by Anne Morice
‘That’s right, Mr Best, along the left side, please. Now, just a little further down your end, if you wouldn’t mind. Thank you very much, that’s perfect. The other one is to go along the opposite side and when you bring it in please be awfully careful not to knock the flowers . . . . Oh, there you are, Julie! Are you feeling all right?’
‘Fine, thanks. Why?’
‘Just that it’s unlike you to be lazing about when there’s work to be done. Hallo, Tessa! I do hope you slept well?’ Julie had already scrambled to her feet, in a series of her usual ungainly movements, and I said:
‘I’m lazing about too, but you must let me know if there’s anything I can do.’
‘As a matter of fact, there is, if you wouldn’t mind terribly. Magnus is rather keen to run through your speech for tomorrow’s opening. He’s prepared a rough version which I’ve just typed out, and what it needs now is the personal touch. One or two anecdotes or remarks of your own sprinkled around, if you can think of any.’
‘Well, I might manage that, I suppose,’ I said rather huffily. ‘How is your father, by the way?’
‘I’m not terribly happy about him, to be honest with you, Tessa. I shall be glad to have your opinion. He was quite chirpy first thing this morning, but he seems to have lapsed back. The cut is healing up beautifully, but he complains of a headache, and he hasn’t eaten a thing.’
‘Delayed shock?’ I suggested.
‘Umm, maybe; although, knowing Magnus, I don’t think it’s very likely. As a rule, he takes everything in his stride. He’s completely fearless, for one thing. What bothers me is that there may have been some internal injury. I was going to ask you, Julie; do you think we should call in Dr Simmons? Magnus will probably be livid if we do, but we could invent some story to account for his having knocked his head and we should never forgive ourselves for neglecting it, if it turned out there was something seriously wrong. What do you think, Tessa?’
I was amused by her need, or pretence of it, for constant advice and reassurance, and suspecting that it was purely a device to obtain approval for a decision already taken, I humoured her by saying:
‘I daresay it would be easier to live with his ill temper than your own remorse, so I should go ahead.’
‘Yes, you’re so right. How very sensible! Julie, would you be an angel . . . ? No, on second thoughts, you take Tessa up to see Magnus and I’ll telephone the doctor myself. After all it is Good Friday and he may have been hoping for the day off. I shall have to put it tactfully.’
She walked with us as far as the house, musing away in silence, and presumably turning over phrases in her mind whereby to jockey the doctor into overcoming all her scruples and being the one to insist that the patient should be visited.
2
Magnus certainly did not appear to be in need of medical attention when Julie, having tapped on the door, ushered me into his bedroom which, in contrast to his colourful personality, was almost ascetic in its austerity. It had no doubt originally been a square room, but one quarter had been partitioned off to make it roughly L shaped, with the longer stroke of the L on its side and furthest away from the door. All that was visible of this part, when Julie had waved me through and then disappeared, was a plain narrow bed and some steel filing cabinets, but there was an archway into the room within the room, and as I went past I caught a glimpse of complicated gymnastic apparatus, including horizontal bars and a bicycling machine.
Magnus was sitting at his desk, which was tucked away inside the alcove formed by the partition wall, with a telephone clamped to his ear, while his right hand continued with a life of its own, methodically turning over the pages of a report. The only evidence of poor health was the bandage round his head and the fact that he was still in pyjamas and dressing gown.
On the wall facing him hung the single incongruous object in the room, a full length, life size portrait rather in the style of Sargent, of a young woman bedecked in white satin and pearls. She had fluffy blonde hair and light blue eyes, but the oval face and high domed forehead were so exactly those of Sarah and Julie that, except for the colouring, one of them could easily have posed for it.
Apart from this, the most prominent feature was the desk, which was at least as large as the bed and had two telephones on it, one red and one green. It was the green one which had been engaging part of his attention but after swivelling round to take a look at me he instructed the caller to ring him back on the same number in twenty minutes and dropped the receiver on to its hook.
‘One of my colleagues has over-reached himself,’ he explained. ‘It’s casting a gloom over his weekend and he’d like me to bob over to Munich and pull him out of the mess, but he’s going to have to think of something else.’
‘No, you could hardly be expected to dash about the continent in your state of health.’
‘Nonsense, my dear child, there’s nothing wrong with me that a couple of aspirin won’t cure. It’s tomorrow’s gala I’m thinking of. Can’t afford any hitches there, after all the work and organisation we’ve put into it.’
‘And might there be a hitch, if you weren’t there to supervise?’
‘No, most unlikely, I should imagine. The real reason is that I mean to enjoy myself. And I hope that goes for you too?’
‘I expect I will, once I’ve got through the ghastly speech.’
‘Don’t give it a thought. If you look half as pretty as you do now, we shan’t have a thing to worry about. You could read out the train timetable and have them clamouring for more. Still, I’ve no doubt you’ll feel more confident if you’ve got it all at your finger tips, aren’t I right? Yes, I thought so. So what I’d like you to do is to cast your eye over this draft I’ve roughed out, and then tell me of any alterations you’d like made to it, any little words or phrases which sound unnatural, if you see what I mean?’
