by Nick Edmunds

RONNIE THAIN started his car and paused, switching off again and cursing himself. By the time he’d gone back to recheck he’d locked the surgery, the clock in his car read 6.40 pm. Turning out of the tiny car park, a flash across the rear-view mirror told him he’d left the light on in his room again. Another row from the practice manager tomorrow, he thought.

Sheila’s anger was still dinging his ears. Once a month! What’s wrong with that? Every year I have to collect enough education points to prove I’m up to date. She knows that. Yes, it’s December, and yes, Emily has parties and sleepovers, and yes, she’s had all day teaching Tillydrone’s teenagers. But it’s still only once a month.

As he pulled into the Atholl Hotel carpark, another thought struck home. Oh shit! I’ll have to tell her I need to top up Mrs Dinnie’s morphine on the way to work tomorrow. If she’s still alive, that is. Sheila’s going to have to take Ross to nursery again.

Taking his jacket off, he made his excuses for being last to arrive.

“Silly bugger! You shouldn’t have phoned her!” Graham Barrett said, lifting his pint as the others smiled and nodded in agreement. Ronnie knew fine well most of them would also have phoned home before the meeting.

“Ach, you’re aye late anyway, Ronnie. That’s why we wait. C’mon get a drink before the lecture starts.”

“What can I get you, gents?” Kenny, the barman, asked.

“Another pint for me, Mr Grieve, and the wee laddie’ll hae his usual.”

“How come you always get away early, Gullet?” Ronnie asked Graham as he nodded his thanks to Kenny Grieve and turned away with his cola.

Ronnie smiled, reflecting on how his close friend and medical school classmate had always landed butter side up