“Oh?” Harold looked up to see the doctor and the female officer leaving the house. He made his way toward them, Sefskapoi in tow. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, thank you. I've examined Mrs Fenshaw and found she isn't in need on medical assistance, after all, though perhaps an introduction to the concept of moderation might be in order.”
“Moderation?” Harold frowned. “I don't think I understand.”
Sefskapoi gave him a nudge. “He means your friend's aunt was drunk.”
“Indeed.” The doctor scowled. “This is why the National Health Service is in such desperate need. That's an hour of my time wasted when I could have been attending to other patients in genuine need.”
“Yes, I can understand your frustration.” Harold patted him on the shoulder.
“Actually, I have a business proposition that could help you achieve that very thing.” Sefskapoi folded an arm around the doctor's shoulders. “I know you're a busy man, so perhaps I could walk you to your car?”
“I... well, I suppose so.” The doctor stared at the hand on his shoulder for a second, frowning.
“Excellent.” Harold looked at the two police officers. So... Can I go in?”
“Nothing to do with us any more, sir.” The male officer took the opportunity for one last glare as they perambulated toward their car.