He handed me two typewritten pages, comprising a total of half a dozen paragraphs. The first pertained to the history and growth of the South Midlands Conservation Society, the middle part carried a more personal flavour and contained, as Sarah had warned me, blank spaces for the interpolation of remarks of my own composition, and it ended with a rousing call to arms. I read it through and handed it back to him, saying:
‘There’s only one bit which is not at all in my style.’
‘Yes? Where’s that? Tell me what it is and we’ll put it right.’
‘Nearly at the end, in your peroration,’ I said, and began to read aloud:
‘ . . . gathered together here, amongst all our friends, in this beautiful English countryside of ours, all of us out to spend money and enjoy ourselves, we may perhaps be excused if we forget the common aim which has brought us here. We may even wish to thrust from our minds for once the problems and dangers which surround us and threaten the survival of this same beloved countryside, along with our human right to enjoy ourselves in our own way. But I should remind you that it is only by our vigilance that we can retain these privileges for ourselves and our children and our grandchildren. There are those who seek to deprive us of them, and some of them speak to us in honeyed voices, so we must be ever on our guard; ready to oppose them with all our strength and resolution and not to falter in the struggle to preserve our glorious heritage.’
I looked up and Magnus said: ‘Yes? What’s the trouble? What don’t you like about it?’
‘Well, it’s politicians’ stuff,’ I said, choosing the mildest of several criticisms which sprang to mind. ‘Not the kind of thing I’d say in a million years.’
‘Is it the sentiments or the language you object to?’
‘Both, I’m afraid.’
‘Dear me, what a pity! I was rather hoping to end on a stirring note. But never mind. I asked for your opinion and I shall certainly be guided by it. I’ll strike that passage out and substitute something a little more colloquial, is that it?’
‘Yes please.’
‘It shall be done. Think no more about it. And that’s your only criticis
m? Good! Splendid! Will you be able to get it off by heart in time for tomorrow afternoon?’
‘Yes, easily.’
‘I’m delighted to hear that, because I do think it will be so much more effective if you don’t use notes. Let it appear completely spontaneous, as if you were really . . .’
‘Enjoying myself?’
‘Exactly. It’s bound to be infectious, and that’s the mood we want to create. Everyone enjoying themselves and spending a lot of money.’
‘If you’re so meticulous about all such minor matters, it’s a mystery to me how you find time for your real work,’ I remarked.
‘Oh, but it’s the details which count, don’t you see? Anyone with training and reasonable intelligence can organise on a big scale. It’s simply a question of knowing how to delegate. It’s the details which require a touch of genius. No, no, I’m only joking, my dear. The fact is that Sarah’s the brains of this enterprise but she indulges me by allowing me to pretend that I play a useful part.’
‘You’re going to miss her?’
‘No doubt of that, but it has to be faced. I’m not such a monster as to want her to be tied to me for the rest of my life. Just so long as she marries the right man, who’ll give her plenty of scope for her talents, that’s all I ask.’
‘And do you think Kit measures up to those requirements?’
‘Oh yes,’ he replied cheerfully. ‘I shouldn’t be at all surprised, you know. He doesn’t lack ambition and with Sarah behind him he’ll soon get to the top. I may even be allowed to lend a helping hand myself, from time to time. I’ve got a little pull here and there, when it’s a question of raising finance for films.’
I was interested to discover that he did not share Sarah’s own vision of the future, whereby she would continue with her present activities, incorporating Kit into them as a kind of extra hobby, and I was debating whether to refer to this when faintly and faraway I heard a telephone ringing. The instruments on the desk remained silent, but Magnus had instinctively turned his head towards the green one, and I was reminded that he was expecting a call. There was a more pressing matter than Sarah’s future that I wanted to raise before it came through and, without much thought, I plunged straight into it:
‘By the way, who’s behind the Keep Britain Clean Crusade?’
‘A bunch of thugs,’ he replied irritably. ‘How did you come to hear of them?’
‘They sent you a message last night, remember?’
‘Who told you that?’
‘No one. I read it. No business to, maybe, but I was curious.’
‘Quite right too. I shouldn’t think much of you if you weren’t. All the same, I’d be obliged if you’d keep it under your hat.’
‘Okay, but you still haven’t told me who they are.’
‘My dear girl, you witnessed their behaviour, you read their infantile threats, what more do you need?’
‘But it doesn’t make sense. Here you are, working flat out on the ecology lark, and yet they call you a traitor. I thought keeping Britain clean was exactly what you were after?’
‘And now, if I may say so, you’re being disingenuous. You must have realised that the reference was not to the air we breathe but to the people who breathe it. The aim of this charming outfit is to rid the country of its non-Anglo-Saxon elements; the good old racial purity theme cropping up again with all its usual violence and prejudice.’
‘And it’s serious, is it? They aren’t just hooligans, as you pretended?’
