Lucia Triumphant (24 page)

There remained nothing to do but rehearse in her mind the words she would use to dismiss, lightly and modestly, the apologies that would be rained upon her by all who had doubted her word. How, she repeated to herself, could they possibly have known? She had not been aware of it herself; indeed, nobody, not even Lucia's grave scholars, had been aware of it. Above all, dear Lucia had no call to reproach herself for introducing the red herring of Perkin Map and his disreputable fate. What she had said had been the truth, if not exactly the whole truth ....

Much had been happening in the world while Elizabeth had been thus occupied in elaborate preparation. The Padre had received a long and rather unfriendly letter from the Bishop's chaplain in reply to his request for advice on the ceremony of exorcism. The policy of the diocese, said the Bishop's chaplain, was to exorcise only in the last resort. Had the alleged ghost been observed frequently? How many people had seen it? Was the nuisance it caused sufficiently troublesome to justify exorcism? Could the Reverend Bartlett honestly say that the presence of this reported apparition was causing a spiritual danger to his parishioners?

There followed an ominously worded paragraph about the need to minimize ritual for ritual's sake, to avoid the active pursuit of spectacle and melodramatic effect, with several minatory hints that excessive interest in the more arcane functions of the Church might imply a sub-conscious leaning towards a ‘certain Italian city'.

Then there had been the bombshell, lobbed almost absent-mindedly into a crowded High Street by an obviously preoccupied Elizabeth, of the news of the departure of the three-wheeler. Diva, approaching Mr. Hopkins's shop, had met the erstwhile motorist.

‘
No motor this morning?' she had enquired.

‘
Motor?' asked Elizabeth, as if the concept was foreign to her. ‘Oh, I see what you mean. No, dear, I've sold it. Do you think these herrings are properly fresh?'

‘
Sold it? Why? What's happened? Did it break down?'

‘
We didn't really need it,' replied Elizabeth, as if the topic bored her. ‘After all, what does anyone need a motor for in Tilling? The wretched machines do nothing but congest the streets and spoil their appearance. If I were Mayor, I would prohibit their use within the town.'

‘
But the day before yesterday you were saying—' Diva shouted, but too late. Elizabeth had vanished into Mr. Hopkins's shop and was lost to communication, for Diva had quarrelled with that worthy fishmonger recently over the definition of
fruits de mer
and had vowed never to cross his threshold again. Elizabeth, so Diva reflected, had the useful knack of appearing to move more slowly than she actually did. Major Benjy, however, moved much more predictably, and was thus more easily waylaid. Confirmation of the story was extracted from him. He stated (as previously instructed) that Elizabeth had read in the papers of the damage done to historic buildings by the exhaust fumes of motor-vehicles, and had decided to set an example.

‘
Well, that's what he said,' Diva reported to the Bartletts over tea at Wasters. ‘That and the vibration of heavy traffic, which is supposed to damage foundations, or something of the sort.'

‘
Do you think that's the announcement she was going to make this evening?' demanded Evie, hastily swallowing a mouthful of seed cake. ‘It's certainly interesting enough.'

‘
I don't think it can be,' Diva replied. ‘She gave the impression that it wasn't in the least important. Quite off-hand about it, in fact.'

‘
Well, if the Excitement is more interesting still, I can't wait to find out what it's going to be.'

‘
I haven't the faintest idea. What do you think, Padre?'

But the Padre was morose and untalkative, as he had been all day. The Bishop's chaplain's letter had scarred his soul and beside the terrible affront to his dignity and integrity even the final departure of the three-wheeler seemed trivial.

‘
I dinna ken, I'm sure,' he growled. ‘ 'Tes bound to be some new prate or idolatry. I'm no concerned about Mistress Mapp-Flint's wondrous disclosure.'

This was an ideally suitable cue for reopening the scarce-healed wound of the letter and the Padre spoke warmly for some time about what he considered to be dangerous new trends in the higher echelons of the clergy, tantamount in some cases to Methodism. After delivering himself of a veiled but fearsome attack on the Bishop's views, as recently printed in a national newspaper, on Lot's wife and naturally occurring salt deposits in the Holy Land, he rose abruptly and announced that he had a confirmation class to give.

