit too, huh, was the mugger's last thought before a fast combination of a punch and a sweeping kick that cut his legs from under him sent him sprawling. He heard the girl saying "Bet you wouldn't hit a woman?" A beat later, there was a crash and a thud. "That's good, because I can certainly hit you!"
The third mugger looked around and saw he was the only one still standing. He turned to run, took a couple of paces, and then his world exploded into pain.
"You know, what we've got here is a failure to communicate!" the Brit in the uniform said, pleasantly. "You're right, this is not a scary uniform. But some fairly scary people wear it!" And then he started shouting.
On the ground now! Get your hands behind your head! Get your legs apart! Wider, wider... and if you even so much as facking breathe heavily, I'm stamping on your head!
Tim Moon moved from one to the other, tapping the toe of his boot up between the spread legs of the hapless muggers.
"And if you're thinking of anything clever, just remember where my boot is in relation to your family jewels." he said, pleasantly. "Just a little civics lesson here. The Royal Marines are in town. It pays to be friendly and hospitable towards us, as we're not bad guys, really. Spread the word!"
Something of a crowd had gathered. A police siren was howling in the near distance.
"Get them on the ground, and they're docile." Tim said to Niles, converstationally. Then he turned to the three muggers.
"Not sure if this is legal here, but I guess a citizen's arrest is recognised everywhere." he said, cheerfully. "Right, you are now under military custody until such a time as you can be released to the civil authority..."
Niles turned to Daphne. He was shaken, frightened, and puzzled.
She shrugged.
"That's the yellow card warning, Doctor Crane." she explained. "It's like a Miranda, only the Army have to use it in places like Belfast when they make an arrest on behalf of the regular police. Tim's done this before."
"So I see." Niles said.
"...and while the civvie police have to stick to the rules, we don't. Any questions?"
Two Seattle cops bustled up through a crowd that was appreciating the street theatre.
"What the Sam Hill is going on here?" the lead cop, a sergeant, demanded.
"Ah. Sergeant. Just caught you three street muggers." Tim said, genially.
The sergeant looked down.
"Did I say you could move?" Tim almost screamed. "Stay down!"
"This guy's a freaking maniac!" the lead mugger said. "Get us out of this!"
The cop looked down at a dropped knife that told its own story. Then he saw the pistol holster at Tim's belt.
"Is that a gun?" he demanded, his eyes slitting.
"It's empty, Sergeant." Tim reassured him. "My issue weapon's locked up in the armoury on board ship. Diplomacy, you see. Didn't we conclusively settle the issue of whether armed British troops could walk around America telling you what to do, way back in seventeen seventy-six?"
The police sergeant patted down the pistol holster, finding it empty. He grunted.
"You people better all come to the precinct where we can settle this. Call for back-up, Jim."
"I see" said Frasier, doubtfully.
"They let me and Doctor Crane go after we made statements. Doctor Crane thought it was a good idea to tell Donny, in case Tim needed a lawyer. " Daphne said.
Marty added "And by then, the guys at the precinct had worked out one of my sons was mixed up in this. So they rang me. Patrick Brannigan was working the desk. Said after they'd taken statements and interviewed witnesses, all the cops in the precinct wanted to shake Tim by the hand. Asked if he wanted a job if he had plans to leave the service. Well, we've had English guys come to America before and they've been good cops."
Marty tasted his coffee, thoughtfully.
"So it's all sorted out, Frase. Donny and Tim are probably on the way over here now."
Roz laughed. Then she tasted her coffee.
"There's something odd about this coffee." she said. "Daphne, what did you do to this?"
Frasier set his mug down. "I thought it wasn't up to your usual standard, Daphne!"
In his agitation, Niles had drained his mug. He looked into the empty cup, baffled. He did a double-take.
"No grounds..."
Marty laughed out loud and slapped his thigh. Daphne extended a hand, her face betraying triumph.
"You lose, old man!"
He passed two ten-dollar bills to her. She pocketed them with a certain smugness.
Frasier realised.
"Dad!" he exploded. "you mean you had Daphne poison us with English coffee, or whatever passes for coffee in that culinary black spot?"
"Hey, Frase. I had a bet with Daphne she could serve you both British instant coffee and you wouldn't notice. I thought you'd both twig, what with those sophisticated tastebuds of yours. Worth losing twenty bucks just to see the expressions on your faces!"
"Now that's not fair, Dad. We were both distracted!" Niles objected.
"You emptied the cup, though. Marty loses, I win!"
