Death of a Viewer

[Dark Saint Alaick]

"You must tell me the games you play," Roger said to him genially. The boy offered a limp hand but made no reply.
"Tea will be here almost at once," Lady Bethesda remarked; "You will not mind if Ambrose has it with us? His nurse is out this afternoon."
"Nice and cosy," Roger smiled. "I had an idea Captain and Mrs. Henshaw might be here."
"They are. They came on Wednesday, but they went with Ewen. At least Sandra did. Her husband said he would try his luck fishing."
"I believe your stream is famous," Roger returned, "but perhaps you are more interested in politics, Lady Bethesda. With a husband so distinguished and with his son a Member of Parliament, you could hardly fail to be. Do you take an active part yourself?"
"I am afraid I do not. Frankly, politics bore me. Why cannot people be contented with things as they are instead of clamouring all the time for changes?"
"Then it is very good of you to allow this meeting in your beautiful home."
"I am not all that selfish. These things mean a lot to my husband, and it gives us a chance to see something of Ewen. He prefers to live in London."
Then the tea was wheeled in. Choice china, old silver and a profusion of cakes and sandwiches. It kept them busy for a time.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

"You may be helping to make history," Roger remarked. "Do you know what Ewen's proposals will be?"
"I do not," was the rather acid reply. "He means well, I only hope he is not making mischief."
"Time will tell," Roger smiled. "History and mischief have always been intertwined."
They chatted for some time. He asked questions about the old abbey but she replied very briefly, attending more to the little boy, telling him what cakes he might take. He was certainly well behaved and did not clamour for what was denied him. Then the footman who had brought in the tea returned and whispered that someone wanted her ladyship on the telephone.
"How annoying," she said. "Will you excuse me, Major Bennion? I am sure Ambrose will be safe with you. He has finished his tea."
"Quite safe. Have you finished?" he asked as she left the room.
"Mum said so," was the reply.
"And Mummies always know, don't they?" It was not for him to undermine authority, even with the chocolate eclair at which the boy looked rather longingly. "Tell me, Ambrose, about the games you play?"
"My father is a lord."

[Dark Saint Alaick]

"I know, but that doesn't prevent you having a bit of fun sometimes, does it Are there any little boys in the village you can play with?"
The big, rather expressionless eyes looked at him. "My father is a lord," was again the reply.
"I have a little girl. She is younger than you but she is full of mischief. Don't you ever want to get into mischief? I know your father is a lord," he added to forestall the reply, "but wouldn't you like to throw stones or climb a tree sometimes?"
"Brigid wouldn't let me."
"Brigid is your nurse? What games do you play with her?"
"Snakes 'n' ladders.' She reads to me. I've got a pony."
"Good. Can it run fast or jump?"
"Brigid gen'rally leads him."
"Do you ever get your clothes in a mess?" He shook his head.
"Have you any friends?"
"Rhoda said she was my friend."
"Good. Is Rhoda a little girl about your age?"
Another shake of the head. "She's growed up."

[Dark Saint Alaick]

"That is a pity. What would happen if you did mess your clothes and were naughty?"
"I'd be put in bed till it was time to be dressed again."
"Not smacked?"
"Mummie said no one mustn't touch me. My father is a lord."
"What exactly is a lord?" Roger was almost impatient.
"My father is. Everyone obeys him."
At that moment, rather to his relief, the mother returned.
"That tiresome Mr. Ruttle," she said. "Something wrong with his car. He will be an hour late. What would you like to do?"
"Don't let me be in the way. If I may I will get my rod and find my way to the river. I may meet Henshaw."
"You cannot miss your way. Cross the lawn and the path leads straight to it."
"Thank you. Do you fish?"
"No. I think it cruel."
"But you eat fish?"
"Certainly I do if it is caught in a net, not with a hook in its mouth."
"That is a point of view," Roger said. "I have seen the boats coming in loaded with gasping fish. I almost believe they would prefer to be hooked and despatched quickly."
She did not deign to argue. "The maid will show you your room," she said. "Come, Ambrose."

[Dark Saint Alaick]

Roger soon fetched his tackle and made his way to the stream. The lawn, as Lady Bethesda had called it, stretched for almost the entire width of the property. At one time the village cricket matches had been played there but her ladyship had discontinued the practice after the arrival of her son.
As he crossed it Roger felt he had not made too good an impression on his hostess. After all, it was the promise of fishing that had brought him there, though she probably was not aware of the fact. She might be a very humane woman but she was certainly narrow-minded. He was more interested in her son. She was hardly fitting him to play his part in the world. A nicely mannered little boy, but too much cotton wool is bad for anyone. Things might be better when he went to school--if she could find a school fit for him to go to!
At the far end of the lawn, between the trees, was the broad pathway leading to the river. Near the river but inside the garden was a wooden hut used perhaps by bathers as a changing room. At the side of the hut he saw a young couple in a very loving attitude. Was the girl the absent nurse or were they both members of the house party? He paused for a moment. Although they were holding each othersÃ* arms they did not appear to be talking or expressing affection. They had a tense look as though listening to something.
He coughed and took a step forward. The girl heard him and at once turned away. The young man followed her and they were lost in the bushes that apparently bordered the stream.
He went on. As he did so the door of the hut opened and two other people looking rather angry came out.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

"Captain Henshaw?" Roger said, going forward. "Lady Bethesda told me you were trying your luck. I thought I would have a cast."

