The Summer of Sir Lancelot (9 page)

ENGLAND

COLLAPSE

it said.

6

‘I suppose I did put up a bit of a boob with Sir Lancelot,‘ decided Simon Sparrow.

‘Well, darling, you don‘t seem to have assumed your most charming bedside manner,‘ suggested his wife Nikki.

‘Anyway, I was in the right.‘ Lie wondered if he was trying to convince her or himself. ‘Any patient coming in and flatly demanding an X-ray has to be examined first, whether he‘s the President of the Royal College of Surgeons, the Prime Minister, or even Sir Lancelot. I couldn‘t take the risk of letting the old boy go with an abdominal aneurism or something ghastly brewing inside, could I? He could always have sent for Hubert Cambridge,‘ he added a shade pettishly, changing gear.

It was the evening of the following day, and Simon was driving his Mini from their house in Dulwich to have dinner with the Ivors-Smiths in Chelsea.

‘You didn‘t feel inclined to risk even a hairline fracture of your principles?‘ sighed Nikki.

‘No, not even if it meant spiking my own heavy artillery in this battle for the job. You see — ‘ Simon slipped between a couple of surly buses. ‘What would you say if I told you that was exactly the result I wanted?‘

‘I‘d tell you to drop into Simpson‘s and buy a hair shirt, darling, just to complete the picture.‘

‘I‘m going to land this job under my own steam,‘ Simon announced firmly. ‘Well, without Sir Lancelot‘s steam, anyway. Do you know what would happen if the old boy actually pushed me on to the staff? I‘d have

him hanging round my neck at St Swithin‘s for the rest of his life, which is bound to be an embarrassingly long one.‘

‘But, darling,‘ complained Nikki, ‘he‘s become an absolute hermit in the middle of all those mountains.‘

‘Don‘t you believe it! I know my Lancelot. Whatever he says, he‘s bored with nobody to talk to except Lady Spratt and the fish. I can just see him now, wandering into my theatre every day and looking over my shoulder and sniffing in that irritating way of his. Honestly! I‘ve had about enough of that caper.‘ Simon became so heated he nearly ran into an ice cream van. ‘Sir Lancelot has absolutely dominated me since Grim and Tony Benskin and Taffy Evans and all the rest of us shook in our shoes as his first firm students and I‘m jolly well not going to stand for it any longer.‘

‘Very well.‘ Nikki folded her hands in her lap. ‘But it‘s all helping Paul.‘

Simon frowned. ‘Remember, it isn‘t Sir Lancelot who‘s Chairman of Governors but his brother-in-law, and you know what
he‘s
like. He won‘t have much time for the convolutions of Tricky Dicky Hindehead — Great Scott!‘

A look of horror crossed his face.

‘Yes, darling?‘ cried Nikki in alarm.

‘I was in such a rush leaving the hospital I missed the close of play score.‘

‘England 212 all out, Australia 325 for 6, Jowler 5 for 90,‘ Nikki recited.

‘Jowler, eh?‘ exclaimed Simon. ‘While the wild man from the moors is in good nick, there‘s always hope, don‘t you think?‘

‘Yes, darling,‘ said Nikki.

A dutiful wife, she found cricket as difficult to follow as the intricate manipulations of the microscopic genes determining heredity, which she‘d had to learn as a medical student. It also seemed a good deal less interesting.

‘How absolutely delightful you could come,‘ Deirdre Ivors-Smith greeted them at the top of her front steps. ‘Is that ducky little car yours? Yes, they‘re frightfully useful in town, aren‘t they? Paul has such terrible trouble parking the new Bentley. Was the traffic awful? You know, I really envy you living right out there in the suburbs. I often wonder how I put up with existing in the centre of things, but of course it is so frightfully convenient for Harrods and Fortnum‘s and so on. Do come in.‘

‘Thank you,‘ said Nikki.

‘And it
does
make all the difference now we‘ve our own little place in the country for weekends. When one gets away one wants to get
right
away, don‘t you think? You must come and rough it with us down there in Wiltshire one day. But how
are
you, Simon? It must be ages and ages.‘

‘Yes, at least,‘ nodded Simon vaguely.