"I have a distinct after-taste of chicory." said Niles. "Thus a perfect Monday continues."
"Oh, don't be so precious." said Roz, dismissively. "It wasn't that bad!"
"And you were the only one who noticed, Roz." Marty said. "So much for an educated palate, huh?"
Frasier and Niles went silent. Marty grinned up from his recliner.
"So, Roz, How did your Saturday go, seeing the ship?"
"Ah, Marty, it was great." she replied, smiling warmly. "I was a little bit anxious at first as Alice was off her food, she wouldn't eat anything at breakfast. I wondered if she was coming down with something, but she insisted she was fit and well, so we went off to find Tim at Colman Dock. There was a big line of people waiting to join one of the official touring parties, but he found us and said he'd give Alice and I an unofficial personally escorted tour. And you know, Frasier, when you're with someone who can jump line and who has the power to get you to the front like that, you feel like a million dollars!"
"And you call me an elitist snob!" Fraiser observed. "Feels good, doesn't it?"
So, get this, he walked us to the head of the line past all these people and on board the ship, and hey, these are big ships!" exclaimed roz.
"Full of lots of seamen. Nothing new, then." Niles murmured. Her eyes narrowed. Roz forced herself to contemplate the almost-coffee.
"English coffee." she mused, looking into a half-full cup. "Do I spit it out or just swallow?"
"Ah, the eternal conundrum." Niles said. "But I'm sure you can trust your experience."
He moved away, quickly. Roz smiled a low, wicked, smile and turned to Daphne.
"So just how did you deal with that mugger, Daphne?" she asked, with seeming innocence. Daphne smiled back.
"Roz, you grow up in a place like Collyhurst(3) with seven brothers, then believe me, you learn to fight!" she said. "Simon and Tim both taught me a few dirty tricks. But me brother Billy is the hardest, dirtiest, fighter of the lot!"
"What, Billy?" Marty said, incredulously. He'd heard about Billy Moon.
"Yes, Billy." Daphne said, emphatically. "What's so strange, Mr Crane? Grow up in Collyhurst and have an interest in Judy Garland movies and old Hollywood musicals, you have to learn to fight! Billy and his friend got called the Agony Aunts, because of what they'd do to people who got intolerant around them. Billy and his friend Donald. Although after a while Donald preferred to be called Dorothy."
"Your brother Billy is a friend of Dorothy." said Frasier. "Why am I not surprised?" (4)
"Daphne, you just gotta demonstrate!" Roz pressed her. She took a sideways glance. "Maybe Niles could help you demonstrate? He could come at you with a knife or something. Try to attack you. As if he'd been stalking you for a while, or something, and decided to move in for the..."
"I'm flattered that you asked, but maybe I'm not the one?" Niles hurriedly cut in.
"Don't be stupid, Niles. I've got a bad hip, Roz is another woman, Frasier's kind of on the big side, so that only leaves Niles!" Marty said. "'Sides, I wanna see this for myself!"
Niles reluctantly stepped forward. Daphne tossed him a table knife. He fumbled and dropped it. As he picked it up, Daphne did a couple of warm-up moves with her arm.
"The one me brother Billy taught me goes like this." she said, as Niles picked the knife up. Holding it at arm's length uncertainly. "Come on, doctor Crane. Come at me. I promise you I won't hurt!"
Niles took an uncertain step forward. Daphne bounced on her toes, and high-kicked upwards with all the expertise of a Vegas dancer. Her toe missed Niles' chin by a very tiny fraction. He squealed and jumped back, dropping the knife.
"Now I was taking dancing lessons." she said. "So was me brother Billy, for his stage act. It was Billy who said if you land a high kick on somebody's chin, they tend to fall over and lose interest."
As Marty applauded and Roz grinned at Niles, Daphne added
"But you have to wear a loose dress so your legs can kick right up. And the right kind of shoes, with good heels. At least, that's what Billy said."
Niles picked up the knife again.
"Thank you for demonstrating Manchester's school of martial arts..." he began, edging off.
"Oh, I've not finished, Doctor Crane. That wasn't the move I used this morning. Just come at me with the knife again, as if you really wanted to do me harm..."
Coaxed by Daphne, Niles moved in again, an awkward caricature of an Indian knife fighter. This time, Daphne moved in closer, explaining that the last thing the guy with the knife expects is for you to step forwards. He's expecting you to run away.
"Now I take Doctor Crane's right wrist, just so, here. I step to the side, twisting the arm, so. Now I'm in control and he's going right where I want him to, which is down."
