FR1;Tied Up in Tinsel Halberds Manor was a stately home with a difference --a difference that lay in the staff. Every one of the retainers who waited on Hilary Bill-Tasman and his guests that Christmas was a convicted murderer. It was all part of a rehabilitation scheme which the effete but astute Hilary, with the co-operation of the governor of the local prison, had put into operation as much for his benefit as for theirs. But naturally in such a set-up, when a muchdisliked visiting servant disappeared without trace after playing Santa Claus, foul play was at once suspected, and foul play it proved to be. Only-- suspicion fell not only on the staff but on the guests, all so unimpeachably respectable that the very thought of murder in connection with any of them seemed almost heresy. Apart from Hilary himself, there was his beautiful fiancee; his uncle, a retired Army colonel; his loving but formidable aunt; and Mr Bert Smith, unexpected in such surroundings, who happened to be an authority on antiques. There was also Agatha Troy, distinguished portrait-painter, and equally well known to Ngaio Marsh's readers as the wife of Superintendent Roderick Alleyn of Scotland Yard. When Alleyn returns unexpectedly. from a trip to Australia, it is to find his beloved wife in the thick of an intriguing mystery. Ngaio Marsh has seldom created a cast of more entertaining characters. Helped--or more often hindered--by their foibles, her plot unfolds with the artless-seeming skill which has made her one of the great mistresses of detective fiction. Tied Up in Tinsel Ngaio Marsh The Crime Club ^ Collins, 14 St. James's Place, London CONTENTS Chapter I Halberds 9 Chapter II Christmas Eve 33 Chapter III Happy Christmas 61 Chapter IV The Tree and the Druid 86 Chapter V Alleyn 107 Chapter VI Storm Rising 132 Chapter VII House Work 162 Chapter VIII Moult 186 Chapter IX Post Mortem 217 Chapter X Departure 244 Cast of Characters Hilary Bill-Tasman of Halberds Manor, Landed proprietor Staff at Halberds Cuthbert Mervyn Nigel Wilfred (Kittiwee) Vincent Torn Guests at Halberds Troy Alleyn Colonel Frederick Fleaton Forrester Mrs Forrester Alfred Moult Mr Bert Smith Gressida Tottenham The Law Major Marchbanks Superintendent Wrayburn Superintendent Roderick Alleyn Detective-Inspector Fox Detective-Sergeant Thompson Detective-Sergeant Bailey Steward Head houseman Second houseman Cook Gardener-chauffeur Odd boy Celebrated painter Hilary's uncle The Colonel's wife Colonel Forrester's manservant Authority on Antiques Hilary's fiancee Governor at The Vale Downlow Police Force CID CID Fingerprint expert, CID Photographer, GID Sundry guests and constables CHAPTER I HALBERDS When my sire,' said Hilary Bill-Tasman, joining the tips of his fingers, 'was flung into penury by the Great Slump, lie commenced Scrap-Merchant. You don't mind my talking?' 'Not at all.' 'Thank you. When I so describe his activities I do not indulge in facezia. He went into partnership in a rag-andbone way with my Uncle Bert Smith, who was already equipped with a horse and cart and the experience of a short lifetime. "Uncle", by the way, is a courtesy title.' 'Yes?' 'You will meet him tomorrow. My sire, who was newly widowed, paid for his partnership by enlarging the business and bringing into it such items of family property as he hid contrived to hide from his ravenous creditors. They included a Meissen bowl of considerable monetary though, ^ my opinion, little aesthetic value. My Uncle Bert, lack- "ig expertise in the higher reaches of his profession, would no doubt have knocked off this and other heirlooms to the "(arest fence. My father, however, provided him with such written authority as to clear him of any suspicion of chicanGty and sent him to Bond Street, where he drove a bargain ^at made him blink.' 'Splendid, Could you keep your hands as they are?' 'I think so. They prospered. By the time I was five they ad two carts and two horses and a tidy account in the ^nK- I congratulate you, by the way, upon making no Cast of Characters Hilary Bill-Tasman of Halberds Manor, Landed proprietor Staff at Halberds Cuthbert Mervyn Nigel Wilfred (Kittiwee) Vincent Torn Guests at Halberds Troy Alleyn Colonel Frederick Fleaton Forrester Mrs Forrester Alfred Moult Mr Bert Smith Cressida Tottenham The Law Major Marchbanks Superintendent Wrayburn Superintendent Roderick Alleyn Detective-Inspector Fox Detective-Sergeant Thompson Detective-Sergeant Bailey Steward Head houseman Second houseman Cook Gardener-chauffeur Odd boy Celebrated painter Hilary's uncle The Colonel's wife Colonel Forrester's manservant Authority on Antiques Hilary's fiancee Governor at The Vale Downlow Police Force CID CID Fingerprint expert, CID Photographer, GID Sundry guests and constables CHAPTER I HALBERDS 'When my sire,' said Hilary Bill-Tasman, joining the tips of his fingers, 'was flung into penury by the Great Slump, he commenced Scrap-Merchant. You don't mind my talking?' 'Not at all.' 'Thank you. When I so describe his activities I do not indulge in facezia. He went into partnership in a rag-andbone way with my Uncle Bert Smith, who was already equipped with a horse and cart and the experience of a short lifetime. "Uncle", by the way, is a courtesy title.' 'Yes?' 'You will meet him tomorrow. My sire, who was newly widowed, paid for his partnership by enlarging the business and bringing into it such items of family property as he had contrived to hide from his ravenous creditors. They included a Meissen bowl of considerable monetary though, in my opinion, little aesthetic value. My Uncle Bert, lacking expertise in the higher reaches of his profession, would "o doubt have knocked off this and other heirlooms to the nearest fence. My father, however, provided him with such written authority as to clear him of any suspicion of chican"y and sent him to Bond Street, where he drove a bargain that made him blink.' 