Welcome to chapter 27 – where Lila is put in her place, and the infamous Bennington Palmer dinner occurs!

So many of you leave me brilliant reviews and I really am grateful for them all because it means a lot that you can be bothered really! Please do carry on, because as always – I love to hear what you guys think!

I have loved writing Dr Lila Morgan, it's great fun to invent bitchy stuff for her to say and do. Someone asked me what an F1 actually is – so in brief, a newly qualified doctor will spend one year on rotation as an F1 and one on rotation as an F2, this is the system that replaced the idea of Junior doctors if that means a little more to any-one!

Everyone on board? Right – let's hit the road and get this party started!

This chapter's song is:

Goody Goody – Ella Fitzgerald (and many many other people, but her version is my favourite.)

Enjoy!

"Good Morning Patrick!"

"Oh – good morning Lila, how are you?"

"Oh fine, I wanted a word actually – about the Bennington Palmer dinner tonight."

"Did you indeed?"

"Yes."

"Right – well before I go and have a prod of room 8's vagina … Go on."

"Your … Uhh … Shelagh."

"Wife, the word you wanted was wife."

"Right! Wife – so, I mean she's a nice girl isn't she? But she's not … well, not to put too fine a point on it, gala dinner material. I mean a nice … plain, honest girl like that wouldn't want to go to a big dinner like the Bennington Palmer now would she? She wouldn't know what to do with herself; she'd feel out of place … uncomfortable. I mean – it's the Bennington Palmer dinner!"

"She's a nurse from Aberdeen … not a street urchin from Moldova for goodness sake. She can use cutlery, talk English, she's funny and kind and quite frankly I can't see any reason why her going would be an issue for you Dr Morgan."

"It's not an issue Patrick, but you know as well as I do. Bennington Palmer dinners are … well a little more exclusive than the standard running buffet and warm cava that you usually get at these things. It's silver service; it's one of the biggest Pharmaceutical companies in the world, the biggest in the UK, it's some of the most eminent doctors in Europe giving talks … and I wouldn't want your lovely, sweet … if a little … common wife getting out of her depth and showing you up! Now I have plenty of experience with this sort of thing, I've been doing the dinners for years now, and I could be just what you need. I know what I'm doing Patrick."

"You certainly do Lila. Now I want you to listen to me so carefully that you'll be able to recite this verbatim on your death bed. You. Are. Not. Coming. And Shelagh is. A, because she's a brilliant woman who I think would be a breath of fresh air for the stuffy old buggers who frequent those dinners, and b, because she's gorgeous and sexy and I want to show her off."

"So … you've pretty much made your mind up then?"

"Pretty much. Oh and before you think you've got away with it, because you called my wife 'plain' and 'common' you can go on ahead and do my vaginal examination in 8. And let's try not making the patient cry, scream or swear this time eh?"

"You want me to not do all three?"

"If you can yes that would be just lovely!"

So you met someone who set you back on your heels, goody goody. You met someone and now you know how it feels, goody goody. You gave her your heart too, just as I gave mine to you, and she broke it in little pieces, now how do you do? So you lie awake just singin' the blues all night, goody goody. You think that love's a barrel of dynamite. Hurray and hallelujah, you had it comin' to ya, goody goody for her, goody goody for me. And I hope you're satisfied, you rascal, you.

"You gave her your heart too, just as I gave mine to you … and she stuck it in her collection, section ninety-two. So you lie awake just singin' the blues all night, goody goody ... oh for God's sake, why is there never a bloody parking space when you need one? Come on – come on … ach, you little bugger!"

Shelagh pulled up along the high street, stealing the space recently vacated by a Chelsea tractor driven by a fierce looking blond in sunglasses, despite the cool October day. Hoping against hope that there were no traffic wardens lurking about on the road. She switched off the ignition and silencing the radio, Shelagh leapt out of the car and jogged along the street, pausing to check her reflection in a shop window. Was the dress too tight she wondered. Having opted for a green knee length dress she thought she would be safe, but she suddenly felt horrifically exposed, as though she were auditioning for a particularly low rent Amsterdam window. Running a hand through her hair she swallowed hard and licked her lips and kept on with her quick walk towards the tube station.

