After the War is Over Read Online Free Page A

terms. The adults remained at the table and the children, Beth and Eric, had gone into the parlour to listen to the wireless and examine their presents, mainly books.
    ‘I shall never join,’ Frank insisted forcefully, ‘even if it means I’m the only doctor left in England who’s not part of it. I intend to go on choosing my own patients, thanks all the same, and treating them in the way I consider best without interference from the socialist crowd that make up this useless government. The idea that people will no longer have to pay to see a doctor is an insult to our profession.’
    ‘We’ll be paid by the government,’ Tom said mildly. He was an ardent admirer of the new scheme and already treated his poorer patients free of charge.
    ‘You’ll probably end up without a single patient,’ Constance said to her husband. The pair didn’t get on and argued relentlessly. ‘No one in their right mind is going to pay to see you when they can be treated for nothing by another doctor. They will even be getting their medicine for free, as well as spectacles and bandages and cotton wool and stuff like that.’
    Frank spluttered. ‘It’s disgraceful.’
    ‘What’s disgraceful about it?’ Adele glared at her elder son. ‘I think a National Health Service is a marvellous idea. Poor people can have the most frightful things wrong with them, yet they can’t possibly afford to see a doctor. I didn’t vote for Mr Attlee, the prime minister, but I shall from now on. He’s a wonderful man.’
    Frank opened his mouth to splutter again, but Adele banged her spoon on the table. ‘No more arguments, if you don’t mind, Frank. It’s Christmas, and from now on we will only talk about nice things.’ She turned to Iris. ‘I’m so sorry I barged in on you the other day when you had invited your army friends to tea. They were such lovely girls; one so incredibly pretty, the other with the face of a saint. I was really taken with them.’
    Constance frowned. ‘You had them to tea, Iris?’
    ‘Yes, what’s wrong with that?’
    ‘It looks like the class system is coming to an end.’ Constance smiled ruefully. ‘It’s the war, I suppose. We fought together, went hungry together, did without the same things like coal and cigarettes. In a way, it’s made us all equal. Our lot can’t very well look down on poor people any more.’
    Not far away, in another part of Bootle, Christmas Day was being celebrated in a happier vein, though just as argumentatively.
    Paddy O’Neill, Maggie’s dad, was a stalwart of the Labour Party, as was her Auntie Kath, an attractive woman in her mid-thirties who had the same black curls as her sister and niece, though her eyes were more blue than violet. Labour had won the ‘khaki election’ held in July, so-called because it was the troops returning home after the long fight against fascism who were demanding social reform, a country that was fair for all its citizens, not just a favoured few. Labour had promised change in the form of nationalisation of the utilities, the gas and electricity companies, the railways and coal mines, and, of course, the provision of free medical care for everyone. The election had been won with a huge Labour majority.
    Maggie’s dad thought there was enough in the pipeline to please most of the electorate, whereas her aunt considered Labour ought to nationalise virtually everything that moved, including properties with five or more bedrooms, which would solve the housing shortage at a stroke.
    ‘It’s a great idea, Kath,’ Paddy said, nodding his head approvingly, ‘but the people won’t stand for it. This isn’t an extreme country. The population prefer things done by halves, not wholes. Unlike the last war, this time men are returning to a land genuinely fit for heroes. They fought to protect their country and it’s time they had a share in it.’
    ‘Hear, hear,’ Kath said enthusiastically. ‘But don’t forget it’s men and women who are