'Splendid. Could you keep your hands as they are?' I think so. They prospered. By the time I was five they ad two carts and two horses and a tidy account in the "arus- I congratulate you, by the way, upon making no 10 TIED UP IN TINSEL allusion to Steptoe and Son. I rather judge my new ac. quaintances under that heading. My father developed an unsuspected flare for trade and, taking advantage of the Depression, bought in a low market and, after a period of acute anxiety, sold in a high one. There came a day when, wearing his best suit and the tie to which he had every right, he sold the last of his family possessions at an exorbi. tant price to King Farouk, with whom he was tolerably acquainted. It was a Venetian chandelier of unparalleled vulgarity.' 'Fancy.' 'This transaction led to most rewarding sequels, terminated only by His Majesty's death, at which time my father had established a shop in South Molton Street while Uncle Bert presided over a fleet of carts and horses, maintaining his hold on the milieu that best suited him, but greatly increased his expertise.' 'And you?' 'I? Until I was seven years old I lodged with my fathci and adopted uncle in a two-roomed apartment in Small; Yard, Cheapjack Lane, E.C.4.' 'Learning the business?' 'You may say so. But also learning, after admittedly ; somewhat piecemeal fashion, an appreciation of Englist literature, objets d'art and simple arithmetic. My fatha ordered my education. Each morning he gave me three task to be executed before evening when he and Uncle Her returned from their labours. After supper he advanced iw studies until I feel asleep.' 'Poor little boy!' 'You think so? So did my uncle and aunt. My father maternal connections. They are a Colonel and Mrs For rester. You will meet them also tomorrow. They are calls Fleaton and Bedelia Forrester but have always been kno',\" in the family at Uncle Flea and Aunt Bed, the facetiou implication having been long forgotten.' FR1;HALBERDS II 'They intervened in your education?' 'They did, indeed. Having got wind of my father's activities they had themselves driven into the East End. Aunt Bed, then a vigorous young woman, beat on my locked door with her umbrella and when admitted gave vent to some very intemperate comments strongly but less violently seconded by her husband. They left in a rage and returned that evening with an offer.' 'To take over your education?' 'And me. In toto. At first my father said he'd see them damned first but in his heart he liked them very much, Since our lodging was to be demolished as an insanitary dwelling and new premises were difficult to find he yielded eventually, influenced I dare say, by threats of legal action and Child Welfare officers. Whatever the cause, I went, in the upshot, to live with Uncle Flea and Aunt Bed.' 'Did you like it there?' 'Yes. I didn't lose touch with my father. He patched up his row with the Forresters and we exchanged frequent visits. By the time I was thirteen he was extremely affluent and able to pay for my education at his own old school, at which, fortunately he had put me down at birth. This relieved us to some extent from the burden of an overpowering obligation but I retain the liveliest sense of gratitude to Flea and Bed.' 'I look forward to meeting them.' 'They are held to be eccentric. I can't see it myself, but you shall judge.' 'In what way?' 'Well--Trifling departures from normal practice, perhaps. They never travel without green lined tropical umbrellas of a great age. These they open when they awake 1" the morning as they prefer their vernal shade to the direct light. And then they bring a great many of their valuables with them. All Aunt Bed's jewels and Uncle Flea's stocks and shares and one or two very nice objets 12 TIED UP IN TINSEL d'art of which I wouldn't at all mind having the disposal. They also bring a considerable amount of hard cash. In Uncle Flea's old uniform case. He is on the reserve list.' 'That is perhaps a little eccentric.' 'You think so? You may be right. To resume. My education, from being conventional in form, was later expanded at my father's instance, to include an immensely thorough training in the more scholarly aspects of the trade to which I succeeded. When he died I was already accepted as a leading European authority on the great period of Chinese Ceramics. Uncle Bert and I became very rich. Everything I've touched turned to gold, as they say. In short I was a "have" .and not a "have-not". To cap it all (really it was almost comical), I became a wildly successful gambler and won two quite princely non-taxable fortune; on the Pools. Uncle Bert inspired me in this instance.' 'Lovely for you.' 'Well--I like it. My wealth has enabled me to indulge my own eccentricities, which you may think as extreme a' those of Uncle Flea and Aunt Bed.' 'For instance?' 'For instance, this house. And its staff. Particularly, you may think, its staff. Halberds belonged from Tudo; times up to the first decade of the nineteenth century to m paternal forebears: the Bill-Tasmans. They were actual!' the leading family in these parts. The motto is, simply "Unicus" which is as much as to say "peerless". My anccs tors interpreted it, literally, by refusing peerages and be having as if they were royalty. You may think me arrogant, said Hilary, 'but I assure you that compared to my forebe; s I am a violet by a mossy stone.' 'Why did the family leave Halberds?' 'My dear, because they were ruined. They put everythiri they had into the West Indies and were ruined, very pie perly I dare say, by the emancipation of slaves. The hou? was sold off but owing to its situation nobody really fancio HALBERDS 13 it and as the Historic Trust was then in the womb of time, it suffered the ravages of desertion and fell into a sort of premature ruin.' 