DOCTOR IN CLOVER

It was a few days later, and one of those mornings which make you think of flannels on the village green, punts dozing on the river, strawberries and cream in the garden, and all the other gentle English summer delights which compensate for the place being uninhabitable most of the winter. I was still staying with the Nutbeams in their house in Belgravia, and the previous evening I'd telephoned Petunia about Sir Lancelot's meeting.

'Come and see me at the studio tomorrow,' she'd invited. 'And, darling, what are you doing about Jimmy Hosegood?'

I didn't mention I intended to do nothing about Jimmy Hosegood, though feeling a bit of a cad, like St George pretending the fiery dragon was only something to do with the roadworks.

'And he's got so peculiar lately, Petunia went on. 'Ever since you put him on that diet thing.'

'Peculiar how?'

'Like a centipede with corns. Ever so gloomy and grumpy and biting everyone's head off, even Sir Theodore's.'

'The sudden drop in blood-sugar is inclined to make people touchy. St Francis must have been absolutely intolerable until he got into his stride.'

'He's even being sticky about putting up the money for my picture. Adam Stringfellow's awfully upset. Not to mention Mum.'

'Perhaps I might be able to prescribe some counter therapy,' I suggested. 'See you for lunch.'

I was as curious as old Nutbeam to explore a film studio, though rather disappointed to find the buildings stuck in the middle of the Sussex countryside resembled a municipal sanitorium. There were even the same long concrete corridors inside where you could fancy you smelt the antiseptic, the only difference being the place hadn't any windows and everyone was walking about dressed up as Roman soldiers and Hawaiian dancing girls. As nobody took any notice of me and all the doors had NO ENTRY on them, I stood wondering where to go. Then Petunia appeared, in an evening gown nicely displaying her gynaecoid pelvis.

'Gaston, darling! Have you been waiting long? I've been in the rushes. Let's go down to the canteen, I've only twenty minutes before I'm due on the floor again.'

'All right for this St Swithin's lark?' I asked, after greeting her warmly.

'Oh, that. Yes, studio publicity have passed it. But what about Jimmy, Gaston? I'm absolutely at my wits' end. Honestly.'

'How's he looking?' I asked.

'You can see for yourself. He's in the canteen with Mum.'

The studio canteen looked like any other works' eating-place, except that being full of actors it suggested supper at a fancy-dress dance. In the corner were Petunia's Mum and Hosegood. He brightened a little as I appeared and exclaimed, 'Doctor! Don't you notice the change in me?'

'I was just wondering who the thin chap was,' I told him, though he looked exactly the same, except for an expression like Mother Hubbard's dog.

'Rolls, sir?' asked the waitress.

'Take it away!'

Hosegood recoiled as though offered a basket of live snakes, and asked for lean meat, poultry, game, rabbit, cooked by any method without the addition of flour, breadcrumbs, or thick sauces.

'See, Doctor-I'm sticking to that diet like glue.'

'I didn't come all the way out here today to talk about your diet,' Mum interrupted, giving me a chilly look. 'Nor did I expect to discuss my business before strangers. I simply want to know why you refuse to put up the end money for Melody's film.'

'I've got to think about it,' mumbled Hosegood gloomily. 'Money's a serious business, y'know.'

'As managing director of Melody Madder Limited I demand a better explanation.'

'Look, Mrs Bancroft-once Melody and me's spliced-'

'Mum, I really-'

'Be quiet. This is nothing to do with you. I can't understand this change of attitude at all, Mr Hosegood.'

This started an argument which made a pretty miserable lunch of it, especially with Hosegood ordering cabbage, broccoli, spinach, root vegetables, not parsnips, boiled or steamed without the addition of fat. Then a thin chap with long hair appeared to tell Melody she was wanted on the set, and Mum, of course, went too, leaving me to finish off with her fiancй.

'Very difficult, Mrs Bancroft, sometimes,' he remarked.

'Why not tuck into a whacking four-course meal tonight for a treat?' I suggested. 'Things will look much rosier afterwards.'

But he only shook his head and asked for lettuce, radishes, watercress, parsley, with dressing not containing vegetable or minerals oils.

'And I,' I announced, jolly hungry from the country air, 'am going to have a slice of that nice ginger flan.'

Hosegood's jaw dropped. 'My favourite dish!'

The poor fellow salivated so much as I cut myself a large wedge and covered it with cream, I fancied he'd ruined his tie for good.

I'd just stuck my fork into the sticky ginger bit, when the waitress said I was wanted on the telephone. It was Petunia, from her dressing-room.