Free The Summer of Sir Lancelot by Richard Gordon Page A

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