The Merde Cher hotel was on the river, around a fifteen minute walk from Sloan Square station, expensive and opulent for no particular reason parking in the area was ridiculous and the tube was the far cheaper and easier option. Sloan Square tube station was an unimpressive grey building, that opened out into the expensive Chelsea streets that held the 21st centuries Sloan Rangers. Emerging out into the twilight, she spotted Patrick resting on a bike rack smoking thoughtfully.

"Will I do?" Patrick started as she stepped towards him, giving her a once over he smiled,

"You look beautiful. I on the other hand …"

"You look good – very … dapper!"

"I look like a fool – there's a reason why I don't own a penguin suit you know. Really though – how do I look Love? Honestly."

"You want me to be really honest?"

"Jesus no!"

"In that case, you look like a young Rodger Moore!" she replied, reaching up to kiss him. "Now come on – I want to see the inside of the Merde Cher – I hear they have orchids in the foyer!"

"They do – it's true."

"I love orchids, I thought about growing some Hellebores in the spring, in the garden – they're beautiful you know, and really good for bees!"

"You get excited over the strangest things you know. Oh, by the way – I owe you £10."

"What for?"

"That bet we had, about Lila doing an internal on room 8. You were right – hat trick!"

"What! She screamed, cried and swore?"

"Yup – well first she screamed, then she called Dr Morgan something that rhymes with punt and uh … it wasn't blunt, and then the poor lady started sobbing. I had to take over – luckily she let me."

"Lila's just a bad doctor Patrick, it's time we faced facts."

"I just don't understand how anyone can get so much so wrong!"

"Breeding?"

"Have you seen Patrick Turner?"

"No, I haven't – although someone … Morris Grossman perhaps, said that they'd seen him near the bar. Why do you ask?"

"He's brought a blonde along, have you seen her? Small, pretty … and very very young."

"The dirty dog! He doesn't look the type … but she died didn't she? His wife I mean … a few years back now, hit by a car maybe."

"Oh of course yes I remember now, terribly sad at the time – he had a boy didn't he?"

"Yes he did, I suppose it has been a long while – more than entitled to a bit of fun! And who wouldn't like a nice pretty blonde on their arm."

"Watch out – he's coming over … Patrick! How lovely to see you – it's been far too long." Cried the overweight balding man, raising a hand and clapping Patrick warmly on the shoulder, and eyeing Shelagh up appreciatively.

"Hello Marcus, Jonathan – good to see you both. Uh … may I introduce Shelagh."

"Shealgh, how do you do. Marcus Langworthy, consultant surgeon, Gyne at Guys. This old soak here is my good friend Dr Jonathan Broughton from the good ship Chelsea and Westminster – Peads consultant."

"It's lovely to meet you both … I had no idea that there would be quite such eminent guest list." Said Shelagh, casting an eye across the function room that was filled with well-cut suits and the smell of expensive perfume,

"Nonsense my dear, isn't it Marcus?" added Jonanthan Broughton, a tall thin man with piercing blue eyes and a shock of silver grey hair,

"Oh absolutely, you fit in wonderfully. Tell me Shelagh, what is it that you do? Please God don't tell me that you are a drugs rep!" replied Marcus.

"No, I'm actually a midwife … that's how I met Patrick actually."

"A midwife? Goodness me, how … commendable! And how long have you and Patrick … uh?"

"Been married? Oh almost a year now."

"Married? Oh goodness … I … I am so sorry, I had no idea – we had no idea, did we Marcus?"

"Oh lord, none at all Jonathan … none at all. Well well, married, how lovely for you both. Now my glass appears to be empty … Jon, I'm sure it's your round, why don't you and Patrick go and refresh our glasses?"

"It's always my round."