'You bought it back?' 'Two years ago.' 'And restored it?' 'And am in process of restoring it. Yes.' 'At enormous cost?' 'Indeed. But, I hope you agree, with judgment and style?' 'Certainly. I have,' said Troy Alleyn, 'finished for the time being.' Hilary got up and strolled round the easel to look at his portrait. 'It is, of course, extremely exciting. I'm glad you are still to some extent what I think is called a figurative painter. I wouldn't care to be reduced to a schizoid arrangement of geometrical propositions, however satisfying to the abstracted eye.' 'No?' 'No. The Royal Antiquarian Guild (The Rag as it is called) will no doubt think the portrait extremely avant garde. Shall we have our drinks? It's half past twelve, I see; 'May I clean up, first?' 'By all means. You may prefer to attend to your own tools, but if not, Mervyn, who you may recollect was a signwriter before he went to gaol, would, I'm sure, be delighted to clean your brushes.' 'Lovely. In that case I shall merely clean myself.' 'J°in me here, when you've done so.' Troy removed her smock and went upstairs and along a corridor to her deliciously warm room. She scrubbed her hands in the adoining bathroom, and brushed her short hsir, staring as she did so out of the window. Beyond a piecemeal domain, still in the hands of landscape-gardeners, the moors were erected against a leaden 14 TIED UP IN TINSEL sky. Their margins seemed to flow together under some kind of impersonal design. They bore their scrubby mantling with indifference and were, or so Troy thought, unnervingly detached. Between two dark curves the road to the prison briefly appeared. A light sleet was blown across the landscape. Well, she thought, it lacks only the Hound of the Has- kervilles, and I wouldn't put it past him to set that np if it occurs to him to do so. Immediately beneath her window lurched the wreckage of a conservatory that at some time had extended along the outer face of the east wing. Hilary had explained that it was soon to be demolished: at the moment it was an eyesore. The tops of seedling firs poked through shattered glass. Anonymous accumulations had silted up the interior, In one part the roof had completely fallen in. Hilary said that when next she visited Halberds she would look down upon lawns and a vista through cypress trees leading to a fountain with stone dolphins. Troy wondered just how successful these improvements would be in reducing the authority of those ominous hills. Between the garden-to-be and the moor, on a ploughed slope, a scarecrow, that outlandish, commediadell'arteV&it survival, swivelled and gesticulated in the December wind, A man came into view down below, wheeling a barrow and tilting his head against the wind. He wore a sou'westcr and an oilskin cape. Troy thought: That's Vincent. That's the gardener- chauffeur. And what was it about Vincent? Arsenic? Yes And I suppose this must all be true. Or must it ? The scarecrow rocked madly on its base and a wisp 11 two of straw flew away in the sleety wind. FR1;HALBERDS 15 Troy had only been at Halberds for five days but already she accepted its cockeyed grandeur. After her arrival to paint his commissioned portrait, Hilary had thrown out one or two airy hints as to the bizarre nature of his staff. At first she had thought that he was going in for a not very funny kind of leg-pulling but she soon discovered her mistake. At luncheon they were waited upon by Cuthbert, to whom Hilary had referred as his chief steward, and by Nigel, the second houseman. Cuthbert was a baldish man of about sixty with a loud voice, big hands and downcast eyes. He performed his duties composedly as, indeed, did his assistant, but there was something watchful and at the same time colourless in their general behaviour. They didn't shuffle, but one almost expected them to do so. One felt that it was necessary to remark that their manner was not furtive. How far these impressions were to be attributed to hindsight and how far to immediate observation, Troy was unable to determine but she reflected that after all it was a tricky business adapting oneself to a domestic staff entirely composed of murderers. Guthbert, a head-waiter at the time, had murdered his wife's lover, a handsome young commis. Because of extenuating circumstances, the death sentence, Hilary told her, had been commuted into a lifer which exemplary behaviour had reduced to eight years. 'He is the most harmless of creatures,' Hilary had said, 'The commis called him a cuckold and spat in his face at a moment when he happened to be carving a wing-rib. He merely lashed out.' Mervyn, the head houseman, once a signwriter, had, it emerged, been guilty of killing a burglar with a boobytrap. 'Really,' Hilary said, 'it was going much too far to gaol him. He hadn't meant to destroy anyone, you know, IfW l6 TIED UP IN TINSEL only to give an intruder pause if one should venture to break in. But he entirely misjudged the potential of an old-fashioned flat-iron balanced on a door-top. Mervyn became understandably warped by confinement and behaved so incontinently that he was transferred to The Vale.' Two other homicides completed the indoor staff. The cook's name was Wilfred. Among his fellows he was known as Kittiwee, being a lover of cats. 