Nurse Anne James looked doubtful. She sometimes felt her dear friend Effie Spratt pushed her about just the teeniest bit.
‘He‘s my patient,‘ she returned possessively.
‘Oh, come on! Be a sport. It‘s absolutely vital, honestly.‘
‘The Staff Nurse will notice it.‘
‘Of course she won‘t. She never notices anything. Look, I‘ll give you my new pair of fifteen denier Christian Diors.‘
‘Oh, all right,‘ succumbed Nurse James.
‘Mr Quest,‘ began Euphemia, drawing screens feverishly round his bed an hour later, ‘I‘ve come to do your back.‘
‘But what‘s the rush, Nursie?‘ Mr Quest tossed aside his Vogue. ‘I rather hoped you‘d take your time, then we could have a nice little chat.‘
‘Did you?‘ responded Euphemia eagerly.
‘Particularly as it‘s you, Nursie,‘ purred Mr Quest.
‘Mr Quest,‘ she burst out, ‘I - I‘ve got something I really must tell you.‘ She started to rub the small of his back vigorously with surgical spirit.
He looked surprised. ‘Go on?‘
‘It‘s — it‘s a fabulous secret.‘
‘You don‘t look old enough to have any, Nursie.‘ Mr Quest began to look extremely interested.
‘Do you know why I‘m a nurse?‘
‘Because you want to succour the sick and dying.‘
‘No.‘ Euphemia shook her head. ‘I utterly hate nursing. I only took it up so my parents in Singapore would send me to England. I — I want to be a model, Mr Quest.‘
Mr Quest, lying on his side, reached for a cigarette from his locker and lit it.
‘I‘m sure I‘d be ever so good at it, Mr Quest. Ail my friends say so. I‘ve done modelling at home in Singapore — the golf club dance posters, you know. I‘ve got a lovely figure,‘ she assured him.
‘So I see, even in those bell-tents they make you wear.‘ Mr Quest rolled on his back and inspected her through half-closed eyes. ‘The right-shaped face, too... h‘m... yes, Nursie dear, you might have quite a future there.‘
‘Do you think so, Mr Quest?‘ she asked breathlessly. ‘Could you give me an audition, or whatever it is, at your office? I could get away somehow any afternoon.‘
‘These things aren‘t done quite so formally, you know.‘ He flicked his cigarette into the fish-paste jar issued as an ashtray. ‘We do so like to keep the business side as undreary as possible. Why don‘t we meet for a quiet drink to discuss the whole project, once I‘m out of this charnel house?‘
Euphemia bit her lip.
‘That‘s the usual practice,‘ murmured Mr Quest off-handedly, flicking into the fish-paste jar again.
‘Yes, I‘d love to,‘ Euphemia decided quickly. ‘When?‘
After all, once she was on the cover of every magazine in London and asked to the Asquith every night by film-stars, Uncle Lancelot could hardly stop her from marrying Tim. Then he could give up that awful job in Edinburgh and they‘d live in a delightful flat overlooking the Park and have lots of wonderful friends. That drink with Mr Quest, she told herself, would be the same as her preliminary interview with the Matron. She bought the gold dress and a novel about models and decided she would have to be more sophisticated.
After the drink, Mr Quest suggested dinner, explaining it was a long job picking a really successful model — ‘it‘s the personality inside the face, not outside, Nursie dear,‘ he informed her, several times. A couple of nights later he took her to dinner again. Each time, the white Jag brought her back to the hospital prompt at ten. Mr Quest was the perfect gentleman.
‘Well, here we are, Nursie,‘ Mr Quest now explained, drawing up the Jag shortly after Euphemia‘s escape through Sir Lancelot‘s window. ‘My flat‘s on the top floor of the block.‘ He gave her a playful pat on the knee. ‘But don‘t worry, there‘s a lift.‘
‘I hope we haven‘t kept the others waiting,‘ she remarked worriedly, as he helped her from the car.
‘No, I don‘t think so,‘ Mr Quest assured her.
As they rose in the satin-lined lift Mr Quest explained, ‘Larry my photographer may be a few minutes late. Now I come to think of it, I sent him out for some shots w ith a couple of my girls by the river.‘
‘But Mr Collins and Mr McKnight and Mr Wade will be coming to see me photographed?‘ Euphemia added anxiously.
