‘I merely told her that I was there, as instructed, to mount my exhibition for this wretched “knackers” conference.’
‘NACADS,’ I repeated, loudly and very crossly.
‘Well, whatever,’ said Sidney. ‘Do you know what she said when I got the paintings and sculptures out of the car?’
‘No, but I guess you are going to enlighten us,’ said David wearily.
‘She said, “I hope you are aware that this is a listed building of great historical interest, and that there must not be the slightest damage to the fabric.” I told her that I knew more about architecture and listed buildings than she did, and to go and irritate someone else. It was as if she owned the place, waltzing around with a clipboard like some manic television producer, ordering people about. “Put that here, don’t leave that there, do this, do that, go here, go there.” She even had the nerve to tell me not to stickdrawing pins in the wainscoting or staples in the doors. “Don’t sticksellotape on the wallpaper,” she told me, “and nothing sharp on the polished wooden floor.” I told her straight. I said, “Mrs Savage, I have been mounting displays for over thirty years. I do not need to be told how to do it. Please depart and let me get on with it.” Insufferable woman!’ snorted Sidney.
‘I’d have liked to have been a fly on the wall,’ chuckled David.
‘And when I arrived in the South Hall, can you imagine what the stupid, foolish woman had done?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘but I have an idea you are going to tell us about that, too.’
‘She had shrouded those wonderful Italian white marble figures, the glorious sculptures that one of Lord Marrick’s forebears no doubt filched when he was on his Grand Tour of Europe, those beautiful classical figures of Venus and Leda with her swan, she had obscured them with fronds.’
‘With what?’ exclaimed David.
‘She had draped these wispy ferns all over the statues’ most beautiful and intimate features, and then placed potted palms in front of them. All you could see were the heads peeping out through the undergrowth as if they were in a jungle. It looked quite ridiculous. “We can’t have delegates coming into a room full of naked women,” she told me. “Mrs Savage,” I said, “it might have escaped your notice but they are statues, inert objects, representations, works of art. They are not delegates at a strippers’ convention. The British Museum doesn’t cover up the statues of the human form, the Pope in Rome doesn’t cover up the statues of the human form and I am not in the business of covering up statues of the human form. There is nothing offensive about them. They are works of art. The human form at its most beautiful. The shrubbery must be removed forthwith.”’
‘It’s the woman’s profoundly irritating sense of self-importance which makes my blood boil,’ said David, ‘and her patronising manner. As Julie would say, “She’s all fur coat and no knickers.”’
‘Oh, I think there was a very expensive pair of knickers under the Gypsy Rose Lee outfit she was wearing,’ said Sidney.
‘How did you get on with your mathematics display?’ I asked David.
‘Oh fine,’ said David. ‘Fortunately the woman in question was busy elsewhere, giving the audio-visual technician a hard time, so she wasn’t about when I took in my materials. I shall put up my display tomorrow afternoon, which won’t take me long. My contribution is only on a small scale compared to Sidney’s. I’m going for the more practical. I think I mentioned that I’ve asked Miss Pilkington to bring some of her pupils along on the Sunday to do a demonstration. Wonderfully talented children she’s got, all keen and confident.’
‘Yes, and I understand Connie’s grandchildren are involved,’ I said.
‘There’s another woman I could throttle,’ mumbled Sidney.
‘You want to be careful Connie doesn’t throttle you first after what you’ve done,’ I told him.
‘Oh, she’s forever moaning and groaning about the mess I leave,’ said Sidney casually. ‘It’s par for the course with Connie.’
‘It’s not the mess I’m talking about,’ I told him, ‘it’s her prized pink overall.’
‘Pink overall!’ exclaimed Sidney. ‘Whatever do you mean? Explain yourself, dear boy!’
So I related the incident at the SDC and how Mrs Kipling had used Connie’s pink overall as part of her collage.
‘Oh dear,’ said Sidney, laughing. ‘You won’t tell her, will you? If she found out, she’d put bleach in my coffee.’
‘Depends what it’s worth,’ I said.
‘You will just have to get her another one, Sidney,’ said David.
‘And where in heaven’s name would I get such a horrendously bilious garment?’
