Taming the Alien

Felicitations

Falls held her breath as the Doctor began to speak. ‘Well, Miz … or Miss — I never know the PC term.’ And he looked at her. The expression of the misunderstood male run ragged by women’s demands.

She wanted to shout, ‘Get on with it you moron,’ but said tightly, ‘Miz is fine.’

‘All right, Miz … And he looked at his notes.

She supplied: ‘Falls.’

‘Quite so. Well, Miz Falls, you are pregnant. Three months, in fact.’

She was speechless. Now that it was confirmed she felt a burst of happiness and finally said, ‘Good!’

If the doctor was expecting this response, he hid it well. ‘Ah … when there’s, ahm … no Mr Falls, one isn’t always … pleased.’

‘I’m delighted.’

‘So I see. Of course, there are alternatives, once the initial euphoria has abated, one might wish for … other options.’

She wanted to smack him in the mouth but said, ‘I’m keeping my baby. I am not euphoric, I am, as I said, delighted.’

He waved his hand dismissively like he’d heard this nonsense a hundred times, and said, ‘My secretary will advise you of all the details. Good day Miz Falls.’ As she was leaving, he said, ‘I suppose one ought to say felicitations!’

‘You what?’

‘It’s French for congratulations.’

‘Oh, I know what it means, doctor, but I doubt that you do … in any language.’

The secretary typed out all the data and as she handed it over, said, ‘Pay no heed to him, he’s a toss-pot.’

‘Aren’t they all?’