‘Sure enough, Nursie dear. They‘ll probably be waiting already - I told Jim Collins on the phone to go straight in and mix themselves some drinks. Though on the other hand,‘ he added, producing his key as the lift stopped, ‘they may be a little delayed too. After all,‘ he laughed, ‘Collins, McKnight, and Wade are a busy agency. They make even my outfit seem feed for pretty small chickens.‘
Mr Quest nevertheless confessed himself pained that none of the other four gentlemen had yet shown up.
‘What a pity!‘ Euphemia looked disappointed. ‘But I expect they won‘t be long.‘
Mr Quest answered with a pleasant little laugh.
‘What a nice flat,‘ she told him politely.
‘You like it? I‘m so glad. Try the sofa, Nursie darling. It‘s most comfortable. And we might as well have a little drink?‘
‘Yes, I‘ll have a screwdriver,‘ returned Euphemia, remembering the sophistication.
‘Anything you say,‘ agreed Mr Quest warmly. ‘Cigarette?‘
‘I‘m corpsing for one.‘
‘The sun‘s rather bright in here,‘ he continued, returning from his kitchen with the drinks. ‘Do you think I might draw the curtains a little?‘
‘Yes, sun is utterly vulgar, isn‘t it?‘
She sipped her screwdriver, which she was sorry to find turned out something nasty in orange juice.
‘Perhaps a little soft music?‘ suggested Mr Quest, anxious to give his guest every comfort.
‘That would be dreamy.‘
‘Ellington, do you think? Or the darling Ella? No, something with lots of strings,‘ he decided, starting the record-player. ‘Like it? Rather romantic. In fact, quite sexy. I suppose like all nurses you have very broadminded views on sex?‘
‘Of course,‘ said Euphemia.
‘I think I‘ll slip off this heavy jacket,‘ he announced. ‘It‘s getting rather warm in here.‘
Mr Quest reappeared from the bedroom in a polka-dot dressing gown and slippers. He picked up his drink and sat on the sofa beside her.
‘Well, well,‘ he said brightly.
Euphemia smiled.
‘You know,‘ he went on, switching his voice into the lower gears, ‘you are the most ravishing girl I have ever set eyes on.‘
‘Oh — thank you,‘ she told him courteously.
‘You have an effect on me which I find utterly overpowering.‘
‘Really?‘ asked Euphemia.
‘My darling! You can‘t imagine how I‘ve panted for days at the thought you might soon let me see you alone.‘
‘But we‘re not alone,‘ Euphemia pointed out. ‘I mean, the others are coming.‘
Mr Quest gave a grin. ‘Yes, it is rather stupid, isn‘t it, how we cling to these little conventions? I knew we‘d be just together, and you, my angel, knew we‘d be just together, and I knew that's how you knew that I knew — ‘
Euphemia spilt her screwdriver. ‘But I didn‘t know!‘
‘Oh, come, darling,‘ laughed Mr Quest. ‘You‘re a big girl now. Still, what‘s the difference? We love each other.‘
‘But we don‘t love each other!‘ Euphemia jumped up. ‘At least, I don‘t.‘
‘You don‘t love me?‘ Mr Quest looked slightly shocked. ‘Then why did you agree to come up to my flat?‘
‘But I didn‘t — I mean, I wasn‘t — oh dear! I want to go home!‘ cried Euphemia.
‘You angel cake!‘ laughed Mr Quest, moving into the tackle. ‘You‘re a terrible little tease.‘
‘Let me go! Take your hands off me! Mind my dress!‘
‘You luscious little love apple,‘ declared Mr Quest, getting all excit
ed. ‘Go away, you beast!‘ Euphemia leapt over the sofa. ‘No, I tell you! It‘s all a terrible mis — oh, my dress, my dress!‘
‘What a romp!‘ cried Mr Quest leaping after her joyfully. ‘How I love it! But now let‘s be friends and both go quietly into the — ‘
He may, of course, have been meaning to finish with ‘rights and wrongs of the matter‘, but Euphemia never found out because she hit him over the head with the standard lamp.
‘Oh!‘ she gasped, ‘I‘ve killed him!‘ She stared in horror at the victim. ‘What on earth will LJncle Lancelot say now?‘ was the first thing she asked herself.
Uncle Lancelot was at that moment being tucked in by the redheaded nurse.
‘And here are your sleeping pills, Sir Lancelot,‘ she was telling him brightly. ‘You‘re first on the list tomorrow morning,‘ she added gaily. ‘And now I‘m going off duty for a lovely cold swim in the baths. Night night!‘
Sir Lancelot grunted. He placed the two shiny bright blue capsules on his locker. The Professor hadn‘t yet done his round, and he wanted to keep a clear head.
