Pageant of Murder

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The Special Sub-Committee Disbands

“…should be grateful for their diligence in setting down, and preserving these details of the life of the old town at a time when the whole country was passing through internal troubles of a most serious nature.”

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It was a year or two later.

“It having been signified by the powers that be,” said Alderman Topson, the chairman, “as how we are soon to lose our identity as a separate borough and be merged with the towns of Gistleward and Hansbury Heath in accordance with some…”

“Bloody nonsense!” interpolated Councillor Beaton.

“Some interference enacted by them as ought to have their heads examined, it becomes our duty, being the special-appointed sub-committee for the purpose, to seek ways and means of bringing the said merger to the attention of the public, most of which is apathetic to the point at issue. The Chair is open to any suggestions.”

“It won’t do a scrap of good. The whole thing is signed, sealed and settled,” said Councillor Perry. He had touched off gunpowder.

“It’s a crying shame, that’s what it is!”

“It’s a politician’s bit of homework, no doubt about that!”

“There’s no damn’ sense in it!”

“We were a market town when Gistleward and Hansbury Heath were a couple of little villages!”

“We’ll be losing our very name, next thing you know. It’s iniquitous! It didn’t ever ought to have been allowed. Them as did it should be strung up on lamp-posts!”

“Can’t be done! Hanging’s finished, and what I say—”

“This,” said the chairman, “is not going to get us nowhere. Suggestions is what we’re asked for, not a lot of bellyaching about something as can’t be helped. I’m agreeable with all that’s been said, but that ain’t what we’re here for. Now, who’s going to make a suggestion?”

“What about an inter-district sports day? I reckon our schoolchildren could make rings round all of theirs.”

“Ah, they could do that all right, and we could follow it up with a swimming gala. What have we got a Public Baths for?”

“That’s all too ordinary. We want something more striking. What about tolling the church bells and having a service on funeral lines, with hymns appropriate?”

“Why don’t we have a town crier to go round and say we’re going to cut down the Druids’ Oak and make a bonfire of the logs? Symbolic, if you see what I mean.”

“You don’t want a bonfire of the logs. Auction ’em off, is what I say. Make very nice souvenirs, they would, and the money could go towards a tea for the old folks, with black-edged invitation cards and a chocolate cake as centrepiece.”

“A competition for the best letter sent to the local newspaper saying what people think about the merger, and advising them not to mince their adjectives.”

“A bit dicey, that idea,” said the chairman. “An action for libel might be brought. I should have to ask the Town Clerk.”

“You might be able to persuade one of the Sunday papers to print the letters, if they were sufficiently scurrilous,” said Councillor Perse, who, tongue in cheek, had proposed the competition. “Or the B.B.C. might be interested—in a different way, of course. Panorama might give us a spotlight, or perhaps Tonight would do it. There’s been a lot of feeling about these mergers. I don’t believe the public is as apathetic as you say, especially if rates go up.”

“We could lobby our M.P. and see if he couldn’t do something for us. These plans haven’t happened yet. There might still be time to get things altered, don’t you reckon? Seems to me…”

“Don’t you believe it! It’s all cut and dried, I tell you! All we can do is make Gistleward and Hansbury Heath damned well sit up and take notice!”

“Now, look,” said the chairman, “this sub-committee is on the wrong lines. We got to be constructive. All you’re doing is fashioning spanners to throw into the works. You won’t stop the machinery, but you will make for a lot of nasty ill-feeling. Now, let’s make a fresh start. We can show we disapprove without going out of our way to get ourself disliked. I daresay Gistleward and Hansbury Heath feel just the same as we do, if the truth was only known. It’s up to us, I reckon, although strongly disapproving, to act like gents and ladies and not lose none of our dignity.”

“Well, then, to mark the occasion of the merger, what about excusing all the Council tenants a full week’s rent?”

“That,” said the chairman austerely, “would lead to rejoicing, not disapproval, so that suggestion is Out. Now, then, Alderman Mrs Skifforth, I don’t think you’ve spoke yet.”

“No, I haven’t. I’ve got an idea, but I don’t think I’ll put it forward. I don’t know, on thinking it over, how it will be received,” said the newly-created Alderman.

“Oh, come, now! Make a contribution,” urged the chairman. “It’s up to all of us to put forward any suggestions.”

“I’d really rather not.”

“Well, then, before we go any further,” said a Councillor who happened also to be the landlord of The Hat With Feather “while the Alderman is making up her mind—which, as the only lady member of this sub-committee, I’m sure her ideas would be most welcome—I think, if you’d just stretch out from where you’re sitting, Councillor Perse, there’s some sherry in that cupboard, which, with permission of the Chair…” he looked enquiringly at Topson… “we might possibly sample while we’re waiting. Whisky for them that prefers, and there’s plenty of bottled beer.”