"May your luck be better than mine," was the terse reply. "Nothing doing."

"How are you, Mrs. Henshaw?" Roger smiled to the young woman. "Lady Bethesda thought you had gone with Ewen to pick up some of his friends."
"She should have done," Oswald said. "Then I might have caught something."

"More perhaps than you expected," Sandra remarked. "Ewen's car is small; there might not have been room enough."

"He is expected back soon," Roger said. "I think I will look round and see if fortune is kind."

They did not encourage conversation. He walked on. Beyond the hut was a gate opening on to a footpath beside the stream. It looked inviting but his luck was no better than Henshaw's.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

4. The Ginger Group

Cocktails were served before dinner. All the guests, including Mr. Ruttle, had arrived. Roger was greeted by Ewen and introduced to his fellow M.P.s. There appeared to be seven of them. He had heard there was a new aristocracy in the Labour party, the Intelligentsia as opposed to the Horny-handed, the public school class in distinction from those who had got their start in the mines, the railways or the factories. Of the former Hugh Gaitskell and his predecessor Lord Attlee stood pre-eminent. Of the latter he thought of Keir Hardie, I. H. Thomas Bevin, Nye Bevan and many others. The more credit to those who from humble beginnings had risen by their own efforts and personality to the highest rank.
Of the men he now met the only one whose name was known to him was Bill Ruttle, whose car mishap had so annoyed Lady Bethesda. He was big in build, loud in voice and self-assured. He had often been in trouble with the Speaker in the House of Commons. He had been "named" on more than one occasion. To be named is not to be famed, but it may be a short road to notoriety.
The one of the group who might have belonged to the intelligentsia was introduced as Fred Gibbons. He appeared more cultured, quieter and with some sense of humour. Roger was no active partisan but if there was mischief brewing it might be interesting to hear what it was.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

He was not introduced to their ladies, mostly stout and middle-aged, who formed another group by themselves. He was how ever surprised to see among them the young girl he had disturbed beside the hut. He could not identify her companion. She and the Henshaw were helping to circulate drinks.
As soon as he could Roger went to Lord and Lady Bethesda, who were a little apart from their guests. She introduced him to her husband and then moved away. Roger remembered the Welsh Lion as he had been in his stormier days. Then his hair had been dark like his son Ewen's. It was now almost white. He had in some way shrunk. He looked a sick man.
"Years ago I attended one of your rallies in Trafalgar Square," Roger said to him. "Things have changed a bit since then."
"There is still room for improvement," the old man replied.
"How horrible if there were not! The thought of a world where any change must be for the worse is quite frightening. It is good of you to let your son and his friends put us on the right road."
"Provided it is the left road."
"You travel with him?" Roger asked.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

"I don't know yet where he is going. There can be a smash if you travel too fast in any direction. Have you seen my boy Ambrose?"
It was an abrupt question. Roger gathered his lordship did not want to commit himself on any line in politics.
"I have. A nice little chap; not a lion cub yet, but there is no knowing what he may become."
Then they were joined by Sandra Henshaw and Ewen.
"Dad," said the latter, "we want you to settle a bet. When did women first get the vote and who was Prime Minister at the time? Sandra says women are naturally more conservative than men."
"Female Suffrage," Lord Bethesda replied. "That brings back memories of those marvellous people Mrs. Pankhurst and her daughters Christabel and Sylvia. But I doubt if one woman in ten who now have the vote know even their names. Very clever and determined they were. I was once at a meeting addressed by Christabel. She was telling her audience what her mother and her friends were suffering for the cause they believed in; imprisonment, forcible feeding and every kind of indignity. 'Two of us,' she said, 'hid in the House of Commons for twenty-four hours without food or water so that when proceedings started they might shout our slogan Votes for Women. How many of you men would have the pluck and endurance to do a thing like that?' A heckler shouted, 'We do not go where we are not wanted.' Christabel replied in a flash. 'I am glad you were so sure of your welcome tonight!' There was a roar of laughter and the heckler shut up."
"A very smart retort," Roger said.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

"Very," Ewen agreed, "but what is the answer to our problem?"
"Memories are short," his father replied. "Women got the vote in 1918 and Lloyd George was Prime Minister. It was an agreed measure as women had done such splendid work in the war. I should say most women vote as their husbands tell them--but an increase in the price of eggs will always be more important to them than foreign policy."
"Quite right, too," said Sandra. "Thank you, Lord Bethesda. I lose my bet but I am at least right in that."
"I hope the loss is not a heavy one," Roger smiled.
"Purely a question of currency," Ewen smirked, looking at Sandra, who cast down her eyes.
Then dinner was announced and they went into what had no doubt been the refectory room in former days. There were twenty of them in all and the table was a noble sight with gay flowers, burnished silver and sparkling glass. The food was equally stimulating. Roger guessed Lady Bethesda was responsible for it and wondered why she had not thought plainer fare sufficient for the company. No doubt she had her reasons. He had noticed before that the men did most of the talking and their wives, unused to such grandeur, had grouped together to whisper among themselves. Now the attention of all was devoted to what was placed before them. It was a demonstration of what a Labour leader might achieve if he married wealth, but its wisdom was open to question. Four menservants did the waiting and did it well.