Castles in Spain

I would like to offer my sincere thanks for the excellent and generous (anonymous, but you know who you are!) editorial assistance that I received.

Any grammatical errors, typos and other mistakes are my responsibility and my responsibility alone.

Please, gentle reader, if you want a 100% BTB story, this might not be your kind of thing. So please find a story more to your tastes.

Please note all names in this story have no connection to any persons living or deceased.

And thank you to the team at Literotica for their help and support.

Chapter 1

Life for Myra had settled into a routine. She worked her shift at the hospital from 8am until 4pm, then she sat with Stan for a couple of hours before she went home, showered, ate, did her housework before she retired for the night at 11pm or so. Sometimes she read, sometimes she didn't.

Her relationship with Doctor Raff Bonchance had, unsurprisingly, ceased as suddenly as it had started. Perhaps to save face, they had agreed to at least cool their relationship at least until Stan had made a full return to health.

Raff had told her how sorry he was that her husband had been injured and he wished him a good recovery.

As Raff had given her a chaste kiss on her cheek before he walked away from her, Myra recalled what her friend Wanda had said to her on that dreadful morning when she had found out that her Stan had been injured so badly:

"He's in a shitty way, Myra. An induced coma to minimise the problems caused by his brain swelling. They had to operate too, took a chunk of his skull away due to pressure on the brain. Might recover, might not. Too early to say."

Wanda had looked at Myra. "Anyway, I thought I was supposed to be your best friend? How come you kept your affair with Doctor Cock a secret from me?"

Myra had some decency. She cast her eyes downward, unable to look Wanda in the eye. She spoke, hesitantly. "I just couldn't. I know you like Stan and I thought telling you about their affair would be a bit of a strain on your friendship with him and with me."

So there was even a chance that Stan might die or might need special nursing throughout the rest of his life.

At this stage in her musings, Raff had reached the door of the breakroom. He heard Myra start to cry and he stumbled at the sound of her sobs. But he didn't return to her. He couldn't. He just couldn't. He continued to walk away, stiffly, unshed tears clouding his own vision as he quietly shut the door behind him.

He shook his head. He wondered why he was crying. Was he cracking up? What was wrong with him? He felt angry with himself.

Chapter 2

There he was again, damn it! Wanda had seen Dr Cock skulking round the ITU. Now what in the hell did he need in the ITU? Oh, no! Surely not! Did he intend to finish off Stan, his love rival for Myra?

Wanda shivered at the thought. But it would explain why he kept sneaking into the ITU in such a furtive and secretive way.

She realised that she could put it off no longer. She would now have to report Dr Cock. She asked her friend Sally, the secretary to Doctor Carter, the head of medical services at Ploughlake General Hospital, to arrange an emergency appointment for her with Doctor Carter.

Luckily, he was free that afternoon. Just after lunch (industrial grade catering at its finest) she knocked on Doctor Carter's door and stepped in to his office. "This should be interesting," she thought, as she shut the door behind her.

"Hello, Wanda!" said Doctor Carter, cheerily. He like Wanda Voss. He liked her no-nonsense attitude and he thought her pretty and vivacious. But just not enough to risk his marriage, so he'd never even seriously thought of propositioning her. "Please, take a seat."

He looked at the expression on her face. He realised, intuitively, that he wasn't going to like whatever she had to tell him. But he knew it was something he needed to hear.

"What's wrong, Wanda?"

She shook herself, slightly, before replying. "It's about Doctor Bonchance."

"What about Doctor Bonchance?" said Doctor Carter, evenly. He thought he knew. God, that man was nothing but a liability!

"Has he been intimate with a student nurse, again?"

Wanda shook her head. "No. Worse. He's having an affair with Myra Broxon."

Doctor Carter was shocked. Really, deeply, shocked. He liked and admired Myra and liked her husband Stan, who he had met at a number of fund raising events at the hospital. So this news was a double blow to him.

"Oh, no! Not Doctor Utter-Cock and Myra? That's shocked me. I thought Myra was far too sensible and decent a person to do that across Stan."

Wanda shrugged her shoulders. "Yes, well, so did I. But you never can tell. But that's not the only problem. You might know or not, but as I have been a friend of Myra and Stan for, oh, for ever, I often visit Stan when I can in the ITU, I chat to him, hold his hand, trying to help him 'ground' as it were.