The Ivors-Smiths lived in a fashionable little house in one of those fashionable little back streets in Chelsea, originally laid out as terraced dwellings for City clerks until someone came along to paint the front doors pink and stick up a few window boxes and noughts on the prices. Deirdre led her visitors into the charming hall, which like the halls of all fashionable Chelsea houses wasn‘t big enough to open your umbrella in. Paul was waiting in the bijou sitting room, with the striped mauve paper and the amusing little prints. The dinner had been his idea. He wanted to seem absolutely fair and civilized towards his rival. Deirdre had agreed enthusiastically. She particularly wished the Sparrows to see her new Chelsea home, and once Paul was on the consultant staff you couldn‘t go inviting mere registrars.

‘How's the son and heir?‘ Paul greeted Simon with a weak handshake. ‘Bouncing with health, if the baby-sitter hasn‘t set fire to the house. We could only get hold of a teenager with a leather jacket, a Cleopatra hairdo, and one of those fashionable paranoid attitudes to life.‘

‘Such
a problem, baby-sitters.‘ Deirdre sipped one of her husband‘s Martinis. ‘Paul, a cigarette... I must say I‘m glad we‘ve got one of those college-trained nannies living in. Atrociously expensive, of course, but one does so feel one can
rely,
you know. A light please, Paul. But naturally, in your case,‘ she added to Nikki, ‘you‘d know exactly what to do when the child was ill, or anything.‘

‘Yes, I send for a paediatrician.‘

When Deirdre Ivors-Smith had been Staff Nurse Pott on Virtue ward at St Swithin‘s she had never really liked the female doctors.

‘I think that‘s the Breadalbanes‘ Aston Martin, darling,‘ Paul remarked, glancing through the window.

‘You know the Breadalbanes, of course?‘ Deirdre asked her guests. ‘Don‘t you? But, my dear, I thought absolutely everybody in London knew the Breadalbanes. Teddy Breadalbane‘s a director of United Drug. They‘ve put up the money for this steroid Paul‘s working on.‘

‘I haven‘t sold my soul, though United Drug would probably take over even that.‘ Paul gave a smile. ‘They made a donation, but as my work on the steroid is controlled by the Ministry, even United Drug hears nothing till the report comes out.‘

‘Teddy Breadalbane‘s
such
fun,‘ asserted Deirdre as the doorbell rang. ‘Don‘t you remember, Paul, that time at the Dorchester?‘

Mr Breadalbane was youngish and tat, and radiated such hearty benevolence that Simon found it difficult to understand how he brought himself to rake in the enormous profits he obviously did.

‘I suppose you play the market a bit like everyone else these days, Doctor?‘ he suggested when Simon was wedged in one of the corners. ‘Even if it‘s just a bit of stagging, what?‘ he added mysteriously, giving a laugh.

‘'Fraid not,‘ Simon smiled. ‘As far as cash is concerned I seem to have a sock-under-the-bed mentality.‘

‘You could do far worse than some of our own shares, y‘know,‘ added Mr Breadalbane, sipping his drink.

‘I don‘t think my patients would care to know I had a vested interest in illness.‘

‘Oh, UD branches out in all directions these days. I bought a couple of custard companies this very afternoon.‘

‘Go on?‘ Simon looked impressed.

Mr Breadalbane threw a quick glance round. ‘Look, Doctor,‘ he added quietly, ‘you‘re a pal of Paul‘s. Like to make a quick gain? Get your broker to buy Beaulieu‘s Marmalade.‘

‘What, you mean the sort “Fit For The Royal Toast”...?‘

‘That‘s it.‘ He winked. ‘You won‘t go wrong. Ah, dinner. Isn‘t Deirdre‘s cook wonderful?‘

The Ivors-Smiths and the Breadalbanes were apparently very close friends, and had many other close friends in the higher-priced districts of London, whom they discussed over dinner at some length. Simon sank into his own thoughts. Business was always a mystery to him. How on earth did people like Mr Breadalbane make millions and millions, he wondered, just sitting at a large desk tooling about with pieces of paper? Behind all those mahogany boardrooms and smart secretaries and heavy luncheons and ten-thousand-quid computers it was probably childishly easy. Easier than doing a mitral valvotomy, anyway. He sipped the delightful Burgundy. He smiled softly as he caught his wife‘s eye across the table. He had something, Simon told himself fondly, greater than either of those polished and prosperous fellows possessed. He was indeed a very lucky man. He took another sip. Yes, it was only by chance the year before at Lord‘s he‘d managed to collect Pete Jowler‘s autograph.

