Fantails Read Online Free Page A

the night. Another boy.”
    “I’ll hold the fort,” said Logie, and went into the waiting-room, that had chairs ranged round the walls, and picture papers on a table in the middle. Beyond it lay the surgery. Both rooms were ready for the arrival of the patients, as Logie “did” them as a rule when evening surgery was over, preferring that to getting up an hour earlier of a morning. Now and then the morning help gave them a good turn out. As she was opening the window Mrs. Sinclair popped her head round the door. “Is Alison about this morning? Not going out shopping?” she asked.
    “She’s going to be in, as far as I know. She did a lot of Marketing yesterday,” said Logie. “But I can’t be sure.”
    “Oh, well—I just thought I’d look in to have a word with her. If she’s not in it won’t quite kill me to have walked all the way for nothing!”
    “Shall I go back and tell her you’ll be coming?”
    “Goodness me, no! Thanks all the same. I want a word with Michie, in any case.”
    This being the obliger’s day for turning out the dining room, Mrs. Sinclair dealt herself with a good deal of the routine housework. It was eleven before she was free to go out into the garden, where she spent some time in trying unsuccessfully to persuade the elderly Scots gardener that she and the doctor far preferred the peas picked while they were small and sweet, instead of waiting till they were as large as marbles and as tasteless, and finally went up the flight of steps to Fantails. The door was open.
    “Alison? Are you there?” she called.
    “Indeed I am! And charmed to see you! Do come in. How nice of you to give me an excuse for idling. I’ve been longing for a cup of coffee, but I’d never bother to make one myself. I’ll just put on the kettle and be back with you in half a minute.”
    “You’ve brought the art of welcome to perfection, Alicey,” said Ella Sinclair when they were sitting side by side on the low window-seat, each with a large cup of coffee.
    “I don’t think it’s an art. It’s simply that I’m really pleased to see you!”
    “Well, whatever it is, coming here certainly does give one a cosy feeling of being wanted. What delicious little crunchy biscuits! I can’t make out what it is they taste of.”
    “Custard powder, in place of a quarter of the usual amount of flour.”
    “Next time I make biscuits I shall practise the sincerest form of flattery. Good news of Andrew?”
    “Yes, he’s very fit. We heard from him this morning.”
    In silence Mrs. Sinclair sipped at her coffee. Then she said, “You must be wondering why I’ve dropped in at a busy time of day. I wanted to have a quiet word with you. The fact is that we may be leaving here.”
    “Leaving? Oh dear !” Alison was startled and dismayed. The Sinclairs seemed so much a part of Market Blyburgh, she had supposed that they had taken root for life.
    “Oh, not for ever—though it’s nice of you to look so tragic! Only for a year or so. You know that paper Tom wrote for the Lancet that made so much stir?”
    “The one about his theory of anaesthetising?”
    “Yes. Well, it’s had repercussions. Bietmann, one of the most distinguished surgeons in America, thinks it may revolutionise the whole science of anaesthetics. He’s been corresponding with Tom for some time. Now he wants him to go to Boston so that they can work on it together. He would arrange for Tom to lecture to a medical congress and all over America to medical students.”
    “Ella! How simply wonderful for you both! How proud you must be!”
    “Yes. I don’t think either of us can quite realise it yet. It’s such a wonderful opportunity for a hitherto inconspicuous G.P. And though we’ll hate to leave home, it will be rather marvellous to see America. And, of course, an experience beyond Tom’s wildest dreams—or mine, for that matter.”
    “What’s going to happen to the practice?”
    “That’s one reason why I came to talk to you. We