‘That’s your problem,’ said David. ‘Anyway, as I was saying, Miss Pilkington has some very talented youngsters and they will be demonstrating their mathematical skills.’
‘And then,’ exclaimed Sidney, sitting up on his chair and thrusting his chin forward, ‘she had the brass neck to tell me that she hoped the paintings and sculptures I would be exhibiting would not include anything risqué.’
‘Yet again, we’re back to Mrs Savage,’ I sighed.
‘Risqué? “Look here, Mrs Savage,” I said,’ continued Sidney, ‘“it is not your function to tell me what I should or what I should not be displaying. You are the administrator, not the art critic.”’
‘Was Lord Manston around?’ I asked.
‘Who?’ Sidney asked.
‘Lord Marrick’s son and heir. He’s rather more in charge of the conference than Lord Marrickis is.’
‘Tadge?’ said David.
‘You know him?’ I asked.
‘Of course, I know him,’ said David. ‘He’s Captain at the Golf Club this year. Decent fellow is Tadge but a bit of a ladies’ man.’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I detected something of that when Mrs Savage and I were over there for a planning meeting. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, nor she off him. They flirted shamelessly!’
‘What! Lord what’s-his-name and Mrs Savage!’ exclaimed Sidney. ‘This Todger, or whatever he’s called, wants his head examining, getting involved with her. She’s like a praying mantis. She’ll eat him up and spit him out.’
‘She’s a very attractive woman,’ said David. ‘I’d be the first to admit that. It’s just a pity she’s got a personality bypass. Anyway, she’ll never get her hooks into Tadge. He’s too big a fish. Many have tried, but none have succeeded in landing him. He’s had more lady friends than I’ve had rounds of golf. The merry widower is Tadge and likely to stay like that.’
‘Can you imagine if something did come of it,’ groaned Sidney. ‘Mrs Savage with a title. She’d be even more insufferable. Aaaaahhh!’
At this point Julie arrived in the office. ‘I could hear you right along the corridor, Mr Clamp,’ she told him.
‘He’s been regaling us with the saga of Mrs Savage and the naked statues at Manston Hall,’ I told her.
‘You’ll all be naked and whipped if you don’t get over to the Centre for your meeting. Dr Mullarkey went ages ago,’ said Julie.
‘Great Scot!’ exclaimed Sidney. ‘I had forgotten the inspectors’ meeting has been brought forward.’
I think we had all forgotten, and the three of us set off post-haste for the Staff Development Centre for the monthly meeting of the inspectors, which had been brought forward to the Thursday. This would give us the following morning to finalise our various exhibitions at the NACADS Conference, which was due to start that evening.
*
‘I have asked Mrs Savage to join us this morning,’ said Miss de la Mare.
The CEO’s Personal Assistant sat, legs elegantly crossed and looking as chic as ever in a navy-blue suit, pink blouse and sporting a string of delicate pearls and matching earrings. If she looked at all disconcerted by the row of stony-faced inspectors facing her, she certainly did not show it.
‘Thank you for coming to the meeting, Mrs Savage,’ continued the Chief Inspector. Mrs Savage gave a small nod. ‘I know w
hat a very busy time it is for you. I thought it would save a great deal of time – and paperwork – if we heard the latest developments from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.’
The pointed mention of the ‘very busy time’, the paperwork and the reference to the horse’s mouth was lost on Mrs Savage, who rested her long pink-nailed fingers on two huge red files that sat on the table before her. ‘Thank you, Miss de la Mare,’ she said.
‘Before I ask Mrs Savage to give us the latest information about the CEO’s conference at the weekend and the situation concerning the school closures,’ said the Chief Inspector, ‘I should just like to take this opportunity of thanking you for the hard work you have undertaken during the past six weeks. It has been a particularly frenetic and demanding time, and you have all risen to the challenge superbly. You have been more than generous with your time, attending the frequent evening meetings of governors and parents, interviewing head-teachers, as well as your regular weekend courses, Saturday morning workshops, organising book days and art festivals, mathematics seminars and science sessions, quite apart from your main function of inspecting schools. You really have worked so very hard, so thank you.’