'He actually trained as a chef. He is not,' Hilary had told Troy, 'one hundred per cent he-man. He was imprisone;! under that heading but while serving his sentence attacked a warder who approached him when he was not in the mood. This disgusting man was known to be a cat-hater and to have practised some form of cruelty. Kittiwee's onslaught was therefore doubly energetic and most unfortunately his victim struck his head against the cell wall and was killed. He himself served a painful extension of his sentence.' Then there was the second houseman, Nigel, who in former years had been employed in the manufacture of horses for merry-go-rounds and on the creative side of the waxworks industry until he became a religious fanatic and unreliable. 'He belonged to an extreme sect,' Hilary had explained, 'A monastic order of sorts, with some curious overtone;-. What with one thing and another the life put too heavy a strain upon Nigel. His wits turned and he murdered a person to whom he always refers as "a sinful lady". He was sent to Broadmoor where, believe it or not, he recovered his senses.' 'I hope he doesn't think me sinful.' 'No, no, I promise you. You are not at all the type and in any case he is now perfectly rational and composed except for weeping rather extravagantly when he remembers his crime. He has a gift for modelling. If we have ,1 white Christmas I shall ask him to make a snowman to'; us. HALBERDS 17 Finally, Hilary had continued, there was Vincent, the pardener. Later on, when the landscape specialists had completed their operations, there would be a full complement of outside staff. In the meantime there were casual labourers and Vincent. And really,' Hilary had said, 'it is quite improper to refer to him as a homicide. There was some ridiculous misunderstanding over a fatal accident with an arsenical preparation for the control of fungi. This was followed by a gross misdirection to a more than usually idiotic jury and after a painful interval, by a successful appeal. Vincent,' he had summed up, 'is a much wronged person.' 'How,' Troy had asked, 'did you come to engage your staff?' 'Ah! A pertinent question. You see when I bought Halberds I determined not only to restore it but to keep it up in the manner to which it had been accustomed. I had no wish to rattle dismally in Halberds with a village trot or some unpredictable Neapolitan couple who would feed me on pasta for a fortnight and then flounce off without notice. On the other hand civilized household staff, especially in this vicinity, I found to be quite unobtainable. After some thought, I made an appointment to visit my neighbour-to-be, the Governor at The Vale. He is called Major Marchbanks. 'I put my case to him. I had always understood that of all criminals, murderers are much the nicest to deal with. Murderers of a certain class, I mean. I discriminate. Thugs who shoot and bash policemen and so on are quite unsuitable and indeed would be unsafe. But your single.)''b man, prompted by a solitary and unprecedented upsurge of emotion under circumstances of extreme provoca- ^on, is usually well-behaved. Marchbanks supported me in tnls Aeory. After some deliberation I arranged with him ^"at as suitable persons were released I should have the irst T^usal. It was, from their point of view, a form of l8 TIED UP IN TINSEL rehabilitation. And being so rich, I can pay handsomely.' 'But was there a ready supply?' 'I had to wait for them, as it were, to fall in. For some time I lived very simply with only Cuthbert and Kittiwee, in four rooms of the east wing. But gradually the supply built up : The Vale was not the only source. The Scrubs and, in Nigel's case, Broadmoor were also productive. In passing,' Hilary had then pointed out, T remind you that there is nothing original in my arrangements. The idea was canvassed in Victorian times by no less a person than Charles Dickens and considerably later, on a farcical leve! by Sir Arthur Wing Pinero. I have merely adopted it anc carried it to its logical conclusion.' T think,' Troy had said, 'it's remotely possible thai Rory, my husband, you know, may have been responsibi; for the arrest of one or even more, of your staff. Wouli they—?' 'You need have no qualms. For one thing they don know of the relationship and for another they wouldn mind if they did. They bear no grudge as far as I cai discern against the police. With the possible exception c Mervyn, the ex-signwriter, you recollect. He feels that sine his booby-trap was directed against a class that the polk are concerned to suppress, it was rather hard that he shou! suffer so grievous a penalty for removing one of them. Bi even he has taken against Counsel for the Prosecution an the jury rather than against the officers who arrested hire 'Big of him, I suppose,' said Troy. These conversations had taken place during the earl sittings. Now, on the fifth day of her residence, Hilary an Troy had settled down to an oddly companionable rcb tionship. The portrait prospered. She was working wit unusual rapidity, and few misgivings. All was well. 'I'm so glad,' Hilary said, 'that it suits you to stay fi Christmas. I do wish your husband could have joined ( He might have found my arrangements of some interest HALBERDS IQ He's on an extradition case in Australia.' 'Your temporary loss,' said Hilary neatly, 'is my lasting gain. How shall we spend the afternoon? Another sitting? I am all yours.' 'That would be grand. About an hour while the light lasts and then I'll be under my own steam for a bit, I think.' Troy looked at her host who was also her subject. A very rewarding subject, she thought, and one with whom it would be fatally easy to confuse interpretation with caricature. That ovoid forehead, that crest of fuzz, those astonished, light blue eyes and the mouth that was perpetually hitched up at the corners in a non-smile! But, Troy thought, isn't interpretation, of necessity, a form of caricature? She found Hilary contemplating her as if she was the subject and he the scrutator. 'Look here,' Troy said abruptly, 'you've not by any chance been pulling my leg? About the servants and all that?' 