She pushed forward with both hands on his knife arm. At the same time a side-sweep with her foot cut the legs from under Niles, who fell forwards. He ended up lying face down with Daphne holding his right arm straight up behind him.
"Now at this point I can put me foot on the back of his neck – sorry, Doctor Crane, excuse feet, I'll have to kick me shoe off for this bit."
"Think nothing of it, Daphne." Niles mumbled, as she applied her bare foot to his neck. His eyes closed in what Frasier hoped was discomfort.
"Now when I did me physiotherapy diploma, I learnt all about anatomy, muscle and bone and how it all fits together. So I can tell you that holding Doctor Crane's arm like this and applying leverage via me left foot, if I carry on twisting I can pop the arm right out of its socket at the shoulder. It's also excruciatingly painful. That's what I did to me man this morning to keep him quiet till the cops showed up!"
Marty applauded again. Roz grinned in appreciation. Daphne graciously allowed Niles to stand up.
"I didn't hurt you, did I, Doctor Crane?" she asked, anxiously.
Niles shook some feeling back into his right arm.
"Think nothing of it, Daphne." he reassured her. "Very instructive."
He wobbled to a seat alongside Roz Doyle. She smiled serenely and made room.
"So Tim advanced you to the head of the line. And you both had a private tour." Marty prompted her.
"Yeah. We were on the dockside watching the Marine band. And there were these stations around where the Marines were showing off their weapons. Demonstrating the sort of kit they'd have carried in the Falklands War when they did that long forced march and fought a battle at the end? All that was really popular. You've seen how men go for big powerful weapons, yeah? Anyway, Alice was a bit distracted and grousy. I said I was worried for her, but she insisted she still wanted to go. Heck, I wanted to be there! I mean, everyone else seemed to think I'd be at Colman Dock to pick up a sailor or a Marine, whatever I did. I thought I may as well get something out of it and pick a good cute one."
"And you got me brother."
"Credit me, Daphne. He's a good-looking guy who knows how to behave! And he could not have been nicer. He was concerned Alice was uncomfortable and he spotted the side of her face was a bit swollen and red. He got it out of her she had toothache, and he said..."
"I know a man who can help. Alice? Can you trust me? I know what I'm doing!" (5)
Roz didn't object as Tim Moon picked the little girl up; she trustingly put her arms around his neck and held on tight.
"We'll have to go a few decks down for this." Tim said, cheerfully. Roz followed as best she could, down a couple of long steep stairways – companionways – that led down into the depths of the vessel. Everything was painted a uniform middle grey, and nothing was signposted. They passed the occasional sailor, who saluted as they passed, Tim nodding back and apologising he couldn't return the courtesy as his arms were full. And the walk was long. Roz did not see any other civilians.
"So where are we going?" she asked.
"Sickbay." Tim said, smiling. "Well, a small hospital, really..."
They turned a corner, and an armed Marine sentry stepped out at them. He was one of two guards barring the way, but seeing one of his officers, he dropped his rifle to the "Present Arms" salute.
The formalities over, one of the Marines looked at Roz and the little girl in Tim's arms.
"Didn't realise you'd been here.." he did a mental calculation - "six years ago, sir!" he said, cheerfully. Tim grinned. He winked at Roz.
"Medical emergency. This little girl needs the duty surgeon's attention. Who's on duty?"
"You're in luck, sir. The Doctor is in." the Marine said, and stood aside.
They continued their walk.
"And of course the surgery and sickbay are right next door to one of the arsenals." he explained. "hence the armed guard."
"Good planning, huh?" Roz said.
"Exquisite." agreed Tim. "The sickbay on HMS Victory was just above the gunpowder store, so evidently it's one of those Traditions. And the British armed forces being what they are, you don't interfere with long-established tradition."
She took Alice's free hand and squeezed it reassuringly.
"Tim, this business about a surgeon.." she said, anxiously.
"Oh, all Navy medical officers are called surgeons." he reassured her. "Doesn't mean they can perform operations, though! Ah, we're here... and the right man's on duty, too!"
An older officer in his early fifties was sitting in the office, smoking a reflective cigarette. The rank badges at his wrist were in red rather than gold. He stubbed it out as the three walked in.
"Tim!" he said, cheerfully. "I never realised you'd been on shore leave here five or six years ago?"
"She's not mine, Harry. Unfortunately. But her mother would like a doctor to look her over. Bit of a toothache."
Introductions were made. Surgeon-Lieutenant-Commander Harry Galloway, M.D, , sat Alice down in the chair as he looked for a surgical mask and gloves.
