Johnny Swanson - Eleanor Updale [22]
Johnny was already mentally composing a new advert: Never Lose Your Glasses Again. He was wondering whether to send people real string, or just the suggestion that they could tie up their glasses themselves. Maybe he could charge more if he used coloured ribbon …
Mrs Langford straightened out Johnny’s cutting, and looked at it through her spectacles. ‘Oh, Umckaloabo. I’ve heard of this. There was a big row about it a few years ago. This Charles Stevens was struck off because of it.’
‘Struck off?’
Mrs Langford explained: ‘Struck off the Medical Register. It means the authorities took away his right to practise medicine. He’s not allowed to call himself a doctor any more. He was making wild claims about an unproven drug. He’s what we call a quack.’
‘A what?’
‘A quack. A fake doctor.’
‘They call me Quacky at school,’ said Johnny. ‘But it’s nothing to do with doctors. It’s because of my name: Swanson. It makes them think of ducks.’
‘That’s not very nice of them,’ said Mrs Langford. ‘But boys will be boys, I suppose. They called my husband Longfeet when he was at school, because he was so tall.’
‘What’s all this?’ said Dr Langford, who had just entered the room. ‘Oh, hello, Johnny. I wasn’t expecting to see you. Nothing wrong, I hope?’
‘No,’ said Johnny miserably, unable to disguise his disappointment at finding that the advertisement was a trick.
Mrs Langford passed the cutting to her husband. ‘It’s Umckaloabo again,’ she said.
Dr Langford patted his pockets. ‘Can I borrow your glasses a minute?’ he asked. His wife passed them over, with a wink to Johnny. The doctor sighed. ‘So he’s still making money out of it. It’s a disgrace, giving false hope to worried people and pocketing the proceeds. I thought we’d seen the back of this Stevens character.’ Dr Langford was still reading the advertisement. ‘He lives a long way away. Wimbledon.’ He looked up at Johnny, grinning. ‘You know what Wimbledon is famous for, don’t you, son?’
Johnny shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me.’
‘Tennis.’ There was an awkward pause. The doctor seemed to be waiting for something. ‘Do you see? Do you get it? Has the penny dropped?’
‘I’m sorry?’ said Johnny, embarrassed and confused.
‘It’s just that … well … you know … this Umckaloabo stuff. It’s a Wimbledon racket.’ The doctor paused again. Eventually Johnny got the joke, and mustered a half-hearted laugh.
Mrs Langford threw the cutting on the fire.
‘I bet hundreds of people will answer that advertisement and pay good money for rubbish,’ said Dr Langford. ‘It’s not right.’
‘Why don’t you put your vaccine in the paper then?’ asked Johnny.
The room fell silent, and Mrs Langford gave her husband a stern look. The doctor, shamefaced, put a finger to his lips. ‘I shouldn’t have told you about that, Johnny. It’s absolutely secret. I could get into a great deal of trouble if anyone finds out what I’m doing.’
‘You mustn’t mention it to anyone,’ said Mrs Langford, trying to sound kind, but looking more agitated than Johnny had ever seen her. She turned to her husband, muttering something under her breath.
Johnny felt embarrassed, and cross with himself for getting the doctor into trouble with his wife. He interrupted. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. But I still don’t understand. Why is it all right for this man Stevens to advertise something that doesn’t work, and against the law for you to sell something that does?’
‘Because real medicines have to be controlled, Johnny. Powerful drugs can do harm as well as good. You can bet your life that almost everything you see advertised in the paper is useless. You’d be astounded at what people will fall for in the small ads.’
Johnny didn’t say that he knew only too well. He could feel himself blushing as his mind flashed back to that moment by the canal, when he had last thought of his customers as real people who were being tricked. Dr Langford had put that feeling into words: It’s a disgrace, giving false hope to worried people and pocketing the proceeds.
Johnny wanted to get away from the awkward atmosphere. It wasn