An Unexpected Call
“Do sit down Inspector, yes that’s right the chair with the Mackintosh Square on it, after all one never knows who you have been arresting before you came here.”
“Actually Mrs Wylie, it was a younger son of a Peer of the Realm for fraud. He was trying to pass off an incompetent daub as a Raphael Cartoon to pay death duties. Unfortunately, he didn’t reckon on my wife’s recent visit to the V&A with her ‘Rural’ where she saw the original. The trouble is Mrs Wylie those ‘born to the purple’, as they say, think the rest of us are plain stupid. Just because some of us went to Junior Secondary schools, had to go to work and had our dinner at lunchtime, does not mean we had our brains removed at 11.”
“I couldn’t agree more Inspector. Why take my husband, for example. He is almost entirely self educated and yet has learnt to enjoy suppa of an evening. This despite the stigma of never having a single ancestor beheaded within the confines of the Tower of London and constant indecisiveness when it comes to finger bowls with oysters. Seeing as you have been “banging the aristocracy to rights” as they say on Dixon of Dock Green, do sit on the Hepplewhite. It was where my dear late Grandmamma sat when dismissing servants.”
“Now Mrs Wylie…..”
“Oh Inspector might I offer you some tea, and a slice of whisky cake? The recipe has been in my family since time immemorial and beyond. Mr Gladstone had a slice when he came to Glasgow, he said it gave him the strength to carry on with his fallen women and quite inspired my grandmamma to set up a charity which I am proud to say I am Chair of all these years later. Women are still falling like flies Inspector and this despite Mr Harold Macmillan’s government doing so much housebuilding and fighting the war on poverty and ignorance. His wife Dorothy is a beautiful knitter you know – works wonders with a pair of size 8 needles and a ball of Paton and Baldwin’s Ecru.”
“Indeed, Mrs Wylie I believe the Prime Minister has said most of our people have never had it so good.”
“Well Inspector all I can say, judging by the queues on a Monday morning at The Home for Fallen Women, they have been having it pretty good in Glasgow. I blame Independent Television; it’s the adverts you know – quite enervating of an evening. Now can I tempt you?”
“A cup of tea would be fine. No whisky cake, I am on duty.”
“Well I shall just give it away with you and you can share it with your chums at the Lodge. Just be careful you don’t get too many crumbs in your turn-ups when you … you know, do your thing with the trouser legs , the blindfolds, the goat and that awfully loud carpet. Has the Grand Wizard ever thought of making use of the services of a simply marvellous interior designer perchance?”
“Umm thank you, I shall mention it. No, three lumps will be fine.”
“Excuse me while I take a bite of this cake.
Now how may I help you Inspector? You know Jasper really didn’t mean to light that bonfire before 6pm and he really didn’t see that Mrs Macaulay had her smalls on the line or in her case her bigs. I have tried time and time again to suggest she covers her foundation garments with an old pillowcase. There is nothing that screams nouveau riche more than a pair of red frillies and a negligee blowing in the wind in the rural bolt hole.”
“No it’s not about the bonfire Mrs Wylie, but do ask Mr Wylie to be more considerate in the future. There are bye laws you know, no its more serious than that.”
“I am all pearl earring ears Inspector.”
“Mrs Wylie I am wondering if you have anything to tell me about an incident involving a Mr Softy Ice Cream van at the Flower Show? I have reason to believe that you may know the driver, a bit of a handsome devil if I am correct.”
“Yes, I do recall the aforesaid mentioned ice cream van loitering about the show grounds, but as you can imagine being simply marvellous and a leading figure in the gracious living movement eating a soft ice cream from a van, possibly sprinkled with hundreds and thousands, is something I would not be caught dead doing. Generally speaking, I patronise Mr Garibaldi the café owner from Tuscany. My grandmamma was a customer of his grandfather. She always said he knew exactly where to pop her cherry.”
“The trouble is Mrs Wylie, your admirable confectionary tastes notwithstanding, some body or rather two some bodies were caught dead were they not?”
“Really Inspector? At our Flower Show? I hardly think so. Anyway someone would have seen that wouldn’t they?”
“Someone did, Mrs Wylie. We have a report from a Bunty Haystack who says two foreign gentlemen were found dead at the Flower Show with well fired rolls and sausage in their stiff little fingers. When she returned having raised the alarm they had vanished and so had the van.”
“I am afraid Inspector, dear Bunty is a little wandered at times. Her mind has been addled by all those rural crime novels she writes. Have you read ‘The Sheep Dip Shocker’? Evidence of a disturbed thought pattern I would say. Frankly I think some days she has trouble distinguishing fiction from fact.”
“I am sure you are right Mrs Wylie after all she did come to us with a most ridiculous story about comrades on a grouse moor peppering her bahookie with shot and some ridiculous stories about intercontinental ballistic missile espionage.”
“Oh, too funny Inspector. If it wasn’t so sad. There is no harm to the woman of course, she is just a local character – an eccentric rustic prone to cats and flights of fancy. If it were the 21st century she would be all pre-loved clothes, vegetarian cookery and yoga twice a week.”
“And if it were the 16th century?”
“Burnt as a witch!”
“I take your point Mrs Wylie. You are always the voice of reason in an unreasonable and poorly accessorised world. I wish you would have a word with my wife and might I say you have the most elegant ankles.”
“Why thank you Inspector, it is said of course that my family’s ankles were the models used by Robert Adam for his commodes.”
“Well I must be off. It is the Election and I am on duty at the counting station in the Town Hall tonight.”
