Cards of Identity

by Nigel Dennis

‘Huh. They’re both in the north now, my lad.’

  ‘Oh, did you find places for them, dear?’ asked Mrs Mallet, from a game of patience. ‘A seedy trespasser, you remember, was asking about them the other day.’

  ‘Me,’ said Lolly with a rather proud smile.

  ‘Nonsense, Stapleton!’ said the captain. ‘How could it have been you? As to your uncle and aunt, they were fine people, but in a rut.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Lolly appreciatively.

  ‘You don’t get a union-card by wearing riding-breeches and listening to cuckoo clocks,’ continued the captain.

  Lolly was greatly amused by this remark: he had been used to thinking of himself, rather than his relatives, as the one whose life was lacking in purpose. The captain thrust a cigar at him, played on its tip a ferocious burst of flame from the bomber, and said: ‘Sit down, Stapleton. You are ready to go to London immediately, I understand?’

  ‘How?’ said Lolly, with a faint start.

  ‘In that car, of course.’

  ‘I’m supposed to take it to Mr Brown.’

  ‘What on earth difference does that make?’

  ‘Well, he’ll think I’ve pinched it, won’t he?’

  The three Mallets burst into roars of laughter, continuing for so long that Lolly looked bewildered.

  ‘Stop, now!’ said the captain sharply, suddenly turning grave. ‘The lad means it. He sees a hitch. He’s not a fool. Now, Stapleton, just tell me what you’re driving at. Be frank and open. I like a man who thinks.’

  Lolly turned red. He was not embarrassed, but he found it a strain to marshal his thoughts. After some struggle, he said: ‘Doesn’t the car belong to Mr Brown? Didn’t he just buy it?’

  ‘What if he did?’ asked the captain with astonishment.

  Lolly scratched his head. His mind was being driven into reaches that it scarcely knew: he was terribly at sea.

  ‘Do you really think, my boy,’ said the captain earnestly, ‘that if you don’t return with that car, Brown will think you’ve stolen it?’

  ‘I think he might,’ said Lolly. ‘He’s a cute bloke.’

  ‘Oh, Father,’ said Beaufort, in a drawling voice; ‘let’s drop the whole business. He’s probably afraid of the police, or can’t drive, or something.’

  ‘I’m sure you are wrong, Beaufort,’ said Mrs Mallet, looking at Lolly with the affection of a mother for an oddity. ‘It seems that Mr Stapleton is trying to be fair and honest.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Lolly gratefully. ‘Fair and honest.’ He repeated these words with some awe.

  The captain dropped into his chair. ‘I am baffled,’ he said.

  ‘Me too,’ said Beaufort.

  They both stared at Lolly.

  ‘It’s like this, I think,’ said Mrs Mallet gently. ‘Mr Stapleton is trying to say – but he’s not very good at words – that since Mr Brown is paying him to fetch this car and has given him the money for it, it would not seem right for Mr Stapleton to hand it over to someone else.’

  ‘I only get more confused,’ said the captain, waggling his fingers crossly. ‘I don’t know what all these words mean. What would “not seem right” for instance? There’s nothing wrong with the car, is there? If there is, we must put it right. Or is the money counterfeit?’

  ‘Forget it father,’ said Beaufort with a yawn. ‘Stapleton’s not interested.’

  ‘But I am!’ cried Lolly.

  ‘You don’t show much interest,’ said the captain.

  ‘I think you two should be more tolerant,’ said Mrs Mallet. ‘You mustn’t shut your minds to all ideas except your own. Mr Stapleton has a perfectly sound point of view.’

  ‘What is it, then?’ cried the captain.

  ‘What I explained to you, dear.’

  ‘But that didn’t make any sense.’

  ‘I’ll say it again, then. Mr Stapleton has the car in trust, for Mr Brown. Mr Brown has given us a large sum of money for it. He would not think it honourable of Mr Stapleton to dispose of the car elsewhere.’

  ‘What on earth has all that got to do with it?’ exclaimed the captain. ‘I am trying to perform the simple, direct sort of business transaction that I do a dozen times a day. All I hear from you and Stapleton is some purely personal opinion about trust and honour. I cannot see that there is the slightest connexion.’

