This Was a Man (The Clifton Chronicles 7)

“Now, I expect, Sir Harry, you may well have some questions of your own.”

“How long will the operation take, and how quickly will I recover?”

“The operation usually takes three to four hours, after which you will experience a fairly unpleasant fortnight, but the average patient is pretty well back to normal after three weeks at most. You will be left with little more than half a dozen small scars on your stomach that will quickly fade, and I would expect you to be back at your desk writing within a month.”

“That’s reassuring,” said Harry. He hesitated before asking tentatively, “How many times have you performed this particular operation?”

“Over a thousand, so I think I’ve got the hang of it by now,” said Kirby. “How many books have you written?”

“Touché,” said Harry, standing up to shake hands with the surgeon. “Thank you. I look forward to seeing you again in January.”

“No one looks forward to seeing me again,” said Kirby. “But in your case, I consider it a privilege to have been chosen as your surgeon. I may not have read any of your books, but I had just started my first job as a registrar at UCH when you made your speech to the Nobel Prize Committee in Stockholm on behalf of Anatoly Babakov.” He removed a pen from an inside pocket, held it in the air, and said, “The pen is mightier than the sword.”

“I’m both flattered and appalled in equal measure,” said Harry.

“Appalled?” said Kirby, a look of surprise on his face.

“Flattered that you remember my speech, but appalled that you were a young registrar at the time. Am I that old?”

“Certainly not,” said Kirby. “And when I’m finished with you, you’ll be good for another twenty years.”

* * *

“What do you think?” whispered Emma.

“I can’t pretend it would have been my first choice as Jessie’s entry for the RA School’s gold medal,” admitted Richard.

“Nor mine. And to think she could have entered one of her traditional portraits, which would surely have given her a chance of winning.”

“But it is a portrait, Mama,” said Sebastian.

“Seb, it’s a giant condom,” whispered Emma.

“It is indeed, but you have to look more closely to see its real significance.”

“Yes, I must confess I’ve missed its real significance,” said Emma. “Perhaps you’d be kind enough to explain it to me.”

“It’s Jessie’s comment on mankind,” said Samantha, coming to Seb’s rescue. “Inside the condom is a portrait of modern man.”

“But that’s a—”

“Yes,” said Harry, unable to resist any longer. “It’s an erect penis in the place of the man’s brain.”

“And his ears,” said Emma.

“Well done, Mama, I’m glad you worked that one out.”

“But look more closely at the eyes,” said Samantha, “and you’ll see two images of naked women.”

“Yes, I can see them, but why is the man’s tongue poking out?”

“I can’t imagine, Mother,” said Seb.

“But at three thousand pounds,” continued Emma, still unconvinced, “will anyone buy it?”

“I intend to,” said Seb.

“That’s very loyal of you, my darling, but where on earth will you hang it?”