"I'm dual-qualified, Mrs Doyle." he reassured her. "I passed out as a doctor, and being a glutton for punishment, a few years later I went back to train as a dentist. So I'm qualified to look inside the little girl's mouth and see what's going on...Tim, be useful and go and shout up a Tiffie (6) for me, would you? Good man."
Frasier exploded. Niles' mouth dropped open with astonishment.
"You mean – you took your little girl to see a... British dentist?" Frasier shouted, not wanting to believe.
"In some states, that's legally a form of child abuse!" Niles added.
"Oh, where's the fuss?" Daphne demanded. "I've got any amount of fillings done at home and everything works okay!"
"Well, yes, but you're British." said Marty. "you're not in a position to judge."
"OK, so I'm a negligient mother." Roz said, grumpily. "And let me tell you, he was not a bad doctor. And the best of it is..."
Doctor Harry treated Alice with loving care and attention.
"I've got little grand-daughters like you back in England, Alice." he said, gently. "Got their photos on my desk if you want to see.. open wide for me? Now there's nothing to be concerned about. Just a little prick with a needle. And before you open your mouth, Captain Moon, I've heard that joke a thousand times before, thank you..."(7)
"Wasn't going to say a word, doc." Tim objected. In the background, a long, thin, and somewhat camp medical orderly was quizzing Roz about where she bought her clothes, and complimenting her on her fashion sense and colour co-ordination.
"Mr Etherinton, when you've quite finished talking fashion and style, I will need you on the suction tube. Try to concentrate, will you?" Harry requested, not looking up. "Well, we'll give that a minute or two, young Alice, and you'll feel the side of your face going numb. This will wear off after an hour or so..."
"You know, Tiffie, you remind me of my brother Billy?" Tim said, conversationally.
"You remind me of Billy Moon, too, sir!" the Tiffie squealed.
"Ah. Small world."
"Is he still performing as Edwina Sharples, the Beswick Battleaxe? That really cracks me up.."
The old grey-haired doctor shook his head tolerantly and turned to Roz.
"Nothing to be too concerned about, Mrs Doyle." he said, reassuringly. "Just the last of her baby teeth playing up. It won't come out on its own and the adult tooth is pressing up from underneath. It can't get out because the old one's in the way. No wonder she's uncomfortable! I'll just clear the way for the new growth, and she'll be right as rain."
"You've got a great way with kids! " Roz said. "Even though I guess you don't see many?"
"Well, I did have a dry posting to a Navy base where there are families and children." he said. "Rounds you out wonderfully. I'd argue no doctor is fully trained until he's done general practice. The ones who actively avoid dealing with children or don't have kids themselves can get a bit cranky, in my opinion."
"Tell me about it! I work with a pychiatrist. His brother's also a psychiatrist. Niles Crane said he went into psychiatry because he faints at the sight of blood, can you believe it?"
The doctor chuckled.
"Oh, I can well believe it! I've got one on my staff. Totally loopy. Just out of King's College with a medical degree and a masters in psychiatry. Told him to take the day off and enjoy himself. Not entirely useless as a basic doctor, but goes green when he sees blood. Just as well the Navy sent me back to school for a year to do my masters in psychiatry!"
"You're a psychiatrist too?" Roz said, interested.
"And just about on the sane side of completely barking mad. The way it works, Mrs Doyle, I'm first and foremost a medical doctor and dentist. I have to be a dentist because this ship carries a lot of interesting weaponry. Believe me, you do not want a sailor in charge of a missile system if he's feeling a bit out of sorts with toothache. Especially if you're halfway across the Pacific with no shore in sight. So a ship like this has a dentist and the best available kit. You also do not want that same sailor going what we in the profession call going absolutely doolally-tap(8), when he has a gun in his hand. There was a case on one of our nuclear submarines..."(9)
The doctor shuddered.
"So the medical staff needs a trained psychiatrist. But it's nuts and bolts stuff. You get a sailor referred to you who's behaving oddly and you have to decide whether he can go about his duties or not. Making the right decision, very quickly. Especially if it's one of the ship's officers."
Roz looked thoughtful.
"Ah, young Alice. Are we ready to proceed? Now open wide,and tell me if you feel this... ah, good girl. Tiffie, stand by with the vacuum pump..."
Roz held her daughter's hand through the extraction. At the end, she said, diffidently,
"How much do I owe you for that, doctor?"
Harry laughed.
"Not a bean, m'dear. It's on the house."
