The Summer of Sir Lancelot

Alf and stick a pony on.‘
    ‘Very good, sir.‘
    ‘But I can‘t live without her,‘ expostulated Tim Tolly, following Sir Lancelot down the garden path.
    ‘You managed to exist for some twenty-odd years in that condition. You have possibly gathered that I‘m extremely busy at the moment? I really must ask you to leave. Good morning.‘
    ‘Sir Lancelot! I‘ve come all the way from Edinburgh specially to see you.‘
    ‘Oh, for heaven‘s sake, man!‘ Sir Lancelot exploded. ‘All right, jump in the car. You‘ll come in useful for giving the analgesia.‘
    Tim had no chance of discussing his broken heart on the way to Mrs Peckwater‘s, as Sir Lancelot insisted on driving his Rolls at fifty miles an hour against all the traffic lights, bawling ‘Maternity case!‘ through the window at startled pedestrians in explanation.
    ‘I‘m glad Mrs Peckwater‘s obligingly gone off during my last day,‘ was all he said to his passenger. ‘Haven‘t had the chance of doing a delivery for forty years.‘
    ‘Forty years!‘ Tim looked concerned. ‘But I suppose the midwife will be on hand?‘ he added consolingly.
    ‘Midwife? You don‘t suppose I‘m going to be mucked about by some interfering Sarah Gamp who thinks she knows more than I do? Childbirth, Tolly, is a perfectly natural process. All the doctor does is field the little thing in the slips. I am much looking forward to the experience. And here we are, with the nervous father leaning over the gate. You may carry the bag.‘
    ‘Dr Spratt? I am, of course, Mr Peckwater,‘ This was a thin fair man with one of those precise flat voices you often hear asking questions at public meetings. ‘It happens to be our fourth happy event, Dr Spratt — ‘
    ‘Thank you, I already have the obstetrical history.‘
    ‘And I was thinking, Dr Spratt, after I had read a very moving article in the Sunday paper, not to mention seeing an extremely educational television programme, that I should like to be present to observe the miracle on this occasion, Dr Spratt.‘
    ‘What an utterly ghastly suggestion,‘ muttered the surgeon, stamping into the house.
    ‘It was said in this article,‘ continued Mr Peckwater, ‘that the father‘s place in childbirth is at the mother‘s side. This is Gran,‘ he broke off.
    ‘Charmed to meet you, madam.‘
    ‘Her time is very near, Doctor,‘ warned Gran.
    ‘Psychologists tell us — ‘ went on Mr Peckwater.
    ‘Oh, all right, all right, Mr Peckwater! Come and sit in if you like. After all, it‘s your party.‘
    Father went upstairs with the two doctors.
    ‘Well, my dear, quite comfortable!‘ began Sir Lancelot, breezing into the bedroom. ‘H‘m.‘ He stroked his beard. ‘Gran‘s right. Things certainly seem more advanced than I should have imagined when I called with the pethidine earlier this morning.‘
    ‘After all, she is a multip., sir,‘ murmured Tim Tolly at his side.
    ‘When I wish for your advice, young man, I shall ask for it. Please put a spare mask on the husband, though why the devil the man can‘t spend the time in the pub like a normal father is beyond me. Then show the patient how to use the trilene inhaler.‘
    ‘Dr Spratt,‘ Mr Peckwater continued undaunted through his mask, ‘have you read that most informative work, Childbirth Through Relaxation ?‘
    ‘The only obstetrical book I‘ve ever read was McGregor‘s Fundamentals, and it‘s been out of print for twenty years.‘ Sir Lancelot rolled up his sleeves. ‘Have we plenty of boiling water, Tolly?‘
    ‘Gran has four kettles on, sir.‘
    ‘Good. Bring me a newspaper.‘
    ‘A newspaper? But sir -1 mean, you‘ll hardly have time to sit about—‘
    ‘I want to put my gear on it, you fool, not read the racing results. Newsprint is sterile, Tolly. Sterile. Don‘t they teach you anything useful at St Agnes‘?‘
    Sir Lancelot laid his instruments on the dressing table with the precision he demanded in the operating-theatre at St Swithin‘s. Tim fiddled with the inhaler. Mr Peckwater continued to chat affably about the miracle of childbirth, as though it were some new sort of detergent. Sir Lancelot laid a hand on the patient‘s shoulder.
    ‘Now, I don‘t want you to worry, my dear,‘ he instructed, in a voice that radiated confidence like the Eddystone lighthouse. ‘You could manage this inhaler by yourself, but the other doctor will help you. I assure you that all will be perfectly straightforward.‘
    ‘Thank you, Doctor...