'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 paper…'
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
