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** NOVEMBER 28TH ** |
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*** HAMPTON RESIDENCE - 7:30 PM *** |
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| Polly watches as Ian runs into his mates' house, before looking back at Greg. | |
| Polly Page: | Where are we going? |
| Greg Matthews: | We need to see the doctor, Polly. I want him to look at some of your injuries and make sure that you haven't been permanently damaged. |
| He drives off and they travel in silence for a while. Greg and Polly reach the surgery and walk inside, being shown into a badly-lit office. The doctor sitting in the office nods at them and they take a seat in front of him. | |
| Greg Matthews: | Good to see you Larry. |
| Greg reaches across and shakes the doctor's hand. | |
| Doctor Grant: | You too, Greg. I was somewhat surprised to hear from you. This is Polly, I take it? |
| Polly nods slowly. | |
| Polly Page: | I'm Polly. |
| Larry pats the child lightly on the head. | |
| Doctor Grant: | Gorgeous. Now what exactly did you need to see me about Greg? |
| Greg Matthews: | I want you to take a look at Polly. She's been through the wars. |
| Larry nods lightly, stands and heads across the room, gesturing to an examination table. | |
| Doctor Grant: | Jump up here, sweetie and we'll see what we can do, okay? |
| Larry turns back to Greg. | |
| Doctor Grant: | What happened? |
| Polly does as the doctor asks. | |
| Greg Matthews: | Well I left her alone with a chancer. Don Beech. You ever heard of him? |
| Doctor Grant: | Rings a bell. Think some of the other little ones have had problems with him. Tends to be on the violent side. |
| Polly nods her head slowly. | |
| Polly Page: | I told him that he wath hurting me but he wouldn't thtop! |
| Doctor Grant: | Yeah, he's a nasty one, our Don. But don't worry cutie, we'll fix you up. |
| Polly Page: | Fank you. |
| Polly turns her grateful blue eyes upwards towards the doctor. | |
| Greg Matthews: | Can you also do an internal examination, doc? I want to make sure that she's okay. |
| Larry slips on some surgical gloves and opens up an examination kit. | |
| Doctor Grant: | Sure. Polly, first off, show me where you're hurt. |
| Polly points to her abdomen and to the sides of her chest. | |
| Polly Page: | I feel weally thore all over. |
| Larry nods sympathetically. | |
| Doctor Grant: | Take your shirt and jumper off and I'll have a look, okay? |
| Polly hesitates then slowly slides her jumper and shirt off. Larry frowns, reaching for a sterilised swap and disinfectant. | |
| Doctor Grant: | That musta really hurt sweetie. Did he bite you? |
| Polly nods her head slowly. Larry carefully applies the disinfectant to the bite marks and scratches on Polly's chest and upper arms. | |
| Doctor Grant: | Sorry if it stings a bit. |
| Polly Page: | That'th okay. |
| Polly screws up her face as the sponge moves across her little body. The doctor checks her back and stomach, before instructing her to put her shirt back on. | |
| Doctor Grant: | Okay, that's all fixed. But if it gets really sore or red I want you to tell Greg and he'll bring you back to see me, okay? |
| Polly Page: | Okay. I'm not hurt too badly am I? |
| Doctor Grant: | No, it's okay. You just have to make sure that it doesn't get infected. Now, lie back against this pillow and put your legs into the special stirrups, okay? So I can make sure he didn't hurt you anywhere else. |
| Polly nods bravely and places her legs in the metal stirrups. She closes her eyes and wriggles further down the table to get more comfortable. | |
| Doctor Grant: | Good girl. |
| Larry winks at Greg. | |
| Doctor Grant: | She's a pro, this one. |
| Larry wheels his stool around to the base of the table and begins the exam. Polly flinches as the doctor's hands enter her. | |
| Doctor Grant: | Sorry, the gloves tend to make it hurt more. Or so I'm told. |
| Polly nods her head slowly. Larry reaches for the speculum, inserting it slowly. | |
| Doctor Grant: | Just hold very still, Polly. You don't want to get hurt anymore, do you? |
| Polly shakes her head. | |
| Polly Page: | Pwease don't hurt me. I'm weally thore down there. |
| Larry grimaces slightly. | |
| Doctor Grant: | I can see that, sweetie, I just need to see how bad it is, okay? |
| Polly Page: | Okay. Do you have to put your fingers down there, though? |
| Larry continues the examination, getting somewhat frustrated by Polly's childishness. | |
