The Summer of Sir Lancelot

inquire whether he is able to make an exception.‘
    It was a fortnight later, the last Wednesday of July, with the country still freezing from Margate to Llandudno.
    ‘I didn‘t actually want to bother the doctor,‘ replied Mrs Perrins meekly. ‘I‘d just like to bring a few things back.‘ She indicated a shopping-bag filled with pharmaceutical supplies. ‘And can you tell the doctor how I‘m enjoying my new treatment?‘ she added, as Mrs Chuffey collected the booty. ‘Such a nice man he sent me to! So understanding.‘
    ‘You‘re an old patient, too, aren‘t you, Mr Hardjoy?‘
    ‘I only called to give the doctor these, with my compliments.‘ He offered a bunch of sweet peas. ‘It‘s fair wonderful the job he‘s done on my foot. And what a bloke! In my trade - I‘m on demolition - we‘re not given to mincing words, and neither is the doctor. Man to man, he is. The first time I met him, d‘you know he called me a coward? A coward! And I respect him for it. He must have been a braver man than me to say it. Every time he‘s treated my foot — ‘
    ‘I shall put the flowers in water for him,‘ interrupted Mrs Chuffey briskly.
    ‘No more patients this morning?‘ asked Sir Lancelot cheerfully, as Mrs Chuffey appeared in the surgery. ‘I certainly seem to be weeding them out. Though I fancy it was only the hard core who took advantage of poor little Dinwiddie. No doubt he will enjoy an easier run when he gets back tomorrow. Particularly as I gather his wife was a lady hammer-throwing champion in New Zealand.‘
    ‘And I‘ll have finished the spring-cleaning by tonight, sir,‘ she told him. ‘Excellent. You know, Mrs Chuffey —‘ Sir Lancelot stared musingly through the window, ‘ — this family doctoring is considerably more difficult than I imagined. In hospital surgery, you simply cut ‘em up and leave someone else to clear the mess. Here, it‘s the other way round. But the new therapist I co-opted seems to be doing a splendid job, I must say.‘
    ‘I gather he‘s a very nice young man, sir. I met his housekeeper in the greengrocer‘s.‘
    ‘Housekeeper? He‘s unmarried, eh? All the more time for dealing with that batch I sent him. There‘s the doorbell, Mrs Chuffey, and it may well be someone to say Mrs Peckwater‘s started. Oh, and Mrs Chuffey—‘
    ‘Sir?‘
    ‘Ring Harry the gateman at St Swithin‘s, will you? I want something sound for Goodwood this afternoon, if the blasted meeting isn‘t snowed off.‘
    ‘Miss Felicity, sir,‘ announced Mrs Chuffey a moment later.
    ‘My dear! What brings you to this outpost of civilization?‘ Sir Lancelot rose in surprise as Felicity Nightrider entered the surgery. ‘Not, I trust, need for more advice about Ron?‘
    ‘Please, Uncle!‘ She sniffed. ‘Please don‘t talk to me about him again.‘ Sir Lancelot raised his eyebrows. ‘I‘m sorry you‘ve had an estrangement now he‘s moving among television personalities.‘
    ‘And please don‘t talk to me about television personalities.‘ She shuddered and sniffed at the same time. ‘Particularly female announcers. Uncle — ‘ She came to the point. ‘I want a job.‘
    ‘A job?‘
    She nodded. ‘You know how Daddy made me give up the nice job in the bookshop because of... of Ron? Ever since, I‘ve been working in that actuary‘s office, and I hate it. Do you think you could make me a nurse?‘ she asked eagerly. I was always jolly good at first-aid on the hockey field.‘
    ‘Alas, my dear, tomorrow afternoon I am quitting London for good. At last I shall be able to enjoy myself fishing in Wales.‘
    ‘Oh, Uncle! I‘m so unhappy.‘ Her lips trembled, and she burst into tears over the sphygmomanometer.
    ‘Am I to play Miss Lonelyhearts to every lovesick member of the family?‘ muttered Sir Lancelot, becoming impatient.
    ‘Ever since that day you told me to bring Ron home, Father‘s been so horrid — ‘
    ‘Good grief, girl, you‘ll be blaming me for the filthy weather next - yes, Mrs Chuffey? Is it Mrs Peckwater?‘
    ‘The Vicar, sir.‘
    ‘I shall be delighted to meet him. Please take this young lady out and give her a nice cup of tea. The Reverend Peter Gwatkin, I believe?‘ he added a moment later, when Mrs Chuffey had deftly replaced his niece with the local incumbent.
    ‘Er —yes,‘ agreed the Reverend Gwatkin.
    ‘Have a pew - chair,‘ indicated Sir Lancelot. ‘Is this a professional visit?‘
    ‘Er - no.‘ The Vicar was a tall young man