‘Who knows how serious it is? All these crackpot campaigns which feed on fear and ignorance are potentially dangerous. It depends who’s running them and what their real objective is. In this case the organisers have been careful to keep in the background. We may have our own ideas on the subject but we don’t know for certain who they are or how much power they wield.’
‘Has this kind of thing ever happened before?’
‘No, certainly not, quite an innovation. There have been one or two anonymous letters but last night’s episode was the first of its kind. An isolated incident, I feel sure, so there’s no need for you to . . .’
There was a knock on the door and a few seconds later Julie came into the alcove.
‘Sorry to interrupt you, Magnus, but Babs was on the telephone. First of all she wanted to know how you were.’
‘How very sweet of her! I hope you told her there were no ill effects whatever?’
‘More or less. She also wanted to know if we’d care to go over there this morning and look round the Pottery. She thought Tessa and Kit might be interested.’
‘Splendid idea! Excellent! You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you Tessa? Tell her we accept with pleasure. Let’s see now, I’ve got this call coming from Germany, but it shouldn’t be long. Say we’ll be there by twelve.’
Julie, however, continued to hover uncertainly and he said with a shade of impatience:
‘Well, run along, my dear. You can’t keep Babs waiting for ever.’
‘No, that’s all right, I’ve arranged to ring her back after I’ve consulted you all, but the point is that Sarah doesn’t think you should go out today.’
‘Why ever not?’
‘Because of your head.’
‘Oh, piffle! I certainly don’t intend to skulk indoors on that account. Besides it would be most unwise. The rumour would be all round the place in no time that I was seriously injured, and that’s the last thing we want, surely?’
I was fascinated by this somewhat regal attitude to the situation, as though he were no ordinary citizen but a head of state, with a duty to show himself to the multitude and scotch the rumours of assassination. Absurd though it was, I hardly doubted that Sarah would view the matter in the same light once it was pointed out to her; though, as it happened, I had overlooked an even more powerful consideration. However desirable to allay the fears of the populace and bring discomfort to the enemy, it transpired that even these noble sentiments took second place to her determination to nip Babs’ little schemes in the bud. She announced with a firmness which admitted no argument that she had prevailed on Dr Simmons to call at midday and that for Magnus to be out when he arrived would create the most serious ill feeling. Sir Magnus capitulated, and twenty minutes later the party set off to Missendale without him.
After a brief consultation between the sisters Sarah took the wheel of the Bentley, with Kit beside her, and they sped off immediately. There followed some prolonged and perfectly unnecessary limping around from one side to the other on Julie’s part, before she and I were installed in a natty black Jaguar, which was also parked in the drive, and took our place in the procession to the Potteries.
CHAPTER FIVE
1
The route to Missendale took us about six miles to the north west by way of a lane which branched off from the main road beside the Eglinton Arms, where Kit and I had stopped on the previous evening. Julie explained to me that there was a short cut through the fields from this point, but it was only a bridle way and not wide enough for cars.
‘It makes a pleasant walk, though, so they tell me. I have to take their word for it,’ she added wryly.
Although the lane was narrow and winding, she took it at ferocious speed, at the same time displaying the skill and timing of the true expert, which does so much to inspire confidence in even the shakiest of passengers. I felt sufficiently relaxed to compliment her on her prowess.
‘Thank you,’ she replied, smiling secretively, and I guessed that part of her satisfaction came from the fact that driving was one of the few activities in which her lameness was no handicap. Had it not been for that, she might have been as brilliant as Sarah in other departments, and perhaps equally bossy too, which in my view went a long way towards compensating for her disability. It prompted me to say:
‘This is probably an impertinence, but I think you make too much of it.’
‘Too much of what?’ she asked with a bafflement which sounded faintly overdone.
‘Your lameness.
You sometimes give the impression that you go out of your way to draw attention to it. If you don’t mind my saying so, I think you should try and forget it, and then everyone else would too.’
‘Oh no, they wouldn’t,’ she replied. ‘That would never be allowed.’
It was an odd way of putting it and she did not enlighten me further, but at least I had now begun to understand her motive for the delayed start. We had swept majestically round a bend in the lane and fifty yards ahead of us, beside a cluster of ramshackle buildings standing back from the road, the Bentley had just stopped. She had given Sarah three minutes’ start and even so she had caught her up.
Babs must have been lurking behind the blue repp curtains, for she emerged from the main building before a car door was opened. She looked more presentable in slacks and pullover than in her evening finery, but the veneer of affability got a few cracks in it when, having drawn a blank first at one car and then the next, she realised who was missing.
‘Oh yes he’s fine, thank you Babs,’ Sarah said, responding to the anxious enquiries. ‘Absolutely recovered, in fact, but he asked to be excused. You know how it is? So many urgent things cropping up all the time.’
That was her version for Babs. To me, having laid her well groomed hand on my arm, as the others went into the house she murmured hurriedly:
‘Listen, Tessa, would you mind awfully if I were to slip away when the conducted tour sets off? One doesn’t want the whole world to know, but the truth is that I am the tiniest bit worried about Magnus.’
‘I don’t mind in the least, but there didn’t strike me as being much wrong with him.’