"Then you'll be used to it by now." Patrick shot his wife a cautionary glance, she gave a tiny nod and a wink and so he disappeared off into the throng with Jonathan leaving Shelagh alone with the portly middle aged figure of Marcus. "Now my dear, I can see why he didn't bring you along before – it'd almost be a cliché."

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh my dear, the amount of doctors me and Jonathan see at these events – a younger girl each time … well, I can see that he didn't want it to look like that. But if you're married – well that's different."

"Of course it is, I'm not some eye candy."

"No my dear, but … now look over to the left there. That tall chap - bad toupee and glasses, Bill Burton - orthopaedics, 60 if he's a day – never brings a girl over 's at it, and … ooh … behind him with the moustache? Mmm, Christopher O'Donnell – trick cyclist, never brings anyone – but leaves with a younger waiter every bloody time."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Well I don't think his wife would like it too much … although, every time he sneaks one of them away I suppose it stops Jon's wondering eye – so small mercies!"

"Oh – I'm sorry … you and Jonathan are a couple?"

"Oh yes, I'm sorry, did you have your eye on me!? No, we met as medical students, back when what we were was illegal … we were caught once you know, the year before it was legalised in a … particular bar in Soho. Lord – you know, we climbed out of a bathroom window and ran down the road, and all the while all I kept on thinking was if 'my mother were to see me now she'd disown me'. Of course in the end she was far more understanding than Jonathan's parents."

"How long have you been together?"

"Ooh – forty … eight years it'll be. Still love the bones of him … useless old queen that he is! I'm sorry – blathering on like this, where are those boys with our drinks?"

Patrick turned over, bending his knees up to try and get a little warmer in the bed, reaching across her felt for Shelagh and drew himself in towards her. Leaning up slightly he checked her alarm clock across the bed; 3:18, frowning he wandered what had woken him up so early, giving up he rested back onto the bed, sliding his arm further around Shelagh's waist he nuzzled down against her neck, closing his eyes. After a moment he was woken up again, the was a knocking somewhere in the house. Extricating himself from Shelagh he rolled onto his back and listened out again for the knocking, after a moment it came once again this time accompanied by the front door bell.

"Shelagh … Shelagh?"

"Nnn – what?"

"There's someone at the front door."

"Well answer it then."

"But – it's quarter past three!"

"Then why have you woken me up?"

"Shelagh … come with me … please."

"What ever happened to chivalry?"

"It's dead … please."

"Urgh … fine, but you're going first!" She replied, rolling out of the bed and grabbing a jumper off of the chair, Patrick stood sheepishly in the doorway watching her, throwing him a look, she batted him out of the doorway and made him walk ahead of her down the stairs, "Chicken!" she whispered at him, leaning over his sholdour.

At the front door, silhouetted against the streetlights was a dark mass, all black and bulk, having seen the hallway light come on the knocking abated and the collection of shapes waited patiently. Glancing behind him to check that Shelagh was still there, Patrick gingerly opened the door. Stood in the porch and spilling out on to the pavement was, two policemen supporting a young woman in a tiny black dress between them. Looking up from where she was lolled against the chest of the furthest policeman, the young woman stared at Patrick for a moment before launching herself at him and wrapping herself around him.

"Daddy!"

"Dr Patrick Turner?" Asked one of the policemen,

"Uh – yes, sorry what's going on?"

"PC Morley – this is my colleague PC Hennessey. Your daughter was found in the city … she's a little worse for wear. Perhaps we could come in?"

"My … my daughter?" pulling the young woman back to look at her face. "Oh my God … Lila? What the hell!?"

"Daddy! It's me!"

"Lila … It might be you, but I'm sure that it's me … Sorry, constable – why did you bring her to me?"

"Well Sir, you are her father?"

"No I bloody am not! Look – why don't you come in?" Shelagh ran quickly down the remaining three steps and helped Patrick half lead, half drag Lila Morgan into the living room. Seating her down on the sofa, the couple turned around to face the pair of policemen who were hovering awkwardly in the doorway, PC Morley took his helmet off and cradled it loosely over his stomach.

