Pageant of Murder

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?”