'No.' 'No?' 'I assure you. No.' 'OK,' said Troy. 'I'm going back to work. I'll be about ten minutes fiddling and brooding and then if you'll sit again, we'll carry on.' 'But of course. I am enjoying myself,' Hilary said, 'inordinately.' Troy returned to the library. Her brushes as usual had been cleaned in turpentine. Today they had been set out together with a nice lump of fresh rag. Her paint-encrusted smock had been carefully disposed over a chairback. An extra table covered with paper had been brought in to ^Pplement a makeshift bench. Mervyn again, she thought, the booby-trap chap who used to paint signs. And as she thought of him he came in; wary-looking and riark about the jaw. 20 TIED UP IN TINSEL 'Excuse me,' Mervyn said, and added 'madam' as if he'd just remembered to do so. 'Was there anything else?' 'Thank you very much,' Troy said. 'Nothing. It's all marvellous,* and felt she was being unnaturally effusive 'I thought,' Mervyn mumbled, staring at the portrait, 'you could do with more bench space. Like. Madam.' 'Oh, rather. Yes. Thank you.' 'Like you was cramped. Sort of.' 'Well--not now.' He said nothing but he didn't go. He continued to look at the portrait. Troy, who never could talk easih about work in progress, began to set her palette with lia back to Mervyn. When she turned round it gave her quiif a shock to find him close behind her. But he was only waiting with her smock which hi held as if it were a valuable top-coat and he a trainci manservant. She felt no touch of his hands as he helps; her into it. Thank you very much,' Troy repeated and hoped sh sounded definitive without being disagreeable. 'Thank you, madam,' Mervyn responded and as alwa' when this sort of exchange cropped up, she repressed a impulse to ask: 'For what?' (For treating him like a manservant when I know he's booby-setting manslaughterer? thought Troy). Mervyn withdrew, delicately closing the door after bin Soon after that, Hilary came in and for an hour Tie worked on his portrait. By then the light had begun t fail. Her host having remarked that he expected a Long distance call from London, she said she would go for walk. They had, she felt, seen enough of each other i the time being. HALBERDS 21 A roughish path crossed the waste that was to become something Hilary, no doubt, would think of as a pleasance. It led past the ruined conservatory to the ploughed field she had seen from her bedroom window. Here was the scarecrow, a straw-stuffed antic groggily anchored in a hole it had enlarged with its own gyrations, lurching extravagantly in the north wind. It was clad in the wreckage of an Edwardian frock-coat and a pair of black trousers. Its billycock hat had been pulled down over the stuffed bag which formed its head. It was extended in the classic cruciform gesture and a pair of clownish gloves, tied to the ends of the crosspiece, flapped lamentably, as did the wild remnants of something that might once liave been an opera cloak. Troy felt that Hilary himself had had a hand in its creation. He had explained in detail to what lengths, and at what enormous expense of time and money, he had gone in the accurate restoration of Halberds. Portraits had been hunted down and re-purchased, walls rehung in silk, panelling unveiled and ceilings restored by laborious stripping. Perhaps in some collection of foxed watercolours he had found a Victorian sketch of this steep field with a gesticulating scarecrow in the middle distance. She skirted the field and climbed a steep slope. Now she was out on the moors and here at last was the sealed road. She followed it up to where it divided the hills. She was now high above Halberds and looking down at it saw it was shaped like an E without the middle stroke and splendidly proportioned. An eighteenth-century picture of it hung in the library; remembering this, she was able to replace the desolation that surrounded the house ^th the terraces, walks, artificial hill, lake and vistas created, 80 Hilary had told her, by Capability Brown. She could 22 TIED UP IN TINSEL make out her own room in the western facade with the hideous wreckage of a conservatory beneath it. Smoke plumed up wildly from several of the chimneys and she caught a whiff of burning wood. In the foreground Vincent, a foreshortened pigmy, trundled his barrow. In the back ground a bulldozer slowly laid out preliminaries for Hilary's restorations. Troy could see where a hillock, topped by a foils and later destroyed by a bomb, had once risen beyond an elegant little lake. That was what the bulldozer was up to: scooping out a new lake and heaping the spoil into what would become a hillock. And a 'Hilary's Folly' no doubl would ultimately crown the summit. And no doubt. Troy thought, it will be very, very beau tiful but there's an intrinsic difference between "Here i still is" and "This is how it was" and all the monstrou accumulation of his super-scrap-markets, high antiques am football pools won't do the trick for him. She turned and took fifteen paces into the north wini' It was as if a slide had clicked over in a projector am an entirely dissociated subject thrown on the screen. Tro now looked down into The Vale, as it was locally called and her first thought was of the hopeless incongruity c this gentle word, for it stood not only for the valley but fo the prison whose dry moats, barriers, watch-towers, yard barracks and chimney-stacks were set out down below lit a scale model of themselves for her to shudder at. Her hu band sometimes referred to The Vale as 'Heartbreak House The wind was now fitfully laced with sleet and this stee engraving of a view was shot across with slantwise drifi that were blown out as fast as they appeared. Facing Troy was a road sign. STEEP DESCENT DANGEROUS CORNERS ICE CHANGE DOWN As if to illustrate the warning, a covered van labour HALBERDS 23 up the road from Halberds, stopped beside her, clanked into bottom gear and ground its way down into The Vale. It disappeared round the first bend and was replaced by a man in a heavy macintosh and tweed hat, climbing towards her. He looked up and she saw a reddened face, a white moustache and blue eyes. She had already decided to turn back but an obscure notion that it would be awkward to do so at once, made her pause. The man came up with her, raised his hat, gave her a conventional 'Good evening' and then hesitated. 