| Doctor Grant: | Look, you want me to fix you, don't you? Just stop complaining. |
| Polly Page: | I'm thorry, |
| Polly spreads her legs wider and grits her teeth as the doctor's fingers start to probe inside her. | |
| Doctor Grant: | That's better. Okay, now this'll hurt, but you have to keep very still, okay? |
| Polly Page: | I'm keeping thtill. Just get it over with, will ya? |
| Polly looks at the doctor angrily. Larry reaches for the anti-bacterial gel, applying it to the end of the speculum and slowly inserting it. Polly grits her teeth tightly but shows no other signs of pain. Larry looks up at Greg as he works. | |
| Doctor Grant: | You don't insist on rubbers I take it? I'd start. |
| Greg Matthews: | Leave that side of things to me. You're not just doing this bit just to have some fun are ya? |
| Greg watches as the speculum goes deep inside Polly's opening and starts to scrape away inside her. | |
| Doctor Grant: | Look, you're the one who came to see me, so take my advice. Otherwise, she's going to contract something and your nice little earner it going to be over and done with. That's if she hasn't got something already. |
| Greg sighs. | |
| Greg Matthews: | But she's only worth half as much if I insist on them using a rubber. You should know that. I'd rather take the risk and have the occasional problem than have to make her work twice as hard to earn her keep. |
| Polly doesn't listen to what the men are saying, keeping her eyes shut and her teeth gritted. Larry finishes the examination and slips off his gloves angrily. | |
| Doctor Grant: | She won't be working at all if she's got Hepatitis or HIV, now will she! |
| Greg shrugs. | |
| Greg Matthews: | Well she's only good for a couple of years anyway. It's not like she's a long-term investment. |
| Larry turns back to Polly. | |
| Doctor Grant: | How old are you Polly? |
| Polly relaxes and pulls her feet out of the stirrups. | |
| Polly Page: | Eleven. |
| Larry raises an eyebrow at Greg. | |
| Doctor Grant: | And she's not going to be much use if she's knocked up either. |
| Greg is surprised. | |
| Greg Matthews: | Surely that's not an issue? I mean, she's just a kid. |
| Larry paces across the room, opening another sterilised package and returning to Polly's side. | |
| Doctor Grant: | She's eleven, so she's not a child anymore. I've had mother's with eight year olds in here. I wouldn't be leaving it to chance if I were you. |
| Polly sits up and gives the doctor a puzzled look. | |
| Polly Page: | What are you arguing about? Am I hurt? |
| Larry wraps the tornique around Polly's upper arm, extending her wrist out, trying to find a vein. | |
| Doctor Grant: | No, not really. Polly, now you have to tell us the truth here. Have you got your periods? |
| Polly shakes her head firmly. | |
| Polly Page: | I've been looking out for them but they've never come. Vicky and Mum told me all about them but there's been nothing. |
| Larry looks over at Greg again. | |
| Doctor Grant: | How often has she been working? |
| Greg thinks back. | |
| Greg Matthews: | Three, four times a week. More if I can line up a couple of extra punters. She gets it pretty easily actually, except for people like Beech. |
| Larry shakes his head, carefully inserting the needle into Polly's arm and drawing blood. | |
| Polly Page: | Ouch! What are you doing? |
| Polly looks accusingly at the doctor. | |
| Doctor Grant: | Just taking some blood, it's okay. So tell me, you've been feeling okay lately, Polly? Besides Mr Beech? |
| Polly carefully nods her head. | |
| Polly Page: | Fings have been going okay. Charlie's nice, he's always buying me little prezzies. |
| Larry nods, withdrawing the needle and labelling the vial. | |
| Doctor Grant: | That's okay then. Right, all done. |
| Larry folds his arms and escorts them to the door. | |
| Doctor Grant: | I'll ring with any results tomorrow evening, right Greg? |
| Greg nods angrily at the doctor. | |
| Greg Matthews: | Right. |
| Polly looks up at the dark-haired man. | |
| Polly Page: | Fank you doctor. |
| Doctor Grant: | Not a problem. You just take care, right? |
| Polly nods slowly. Greg reaches into his pocket and hands the doctor a fifty pound note. | |
| Greg Matthews: | There you go. Stay in touch. |
| Larry nods as the pair walk through the door. | |
| Doctor Grant: | I'll be in touch. |
| Polly and Greg head out of the office, Greg gripping the young girl's shoulders possessively. | |