“You sound dreadful, Lucy,” David said into the phone.
“I know. Damn stupid cold. I’ve got a nose like a cherry tomato. And it’s sore.”
He had to admit the poor girl sounded ill. Far too ill, and contagious, for him to offer to go round and rub her front. But he was her best friend. The least he could do was offer to post Day Nurse through her letter box.
“Do you want anything from the chemist?”
“No. I’m drugged up to the eyeballs already. A bloody con, though. I don’t feel any better.” She coughed and spluttered, and David was tempted to wipe the screen of his phone.
“But I need a favour. I’m supposed to play tennis this afternoon. Can you cover for me?”
“Cover what for you? You’re not going to play are you?”
“Course not. I’m bloody dying here. I need you to take my place.” On hearing a very deep sigh on the other end of the phone, Lucy added, “It’s only doubles.”
“But I haven’t played for about six weeks.”Continue reading “The Dating Game – Part 10 – Mixed Doubles.”