'Coming up rough,' he said. He had a pleasant voice. 'Yes,' Troy said. 'I'll beat a retreat, I think. I've come up from Halberds.' 'Stiffish climb, isn't it, but not as stiff as mine. Please forgive me, but you must be Hilary Bill-Tasman's celebrated guest, mustn't you ? My name's Marchbanks.' 'Oh, yes. He told me--' 'I come as far as this most evenings for the good of my wind and legs. To get out of the valley, you know.' 'I can imagine.' 'Yes,' said Major Marchbanks, 'it's rather a grim proposition, isn't it? But I shouldn't keep you standing about in this beastly wind. We'll meet again, I hope, at the Christmas tree.' T hope so, too,' said Troy. 'Rather a rum set-up at Halberds I expect you think, don't you?' 'Unusual, at least.' 'Quite. Oh,' Major Marchbanks said as if answering an unspoken query; 'I'm all for it, you know. All for it.' He lifted his wet hat again, flourished his stick and made off by the way he had come. Somewhere down in ^e prison a bell clanged. "oy returned to Halberds. "he and Hilary had tea very cosily before a cedar-wood e in a little room which, he said, had been his five-timesjn& g, TIED UP IN TINSEL HALBERDS 35 great-grandmother's boudoir. Her portrait hung above the something she calk organic-expressivism. I have tried to fire: a mischievous-looking old lady with a discernible oint out that this is a bastard and meaningless term but resemblance to Hilary himself. The room was hung in she doesn't seem to mind.' apple-green watered silk with rose-embroidered curtains. It 'What do they do?' contained an exquisite screen, a French ormolu desk, some -As far as I can make out they take off their clothes, elegant chairs and a certain lavishness of porcelain amor- ^uch in Cressida's case can do nothing but please, and g^i. cover their faces with pale green tendrils, which (again in 'I dare say,' Hilary said through a mouthful of hot her case) is a ludicrous waste of basic material. Harmful buttered muffin, 'you think it an effeminate setting for a (o the complexion.' bachelor. It awaits its chatelaine.' 'Puzzling.' 'Really?' ~ 'Unhappily Aunt Bed doesn't quite approve of Cressida, 'Really. She is called Cressida Tottenham and she toe who is Uncle Flea's ward. Her father was a junior officer arrives tomorrow. We think of announcing our engage, of Uncle Flea's and was killed in occupied Germany when ment.' saving Uncle Flea's life. So Uncle Flea felt he had an 'What is she like?' Troy asked. She had found tha; obligation and brought her up.' Hilary relished the direct approach. 'I see,' Troy said again. '\Vell--let me see. If one could taste her she would b' 'You know,' he said, 'what I like about you, apart from salty with a faint rumour of citron.' your genius and your looks, is your lack of superfluous 'You make her sound like a grilled sole.' ornament. You are an important piece from a very good 'All I can say to that is: she doesn't look like one.' period. If it wasn't for Cressida I should probably make What does she look like?' advances to you myself.' 'Like somebody whom I hope you will very much wan That really would throw me completely off my stroke,' to paint.' saz(^ '^r0^ wlt^ some "nphasis. 'Oh-ho' said Troy. 'Sits the wind in that quarter!' 'You prefer to maintain a detached relationship with 'Yes it does and it's blowing steady and strong. Wai your subjects?' until you see her and then tell me if you'll accept anothfl Absolutely.' Bill-Tasman commission and a much more delectable one Isee your point, of course,' said Hilary. Did you notice an empty panel in the north wall of th Good-'. dining-room?' , ""^sd his muffin, damped his napkin with hot 'Yes, I did.' water' ^aned his fingers and walked over to the window. 'Reserved for Cressida Tottenham by Agatha Troy.' he rose-embroidered curtains were closed but he parted I see.' U1 and P^"^ into ^e dark. 'It's snowing,' he said. 'She really is a lovely creature,' Hilary said with ^ ncle Flea and Aunt Bed will have a romantic passage obvious attempt at impartial assessment. 'You just wa;i "the moors.' She's in the theatre, by the way. Well, I say in. She's on, "o you mean--are they coming tonight--?' just in. She went to an academy of sorts and thence iiit /*n> yes. I forgot to tell you. My long-distance call was .T-.-T'*'^** ft-F p If^^o^wyFWyy.t;" 26 TIED UP IN TINSEL from their housekeeper. They left before dawn and expec to arrive in time for dinner.' 'A change in plans?' 'They suddenly thought they would. They prepare them, selves for a visit at least three days before the appoint; time and yet they dislike the feeling of impending departure So they resolved to cut it short. I shall take a rest. Whai about you?' 'My walk has made me sleepy, I think. I will, too 'That's the north wind. It has a soporific effect upoi newcomers. I'll tell Nigel to call you at half past seven, shal I ? Dinner at eight-thirty and the warning bell at a quartc past. Rest well,' said Hilary, opening the door for her. As she passed him she became acutely aware of his hdgl and also of his smell which was partly Harris tweed am partly something much more exotic. 