Part 14 (2/2)
”Can't be doing with folk who adopt double-barrelled names,” said Sidney. ”In my experience, they are inevitably pompous and self-opinionated people who can't make up their minds. And one Welshman in this team is quite enough. Get two of you lot together and you start singing ”Men of Harlech” and talking in Welsh.”
”Welsh is a most mellifluous language,” David told us. ”It ought to be compulsory in schools.”
”The other morning when you were rabbi ting on to your wife on the phone, in that guttural, spluttery language of yours, I nearly gave you the kiss of life. I thought you'd got a bone stuck in your throat.”
”Sidney,” said David in a patient tone of voice, 'your a.n.a.logy about my speaking Welsh has become rather hackneyed now. I have heard that little witticism of yours a good few times now.”
”Gentlemen,” cried Harold, trying to suppress a smile, 'if I may continue. There's a Mr. Thomas Wilson, a Miss er, Ms Jennifer Black, a Dr. Gerry Mullarkey -'
”I bet you any money we get the crusty old doctor,” sighed Sidney, leaning back expansively in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. ”I can just picture the old buffer. He'll be a dry, dusty physicist with gla.s.ses like the bottoms of milk bottles and grey frizzy hair sticking up like wire wool and he'll have as much conversation as a dead sheep'
”May I remind you, Sidney,” I said, 'what you thought I would look like. Didn't you have a bet on that, with a name like mine, I would be a huge, red-headed Irishman?”
”Exactly,” began Harold. ”One cannot judge a person by his or her name'
”Take the name Clamp, for example,” interposed David. ”Now what sort of person does that conjure up? Clamp? Something hard, metallic and with jaws like a shark.”
”And you couldn't be more mistaken about Dr. Mullarkey,” Harold continued. ”The application was very impressive Dr. Mullarkey is extremely well qualified, with a range of experience and excellent references.”
”And no sense of humour.”
”Not at all, Sidney,” began Harold, ”Dr. Mullarkey sounds extremely lively and enthusiastic '
”Wasn't Dr. Mullarkey a villain in Sherlock Holmes, Gervase?” asked Sidney suddenly, going off on one of his customary tangents.
”No, that was Professor Moriaty,” I said.
”I wonder if he really exists. It's a very strange name is Mullarkey. It sounds a tad suspicious to me. It could be a pseudonym.”
”You said the same thing when Gervase applied, if I remember rightly,” remarked David, 'and, despite his name, he's turned out not too bad.”
”Thank you for those few kind words,” I said.
”Look,” interrupted Harold,” I came in here for five minutes, not for a detailed a.n.a.lysis of each candidate. I must be off.”
”Hang on a minute, Harold!” cried Sidney. ”You have only mentioned four, only one of whom is a woman. Who's the fifth candidate?”
Harold consulted his clipboard. ”A Miss Gloria Goodwood.”
”Now that's more like it!” chortled Sidney. ”Gloria Goodwood. She sounds like the heroine in a romantic novel: young, sylph-like, alluring, with a ma.s.s of auburn hair falling like a burnished cascade over her alabaster shoulders. I bet you Gloria would add a little sophistication and glamour to the office. What's she like?”
”If she is successful,” replied Harold, his voice noncommittal, 'you will see Miss Goodwood at five-thirty at the Staff Development Centre. I look forward to seeing you all later this afternoon to meet your new colleague.” With that Harold departed.
I spent the day working on the plans for those events for which I was responsible at the Feoffees Pageant which was to be held at Manston Hall at the end of May. Schools had provided me with a mountain of children's poetry and stories based on famous characters from history. I sorted out a good selection and at lunch-time took it over to Willingforth Primary School where the Headteacher and staff had agreed to mount the material on display boards. Pupils from three different schools were to perform some short plays on historical themes, and I spent the afternoon calling into each school to see how things were going. Sidney had arranged for an exhibition of children's art, David a gymnastics display and the County Youth Orchestra would give a performance on the lawn at Manston Hall so the Education Department would be well represented.
I was secretly relieved that my efforts to organise the essay and public speaking compet.i.tions on the theme of customs and traditions had not been required. I had so much on, I really had not relished organising such a complicated and time-consuming initiative. When head teachers had explained that the students would be up to their eyes in examinations and would not have the time to prepare, I seized the chance to wriggle out of the task.
