Pageant of Murder

“You got something there,” said the chairman. “Henry VIII and all his six wives, Anne Boleyn with her head tucked underneath her arm—raise a rare laugh, that would!”

Young Mr Perse looked shocked.

“I’d only thought of the funeral cortege, followed by a posse of Gentlemen-at-Arms. Rather more dignified, surely?” he asked coldly.

“No good at all, boy!” said the chairman, blithely. “After all, being made a borough is an occasion of rejoicing, and rejoicing, to my mind, includes a bit of a giggle. Old Harry the Lad, with a couple of cushions shoved up his doublet, and Anne Boleyn like what I said, that’s the stuff to give the troops, you take my word for it.”

“We ought to include Queen Elizabeth I, with a retinue, and then the pony club might like to take part as the Roundheads and Cavaliers,” said the woman Councillor, who wanted the part of the Virgin Queen for herself, and whose daughter was one of the pony club’s leading lights. “And that’s another thing,” she added. “Colonel Batty- Faudrey, up at the Hall, will expect something special for him and his wife and nephew.”

“What about Joan of Arc?” demanded the Councillor who had suggested the church parade.

“Joan of Arc wasn’t English,” objected the Councillor for the Old Folks’ Tea.

“Mrs Batty-Faudrey has the costume, though, and she’s also got her own horse,” said the woman Councillor. “And the Colonel could be Charles II. He was pictured in the local paper as that, the year before last, when they had that show for charity up at the Hall.”

“There’s an idea there, Councillor Mrs Skifforth,” said the chairman, approbation in his voice. “I been wondering, ever since these here festivities were mooted, how we were going to include-in the Colonel, him being, as you might say, our most prominent citizen until we get the Mayor. Handle him right, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t invite the pageant to end up in the grounds of the Hall and provide a bite to eat and some refreshment. So now, all them in favour of the Colonel being invited to take on Charles II and his good lady Joan of Arc, will signify in the usual manner. Thank you! Carried nearly unanimous.” He looked reproachfully at Mr Perse, who had not raised his hand. “Now that’s settled, what about a part for young Mr Faudrey, the Colonel’s nephew?”

“Dick Turpin, I should think,” said Perse viciously. “The man’s a mountebank.”

“We could end up with Queen Victoria and Prince Albert,” said Mrs Skifforth, eagerly. “Everybody will recognise them. I wonder whether we can get the loan of an open carriage?”

“The vicar’s lady could do Queen Victoria. Spit and image,” said the chairman. “And a barouche or a landau, or something of that, shouldn’t be beyond us. I’ll put Councillor Field on to it. He takes a great interest in things of that sort and is sure to be able to wangle something for us. Well, but, if the vicar’s lady can be persuaded, we’ve still got to find somebody for Prince Albert. Anybody any ideas?”

“What have we got a drama club for?” demanded young Mr Perse. “Surely one of their elegant gents can glue on some long hair and a bit of face-fungus?”

The chairman’s face cleared.

“Well, that seems to take care of that,” he observed. “That’s got the important folk settled. Now what about other parts? We ought to go back to the full Council with some concrete ideas, I reckon.”

“We’ve settled the pony club,” the woman Councillor pointed out, “and I’m sure they’ll be more than willing to take part.”

“We ain’t giving the other kiddies much of a look-in, so far as I see it,” said the Councillor who had proposed the children’s sports.

“There’s the races for ’em,” said the chairman, “and I daresay it might run to a presentation mug and some lemonade and a bun.”

“Merrie England,” said the Front-Gardens Councillor. “Stick the little ’uns in the first float, behind the band and that. The teachers ’ull have to see they’re all togged up right, and keep ’em in order, and stop ’em falling off the lorry. Part of their job.”

“Strewth!” muttered Mr Perse, who taught in the local grammar school, and genuinely pitied his colleagues in the primary and County Secondary schools.

“Then,” pursued the Front-Gardens Councillor, “I reckon as how the bigger boys could do the Romans for us. Again, their history master could vet. the dressing-up so we’d know it was all authentic.”

“And the bigger girls, or one of the pop groups who are intelligent enough to have long hair, could represent the Saxons, I suppose?” said Mr Perse, ironically.

“The bigger girls? Why, yes,” said the chairman, to Mr Perse’s astonishment. “That’s a very useful suggestion, Councillor. Save the hire of wigs, and, as to physiquew, well, the girls is as good as the boys these days, I reckon. Well, that takes care of that, then. Now, any other ideas?”

“The Crusaders could be done by Toc H, couldn’t they?” suggested the Councillor who had recommended the civic dinner.

“On that, we might be able to get a military band as well as the town band, provided they was able to play the same toon,” said the Councillor for the Children.

“That’s right. It would add a bit of uplift, and I reckon they wouldn’t hear each other if we put one in the lead of the procession and the other to bring up the rear,” said the Councillor for Open-air Dancing, “especially when you think of the row the spectators are bound to kick up. It would never notice if one was playing Annie Laurie and the other one Two Lovely Black Eyes, so far as I can see.”

“We could do with a pop-singer group, like Councillor Perse said.”

“The Scouts and Guides will have to come into it.”

“What about the Red Cross and St John Ambulance?”

“There’s the Fire-fighting Services and the Civil Defence.”