  ‘Well, that’s quite true, of course, Mr Stapleton,’ said Mrs Mallet. ‘I’m afraid we can’t deny that. You are bringing what we call “value judgements” into a simple business matter, aren’t you?’

  When Lolly only looked desperately puzzled, the captain said: ‘Look here, my boy; if you’re afraid of Brown, that’s soon settled. I can have him beaten up at once.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want that,’ said Lolly, looking horrified.

  ‘And why not, pray?’

  ‘He’d get hurt,’ said Lolly.

  At this, the captain and Beaufort looked absolutely stunned. They stared at Lolly with stupefaction.

  ‘I must say, Mr Stapleton,’ said Mrs Mallet, ‘that you are pushing things a little far. After all, there is a National Health Service to look after Mr Brown’s injuries. Even if he died, his relations would not have to pay for burying him. You must try and be a little more practical.’

  ‘I’m afraid we’ll have to call the whole thing off,’ said the captain.

  ‘I’m going to try again to explain to Mr Stapleton, so be patient a little longer,’ said Mrs Mallet. ‘Come and sit here beside me, Mr Stapleton, will you?’

  He obeyed. Looking at him with a smile, she said gently: ‘Now, it’s like this. All our lives are divided into two parts. One part of us is the things we were taught when we were little, by our mother and father and the clergyman. They told us what it was to be good, honest, hardworking, and kind to others – and we needed to be told these things or we would never have known about them. Now, the other part of our lives is doing things – making dolls and aeroplanes when we are very small, doing business when we grow up. Now these two parts are quite different. The first one is a personal feeling that we would hate to be without. The second one is a public duty that we perform so as to keep ourselves and the rest of the world well-fed and properly dressed. This second part is very complicated and scientific nowadays: it is very difficult to learn it. But think how much more difficult it becomes if we start muddling it up with the first part of ourselves! And that’s what you’ve done. Instead of having two separate selves, like any normal person, you’ve tried to squash them into one. That means that whenever you want to do anything, you have to stop and ask if it’s right. And how can it be right? Is it ever?’

  ‘Well, not often,’ said Lolly.

  ‘Don’t look so guilty, Mr Stapleton.’

  ‘I bet he’s had trouble with the police,’ said the captain sympathetically.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Lolly, sighing.

  ‘It could hardly be otherwise, Mr Stapleton,’ said Mrs Mallet gently. ‘Once you start muddling your two identities, you quickly begin to muddle everything else. The police find out at once: that’s what they are there for.’

  ‘I like Mr Brown,’ said Lolly suddenly. ‘He’s a friend.’

  ‘Oh, well, then that settles it,’ said the captain, walking briskly to the door. ‘If he’s going to bring friendship into the transaction, I wash my hands of it.’

  ‘You have missed a wonderful opportunity, Mr Stapleton,’ said Mrs Mallet sadly.

  ‘The man’s nothing but an idealist,’ said Beaufort.

  ‘You’ve no right to call me names,’ said Lolly.

  ‘Stop it, Beau!’ called the captain from the door. ‘Say good-bye politely to Stapleton.’

  ‘Oh, all right!’ cried Lolly, greatly humiliated. ‘I’ll do it.’

  ‘Don’t trust him, father!’ exclaimed Beaufort. ‘The next thing we know, he’ll have taken the car straight to the police.’

  ‘Not me!’ cried Lolly.

  ‘Stapleton,’ said the captain, returning from
the door: ‘my son is hot-headed. He has no experience of men. I have. I believe you when you say that you would avoid the police. Now, since you don’t understand normal language, I’m going to make you a proposition. You take the car to London tonight, and tomorrow morning I’ll go and see Brown myself and explain the whole matter. I’ll tell him quite frankly that everything was rather confused, and that on the whole we think it better to keep the car in dry dock for a few more months.’

  ‘What about the money?’ asked Lolly.

  ‘Well, I’ll pay you twenty-five pounds to drive it up to my London manager and he’ll give you a good job, starting as of last week. How’s that?’

  ‘I mean, Brown’s money,’ said Lolly.

  He saw the same old look of stupefaction creeping into their faces; it was more than he could bear. He said: ‘All right, all right, never mind: I know I’m barmy.’