All communication with Mrs. Savage about the Feoffees Pageant had been undertaken by notes and memoranda. I had been very careful to record all the arrangements we had agreed upon and I had made certain Dr. Gore had been sent a copy. My promise to liaise had been kept -even if I had ducked meeting with the Snow Queen in person.
As instructed, I arrived at the Centre at the appointed time. Connie, wearing her predictably flat expression, was standing as usual in her familiar pose with arms folded in the centre of the entrance hall like some night-club bouncer. She was facing up to Sidney and David who had obviously arrived only seconds before.
”Top o' the evenin' to you, Connie,” Sidney was saying effusively. ”How are we on this beautiful, mild St. David's Day? And here comes Mr. Phinn, look you.”
”I'm very well, thank you. I hope you've parked your car well away from the front doors, Mr. Clamp, and you as well, Mr. Phinn, because it's a health and safety hazard to block my entrance. Wipe your feet, please, Mr. Pritchard, I've just done that floor.”
”I would not dream of blocking your entrance, Connie!” exclaimed Sidney.
”I've had to remind you before now. And, if you're expecting something to drink, you're out of luck because there's no milk and I'm all out of biscuits. All those councillors and candidates have gone through four pints of gold top and two boxes of Garibaldis.”
”It's so good to find you in such a cheerful mood, Connie,” remarked Sidney, 'and for us to receive such a hearty welcome on St. David's Day. It warms the c.o.c.kles of my heart.” With that, he set off at a hearty speed in the direction of the lounge area.
”Speaking of c.o.c.kles, Mr. Clamp,” said Connie pursuing him, 'when are you intending moving them sh.e.l.ls, pebbles, dried seaweed and stuffed seagulls you were using on your art course last Christmas? They're taking up room. It's like Blackpool beach in there.”
”I shall remove them this very day,” replied Sidney, swivelling round with a great beaming smile on his face. ”Now, what are the candidates like, Connie? Do tell.”
”Well, there's a big, hairy man who has a lot to say for himself.” She dipped her head to the side in Sidney's direction. ”A bit like you, Mr. Clamp, but he's Welsh.”
”Ever the flatterer, Connie,” smiled Sidney.
”There's a nicely spoken woman of about forty-five and a very sour-faced individual in a s.h.i.+ny suit.”
”Dr. Mullarkey,” added Sidney knowingly. ”I don't know what he's called,” continued Connie, 'but he was very off-hand with me when I asked him to hex ting-uish his pipe. I can't see how he could make a very good inspector when he couldn't read any of the ”No Smoking” signs I have around the Centre. I've even got them on the back of the door in the men's toilets, so he couldn't miss them. I told him he was a health and safety hazard and he gave me such a look the sort of look my little grandson used to make when he couldn't have an ice cream. ”A face like a smacked bottom”, as my mother used to say.”
Sidney threw himself into a chair and sighed heavily.
”And the other candidates?” I enquired.
”There was a very friendly young woman. The only one to offer to help me dry the dishes. Very chatty and cheerful, with a lot about her. I took to her.”
”That will be Glorious Goodbody,” purred Sidney.
”And what about the last one?” asked David.
”Look, Mr. Pritchard!” snapped Connie. ”I don't spend all day standing about watching people, you know.”
”Of course, you don't, Connie,” sighed Sidney. ”Perish the thought.”
”Anyway, I hope they're not going to be much longer. I've got to do the toilets before I finish. And would you three move into the staff room? I have the carpet to vacuum in here yet. It's those councillors leaving all them crumbs.”
As the hand on the Centre clock ticked towards six, Sidney, David and I were still huddled in the small staff room, getting increasingly impatient.
”You would think that after nine hours of interrogation, they would have picked someone by now,” complained Sidney. ”I have the annual general meeting of the West Challerton Artists' Society at seven-thirty and I need to get home, have a shower, make something to eat and go through my report.”
”And I don't intend staying much longer,” said David. ”I've got a committee meeting at the Golf Club tonight and I want to raise the matter, yet again, of uneven paving slabs. After the meeting it being St. David's Day I am introducing the Cwmbran Male Voice Choir and I need to be there in good time.”
”And I am speaking to the Parent Teacher a.s.sociation at Brindcliffe,” I added.
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