Free Doctor In The Swim by Richard Gordon Page A

Beecham) might now be the famous actor, with a biscuit-coloured Rolls, his face on the sides of all the buses, and a rather messy dish named after him in one of the posh West End restaurants. But in the days he rented the room next to mine his only audience was the landlady’s daughter, who lashed him up with ham and cocoa in the kitchen when Mum was out, while he gave her Great Love Scenes from the Classics. And he’d have shifted to even tougher lodgings if I hadn’t raised a few bob every quarter to repay those informal loans made to him by the local Gas Board, once he found how to fiddle the lock on his meter. That was why Basil never liked swapping jolly reminiscences when I bumped into him from time to time, particularly as I’d overheard everything the landlady had to say when she discovered where all that ham was going.
    ‘But how wonderful that you should be old cronies.’ Lucy gave another smile. ‘Because Basil and I are very, very close friends indeed.’
    ‘Oh, are you?’
    ‘Don’t you think I’m a tremendously lucky girl, Gaston?’
    ‘Lucky? Oh, yes. Of course.’
    Basil, who was still in the gladioli, seemed to think so too.
    ‘That’s still absolutely off the record you understand,’ he added quickly in my direction.
    ‘Yet another of the afternoon’s secrets,’ Lucy laughed.
    ‘Those ghastly gossip columns!’ remarked Basil, shuddering.
    ‘But Gaston would surely never breathe a word to the papers,’ declared Lucy.
    ‘H’m,’ said Basil,
    ‘You see, Basil’s divorce isn’t quite tied up yet. That’s one of the reasons I went to New York. Dear Basil was kept here with his latest film, of course.’
    ‘Yes, I heard you’d been unloaded – been separated,’ I told him.
    Before his starring days Basil had been taken on the household strength of some frightfully rich American woman in the capacity of husband, for which there happened to be a vacancy at the time, though I think he was relieved to find later it was only a temporary job to go with her season in London.
    ‘You must tell me about those dreary lawyers in the car, my sweet,’ said Basil, seeming anxious to have Lucy elsewhere.
    ‘Of course, darling. Basil’s taking me to the dress rehearsal of a charity matinée we’ve been organizing for months, and I’m absolutely thrilled.’ Lucy collected her bag and gloves. ‘There’s nothing quite so exciting as the stage, is there?’
    ‘Come along, my angel,’ urged Basil, giving me a bit of a glance. ‘Those poor players will be strutting and fretting, you know. Do remind me, dear chappie, to send you a couple of free seats, won’t you?’
    Another moment and they’d left me alone with Squiffy, still eating.
    ‘Grim, old man,’ said Squiffy.
    I made no reply. The interview had left me wallowing in a wave of nausea, particularly with the noise Squiffy was making over his cake.
    ‘Grim, old man.’ Squiffy started to choke, indicating that he wanted to say something urgently. ‘I’ve some pretty dashed important news to tell you.’
    ‘Yes?’ I wondered what it was Lucy put behind the ears to make her smell so nice.
    ‘But it’s a dead secret.’
    ‘Not another?’
    ‘I mean, this is a real one.’ Squiffy scooped up the crumbs. ‘I’ve absolutely got to spill the beans to someone and I know I can confide in you, Grim. Do you remember how you kept quiet at school, when I slipped the Head’s tea-party that plate of hair-cream sandwiches? Besides, doctors have to keep secrets, don’t they, or they get hauled up before the medical beaks? I’m afraid this is going to be a bit of a shock,’ he went on. ‘But – well, I’m not really an important scientist.’
    ‘No?’
    ‘I’m a scientist, of course. Well, sort of…oh, dear!’
    He got up and started striding about, arms and legs in all directions.
    ‘It’s my old man’s fault,’ he declared.
    I helped myself to another cup of tea.
    ‘You know what he’s like, Grim?’
    ‘A bit of a tough