‘
Though why I bother to teach the True Faith in this diocese,' he snarled, ‘I dinna ken. 'Tes all in vain the way things are going.'

With that, he was gone, leaving behind him an awkward atmosphere, heavy with Doubt and Schism. To dispel these dark clouds, Diva returned to the subject of Elizabeth's forthcoming revelations.

‘
I suppose it might be something to do with Benjy and the Golf Club,' she said.

‘
Hadn't you heard?' cried Evie, delighted to find that she was not, as she had previously thought, the last to hear the news. ‘Benjy didn't get on to the Committee after all and his offer of a prize for a mixed-doubles tournament was rejected.'

‘
No!' exclaimed Diva, Schism completely forgotten. ‘What happened?'

‘
Well, Kenneth told me that he and Benjy were playing a round of golf together and Benjy hit a most glorious drive, much further than he's ever hit one before, right on to the green.'

‘
That's the bit where the hole is, isn't it?' asked Diva. ‘I think so. But Benjy hadn't expected it to go that far—usually his shots go right up in the air and land a few yards away—and he hadn't bothered to call out—what is that word they use?'

‘
I can't imagine,' said Diva, who could easily imagine the sort of word the Major might use, if provoked.

‘
Fore! That's it. The Major hadn't called out “Fore” and the ball went down very fast and hit Mr. Phillipson—he's the Chairman or the President or something—right on the nose, just when he was putting to win the match. Of course, he missed his putt and that made him absolutely furious. Kenneth suspects he had a wager on it. Meanwhile, Benjy was angry too because it was the best stroke he's ever played and he kept saying that, if Mr. Phillipson hadn't been in the way, the ball would have gone down the hole and been a starling, or whatever it is they call it.'

‘
I know that one,' said Diva. ‘It's a birdie. Go on.'

‘
And then the Major accused Mr. Phillipson of sabotage and Mr. Phillipson did the same and then they had words. And the Major had already bought the plate he was going to present as a prize. It's very sad.'

This epic tale seemed to deprive both of them of speech for a while.

‘
He could still present the plate,' said Diva.

‘
I think he offered, but Mr. Phillipson was very rude to him and so he said he would report Mr. Phillipson to the Committee. I don't think that was very tactful of him in the circumstances.'

Evie finished her seed-cake and took her leave, for it would soon be time to dress, and set off for Grebe. The Wyses and Lucia had offered to provide transport, but Diva began to feel rather concerned about whether she should accept or not, in the light of Elizabeth's pronouncement. What if the passage of the Royce along the High Street, with her and the Wyses in it, should cause Wasters to collapse? As a householder, she felt that she ought to refuse the offer. On the other hand, it was a long way to Grebe and it looked as if it might rain. Diva sat worrying about this for some minutes, until it was nearly too late to dress and walk to Grebe (that is, if she was going to walk). She got up and then sat down again.

‘
Oh, why is everything so difficult?' she wailed.

 

Lucia and Georgie (it went without saying) were the last to arrive at Grebe.

‘
So sorry,' trilled Lucia, as they were shown into the morning-room, ‘but official business held me up. One is hardly able to call one's evenings one's own. But my police inspector had some warrants for me to sign.'

‘
Never mind,' said Elizabeth, ‘you're here now.'

‘
One of them—a most unfortunate case—Mr. Archer's son. You know Mr. Archer, don't you, Major?'

Mr. Archer was the man to whom the Major had sold the three-wheeler. For a moment, the Major felt a little uncomfortable, but Lucia had said that it was his son that was in trouble, not Mr. Archer himself. He steadied himself with a sip of sherry from Georgie's glass.