He reached for a magazine brought him by the redheaded nurse. He was becoming quite interested in the story of a young woman in love with her doctor, when the door opened.
‘I just looked in to see if you were absolutely comfortable, Lancelot,‘ announced Professor Hindehead smoothly from the threshold. ‘This time tomorrow it will be all over. I don‘t suppose for one moment we shall find anything in the slightest alarming, shall we, Paul?‘
‘I‘m quite certain we won‘t,‘ agreed Paul Ivors-Smith behind him. ‘Please come in.‘ Sir Lancelot tossed the magazine aside. ‘Come along now,‘ he added firmly. ‘Kindly sit down.‘ He indicated the foot of his bed. ‘I want a word with you, Dicky. And you, Paul,‘ he added, as the Registrar was slipping away. ‘The Unit has been doing some important work on a new steroid, I hear?‘
The Professor nodded. ‘Yes, and it‘s been extremely interesting. Though Paul here earns most of the credit.‘
‘And I gather the results will shortly be apparent?‘
The Professor gave his smooth smile. ‘The somewhat elephantine pregnancy is coming to an end, I‘m glad to say. Though I‘m afraid we can‘t let you view the baby yet - you know those rather tedious regulations about the Research Council publishing first.‘
‘The United Drug Company, of course, put up the money?‘
Professor Hindehead shrugged his shoulders under his white coat. ‘I think that‘s an open secret.‘
Sir Lancelot put his fingertips together. ‘You had some shares in United Drug, Dicky?‘
‘My dear Lancelot!‘ He laughed briefly. ‘You really can‘t ask me to remember such things. I have absolutely no head for business. Possibly I once had one or two.‘
‘You had more than one or two, and you sold them yesterday.‘
‘Really, Lancelot!‘ The Professor‘s smooth cheek went pink, i must say, prying into my private affairs is a bit thick.‘
‘You know the news that your steroid is in fact useless was leaked to the City?‘ Sir Lancelot persisted.
‘You can‘t expect me to keep such things as secret as the atom bomb.‘ The Professor for once looked ruffled. ‘Possibly one of the technicians or a houseman let the cat out of the bag. Our last resident was a pretty shifty piece of work. What on earth are you making so much fuss for?‘ he complained, if a few people in the City have lost some money, they can well afford it. It‘s not a matter of importance to the hospital.‘
Sir Lancelot tugged his beard. ‘On the contrary, it is a matter of the utmost importance to the hospital. I have information that a complete copy of your typewritten report was in the office of Ivors-Smith, Hardcastle, and Potter in Moorgate by last night.‘
Paul looked up.
‘I can explain that quite easily—‘
‘I can save you the bother,‘ snapped Sir Lancelot. ‘You decided to line your pocket with the tatters of your professional honour.‘
Paul bit his lip. ‘Well, I — I admittedly had rather a lot of shares. My... my wife didn‘t see why we should lose the money.‘
‘This is all rather inconsequential, Lancelot.‘ The Professor rose to go. ‘You are making a mountain out of a molehill.‘
‘Out ot a dunghill,‘ Sir Lancelot corrected him. ‘The respect we receive in our profession must be nourished with our own self-discipline. We must labour under a stricter ethical code than the public at large. Anyone breaking it lets down not only his colleagues but his forebears who painfully built up the status of the modern doctor. Such a person, to my mind, is not fit to be a member of the profession.‘
‘Oh come,‘ objected the Professor, edging towards the door. ‘You‘re quite out of proportion, Lancelot. A doctor‘s entitled to be a human being. We‘re not a collection of saints.‘
‘I agree. I will qualify my remark. Such a person is not fit to be on the consultant staff of a distinguished hospital.‘
‘Uncle Lancelot!‘ cried Euphemia from the window. ‘Help!‘
‘Great Scott!‘ Sir Lancelot leapt out of bed and caught her. ‘What on earth‘s the matter, girl?‘
‘Quick!‘ The Professor pushed Paul into the corridor. ‘Let‘s get out of this.‘
‘Have you been in an accident?‘ Sir Lancelot demanded anxiously.
‘I - I‘ve had a terrible experience, Uncle.‘ She buried her tousled head in his pyjamas and burst into tears. ‘It was awful!‘ He produced the yellow silk handkerchief. ‘That dreadful man!‘
‘The white-car feller?‘
Euphemia nodded tearfully. ‘The damage is quite irreparable.‘
‘What!‘
‘To my dress,‘ she explained.
