What do you meanill? How bad is he? gasped the mother-in-law.
Just sleeping. Its nothing serious, a slight fever, thats allwinters coming.
Winter? This isnt just winter! Its that job of yoursyoure bringing all sorts of germs home from that till! How many times do I have to tell youfind another job!
Emily was asleep when a loud noise startled hersomeone had yanked the front door open! She rubbed her eyes and checked the clockbarely eight in the morning!
Oliver, love, is that you? she called out, straining to hear movement in the flat.
No answer. Just the sound of someone opening the bathroom door then silence.
Emily threw on her dressing gown and dashed barefoot to the bathroom.
She pushed the door openand froze.
There stood Oliver, staring into the mirror, lips stretched wide, admiring his own tongue.
Em, is it true your tongue goes white when youre poorly? he asked.
Are you poorly? she mumbled, still half-asleep.
Think so, he muttered, pressing a hand to his forehead. Need the thermometer. Where is it? I should lie down. They even sent me home from work. Might need to call the doctor.
Emily fetched the thermometer. Sure enough99°F. Typical. Winter rolls in, and Olivers down with something. The GP came an hour later, signed him off work.
She rang her mum.
Could you pick up little Alfie from nursery? Cant bring him homeOlivers ill.
Mum was thrilledshe doted on her grandson, living alone as she did, and Alfie was her joy.
Whats wrong with Oliver? Nothing serious?
No, just a bug. GP came, gave him a sick note, some medshell rest up.
And how are *you*? Mum fretted.
Im fine! Just working the late shift. Asked Olivers mum to check on him tonight. Shops packed evenings, cant even call him.
What do you meanill? How is he? the mother-in-law gasped.
Asleep. Slight fever, nothing major. Just winter settling in.
Winter? Its *your* job! Youre dragging all sorts home from that till! Ive told you a thousand timesget a different job!
Margaret, *Im* not ill! You said yourself Oliver was always poorly as a kid. Frosts kicking inits got nothing to do with me!
Emily cut the call short. Margaret loved making mountains out of molehills, and no doubt shed be barging in within the hour. Fine. Let her fuss. Emily had a shift to get to.
Sure enough, Margaret stormed in with armfuls of herbal remedies, clucking about how they couldnt hurt. Whatever. She gasped in horror when she saw Olivers damp t-shirt.
Hes lying here *soaked*hell catch his death! How could you let this happen?
Margaret, he was *asleep*. What was I supposed to do?
Emily left for work. A few hours in, she felt weak. Oh nonot her too. But she couldnt let on, had to power through the shift. By evening, her fever was worse than Olivers. She wanted to complain, but he was too wrapped up in himself.
Chills, aches. Mum made me raspberry tea with honeyhelped a bit, but now Im rough again. What should I take?
Dunno. Im not feeling great either
Well, take something then, Oliver said, still inspecting his tongue in the mirror. Still white. Unbelievable.
Right. No complaining. Pop paracetamol quietly, keep working. The mortgage wasnt going to pay itself.
All week, Oliver wallowed like the worlds most pitiful maneven when the thermometer read a perfect 98.6°F, he *insisted* he was at deaths door.
Margaret kept turning up with tonics and tinctures. The last thing Emily wanted was to face her at home, looking as rough as she felt.
Oliver noticed nothinghe was either glued to the telly or his phone. Coming home, Emily checked her temperatureonly by day four was it normal.
She was worn out, but shed managed. Oliver, though? Laid up *much* longer. Meals in bed, constant temperature checks, drinks fetched.
Margaret claimed hed been sickly as a child, but this was his first cold in five years of marriageand it was unbearable!
Even a mild sniffle had him groaning like it was the flu.
By next week, he was cleared to work. Alfie came home. Tomorrow, back to the office.
Over evening tea, Oliver sighed.
When I was a kid, colds were easier. This one nearly did me inyouve no idea!
What was so awful? It was just a cold.
Easy for *you* to say! Try being *me* for once.
Oh, I *was*, Emily said flatly. I had it too. You just didnt notice.
Oliver squinted, then grinned like hed caught her out.
Youre joking, right? Alright, off to bed.
Emily sighed. Of course he hadnt noticed.
Oh well.
Like the joke goesa woman whos given birth can only *imagine* what a man goes through with a 99°F fever
