Gucci Gucci Coo

Chapter 1 Ruby Silverman shuffled down the gynecologist's table and maneuvered her feet into the stirrups. As she gazed steadfastly at the ceiling and listened for the tart snap of the doctor's rubber gloves, she tried to take her mind off what was happening by returning to the game she had been playing in her headseeing how many words she could find inspeculum. So far she had sixcup, mule, plum, clue, lumps and slump. Her seventh, eulum, wasn't a real word, of course, but she'd decided to allow it, since it sounded to her like some obscure body part prone to enlargement or inflammation. "Any tenderness here?" the doctor asked crisply, pressing down on one side of her abdomen. He had yet to reach the internal part of the examination, but it could be no more than seconds away. "No. Nothing." Pus! That made seven. The doctor, whose name she'd forgotten, although she knew it was hyphenated, was the archetypal English hospital consultant: late fifties, unkempt eyebrows in urgent need of a trim, expensive but conservative gray suit, ditto the tie, precious little by way of bedside manner. Usually Ruby placed great value in a doctor's bedside manner, but on this occasion, the lack of it didn't bother her. In fact she saw it as a bonus. The idea of a nonboyfriend maneven one who was a gynecologisthaving access to all areas of her body was bad enough; one who was overly charmingor, God forbid, young and good-lookingwould have had her making a bolt for the door. Because of her reservations about male gynecologists, the doctor she usually saw for her annual nether region checkup was a woman. Dr. Jane Anderson was a forty-something, easy-to-talk-to, mothering soul with untameable hair and a comforting lack of fashion sense. Ruby wouldn't go so far as to say she enjoyed their encounters, but she always felt reasonably comfortable with Dr. Jane. Today, though, she was off sick and Dr. Double Barrel was filling in for her. "Periods regular?" It was more of a command than a question. "Yes." "Urination?" "Fine." "Bowels moving?" She thought about trying to lighten the atmosphere by replying: "Yes, to East Grinstead actually." She decided against it, as Double Barrel didn't appear to be overendowed in the humor department. Instead she just nodded. "Any STDs in the last year?" "What? No. Absolutely not." As Double-Barrel carried on prodding and pushing, Ruby abandoned her speculum word game for a minute to consider how odd it was that despite St. Luke's being the trendiest, most progressive private maternity hospital and well-woman clinic in London, its male doctorsor at least this onewere as distant and aloof as in any ordinary hospital. She couldn't imagine chatting away to DB the way she did to Dr. Jane. On the other hand, maybe male gynecologists kept their distance on purpose because they were aware that affability might be misinterpreted. Whether Double Barrel was the exception or the rule, his manner wasn't stopping women flocking to St. Luke's in Holland Park for all their ob-gyn needs. Since it opened five years ago, it was forever being extolled in the broadsheets and upmarket glossies as the "Bentley of birth centers." The upshot was that the number of patients on the hospital's books was growing almost daily. The maternity unit in particular was hugely popular. Women whMargolis, Sue is the author of 'Gucci Gucci Coo', published 2006 under ISBN 9780385338998 and ISBN 0385338996.