"But, of late, Doctor Utter-Cock has been hanging around the ITU. And I was wondering why he'd do that?"

"Oh, fuck!" muttered Doctor Carter. "You don't think he'd harm Stan, do you?"

"I honestly don't know," replied Wanda, shaking her head slightly. "But if he'd screw his wife and take her on a bloody holiday to Spain, God knows what else he'd do."

"Thank you for telling me, Wanda. We can't have that idiot wandering round ITU when the comatose husband of his latest lover is in there, potentially at his mercy. Don't worry, Wanda! I'll make sure this is dealt with!"

Wanda bid her farewell, happy in the knowledge that Doctor Carter would sort out the problem.

Meanwhile, Doctor Carter was not feeling exactly sanguine about the situation, but he knew he'd have to take action and that it would have to be quick and decisive.

He picked up the phone on his desk and dialled the number of his secretary. "Sally, please arrange a meeting with myself and Doctor Bonchance? Yes. As soon as possible, this afternoon. Thank you."

Even the very act of arranging the meeting made Doctor Carter feel better, as if he'd done something positive and important.

He had. But not even he could realise the significance of what he'd done.

Chapter 3

Stan Broxon had started to exist again.

Following the gradual cessation of the drugs designed to induce a medical coma, he awoke as if he was waking up just like any other morning.

Until he realised that this was not like just any other morning. For today, he thought to himself, was the first day of the rest of his non-life. His life sans Myra, he mused.

Stan was properly awake and his surgeon was explaining things to him. "Stan, we operated on you, we had to cut a small segment of your skull away to relieve the pressure on your brain. We have replaced that with a tiny segment of titanium.

"We'll give you a series of tests which will help us to determine what, if any, damage has been caused and where it has occurred. Do you have any questions for me?"

"Yes, Doctor Davis. Is that nice Harold Wilson still prime minister?"

The expression on the Doctors' face was a classic. He did a double take, before gasping out: "Harold Wilson? But..." then he saw the look on Stan's face and he creased up, laughing. "Stan! You old bugger! You really had me going for a couple of seconds!"

"Yeah, that's me," said Stan "I'm a regular comedian. Look, Doctor Davis, can you tell me how things will be for me?"

"Stan, I am not able to say with any degree of certainty, as yet. We'll need to run those tests on you. Obviously from just chatting to you, it seems your mental acuity and your speech haven't been impacted to any obvious or significant degree. And your sense of humour's still there. Which may or may not be a bonus!

"But as I said, we will need to run a series of tests to find out what you can and can't do. There's a slight chance that nothing has been changed, that you could be able to function pretty much as before, but given the severity of your injuries I have to say that such an outcome would be pretty much miraculous."

Stan suddenly remembered something. "The other man in the accident, what about him?"

"He was dead of a massive heart attack even before his car ran into yours.

"Turns out the poor chap shouldn't even have been at the wheel of his car, but from what we heard from the police, his line manager had made him drive a company car to run some damn fool errand, even though he knew his licence had been suspended due to his heart condition. He was booked in to Ploughlake General for a heart bypass operation the next week, as it happens."

"Shit!" said Stan. "I imagine his widow will have a major case against his employer?"

"You'd expect so. Cajoling him to drive a company vehicle whilst he was medically unfit to do so and when he didn't have a licence was the behaviour of a real fuckwit. I dare say your solicitor might like to take action against his employer, too?"

Stan shrugged. "Maybe so."

Doctor Davis looked at Stan for several seconds before speaking again. "Stan, I hear a little rumour that you and Myra have had a falling out?"

Stan said nothing.

"Just give her a chance to work things out, OK? Anyhow, I have ward rounds so I'll get out of your way and leave you to it. My assistant will be in later to get the assessment process started."

Chapter 4

Dr Rafael Bonchance was in his early 30s, handsome, arrogant and somewhat haughty. As he walked into Doctor Carter's office, Doctor Carter found himself feeling furious with Doctor Bonchance, though ever the professional, he hid his feelings reasonably well.

"Sit down, Raff."

He did so. He gave Doctor Carter a look that, if it was not actually a full on sneer, was certainly a close cousin on its mother's side.

"Raff, why are you hanging round ITU? Is it so you can get a chance to finish off your rival for your wife's lover, her husband, Stan Broxon?"