Roz looked slightly stunned.
"Look, I've heard about the American medical system." he said, patiently. "That's where the first vital signs the doctor checks for in an emergency relate to the health of the patient's bank balance and insurance policies. We don't do it that way. Consider yourselves the beneficiary of an advanced European-style socialised medical system. Care is free at the point of need. If you really feel the need, and if young Timothy here has the sterling good sense to invite you to the Captain's table next week, you can buy me a big Scotch. Or Tim can, as you'd be his guest."
"Well, now somebody else has mentioned it..." Tim said, taking Roz by the hand. She didn't pull away.
"Besides, old double-Hell threatened us all with fire and brimstone from a great height if we did not seek to establish good relations with our American hosts."
"That's the Rear Admiral." the doctor explained, helpfully. "Which is why I'm open for business today, if there are any medical emergencies to visitors. Although there's an American Navy base up at Puget Sound we can call on in emergencies. Wouldn't take five minutes in a chopper to ferry anything we can't cope with here."
"Doctor, how would you like to be on the radio?" Roz asked, professionally.
"I don't see why not." Frasier said, stroking his chin. "A professional colleague who deals with the special and unique mental health needs of the military. That'll make for a good show!"
"And one of the first totally sane psychiatrists I've ever met!" Roz said, with cheerful venom.
"If British psychiatry is on a par with British dentistry, that really will make for a good show!" Niles agreed.
More next time... 5,000 words is a good length for a chapter. And this story has so many possibilities.
(1)This actually happened to former Manchester United boss Tommy Docherty, possibly the club's most successful manager before Sir Alex Ferguson. United really had no choice: when the manager and the club physio have a fist-fight on the training ground with the full squad of players cheering them on and the press in attendance taking advantage of a scoop, it can't easily be covered up or dealt with privately.
(2) Damn, I'm getting to know Seattle quite well, despite never having been there. Elliot Bay Towers – Frasier's fictional address – does not seem to exist in real life, but the real-life Queen Anne's Height area is the sort of upscale socially prestigious address where Frasier Crane would live. Elliot Bay exists here, as does Elliot Avenue. Similarly, Kinsley Square – the location for both KACL and Cafe Nervosa – is fictional. But the Pike Park/South Main Street area is renowned for its coffee shops, especially around Pike Square Public Market, and strong cases have been made for CN being based on an amalgamation of two of those, one being the Pike Park Bookshop And Cafe on Pike and Third. A real-life Seattle location given in the show as the location for CN turns out, in real life, to be a Macdonalds. One suspects a little "Where The Hell is Springfield, Anyway?" obfuscation is going on. But at least it gives map locations to work with on a Seattle city map...
(3) Collyhurst is one of a string of economically depressed inner-city districts of the City of Manchester. I was playing with their names – Beswick, Harpurhey, Collyhurst, Ardwick Green, Gorton, Longsight – and for some reason Collyhurst felt right as home patch for the Moons.
(4) Outrageously flamboyant gay comedian Paul O'Grady, who made a drag living as Liverpool's Blonde Bombsite Lily Savage, has also famously taken a direct line to homophobes thinking he's an easy touch. What the bullies don't know is that O'Grady was once invited to consider a career in the Royal Marines – he was a Marine cadet before he came out as gay - and has what is called Marine Aggression in spades. Billy Moon is evidently a Mancunian version and spiritual sister.
(5) I did say I had David Rasche in mind as the actor to play Tim Moon. And of course Rasche was also maverick cop Sledge Hammer. Whose catchphrase was of course... Cue wild hollering from a studio audience clued up enough to get the reference...
(6) A Tiffie is a Royal Navy medical orderly or nurse. Until women were allowed to serve at sea, this was an area where gay sailors were not just tolerated, but actively encouraged. Old Royal Navy hands like my father say a Tiffie's gentle touch was as near to a woman's as they could get at sea, and even the most macho sailor was glad for them being there. The Royal Navy boasts it puts its recruits into exactly the right occupations...
(7) The punchline to the joke, for those who have lived sheltered lives, is "Yes, I know you are, but will the injection hurt?"
(8) Mangled Hindi the British brought back from India. Deolali was a posting in India loathed for its extreme heat and oppressiveness. Something about the place drove Europeans nuts. "Doolali-tap" is a corruption of the place name and the Hindu word for "insanity".
(9) In which a sailor on guard duty went postal with a loaded rifle. As he shot several visiting civilian dignitaries along with some of the ship's officers, there was Hell to pay afterwards.