'I suppose so,' I said, though I felt the spring had bust long ago.
The next night I kissed her.
'Grimalkin!' she shrieked. 'You shouldn't!'
'But Janet, I-I love you.'
There was silence, except for the rain on the roof.
'I do. Really and truly. Cross my heart, you're the only girl in my life.'
'Oh, Grimalkin! I knew it. As soon as I set eyes on you at London Airport, I could tell you'd taken to me. I don't know what it was. Perhaps it was the sad sort of look you had. I knew you'd want someone like me to cheer you up.'
Being cheered up by Janet Pebbley was like having your back scratched with a horse-rake, and perhaps the memory of it brought down the super-ego again.
'Haven't you anything else to say?' she asked.
But I shook my head, and we had another game of rummy.
The next day she left in the launch for a week at the company's headquarters in Manaus. As I'd read all the books and damp had got into the gramophone and you can't play rummy by yourself, I spent the evenings contemplating life somewhere like Porterhampton with Janet. There would be her friend Hilda, of course. And that tramp round Scotland. But I was so ruddy lonely looking at the rain, I started counting the days till she'd come back as carefully as the months till we'd both be released. After all, she wasn't a bad sort of girl. A bit jolly at breakfast, admittedly, but I could get used to that. Her friend Hilda might be quite witty and delightful. Come to think of it, I'd always wanted to have a good look at Scotland. The British Consul in Manaus could marry us, and that would leave a whole bungalow free for playing rummy in.
I started to prepare little speeches, and wonder if it would possibly be a fine day for the wedding.
Janet came back to the camp with more pork and beans and a couple of new packs of playing cards. I waited until we finished our evening meal, and when the Brazilian cook chap had cleared away the dishes said:
'Janet-'
'Yes, Grimalkin.'
'I have something I want to ask you.'
'Really, Grimalkin?'
The super-ego quivered on its bearings. The mechanism had rusted like everything else in the ruddy climate.
'Janet, we've got on pretty well these last few weeks or months or whatever they've been, haven't we?'
'Like houses on fire, Grimalkin.'
'I mean, we've managed to hit it off pretty well together.'
'You've certainly kept me entertained with all your jokes. Especially that one about the bishop and the-'
'What I mean is, I thought, in the light of experience and under the circumstances, that is, you wouldn't mind if I asked you-'
'Go on, Grimalkin.'
There was a shocking crash, indicating somebody knocking on the corrugated iron door.
'Just one moment.'
I unlatched the door. Outside was Mr Carboy, in a Homburg and holding an umbrella.
'At last!' he cried. 'I am in the presence of the master. Allow me to shake you by the hand.'
He did, scattering drops of water all over the place.
'But-but what on earth are you doing in Brazil?' I stared at him. 'I thought you were busy correcting proofs in Bloomsbury.'
'My dear fellow! Luckily I was half-way here on holiday in Nassau when the news came.'
'News? What news?'
'But haven't you heard? About your book, of course. Tremendous success, my dear chap! We've reprinted it six times already and burnt out two rotary machines. Magnificent notices-look, I've got some of them here. Union Jack have been cabling me every day for the film rights. I might tell you that Melody Madder herself is absolutely desperate for the part of the girl. Why, you've got the whole country laughing its head off with your portrait of that pompous and pig-headed little surgeon.'
This was all very confusing.
'But-but-dash it! When you gave me that contract thing to sign in London, you said the book trade was in such a state nobody read any new novels any more.'
'Ah, well, you're a doctor. You know it's sometimes better to say the patient's going to die and collect the credit, eh? Ha ha! Talking of contracts, a fellow from Potter and Webley hasn't been prowling round, has he? Nasty little man with a moustache and a dirty brief-case. Good! Well, perhaps you'd like to sign this here and now for your next six books. Substantially increased royalties, of course. How d'you do, madam.' He noticed Janet. 'So sorry to disturb your evening. But we won't be long, as we can't keep the launch waiting.'
'Launch waiting?' I felt a touch of the vertigo. 'We," did you say? But I've got a job here. For the next five years, at any rate.'
'My dear fellow, I soon fixed that with the oil people. Your replacement's arriving tomorrow. Why, you've got receptions, television, personal appearances, and no end of work to face. Better hurry up, the plane leaves at midnight. Another few hours and you'll be facing the photographers in London.'
