CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN: Getting Rich

Andrew’s hard rimes were over. So many people now came to his surgery that he could no longer take the time to give them proper attention.

‘Listen, Chris,’ he said one morning, ‘I’ve just thought of an idea to save time. I want you to deal with the medicines for me. I usually spend about five minutes mixing each patient’s medicine. During those five minutes I could examine another patient!’

She looked at him. ‘But I don’t know anything about medicine!’

He smiled. ‘That doesn’t matter, dear. I have prepared a large quantity of two different kinds of medicine. I will tell you which kind to give each patient. Then you will fill the botde and hand it to him.’

Christine looked worried, ‘But – oh, Andrew, do you really believe-‘

‘Oh, I know that I used to talk a lot of nonsense about medicine at Aberalaw! But I’m a practical doctor now. These medicines can’t do any harm!’

Christine knew that it would be a waste of breath to argue with him; and so she agreed to fill the bottles. At every surgery, Andrew would run into her room to tell her which medicine to give each patient, and then run back to his surgery to attend to the next patient.

On one occasion, Christine told him that one of the medicines was finished. ‘Never mind – give the other!’ Andrew shouted. ‘Give coloured water! Give anything!’

After the evening surgery, Andrew would sit down and work out his accounts. ‘Heavens, Chris, we are doing well!’ he said proudly one evening. ‘Do you remember that miserable sum that I earned on our first day here? Well, today – today I made over eight pounds!’ He locked up the money in a drawer, and praised his wisdom in buying the practice. ‘Yes, and I’m attending high-class patients as well. We’re going to be rich, woman!’

Soon, he was able to tell her to buy new furniture for the house. ‘Go to the best shop. Get all the new furniture that you want. Get everything!’

Christine looked at him in silence.

He smiled. ‘That’s the joy of making money! One can buy everything that one wants. Let us enjoy our success!’

‘By buying expensive furniture?’

He did not notice the bitterness in her voice. He laughed. ‘That’s right, dear. Now’s the time to get rid of all those terrible old bits and pieces!’

She burst into tears. ‘You weren’t ashamed of it at Aberalaw. Oh, those were happy days!’ She turned and ran out of the room.

Andrew was very surprised. He thought angrily; ‘She doesn’t care about my success – she doesn’t care!’

But other people showed him respect.

A week after his quarrel with Christine, Mrs Lawrence telephoned and invited him to a lunch party on the following Friday. ‘One or two important people who I would like you to meet will also be there,’ she told him.

Feeling that he would be foolish to miss any opportunity of meeting people who might help him, Andrew accepted the invitation. But he did not want to run the risk of having another quarrel with Christine; and so, when Friday came, he told her that he was going to have lunch with Hamson. With a feeling of relief, he jumped into his car and drove to the home of Mrs Lawrence.

Several well-known people, including one of London’s most famous doctors, were at the lunch party. The meal was excellent, with plenty of wine. Andrew drank, laughed, joined in the conversation, and enjoyed every moment. Although much of the conversation was as stupid as the talk at Hamson’s party, Andrew returned home with a feeling of satisfaction.

But next morning he had a shock. Freddie telephoned him to inquire: ‘Did you enjoy your lwich yesterday? How did I know about it? Haven’t you seen the newspapers?’

Andrew ran to the sitting room, and hurriedly turned the pages of his newspaper. To his great surprise, he saw a photograph of Frances Lawrence and a report of her party, with the names of all the guests. He tore out the page and threw it into the fire.

But Christine had already read the newspaper. She felt deeply hurt. Why had he not told her? Why? Why? She felt more sorry for Andrew than for herself. She knew that rich people could be ill as well as poor people; but she felt that Andrew was giving up all his beliefs simply to make money.

Sadly, she attempted to do her housework.

Suddenly the telephone rang. As Andrew had by now gone out, she answered it. Her eyes became bright, excited. She kept looking out of the window, eager for Andrew’s return. She forgot her sadness. She had received good news!

When Andrew returned, she ran into the hall and called out to him: ‘Andrew! Sir Robert Abbey has just telephoned. Darling! You have been appointed to a post at the Victoria Hospital.’

Tears of excitement came to his eyes. ‘Why – that’s good news, Chris!’

‘Isn’t it? Isn’t it?’ she cried. She put her arms round his neck and kissed him.

He looked down at her, touched by her love. ‘How good you are, Chris! And how bad I am!’ he said.