  The captain sighed, opened the bag of self-raising flour, and handed Lolly twenty-five pounds. ‘I’m taking a frightful risk, trusting a shaky fellow like you,’ he said. ‘I’m going to tell my manager that he’ll have to put you through a stiff course.’

  ‘I could go up with him, father,’ suggested Beaufort, ‘if it would ease your mind.’

  ‘I back Stapleton absolutely,’ said the captain, scribbling on a paper. ‘Now, here’s the address. It’s a club. You ring the bell, and when a man comes, you say: “The Captain sent me to the President.” That’s all. It’s a code. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Lolly.

  ‘It’ll be a couple of months before we see you again, Stapleton. I hope we shall hardly recognize you. You will be another person.’

  ‘I have a feeling we shall all be very proud of you, Mr Stapleton,’ said Mrs Mallet.

  ‘He’ll look down his nose at us, if I’m any judge,’ said Beaufort.

  ‘I’m not that sort,’ said Lolly. He buttoned up his greasy leather jacket.

  ‘You’ll find this more suitable for driving,’ said the captain, opening a huge chest and producing an overcoat with a fur collar.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Lolly, donning it with much surprise.

  ‘And here’s a hat,’ said the captain, placing a black Homburg on Lolly’s head.

  ‘Oh dear! I meant to wear that tonight,’ said Beaufort.

  ‘There’s only one other thing,’ said Lolly. ‘About me being named Stapleton …’

  ‘I’ve explained all that in the letter. The President will know all about you. He deals with that sort of thing all the time.’

  ‘Oh, come on, father,’ said Beaufort. ‘I’ll go up with him. He probably doesn’t even know the way.’

  ‘I know it very well,’ said Lolly. ‘And I’ll take it alone.’

  *

  ‘Today is pay-day,’ said the captain a few weeks later, pulling the bell-rope and crossing over to his desk. ‘I have told the staff that now all the furniture is in position we can resume our old friendly customs and rituals. Today, for instance, they will all come in by turn, to get their money and exchange a few words with the master, as they have done for many years. It may interest you to know that we won’t have to draw on Club funds at all. Jellicoe and Mrs Paradise, I find’ – and the captain held up a passbook – ‘have enough to pay their own wages for some years, and Mrs Chirk’s, Tray’s, and Towzer’s to boot. So that’s one weight off my mind. Not that I approve of living off capital; but then, I’m old-fashioned.’

  There was a knock and Mrs Paradise entered, smoothing her skirt.

  ‘Take that chair, Florence,’ said the captain, putting on spectacles. ‘Well, pay-day is here again – that dear, distant day we so despair of seeing. What is the general tone of the house, Florence?’

  ‘On the upsurge, sir, now that all is ship-shape.’

  ‘Had there been grumbling, Florence?’

  ‘There were murmurs, sir.’

  ‘Indeed! How is Mrs Chirk settling down?’

  ‘She seems a kindly, willing body, sir, but a bit flutter-headed.’

  ‘You have taken her under your wing, I hope?’

  ‘Oh yes, sir. But she is still a little bewildered by the greatness of the house, and her place in it.’

  ‘Well, it’s the heart that matters most, Florence, is it not? Now, here are your wages. I am sorry the paper money is so oily and tattered, but the Bank was short of sovereigns.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ said Mrs Paradise, receiving a neat, cream envelope backed with the Mallet motto: Ja’y Donné Ma Pledge.

  ‘I know that I have asked you this question every pay-day for twenty years, Florence, but I will ask it again. Do you still want to continue our old arrangement, under which I put 60 per cent of the wage in your envelope and invest the remainder at 5½ per cent, tax-free?’

  ‘I do, sir.’

  ‘I think you are wise. Just sign the usual form, will you … Thank you. You know, if you go on saving like this, Florence, you are going to be comfortably off, eventually. I was totting it all up the other day, adding in, of course, the money left you by your husband. The total quite made my eyes sparkle.’

  ‘Don’t tell it to me, please, sir, I like to feel I must go on and on working as hard as ever I can, because there’s nothing between me and the workhouse.’

  ‘I wish there were more like you, Florence. If it would please you, I could deduct still more from your envelope and put it in one of those Government Social Security schemes that are so popular nowadays.’