As both Simon and Paul had an early start at St Swithin‘s the evening wasn‘t a late one, and they separated on the steps, Mr Breadalbane fairly bursting with bonhomie, well before eleven. About then, another party was getting under way behind St Swithin‘s mortuary gate.

‘Darling,‘ Tim Tolly called softly. ‘Are you all right?‘

‘Darling!‘ Euphemia fell into his arms like a paratrooper going into action. ‘Yes, Anne James gave me a leg up.‘

‘Sure nobody saw you?‘ he whispered urgently.

‘Not a soul, darling,‘ she told him breathlessly. ‘I put a bolster in my bed. But we‘d better get moving.‘

‘My sweet, I could hardly bear waiting for you under that ghastly gate,‘ declared Tim, driving his car towards the West End. ‘But with these light evenings we could hardly have risked it earlier.‘

‘It‘s been such ages,‘ returned Euphemia, fondling his hand on the MG‘s little gear lever.

‘Twenty-three days exactly since your Uncle Lancelot sewed you up in a sack and dropped you into the Bosphorus. I‘ve counted all of them.‘ Tim gave a laugh. ‘And to think the old ogre‘s miles and miles away in Wales.‘

‘No, he isn‘t. He‘s in Harley Street.‘

‘Oh,‘ said Tim.

‘But he‘s only staying tonight. At first he said he was going home this morning. I met him yesterday,‘ she added.

‘Did he mention me?‘ inquired Tim.

‘No, as far as I remember he only mentioned the kidney.‘

‘I hope his horsewhip‘s in for a refit. Thank heavens I didn‘t pass him on the road, or he‘d probably have run me in for speeding on the spot. As it was, I left on the tail of Charlie Chadwick — he‘s asked me to dinner at his place in Richmond, by the way,‘ Tim added a touch proudly. ‘My prescribing some benemid for his gout seems to have teamed me up in Charlie‘s eyes with Sir William Osier and Lord Lister. Where shall we go?‘

‘A night club,‘ said Euphemia firmly.

He looked surprised. ‘A night club?‘

‘Yes, please,‘ nodded Euphemia.

‘All right, darling.‘ Tim shrugged his shoulders. ‘Anything you say.‘

‘The Asquith,‘ added Euphemia.

Tim raised his eyebrows. ‘Very well. It‘s a rather fleshy pot, but if you want to, the Asquith it is.‘

You must remember that Tim Tolly had known Euphemia only on the river bank in the open air before breakfast. She was to him the Amaryllis Milton kept wanting to sport with in the shade. He‘d thought her as much the nightclub type as the girl on the Ovaltine tin, and now she wanted to live it up in the Asquith Club. He didn‘t know much about the place, except its being creepily expensive.

‘Just a minor formality, sir,‘ explained the man in the striped waistcoat as Tim vaguely filled up membership forms in the foyer. ‘I really don‘t know why we still bother our guests with it, sir.‘

‘I‘d like a quiet table in a corner,‘ Tim addressed the headwaiter as Euphemia appeared from the plushy ladies‘.

‘Will you be dining, sir?‘

‘No, as a matter of fact, we — ‘

‘I‘m ravenous,‘ cut in Euphemia gaily.

‘Dining,‘ nodded Tim.

‘I want champagne,‘ she announced brightly, sitting down. ‘And oysters.‘

‘Oysters! I‘m afraid they‘re out of season.‘

‘Then I‘ll have caviar.‘

‘They... they don‘t serve it here.‘ Tim hurriedly turned over the menu. ‘We‘ll have a bottle of champagne,‘ he added to the waiter. ‘And some crisps.‘

‘This place is quite nice,‘ Euphemia conceded, looking round.

‘Well, it
has
a certain repute, you know.‘

She puzzled him. Down by Witches‘ Pool she‘d been as delightfully sunny and natural as the weather. Now she was behaving like some jaded actress gritting her teeth with the latest admirer. After all, Tim told himself a shade chillingly, he‘d been captivated by this pretty girl without knowing anything of her background and family, except that she had a highly peculiar uncle. But then, he quickly tried to reassure himself, any girl is likely to seem odd after stuffing bolsters down her bed and dropping from mortuary gates.

As they danced Euphemia seemed to soften into her Witches‘ Pool mood. ‘I can just imagine Matron‘s face if she knew I was here!‘ she laughed. ‘As for Sister Virtue, I don‘t think the poor dear would ever get over it.‘