She was a clever woman was Miss de la Mare. This eulogy was clearly intended for the ears of the CEO’s Personal Assistant, who, for a rare moment in her life, was a captive audience. Miss de la Mare knew that Mrs Savage, a stickler for protocol and procedure, had a somewhat jaundiced view of the school inspectors, who appeared to her to have far too much power, influence and freedom for her liking. This was the Chief Inspector’s way of letting the CEO’s PA know just how hard the team had worked and the amount of time we had devoted to extraneous activities.
‘It’s nice to be appreciated,’ said David, with just a hint of a smirk.
‘And, as a mark of my appreciation,’ said Miss de la Mare, ‘I should like to invite you all to a small Christmas get-together at the end of the school term on the 18th, here at the Centre. Just a glass of sherry and a few nibbles at the end of the day, about six o’clock, I suggest. Nothing special. I’m only telling you now so you can put it in your diaries.’
‘Excellent,’ said Sidney.
‘Very decent,’ added David.
‘Now to business,’ said the Chief Inspector. She turned to Mrs Savage. ‘First of all, Dr Gore’s conference. I am exceedingly sorry that I shall not be able to be there myself. However, as you know, I have to represent Dr Gore on the European Intermediary Education Initiative being held in Belgium this weekend. The EIEI –’
‘Oh,’ said Sidney.
‘I’m sorry, Sidney, did you say something?’ asked Miss de la Mare.
‘No, no, merely clearing my throat,’ he replied, smiling.
‘The EIEI,’ continued the Chief Inspector, ‘is very close to the CEO’s heart – but then so is this conference. Now, perhaps you might like to update us, Mrs Savage, on how things are progressing at Manston Hall.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Mrs Savage, opening the first capacious folder. ‘The NACADS Conference, which will take place this weekend at –’
At this point the door burst open and Connie appeared, pulling behind her a large metal trolley on squeaky wheels. She was attired in an electric-blue overall which clashed alarmingly with her florid complexion and copper-coloured hair. There was no ‘Excuse me’ or ‘I’m sorry to disturb the meeting’ or ‘Is it convenient to bring in the coffee?’ She just barged in noisily without a by-your-leave.
‘I’m bringing your elevenses in now, Miss de la Mare,’ Connie announced, cutting Mrs Savage off mid-sentence. ‘It’s in flasks so you can have it at your own convenience. I’ve got Miss Kinvara and the psychologists in this morning, and you know what a noisy lot they are. You can hear them psychologising from the kitchen. And eat! You can say goodbye to at least two packets of Garibaldis when they get cracking, and the amount of tea they drink would sinka battleship.’
Miss de la Mare gave a small, indulgent smile. ‘Thank you, Connie.’
Connie manoeuvred the trolley into position at the side of the room and was about to leave the room, when Sidney stretched out a hand to her as she was passing. ‘Your new overall is the most wonderful colour, Connie, truly – er, electrifying.’
Oh Lord, I thought, here we go.
Connie halted, and looked down at herself. She was obviously quite taken aback by Sidney’s praise. ‘Well, I don’t know, I’m sure,’ she said, smoothing her hands down her front. ‘I don’t think blue is my colour. But what with my pink overall gone missing, I’ve had to use this substitution.’ She looked up at us, where we were sitting round the table. ‘I know I’ve asked you all before – except perhaps you, Miss de la Mare – but has anyone seen my pinkone?’
‘I’m afraid I haven’t seen it,’ said the Chief Inspector, obviously quite amused by the interruption, for I could tell she was attempting to stop herself smiling.
I shook my head and tried to appear the picture of innocence. Geraldine looked genuinely innocent, of course. Mrs Savage pursed her lips and said nothing. David looked pointedly at Sidney who stared heavenwards as though examining something of unusual interest on the ceiling.
‘Well, it’s a mystery and no mistake,’ said Connie, placing her hands on her hips. ‘I mean you can’t miss it. It’s bright pink.’ She pointed at Mrs Savage’s expensive silk blouse. ‘Not dissimilar to that colour.’
Mrs Savage pulled an extremely cross face.
‘I am sure it will turn up, Connie,’ said Miss de la Mare. ‘Thank you for the – er, elevenses.’