I wondered whether this was all hallucinations, due to the collapse of my psychological mechanisms.
'Well,' I said, 'I suppose I'd better pack.'
'Grimalkin-'
'Ah, yes?' I'd forgotten Janet.
'What was it you…you were going to ask me?'
'I was just going to ask if you'd care for another game of rummy,' I said.
Ten minutes later I was in the launch. I noticed that the rain had stopped.
21
The literary lunch at Porterhampton was a great success. I'd spent the morning autographing copies of the novel in the local bookshop, and even if most people did come up and ask if I sold postcards it had been fun signing something different from prescriptions for cough mixture. The old Wattles were all over me, and Ma Wattle even made a speech.
'We look upon Gaston Grimsdyke as one of Porterhampton's own sons,' she asserted. 'It will be a great consolation to Dr Wattle and myself, now that we have reached the later years of our lives, to remember that he once lived beneath our humble roof. But I must not keep you from our honoured guest, whom I am sure will treat us to that delightful wit which we in Porterhampton are already privileged to know so well. Meanwhile, it is my great pleasure to present him, on behalf of his former patients, with this splendid chiming clock.'
After that I told them the story of the parrot, which everyone now seemed to think funnier than ever. Though I was a bit put off half-way through noticing little Avril Atkinson eyeing me from the end of the table.
'Sorry I was so cross that foggy night,' she smiled, catching me as I dashed for my train. 'It was only the mumps, you know. Doesn't it make you feel wretched?'
'All healed, I trust?'
'Everything is healed now, Gaston. But there's just one little favour I'd like to ask you. Could you possibly get me Melody Madder's autograph? I suppose these days you actually know her, don't you?'
I reached London in time to decide comfortably which West End restaurant to try for dinner, and felt it would be rather pleasant to drop into my club for a whisky and soda. The first person I met in the morning-room was old Miles.
'My dear chap,' I said, offering him a cigar.
'How's the new job going at Swithin's?'
'Congratulations.'
'That's jolly kind of you. But I believe you very kindly gave me them shortly after the book came out.'
'Not that. I mean on becoming a member of this club.'
He seemed to have some difficulty in talking, what with grinding his teeth.
'Oh, that. Thanks. Actually, old Carboy put me up. He says an author needs a bit of standing. Care for a drink?'
'No. No thank you. I must get off to a meeting at St Swithin's.'
He turned to go.
'Gaston-'
'Yes, Miles?'
'I admit I'm finally on the consultant staff at St Swithin's. I admit I've struggled and schemed all my life to get there. I admit it is my major ambition achieved even before my middle age. But damnation! When I think of all the work, the years, the worry…and…and…you, just scribbling away on bits of pa
per…'
The poor chap seemed about to burst into tears, which I'm sure would never have done in the Parthenon.
'Here, steady on, old lad.'
'All right. I'll steady on. I won't say any more. Except one thing. Do you happen to know, Gaston, that you have made me the laughing-stock not only of St Swithin's but of the entire medical profession? Do you? I am aware of it. I am aware of it perfectly well. People don't come out with it, of course. Oh, no. Not now I'm a consultant. But the students…only the other day I heard one shout, "Three cheers for Clifford Standforth" as I walked in to lecture. Everyone knows as well as I do that you made the character a ghastly caricature of myself. Your own cousin, too!'
'If I may refer you to that little bit inside the fly-leaf, all characters are entirely imaginary and any resemblance-'
'Bah!' said Miles, and walked out.
'Give my love to Connie,' I called after him.
I ordered my drink and wondered if I could nip down to Cartier's before they shut and buy a wedding present for Petunia. I'd been rather startled when she'd told me at the studio the day before she was marrying Jimmy Hosegood after all.
'It was Mum, I suppose,' she explained. 'She wanted me to marry Jimmy, so I didn't. Then she didn't want me to, so I did. But I'm terribly in love with him, darling. Even Mum's becoming reconciled. Now he's got a seat on my board.'
I didn't say anything. I supposed all women are a bit potty, and actresses especially so.
