Meadowlands by Jeffrey Elizabeth

Author:Jeffrey, Elizabeth [Jeffrey, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781780106182
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2014-11-10T08:00:00+00:00

There was a chorus of assent and then someone shouted, ‘Three cheers for Miss Gina …’

‘And Miss Polly,’ someone called.

‘Thass right. An’ Doctor Max. Hip, hip …’

‘Hooray.’ They all shouted, and it was difficult to know whether the women or the children shouted the loudest.

Then everyone went back to their bleak little homes full of Christmas cheer.

On Christmas Day, Max arrived at Meadowlands, immaculately dressed in a dark grey suit, the right leg of the trousers pinned up below the knee, a spotless white shirt and maroon tie. He was driven in a smart Ford car by a young ex-soldier he called Thurlow, who had also been recently discharged from the army with a dreadful, bubbling cough through having been quite badly gassed in the trenches. Max brought with him whisky for Sir George and chocolates for the ladies, including Polly, who he was clearly puzzled to see later waiting on table.

Over lunch, Max told them he had decided to remain in the area now he was no longer in the army. He had found himself a flat and was employing Thurlow as his driver and man servant.

‘Poor fellow nearly went down on his knees with gratitude,’ he said sadly. ‘He had envisaged spending the rest of his life begging in the streets. But I’m giving him something to help with his cough and with plenty of fresh air and the right food he’ll manage perfectly well as long as I keep an eye on him.’

‘That’s very noble of you,’ Gina remarked.

‘Not at all. I need him as much as he needs me. I think we shall get along very well.’

‘You’re staying in the area, then. Does that mean you’ll be setting up in practice?’ Adelaide said, adding archly with her habitual lack of tact, ‘No ties elsewhere?’

‘Yes, yes and no, in answer to your questions,’ Max replied briefly, a disarming smile robbing his answers of any curtness, at the same time discouraging any further probing into his affairs.

‘What are these new-fangled weapons they’re talking about now, Rodwell?’ Sir George asked, immersed in his own train of thought and completely oblivious to the previous conversation. ‘Tanks, they call them, don’t they? They run on caterpillars, or some such. Can’t see they’ll ever be much use.’

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