“Oh thank you Inspector. I had almost forgotten about the Election, I had promised to drive one or two people to vote. It looks a bit wet outside and you know what the working classes are like when it come to voting in the rain. Most unreliable.”
“Yes, Mrs Wylie; thank you for your hospitality and if you do hear anything about the van or any foreign gentlemen, do let me know. We cannot have people just disappearing now, can we, real or imagined?”
“Of course Inspector, now do take the cake. I am sure it will help you through a long night at the Town Hall.”
“And that ladies and gentlemen brings me to organs without..”
“Is that you Professor?”
“Yes, it is I, Professor Sir Boozy Hawkes, at the good university here in Glasgow where I am a specialist in the development of the organ.”
“Professor, I am sorry to trouble you and I realise that it is term time and you will be up to your eyes in peddles and stops, not to mention the amorous advances of lady percussionists. I think you need to know that an Inspector has called in a J.B. Priestley sort of way asking about the ice cream van. And Bunty Haystack is aware of two rolls and sausage and two sets of stiff comrades’ fingers.”
“Thank you, I shall alert the Handsome Stranger. Goodbye.
Now ladies and gentlemen, as I was saying, the water powered organ frequently ran out of power in both hot and cold weather. Why was that? 1,500 words by next Tuesday, class dismissed.
I am sorry Miss Plenderleith, but I do not have time to review your tympani technique this afternoon, so there is no point lounging on my lecture table in that provocative duffle coat. Now those of you who are old enough, remember to vote as Mr Anthony Wedgwood Benn says Britain Belongs to you. Or does it?”
“I have made you some coco, Muriel. I was looking for that whisky cake but it seems to have disappeared.”
“Shoosh here it comes……”
“And so, we can confirm that after a long night and at times heated election campaign the Tories have won a third successive victory thanks to their slogan “Life is better with the Conservatives”. Despite the disaster of Suez, the nation has once again entrusted itself to the leadership of Harold Macmillan. Hugh Gaitskell has lost his first election as leader of the Labour Party and the Liberals led by Mr Jo Grimond have only 6 seats despite increasing their share of the vote from just over 2% to 5.9%. It seems that the people agree with Mr Macmillan that they have never had it so good.
Not that everything has entirely gone in favour of the Conservatives. They have failed, for the first time, to win the majority of the seats in Scotland although they have an overall majority of 100 in the House of Commons.
It has been a disappointing night for Labour, despite their modern and effective campaign of television broadcasts masterminded by Mr Wedgewood Benn.”
“Well that is splendid news Jasper.”
“Well I beg to differ Muriel and I cannot understand why, despite the carefully orchestrated pre-election economic boom, people do not see the growing gap between rich and poor.”
“At least Jasper you can feel smug about the Scottish results – sadly we have always been a ‘thrawn people’ even when it is against our best interests.”
“If you say so Dear. And by the way, how did that young friend of yours do, you know the chemist – the one you gave all the advice to about clothes and handbags?”
“Oh, she won East Finchley. I think she is going to do great things thanks to my advice. Mark my words Jasper she will go far and the Conservative party will never be the same.”
“One can only hope.”
“Jasper don’t be such a poor looser.”
“Jasper wake up!”
“Oh what is it Muriel?”
“Jasper I have just had the most awful dream.”
“I suppose you want to share it with me?”
“Jasper, I dreamt that the member for East Finchley became Prime Minister and changed Britain forever, sold everything off, went to war with penguins and annoyed everyone on the continent because she did not like them making us eat wonky bananas.”
“That’s ridiculous Muriel and where might I ask was the Labour party in this, surely they were making a stand.”
“That’s just it Jasper they were even worse, there was a man who liked pop groups from Manchester who wanted everyone to note how many telephone calls they made, how many letters they wrote – it was called performance management and they had to report it once a month at staff meetings.”
“I imagine he got rid of the Royal family and we became a republic.”
“No he saved the monarchy – I can’t quite remember Jasper it was something to do with a princess and flowers everywhere. Then there was a man with blonde hair and a man with a beard and a man covered in milkshake and everyone was so angry and it was always raining.”
“Goodness Muriel it all makes Harold MacMillan seem quite moderate and middle of the road.”
“Well that’s Britain isn’t it, Jasper? That’s what we stand for isn’t it? Decency and fair play even if we still have a long way to go. I know things are not perfect, but at least there is hope as we approach 1960. I wonder Jasper if I have done the right thing encouraging that young woman?”
“Oh Muriel it was only a dream brought on by the lack of a slice of whisky cake with coco and anyway there are other new politicians.”
“Like who Jasper?”
“Well the new liberal chap – Jeremy something, ah yes it says here Jeremy Thorpe.”
“Not him that wears the velvet collared coats?”
“Yes.”
“Oh dear Jasper, that’s just as bad. You cannot trust a Liberal who wears velvet collared coats.”
“I think Muriel you might benefit from a little nightcap, I will go downstairs and get a couple of malts.”
“Make it doubles Jasper – in my dream another blonde man who was President of the United States put such tariffs on whisky that no one could afford to export it.”
“Now Muriel that’s about as likely as Thomas Cook going out of business or having no post offices. Ice and a spot of soda, Darling?”
“Jasper you always make things right even if you are a socialist. Could you bring a couple of water biscuits and some cheese?.”
“You might have more bad dreams.”
“Yes, but I might find out what happens in the future.”
Muriel Wylie
Election Night
October 1959
Copyright © 2023 Artemis Scotland - Website by Sensor Studios