“Well, thank you, Councillor Selby,” said the chairman. “After all, it’s a poor heart that never rejoices, as they say, and, of course, this merger might help out with the rates. Gistleward’s mostly residential, but there’s plenty of shops and factories in Hansbury Heath. I declare the meeting adjourned pro tem for twenty minutes. After that we’ll have to get on. There’s a full Council meeting at nine.”

Whether or not two glasses of excellent sherry played any part in the matter, it transpired, after the interval, that Alderman Mrs Skifforth had abandoned her show of reluctance and was prepared to share her thoughts with the meeting.

“I wondered,” she said, “whether we could have a torchlight procession—real torches, I mean, not electric bulb things-and beat the bounds for the very last time. I thought it would make a nice ending.”

“I like that idea. It’s classy,” said the chairman. “It’s poetical and it’s local and it’s historic, and, whatever else we think of, we ought to include it in. Those in favour? Thank you. Carried unanimous.” He stared hard at Mr Perse, but that gentleman had raised a languid hand. “Well, now, anything else? We’ll have to be careful who’s to be handed the job of carrying them torches, by the way.”

“It ought to be the Mayor and Corporation,” said Mr Perse, “and then, if the borough goes up in smoke, the accumulated rates will come in useful for re-building.”

The chairman rapped on the table with his knuckles.

“Order! Order! Any more suggestions?” he demanded. Time’s getting on, and frivolious comment is out of place. Now, then. We haven’t got very far yet.”

“I vote we do the whole thing in the evening. What was that play where the chap took the head round in a hat-box?” asked Councillor Perry.

“Do you mind?” pleaded Alderman Mrs Skifforth. “We’ve had enough of that sort of thing in Brayne, I should have thought!”

“No offence. The title was all I meant. What was that thing called now? I took my missus to see it. It give her nightmare. Night…night…”

“Night Must Fall,” said Councillor Perse.

“That’s it. So in the evening we beat the bounds by torchlight, like the Alderman says, and then, when night has done falling, as you may say, why not follow up with fireworks in the park? Everybody likes fireworks.”

“Ah, that’s it, fireworks,” said Councillor Selby. “A set piece of the Queen to finish up with, and we could floodlight the Mayor in his chain and robes and get a couple of planes to write Brayne For Ever right across the sky.”

“Followed by singing Auld Lang Syne.”

“Abide With Me, I reckon.”

“Lead, Kindly Light ’ud be more like it, wouldn’t it?”

“Procession of boats on the river, with lanterns and that, and the Eton Boating Song.”

“Why the Eton Boating Song? Eton’s nothing to do with us,” said Councillor Beaton.

The Councillor who had suggested it hummed the tune.

“I thought that was the old-fashioned waltz,” said Beaton. “I done some of my courting to that tune.”

“Never mind that,” said Councillor Briggs. “What about a daylight procession of narrow-boats on the canal, with prizes for the best decorated?”

“You’d never get the bargees wised up to it in time,” objected Councillor Yaffle.

“Look here,” said Councillor Perse, “if you really want to keep Brayne’s name on the map, why shouldn’t the Council make an offer to buy Squire’s Acre, and hand it over to the National Trust?”

There was a momentary silence. It was broken by the chairman.

“Well,” he said, “I must say I like that idea, but what would it run us into? It’s the ratepayers’ money, you know.”

“We should need to buy the grounds as well as the Hall,” said Alderman Mrs Skifforth, “and turn them into a public park.”

“Why the National Trust? We could develop the Hall for dances and receptions and that, and make a bit of money,” said Councillor Selby. “Get it licensed, p’raps.”

“Serve teas on the terrace and the lawn.”

“Put down some tennis courts and a couple of bowling greens.”

“Let the art club give an annual exhibition in the long gallery.”

“Use it as a skittle alley.”

“We’ve always wondered where a branch library could be put. This is the answer,” said Perse.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Mrs Batty-Faudrey wouldn’t be thankful to be quit of the place. She don’t live there any more, so she might consider a really reasonable figure,” said Councillor Yaffle.

“We could name it Brayne Old Hall. That would keep the borough on the map, I reckon,” said Councillor Beaton.

“Have to do it before this ruddy merger comes in, then, otherwise Gistleward and Hansbury Heath might want to have a finger in the pie,” said Councillor Briggs.

“If we do it, they’ll never get over it!”

“Brayne Old Hall! We must tie the new name up legal. I bet Gistleward won’t half be wild!”

“A truce to this inter-tribal warfare,” said Mr Perse. “Does anybody know what kind of figure Mrs Batty-Faudrey is likely to have in mind, if we can persuade her to sell Squire’s Acre?”

“If she knows it’s for the Council, she’ll stick the price up,” said Councillor Selby.

“Then we must approach her privately,” said Mr Perse.

“As through who?” asked the chairman, suspiciously, noting a smirk of self-approval on Mr Perse’s countenance. “Well, we can report all this to the full Council. Meanwhile, I declare the meeting closed. Well, thank you, Councillor Selby. I don’t mind if I do.”

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[August 13, 2006]