‘I’ve put a few custard creams and ginger nuts on the plate with the Garibaldis, Miss de la Mare,’ said Connie. ‘I know you have a particular pendant for them.’ With that, she headed for the door but once more stopped and turned. ‘Oh, and if Health and Safety, particularly toilets, is on your agenda this morning,’ she said, staring accusingly at Mrs Savage, ‘you might like to fill me in.’
‘How I would like to,’ muttered Sidney, looking at his hands.
When Connie had departed, Mrs Savage continued. ‘As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, the NACADS Conference at Manston Hall at the weekend appears to be up to speed. Dr Gore was particularly keen that it should have a Yorkshire flavour to it. With that in mind he has secured the concert pianist, Vincent Barrington, himself a Yorkshireman, to entertain the delegates after the Friday evening reception.’
Geraldine, who was so often very quiet at our meetings, suddenly became animated. ‘Vincent Barrington!’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh, that’s wonderful! How clever of Dr Gore.’
‘Might we be permitted to know more about this Mr Barrington?’ said Sidney, obviously rather piqued that he had not heard of him, since he considered himself quite a connoisseur of classical music.
‘Yes, indeed,’ purred Mrs Savage. ‘This talented young man took third prize in last year’s Leeds International Pianoforte Competition. He was, I believe born in that city, and attended the university there.’
‘I heard him earlier this year in the Bridgewater Hall, and I would dearly love to come and hear him tomorrow,’ said Geraldine.
‘I’m afraid that will not be possible, Dr Mullarkey,’ said Mrs Savage, with a patronising smile on the pale pink lips. ‘Seats are at a premium.’
I winked at Gerry to let her know that somehow I would find her a seat.
‘On the Saturday morning,’ continued Mrs Savage, pointing a long finger at an item in the file, ‘the Minister of Education and Science, the Right Honourable Sir Bryan Holyoake, QC, MP, will give the keynote lecture, and this will be followed after the coffee-breakby a presentation on “Inspirational Leadership and Effective Management” by the eminent educational consultant Mr Alan Vaughan who, as it so happens, is another Yorkshireman.’
‘Let’s hope our CEO is listening,’ muttered Sidney to David. ‘He might pickup a few tips.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ asked Mrs Savage.
‘I said, I look forward to listening,’ Sidney replied.
‘I might pick up a few tips.’
‘Indeed,’ said Mrs Savage.
‘He’s very good, is Alan Vaughan,’ said David. ‘I’ve heard him several times. Good-natured chap, feet on the ground, good speaker.’
‘So I believe,’ said Mrs Savage. ‘After the buffet lunch, there will be seminars during the afternoon, the speakers for which Dr Gore has organised and will preside over. For the formal dinner on Saturday evening, Dr Gore is delighted to have secured the lawyer, author and raconteur, Mr Stephen D. Smith, as the after-dinner speaker. He is, of course, another Yorkshireman.’
‘If we might continue,’ said Miss de la Mare quietly.
‘Then, on the Sunday morning,’ said Mrs Savage, ‘and this is where the inspectors come in, the delegates will have the opportunity during the morning of viewing the displays, observing the children’s demonstrations, joining in the students’ workshops and listening, before lunch, to the Young People’s Brass Band directed by Mr Gordon of the Music Service.’
Mrs Savage looked up from her file, which she then closed quietly.
‘That all sounds excellent,’ observed the Chief Inspector. ‘Thank you for bringing us up to date, Mrs Savage.’
‘I cannot stress,’ said Mrs Savage, ‘how very important it is that things go smoothly. Dr Gore is particularly keen that we, as he told me this morning, put all our hands to the wheel and pull together.’
‘Always the master of the mixed metaphor, our CEO,’ muttered Sidney.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Clamp,’ said Mrs Savage sharply. ‘Did you say something?’
‘I merely observed, Mrs Savage,’ Sidney replied, ‘that I shall endeavour to do so.’
‘The Viscount Manston,’ she continued, ‘who is spearheading arrangements from his end and who has been liaising closely with me over the last few weeks, has assured me that everything at the Hall is up and running.’
‘Good,’ said Miss de la Mare.
‘The delegates will be bussed in each day for the conference from their hotels, which are all in the proximity. Mr Phinn and I, who need to be on call at all times, will be staying at Manston Hall for the duration of the conference.’
The Heart of the Dales Page 35