'Besides,' Petunia went on, 'look at the difference in him now he's got back from Morecambe. He's even skinnier than Quinny Finn.'
The odd thing was, after Hosegood's blow on the head he could eat as much as he liked without putting on an ounce. A jolly interesting piece of clinical research, I thought, which I'd have written up for the _British Medical Journal_ if they hadn't been after my address all these years over those arrears of subscription. As for Petunia, she was just the same, though I noticed she'd turned into a blonde.
I lit another cigar, and was making for the front door feeling pretty pleased with myself, when I heard a roar behind me.
'You, boy!'
I turned round
'You, Grimsdyke. I want a word with you.'
'Ah, yes, sir.'
'Come here. And shut the door after you.
I can't tolerate draughts.'
'No, sir.'
'Sit down there. Not like that, boy. You haven't got a spinal curvature, have you, from leaning all your life on the counters of four-ale bars?'
'No, sir. Sorry, sir.'
'Now just you listen to me, young feller me lad.'
Sir Lancelot sat back and placed his fingers together.
'I recall you once tried to make a fool of me as a student. Some nonsense about distributing invitations for my nonexistent birthday party. I could easily forgive that, knowing your pathetically infantile sense of humour. But I cannot forgive your making a much bigger fool of me in front of a duke, a marquis, and a couple of earls, not to mention a mixed bag of civil dignitaries. And please chuck that cigar away. If you haven't the taste to choose something better, my advice is to give up smoking.'
'Yes, sir. Terribly sorry, sir. But I did explain in my letter of apology how I'd sort of put the _carte blanche_ before the horse.'
'An explanation is not an excuse. Fortunately for St Swithin's, nobody quite understood what passed between us on the platform. I suppose they were all too intent looking at the young woman you brought.
Equally fortunately, Sir James McKerrow was singularly sympathetic when I confided the story-not to mention singularly amused-and donated an additional ten thousand pounds from the funds of his Foundation. None of this prevents my telling you, Grimsdyke, that you are a young man of extremely limited intelligence, mediocre ability, flabby moral fibre, and more bright ideas than are good for you. The fact that you, a grown adult, let everyone push you about as they wish is a perfect disgrace, particularly when it's your own cousin. You understand me?'
'Yes, sir. Exactly, sir.'
'You agree with me?'
'I suppose I do, sir.'
'You will kindly take pains to mend your ways in future. Please remember however much your name appears in the papers, as far as I am concerned you're still the miserable little moronic worm I remember when you first stuck your beastly acne-infected face into my operating theatre.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Good,' said Sir Lancelot, suddenly very affable. 'I thought I'd get that over to prevent yer getting a swelled head. Now let's have a drink, and I'll buy you a decent cigar.'
It was midnight when Sir Lancelot and I left the club together.
'Can I give you a lift?' he asked. 'Though I suppose you've got a Rolls of your own now.'
'I'm sticking to the old 1930 Bentley, thank you, sir.'
'And what are you going to do now?'
'Write another book for Mr Carboy, I suppose.'
'No more medicine?'
'I'm afraid not, sir.'
'It's nothing to be ashamed of. Medical truants have played as much of a part in helping our world forward as a good many doctors. And personally I find nothing so stimulating as the smell of burning boats. But you'll miss it.'
'I think perhaps I shall, really, sir.'
'However, as you will remain on the Medical Council's Register till death or striking off do you part, you are perfectly at liberty to open an abscess or deliver a baby whenever the occasion arises and you happen to feel like it. And you probably will. Medicine, like murder, will out.'
'Unless I send my cases to Miles at St Swithin's.' I smiled.
'If you see him, by the way, say I'm sorry I made him sweat a bit over his appointment. Of course, it was a foregone conclusion. I just wanted to cut him down to size. That, Grimsdyke, is one of the most valuable operations in the whole repertoire of surgery. Good night, my boy.'
'Good night, sir.'
'And you might also tell your cousin I knew perfectly well he didn't have a nervous breakdown at that examination. But I don't really think a fellow ought to get bottled just before he comes up for his finals.'
Sir Lancelot drove off, leaving me with plenty of food for thought. I realized more than ever what a really great chap he was. But the most important thing about him was having such a jolly good sense of humour.
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DOCTOR IN CLOVER Page 14