'Rest well,' he repeate and she knew he watched her as she went upstairs. She found Nigel in her bedroom. He had laid out hi ruby-red silk dress and everything that went with it. Tin hoped that this ensemble had not struck him as being sinfu He was now on his knees blowing needlessly at a brightl burning fire. Nigel was so blond that Troy was glad to a his eyes were not pink behind their prolific white laslic He got to his feet and in a muted voice asked her if lisa would be anything else. He gazed at the floor and not; Troy, who said there was nothing else. 'It's going to be a wild night,' Troy remarked tr'/ic to be natural but sounding, she feared, like a bit part1 The Corsican Brothers. 'That is as Heaven decrees, Mrs Alleyn,' Nigel sa' severely and left her. She reminded herself of Hilar) assurances that Nigel had recovered his sanity. HALBERDS 27 She took a bath, seething deliciously in resinous vapours and wondered how demoralizing this mode of living might become if prolonged. She decided (sinfully, as no doubt Nieel would have considered) that for the time being, at least it tended to intensify her nicer ingredients. She drowsed before her fire, half-aware of the hush that comes upon a house when snow falls in the world outside. At lialf past seven, Nigel tapped at her door and she roused herself to dress. There was a cheval-glass in her room and she couldn't help seeing that she looked well in her ruby dress. Distant sounds of arrival broke the quietude. A car engine. A door slam. After a considerable interval, voices in the passage and an entry into the next room. A snappish, female voice, apparently on the threshold, shouted. 'Not at all. Fiddle! Who says anything about being tired ? We won't dress. I said we won't dress.' An interval and then the voice again : 'You don't want Moult, do you ? Moult! The Colonel doesn't want you. Unpack later. I said he can unpack later.' Uncle Flea, thought Troy, is deaf. 'And don't,' shouted the voice, 'keep fussing about the beard.' A door closed. Someone walked away down the passage. About the beard7 Troy wondered. Could she have said beard? For a minute or two nothing could be heard from the next room. Troy concluded that either Colonel or Mrs Fleaton Forrester had retired into the bathroom on the far ^de, a theory that was borne out by a man's voice, coming as it were from behind Troy's wardrobe, exclaiming: 'B! About my beard!' and receiving no audible reply. Soon after this the Forresters could be heard to leave "eir apartment. T-ri"^ ^"ght she would give them a little while with ulary before she joined them and she was still staring TIED UP IN TINSEL 28 bemusedly into her fire when the warning bell, booty., so Hilary had told her, from Henry the Eighth's sack of thi monasteries, rang out in its tower over the stables. Tio; wondered if it reminded Nigel of his conventual day, before he had turned a little mad. She shook herself out of her reverie and found her wa; downstairs and into the main hall, where Mervyn, on thi look-out, directed her to the green boudoir. 'We are noi disturbing the library,' Mervyn said with a meaningfu smirk. 'Madam,' 'How very considerate,' said Troy. He opened tin boudoir door for her and she went in. The Forresters stood in front of the fire with Hilan who wore a plum-coloured smoking suit and a widisli ti; Colonel Forrester was a surprised-looking old man with; pink-and-white complexion and a moustache. But no beari He wore a hearing-aid. Mrs Forrester looked, as she had sounded, formidabi; She had a blunt face with a mouth like a spring-trap, pro minent eyes fortified by pebble-lenses and thin, grey hai lugged back into a bun. Her skirt varied in length froi; midi to maxi and she clearly wore more than one flanni petticoat. Her top half was covered by woollen garments i varying shades of dull puce. She wore a double chain ( what Troy suspected were superb natural pearls and number of old-fashioned rings in which deposits of so; had accumulated. She carried a string bag containing piece of anonymous knitting and her handkerchief. Hilary performed the introductions. Colonel Forresli beamed and gave Troy a little bow. Mrs Forrester shaipl nodded. 'How do you find yourself?' she said. 'Cold?' 'Not at all, thank you.' 'I ask because you must spend much of your time' overheated studios painting from the Altogether, I sa' Painting From The Altogether.' HALBERDS 29 This habit of repetition in fortissimo, Troy discovered, ^ag automatic with Mrs Forrester and was practised for the benefit of her husband, who now gently indicated that he wore his hearing-aid. To this she paid no attention. 'She's not painting me in the nude, darling Auntie,' said Hilary, wn0 was P011™^ drinks. 'A pretty spectacle that would be.' 'I think perhaps you base your theories about painters on Trilby and La Vie de Boheme.' 'I saw Beerbohm Tree in Trilby,' Colonel Forrester remembered. 'He died backwards over a table. It was awfully good.' There was a tap on the door, followed by the entrance of a man with an anxious face. Not only anxious but most distressingly disfigured, as if by some long-distant and extensive burn. The scars ran down to the mouth and dragged it askew. 'Hullo, Moult,' said Mrs Forrester. 'I beg your pardon, sir, I'm sure,' said the man to Hilary. 'It was just to put the Colonel's mind at ease, sir. It's quite all right about the beard, sir.' 'Oh good, Moult. Good. Good. Good,' said Colonel Forrester. 'Thank you, sir,' said the man and withdrew. 'What is it about your beard, Uncle Flea?' asked Hilary, to Troy's immense relief. 'The beard, old chap. I was afraid it might have been forgotten and then I was afraid it might have been messed up in the packing.' 'Well, it hasn't, Fred. I said it hasn't.' 'I know, so that's all right.' 