Doctor Carter was shocked to the core by Raff's reaction. Almost instantly the arrogant, condescending sneer vanished as Raff crumbled before his eyes. Raff's head dropped down into his hands and he began sobbing, harshly and bitterly.

"Shit!" thought Doctor Carter. "Now what the fuck is happening?"

In faltering tones in between sobs, Raff denied that he had plans to kill Stan. "I know it doesn't sound likely, but I wanted to see Stan, to make sure he is alright, that he will recover. If I could help, I would, but I'm only a general surgeon, not a brain specialist."

Rather than his normal faux upper-class accent his voice had taken on a soft Dublin lilt.

"I also want to apologise to him. I never wanted him to be hurt, I didn't want to break up his marriage."

Bonchance began sobbing again and said: "I'll leave the hospital, of course. Just give me a good reference and I'll be gone as soon as I can arrange it."

Doctor Carter suddenly saw everything with crystal clarity. "This isn't the first time you have been found out in a workplace affair, is it?"

Bonchance nodded, now sniffling. Doctor Carter went on: "And each time they've swept it under the carpet, given you a good reference just to get rid of you? I wondered why such a brilliant general surgeon as you was only in a relatively junior role. Well, this shit stops here! I am not going to get rid of you. I am going to help you get sorted out."

He picked the phone up and dialled an extension from memory. "Hi. Bruce? It's me, Paul. Look, I'm in a bit of a bind. I know it's late but I need you to see a member of staff for me this afternoon, if you can. It is quite urgent. I'll bring him to your office myself. Straight away? Oh, that's splendid."

Two hours later Doctor Bruce Porter knocked on the door of Doctor Carter's office and walked in. He looked tired.

"Bloody Hell, Bruce!" Said Doctor Carter. "You look frazzled! How did the session go?"

Doctor Porter shook his head and sat down. "You'll not believe it. Raff Bonchance is mentally ill, but the good news is, I am pretty sure that I can help him."

Doctor Carter took a bottle of single malt Scotch from a drawer in his desk, pulled out a couple of whisky tumblers and poured the amber liquid into them. He placed the glasses on the desk.

"How did it go?" he asked.

"Very well indeed. In my experience the first session is exploratory and doesn't often cover any details. But in Raff's case, he was ready to go. He really spilt his guts. Luckily I was recording our session, because I couldn't have taken notes. Too much, too fast! It burst out like a ripe staph cyst. "

He took a good slug of the Scotch, groaned and said: "Thanks. God, I needed that!"

"Basically, he has to have affairs. Preferably with married women. But not for the usual reasons of such a mental disorder.

"This all dates back to his childhood and to his late teens, in his native Ireland. His mother is a barrister and his father was in the Irish government's Corps Diplomatique.

"His father died in a car crash when Raff was ten years old and his mother never remarried, though she had some discrete liaisons, from what Raff told me.

"With her husband's life insurance payout and his pension (he died whilst he was working) and her income (she is qualified to practice law in both Ireland and in Britain) they lived a very comfortable life.

"The problems began when Raff had turned 18 years of age. His mother often had female friends round, they'd drink wine and spirits and eventually during one of these drinking parties a married friend drunkenly admitted to Raff's mother that she fancied Raff and had a crush on him.

"Rather than punching her friend's nose, she decided to encourage her to seduce her son. And that's what happened.

"Apparently, despite having been a virgin up until then, so being utterly inexperienced in the ways of sex, he must have had some pretty awesome natural talent as a lover because the friend mentioned it to the other women in the group and so from assignations with one married woman, he began to service the needs of a whole group of married women."

Doctor Carter interjected: "Did his mother know? Was she aware of what was happening?"

Doctor Porter took another drink before he continued: "Yes, oh, yes, most definitely! In fact, she became his manager, looking after his appointment book, as it were.

"She was passing him round her friends as if he was a damned party favour. And whilst no money ever changed hands, it was, so Raff noticed, obvious that so-called networking was done based on his efforts."

"Oh." Said Doctor Carter. "That's... just so bloody wrong! Even though at eighteen he was well above the legal age of consent! He was her own child, for goodness sake!"