  ‘No thank you, sir. The word “security” only makes my heart flutter. It’s not a natural word, sir. We must struggle on like animals, sir, and those of us who fail must crawl under a bush and die.’

  ‘That is a splended sentiment, Florence. Without it you would not be where you are. Now, Florence, I hope you will keep everyone up to the mark, because the time is drawing closer every minute. Only three weeks and our great house-party begins: some of the most distinguished men in England will be here. The affair will last about two and a half weeks, as usual, after which …’

  ‘We will return to our quiet everyday life, sir.’

  ‘Something of that nature, Florence. I shan’t bother to give you instructions: after twenty years, you know all about our house-parties. But last year’s party was a model: if you follow that, you can’t go wrong.’

  ‘Will many of the same gentlemen be coming, sir?’

  ‘Almost all of them. You will see many a familiar face… Very well.’

  Mrs Paradise left, and Jellicoe came in.

  ‘Sit down, Jellicoe. Have you any complaints?’

  ‘I never complain, sir.’

  ‘Have you any doubts?’

  ‘I never doubt, sir.’

  ‘Any worries?’

  ‘They are for me to stomach, sir.’

  ‘Well, that sounds very healthy, Jellicoe. I am glad of your reassurance, because I had thought I noticed a restrained sourness.’

  ‘I think I was only tired, sir.’

  ‘Why would that be?’

  ‘The furniture, sir. There seemed to be no end to it.’

  ‘Would you expect there to be, in a house of this size?’

  ‘No, sir. Now the work is done, I am proud of it and feel every minute was well spent.’

  ‘Well, don’t get smug about it. One of our most common failings is to make such a fuss about a very ordinary matter that we draw some extraordinary moral from it. And remember: most disorganization and struggle, even with such things as furniture, are at bottom only a reflection of a disordered personality … Now, here is your wage. You will find it a little more than usual – that is my appreciation of your extra duties during Mrs Paradise’s collapse.’

  ‘I am deeply grateful, sir.’

  ‘Not too deeply, because the appreciation does not amount to much, and I have had to deduct some of it to cover furniture chipped and scratched by you in recent weeks. There is also the usual child-maintenance and bastardy-arrears deductions, and I have, as always, kept back half the total to pu
t in the usual 7 per cent Argentine Preferred … Tell me, by the way, how long have you been with us, now – or should I say: how long have we consented to keep you?’

  ‘Jellicoe came the morning after little Beau broke his finger in the Long Paddock,’ said Mrs Mallet. ‘That was on Easter Monday, 1928.’

  ‘I remember it well,’ said Beaufort. ‘Until then I had thought life was all joy and kindness. On that day, I realized it was full of knocks.’

  ‘That is quite right, Master Beaufort,’ said Jellicoe warmly.

  ‘Then for more than twenty-three years,’ continued the captain, ‘you have been investing in these Argentines, Jellicoe. I wonder if you would like a change? A friend of mine in the City has a sound stock which pays 9½. Would you like to try it?’

  At the mention of 9½ per cent a fierce light boiled in the butler’s tepid eyes, and he struggled with himself for some moments before answering: ‘I think I’ll keep to the old, safe ways, sir. Greed and adventurousness only lead to disaster. Those Argentines have been good friends to me for many a year: in my old age they will be my staff and comforter.’

  ‘Very well, Jellicoe. Under your nervous, hypochondriacal skin, there is a heart of old oak. I hope some of it will be visible when our friends arrive for the house-party.’

  ‘How many are expected, sir?’

  ‘About the same as in previous years. Perhaps a dozen more.’

  ‘Are there any special instructions, sir?’

  ‘Only the usual ones.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  Jellicoe left, and Mrs Chirk came in.

  ‘Come and sit down here,’ said the captain. ‘I expect all this is quite new to you and makes you feel strange. We have only had you a few years, have we not?’

  ‘Not even that long, sir, I think.’

  ‘Well, well … Now, this is the day, every month, when you receive your wages, make any complaints that may have crossed your mind, ask permission to marry, give notice, and so on. But first, I think I must ask: what is your name? We have been very patient about it, you know, but if all the staff were as reticent as you we should find ourselves living in a state of suspended anonymity.’

  ‘If I knew my name, sir, I would feel more myself than I seem to feel.’