‘The villain is not in pursuit, I trust?‘
‘I -1 don‘t think so, Uncle. I left him unconscious.‘
‘Did you, by George? Good girl!‘ exclaimed Sir Lancelot warmly. ‘But I think you had better sneak back to your room before someone comes and catches — ‘
‘Sir Lancelot!‘ Tim Tolly burst in without knocking. ‘Effie!‘ he gasped. ‘Oh, Tim, darling!‘ wailed Euphemia, transferring her custom to Tim‘s chest and breaking into tears all over again. ‘Oh, Tim! I love you so much.‘
‘Good grief,‘ muttered Sir Lancelot. ‘What premedication for an operation!‘
‘Uncle!‘ Euphemia‘s blue eyes widened amid the smudged bronze. ‘You‘re walking.‘
Sir Lancelot looked in surprise at his feet. ‘So I am,‘ he exclaimed confusedly.
‘Effie, my love,‘ murmured Tim into her hair. ‘You are so wonderful. It was all psychosomatic,‘ he added to Sir Lancelot. ‘Think back, and you‘ll find it only came on in moments of stress.‘
‘Dammit boy! Are you implying I‘m a nut case?‘
‘No, only a hysteric. Effie, my sweet,‘ Tim continued, ‘what on earth has happened to you?‘
i might inform you that wasn‘t the diagnosis of a Professor of Surgery,‘ Sir Lancelot told him briskly.
‘Good lord, one should never send back pains to surgeons. But Sir Lancelot — !‘ He collected himself, i‘ve got Mr Chadwick in the car outside.‘
Sir Lancelot‘s brows furrowed.
‘I - I‘m afraid I‘ve made a bit of a boob,‘ Tim confessed, still holding Huphemia. ‘All summer I‘ve diagnosed a straightforward hypochromic anaemia, but it was only tonight I suspected he‘s bleeding into his gut. He‘s looking pretty poorly at the moment, poor chap. I‘d come along to implore advice — ‘
Sir Lancelot chucked the sleeping pills into the dressing bin.
‘Take the case into casualty,‘ he commanded.
‘Yes, sir.‘
‘Tell private block theatre to stand by. It may possibly be needed.‘
‘Yes, sir.‘
‘You‘ve grouped the blood? Good. See if the Senior Resident Anaesthetist is on duty.‘
‘Yes, sir.‘
‘And tuck that young woman up in bed.‘
‘Yes, sir.‘
&nb
sp; i must just scribble a line to the Chairman of Governors — ‘ he reached for Nikki‘s sheet of writing paper. ‘By the way,‘ he broke off, i don‘t suppose you know if Midsummer Madness came home at Newmarket this afternoon?‘
‘As a matter of fact, I noticed it in the paper, sir. At thirty-three to one.‘ Sir Lancelot did a quick calculation on the corner of the paper. ‘Five hundred pounds at thirty-three to one makes sixteen thousand five hundred.‘ He rubbed his hands. ‘Things are looking up.‘
15
An old-fashioned Englishman out for a day‘s fishing needs a good deal of equipment, but this is no hindrance to the day‘s sport when carried a respectful five paces behind by his faithful gillie. Sir Lancelot‘s load was only his rod as he once again made his way down the familiar path among the brambles to Witches‘ Pool that warm and clear September morning.
‘There‘ll be a good few rising later on, mark my words,‘ he declared.
‘Wouldn‘t be surprised if we got a hatful,‘ agreed Crimes.
The pair stopped at the hawthorn bush.
‘I trust you will find this employment congenial, Crimes?‘ Sir Lancelot inquired.
‘Sir, I‘ll say a little prayer every night to my old governor what I chauffered — just to thank his soul for teaching me fishing.‘
‘I am glad you are well suited.‘
‘You know, it had always been my wish, sir, to end my days nice and quiet in the green of the country.‘ Crimes dropped the fishing gear and produced his matchstick. ‘And now I shall, sir. So shall we both, eh?‘ he added with a wink.
Sir Lancelot gaffed him with his eye.
‘Crimes, I appreciate your disappointment that I was not, after all, operated upon last month by the Professor. But I wish to make clear that I find our topic of mutual interest somewhat wearisome. So much so, that should you raise the matter again, even by your delicate implications, I shall automatically sack you on the spot.‘
‘Yes, sir. Very good, sir.‘
‘If you wish to make conversation, confine yourself to the fish.‘
‘As you say, sir.‘
‘And furthermore, you will chuck away that filthy matchstick. It has irritated me continually now for thirty years. Ah, Charles,‘ he broke off heartily, as another party approached along the bank.
The Summer of Sir Lancelot Page 15