Doctor Porter added: "And there's worse. It became clear to Raff that whilst blackmail was never mentioned openly, it was obvious that the married women concerned were beholden to his mother. After all, what would happen should their husband become aware of their acts of infidelity?"

"Like that, huh? His mother was one sick bitch! But how did we get from there to here?"

"Raff had always had an interest in medicine. His grandfather had been senior surgeon at a hospital way over in the west of Ireland, so whilst all this was going on, Raff studied pre-med at the Dublin School of Medicine. He passed the course but during the summer recess before he was able to go on to take up his medical studies, he had a nervous breakdown.

"He was sent to a private clinic in Dublin and spent almost a year there before he was declared well enough to leave.

"His breakdown and his subsequent treatment had, it seemed, given him a general amnesia about what had happened to him, but he knew he had to get away from his mother so he decided to leave Ireland for the UK, where he would live with a maiden aunt, an older sister of his father, who had been a nun for several years before she'd given it up to take up a job as a secretary to a doctor in Birmingham's Royal General Hospital which, as you'll be aware, is a teaching hospital.

"So she managed to secure him a place as a student, there. With his one year pre-med that wasn't so difficult.

"He did well in his studies and qualified as an MD and then went on to gain extra training as a surgeon.

"He got married and he and his wife had two children. But sadly although he had no conscious memory of his mother working, in effect, as his pimp and that he had been having affairs with married women, Raff still had a need to have affairs. Sometimes with single women, but more usually with married women like Myra Broxon.

"He has lost several good jobs at NHS and private hospitals in the UK because he was found out for having affairs. But rather than dealing with the issue, they gave him a sterling reference and sent him on his merry, adulterous way."

Doctor Carter snorted. "Yes! To cause more havoc at other hospitals! But please tell me, what brought about his change of heart?"

"It was the accident that Stan Broxon was involved in. It caused something of a short circuit in his mind. Apparently his father died in a similar accident whilst he was attached to the Irish Consular office in New York.

"He had two sides to his persona, the loving, caring husband and father and Raff Bonchance, the Lothario of the NHS. But they have both crashed together and he couldn't carry on as he had done, because now he knows what he was doing was, as he put it to me: 'so fecking bad.'

"I feel sorry for him, for what his mother did to him. She ruined his life. What makes it worse was the utter hypocrisy of the woman, what with her public utterances!"

Doctor Carter interjected: "Sounds like you have heard of Mrs Bonchance, but I haven't."

Doctor Porter finished his glass of Scotch and waited whilst he was given a refill.

"She works under her maiden name. She is better known as Deirdre Ghránna, BL."

"Bloody, fucking hell!" Shouted out Doctor Carter. "Deirdre Ghránna? Isn't she the Irish Barrister who is the chairwoman of the Irish League to Prevent the Exploitation of Minors?"

"Yes. The very same."

"The hypocritical bitch! But as he was well over the age of consent, she'll get away with it!"

"Probably. Though if the Irish DPP were to go with the blackmail allegations, she might be in for an unpleasant shock."

"Will you be able to help Raff?"

"Yes, undoubtedly. Though my department will have to work with his poor wife, too. She's clueless as to his double life, or so Raff assures me."

Chapter 5

Meanwhile Stan Broxon had been released from the hospital's rehab unit and he was now an outpatient receiving physiotherapy to help correct a problem with his left side which was considerably weaker than his right.

He and Myra were still living together, but as roommates, rather than husband and wife, he used the spare bedroom, she in the master bedroom. However, after several weeks of this, feeling like he was walking on eggshells and still unable to talk properly with his wife, he decided to rent a small flat in the centre of town whilst he was still receiving outpatient's treatment.

Within a relatively short time the only noticeable effect on Stan was that the toes on his left foot were slightly numb.

Meanwhile, Raff confessed to his wife and she tearfully took their two children out of London to stay with her mother in the Cotswolds.

Three weeks later, she had returned home and forgave her errant husband. She said: "Raff, it's no wonder you would never allow your mother to visit our children. I wondered why and now I know. Of course not even you knew at the time. But I'd like to thank you for saving our children from your evil mother."

Both Raff and his wife were relieved when the Irish DPP had Mrs Deirdre Ghránna charged with several counts of blackmail. Fortunately as she decided to enter a guilty plea, there was to be no trial. She was given a jail sentence of five years and a fine of €1,500.