‘
The prosecution alleges,' Lucia continued, ‘that young Archer borrowed his father's car—a new one he had bought only recently—to drive into Hastings with some friends. He was stopped on the main road and his headlights and back tyre were found to be in an unfit condition. There was only one—the vehicle was a three-wheeler. As if that were not bad enough, the prosecution also alleges that the young man had no licence to drive the aforesaid vehicle. If the case is proven I shall have no alternative but to fine the young man heavily. Such a shame—the boy is about to go back to Cambridge for his final examinations. I do hope the college authorities will not be too hard on him'.

‘
A most shocking case,' said Elizabeth firmly. ‘Such people are a menace to society. Another glass of sherry, Mr. Georgie?'

Mr. Wyse had knitted his eyebrows during this narration and something was plainly troubling him. ‘Mrs. Pillson,' he said at length, ‘you spoke of a licence to drive. Pray enlighten me as to the nature of this licence.'

Lucia did so and Mr. Wyse thanked her. ‘Remind me, Susan dear,' he said to his wife, ‘to ascertain whether our chauffeur has one of these licences. If not, we must insist that he obtain one as quickly as possible.

Elizabeth, who had gone a strange colour, interrupted Mr. Wyse at this moment and began to praise the rather magnificent cummerbund he was wearing, which it seemed she had only just noticed (although she had been sitting opposite him for quite some time). Such a beautiful shade of purple, or should she say claret? And such material!

‘
A present from my dear wife,' said Mr. Wyse, rather indistinctly.

‘
And this is, so to speak, its
début?'
enquired Elizabeth sweetly.

‘
Indeed, yes,' replied Mr. Wyse, whose normally impassive face was turning almost the same colour as his cummerbund. The significance of this was wasted on nobody; a present, at this unseasonable time of the year, must mark the anniversary either of a birth or of a marriage, and everyone knew when Mr. Wyse had been married. What they had never been able to ascertain, however, despite their very best endeavours, was when Mr. Wyse's birthday was, let alone how many birthdays he had celebrated. This evidence of the cummerbund had narrowed the search down to April. Was this, Diva wondered, the interesting item of news for which they had been assembled? It was certainly interesting enough.

‘
Charming,' said Elizabeth, ‘quite charming.'

‘
Tell me,' Lucia persisted, ‘what has become of your motor? I did not see it outside in its usual place when I arrived just now. No trouble with it, I hope?'

Elizabeth laughed gaily. ‘Trouble? It was trouble incarnate. Such a bore, Lucia dear, quite like a little child with all its tiresome requirements. No, I think I shall be much better off without it. Benjy-boy and I were beginning to miss our lovely walk into town—quite stout we were both becoming, I dare say. And so antisocial, with its fearful noise and its awful fumes. And all the damage it must have been doing to our beautiful town.'

‘
Damage?' asked Lucia, unwittingly.

‘
Did you know that motor-vehicles are threatening to undermine our oldest and most historic buildings? Their incessant vibrations and the noxious chemicals in their exhaust emissions. A study has recently been published. You ought to get a copy.'

‘
How terrible,' observed Lucia calmly. ‘I must look into this. We cannot have our buildings put at risk.'

‘
Quite so,' said Elizabeth, ‘for a start—'

‘
In fact,' continued Lucia, ‘as Mayor I should say I had a duty to take official notice of this study. I must obtain a copy, as you suggest.'

‘
Splendid,' said Elizabeth. ‘If I were you —'

‘
Depending on what the study had to say,' Lucia said, her voice rising serenely over Elizabeth's interruptions, ‘I think I might recommend that the Council take some action .... A ban on motor traffic, let us say, through the old town, except for vehicles collecting or delivering goods. That ought to alleviate the problem to some extent, although it would of course cause some considerable hardship to some members of the community.'

The Wyses were nodding their heads; it would cause them more than mere hardship. But Elizabeth had not noticed them. She therefore said:

‘
My dear, you should not concern yourself with the worries of a few selfish individuals. Let them walk. What really matters is the preservation of our wonderful heritage.'

At these words, a strangled cry burst from Mr. Wyse's lips, and Elizabeth, turning round, was confronted by a fierce scowl of rage from Susan and a look of great sadness from her husband. At once, Elizabeth realised that she had been led into a trap. Before she could say anything, however, Lucia had started again.