"Now," Began Shealgh, " do either of you want to tell me what's going on?"

"You're not Miss Turner's parents?"

"Do I look like I have a 26 year old daughter? I'm barely older than that myself! And … Miss Turner?"

"Miss Lila Turner?"

"She's Dr Lila Morgan … and not either of ours daughter, she's a junior doctor who works with both of us, I'm her mentor." said Patrick, sitting down on the armchair beside the sofa, leaving Shealgh to perch beside Lila.

"I apologize doctor, Dr uh … Morgan was found by myself outside a nightclub, we brought her home because she told us that her drink was spiked … which was why she appeared to be under the influence of drink and drugs."

"Oh for God's sake Lila! I've had enough of this … do you know what Patrick, you take charge of this one, I've had enough of her. Uh – did you both want a cup of tea or anything?"

"No thank you Mrs Turner."

"Right – love?"

"Please, thanks." Watching his wife walk through into the kitchen, Patrick turned despairingly to look at Lila.

"Gentlemen … I'm sorry. I imagine that Dr Morgan was trying to avoid her father finding her in this state. He's very high up in certain surgical circles."

"I see … would you like us to have him contact Dr Turner? To have Lila collected."

"Uh … no, no, it's fine. We'll look after her … or I will, I'm not sure my wife will be so accommodating. Will there be any repercussions for Lila, I mean in terms of a criminal record or anything?"

"No no, she'll be fine – although even if she isn't your daughter, I'd keep an eye on her you know – she was in a real mess tonight."

"Right … thanks, both of you … and I'm sorry, for you both having your time wasted."

"Good morning."

"What?"

"I said good morning Lila, how's your head?"

"Terrible … Shelagh? Where am I?"

"At mine and Patricks. You were brought round by the police at gone three last night."

"Oh God."

"You told them you were Patrick's daughter, I suppose you're young enough to be."

"So are you."

"You're just a kid Lila, you got brought here because you were scared of your Dad seeing you in such a state … which to be honest I don't blame you for – Christ knows what they spiked your drink with but -"

"- What?"

"That's what you told the police … that your drink had been spiked."

"Oh yeah, and they believed me? I must be a better actress than I thought … well I had to give them a reason why my pupils were like plates!"

"You were on drugs?" Came a voice from the doorway, both women turned quickly to see Patrick opening the door with his foot, his hair rumpled and an old t-shirt over his pyjama bottoms,

"Patrick! I didn't see you there … Gosh – it's odd seeing you not in a suit!"

"I'm going to pop the kettle on." whispered Shelagh, backing out of the room, glancing between the pair. She laid a hand on Patrick's shoulder as she passed and shot him a look that tried to say. Don't kill her in my living room.

"So, that's the truth is it?"

"Patrick … it's just a bit of this and that … you were the same when you were my age!"

"NO! No Lila I bloody well was not! At your age I had one degree under my belt, a medical degree in process and a wife! So no, no I wasn't rolling around London off my face on Christ knows what … Jesus Lila what are you thinking?!"

"I … is this going to go any further?"

"In what way? If you mean will I be informing Daddy, then no, this is your mess and problem and you can go and deal with whatever issues this brings up. If you mean will you being reported for taking recreational drugs to the BMC, then yes. You know, I know of some excellent doctors, who once in a while take a line, or smoke a spliff – but they get up the next morning and the next and carry on with work as normal – making sure they're on top form … you however are a substandard doctor. In fact – substandard is a compliment to your medicine! You are piss-poor, your practical skills are all over the shop, you can't take a history … you're rude, to everyone! To patients, to the staff, to my wife!"

"Patrick -"

"No – Lila, no. You're getting reported … because god help your patients in the future! When I sign you off as an F1, I am saying that I believe that you are a safe, competent and knowledgeable doctor … and to be honest, from the day I first met you I didn't think that I could certify any of that. It's time to say goodbye Lila. Oh and before you go – make sure you say thank you to Shealgh, she cleaned up your vomit last night after you decided to redecorate our living room."