'Are you going to be Father Christmas, Colonel?' Troy ventured and he beamed delightedly and looked shy. 'I knew you'd think so,' he said. 'But no. I'm a Druid. What do you make of that, now?' ^u mean--you belong--?' u1 go TIED UP IN TINSEL HALBERDS r,; 'Not,' Hilary intervened, 'to some spurious Ancient Ord, rd opted out. One can't be too careful.' wearing cotton-wool beards and making fools of themselv Hilary brought the drinks. Two of them were steaminf every second Tuesday.' and had slices of lemon in them. 'Oh, come, old boy,' his uncle protested. "That's r, 'Your rum toddies. Aunt Bed,' he said. 'Tell me if there's fair.' not enough sugar.' 'Well, perhaps not. But no,' Hilary continued, adclii Mrs Forrester wrapped her handkerchief round her glass sing himself to Troy, 'at Halberds, St Nicholas or Sas and sat down with it. 'It seems all right,' she said. 'Did Claus or whatever you like to call the Teutonic old perse you put nutmeg in your uncle's?' is replaced by an ancient and more authentic figure; ( 'No.' great precursor of the Winter Solstice observances w 'Good.' bequeathed--consciously or not--so much of his lore to 1 'You will think,' said the colonel to Troy, 'that rum Christian successors. The Druid, in fact.' toddies before dinner are funny things to drink but we 'And the vicar doesn't mind,' Colonel Forrester ear make a point of putting them forward after a journey. estly interjected. 'I promise you. The vicar doesn't mind Usually they are nightcaps.' bit.' They smell delicious.' 'That doesn't surprise me,' his wife observed with 'Would you like one?' Hilary asked her. 'Instead of a cryptic snort. White Lady.' 'He comes to the party even. So, you see, I shall bt 'I think I'll stick to the White Lady.' Druid. I have been one each year since Hilary came 'So shall I. Well, my dears,' Hilary said generally. 'We Halberds. There's a tree and a kissing bough you kill are a small house-party this year. Only Cressida and Uncle and, of course, quantities of mistletoe. All the childi Bert to come. They both arrive tomorrow.' come: the children on the place and at The Vale and 'Are you still engaged to Cressida?' asked his aunt. the neighbouring districts. It's a lovely party and I 1( 'Yes. The arrangement stands. I am in high hopes, Aunt doing it. Do you like dressing-up?' Ked' "at you will take more of a fancy to Cressida on He asked this so anxiously, like a character in All ^cond sight.' that she hadn't the heart to give anything less than ^t's not second sight. It's fiftieth sight. Or more.' enthusiastic assent and almost expected him to say co; But you know what I mean. Second sight since we that they must dress up together one of these days. ^carne engaged.' 'Uncle Flea's a brilliant performer,' Hilary said, 't what>s the odds?' she replied ambiguously. his beard is the piece de resistance. He has it made "ell. Aunt Bed, I would have thought_' Hilary broke Wig Creations. It wouldn't disgrace King Lear. And tt " ^d rubbed his nose. 'Well, anyway, Aunt Bed, considthe wig itself! So different from the usual repellent fab ^S I met her in your house.' You shall see.' you p08 the pity- l ^"^d your uncle. I said I warned 'We've made some changes,' said Colonel Forrrf y.^"d. excitedly. 'They've re-dressed it. The feller said he tho"S "hat about, B?' it was a bit on the long side and might make me look a^ our gel! The Tottenham gel. Cressida.' 32 TIED UP IN TINSEL •She's not mine, B. You put things so oddly, my (iq, 'Well, anyway,' Hilary said. 'I hope you change you mind, Auntie.' 'One can but hope,' she rejoined and turned to Tim "Have you met Miss Tottenham?' 'No.' 'Hilary thinks she will go with the house. We're sti talking about Cressida,' Mrs Forrester bawled at her hii band. 'I know you are. I heard.' After this they sipped their drinks, Mrs Forrester makit rather a noise with hers and blowing on it to cool it clow 'The arrangements for Christmas Day,' Hilary begi after a pause, 'are, I think, an improvement on last ye; I've thought of a new entrance for you, Uncle Flea.' 'Have you, though? Have you? Have you?' 'From outside. Through the french windows behind tl tree.' 'Outside!' Mrs Forrester barked. 'Do I understand yc Hilary? Do you plan to put your uncle out on the terra on a midwinter night—in a snowstorm. I said a snowstora 'It'll only be for a moment, Aunt Bed.' 'You have not forgotten, I suppose, that your uni suffers from a circulatory complaint.' 'I'll be all right, B.' 'I don't like it, I said—' 'But I assure you! And the undergarment is quiitt Tshaw! I said—' 'No, but do listen!' 'Don't fuss, B. My boots are fur-lined. Go on, old b You were saying—?' 'I've got a lovely tape-recording of sleighbells and snoi ing reindeer. Don't interrupt, anybody. I've done rny' search and I'm convinced that there's an overlap I'1 between the Teutonic and the Druidical and if there' i11 Hilary said rapidly, 'there ought to be. So. We'll hear" CHRISTMAS EVE 33 hout "Whoa", Uncle Flea, outside, to the reindeer, and then yo"'11 come m' I don't shout very loud nowadays, old boy,' he said worriedly. 'Not the Pirbright note any more, I'm afraid.' I thought of that. I've had the "whoa" added to the hells and snorts. Cuthbert did it. He has a stentorian voice.' 'Good. Good.' 'There will be thirty-one children and about a dozen narente. And the usual assortment of county and farmers. Outside hands and, of course, the staff.' 'Warders?' asked Mrs Forrester. 'From That Place?' 'Yes. From the married quarters. Two. Wives and families.' 'Marchbanks?' 'If he can get away. They have their own commitments. The chaplain cooks up something pretty joyless. Christmas,' said Hilary acidly, 'under maximum security. I imagine one can hardly hear the carols for the alarm bells.' 'I suppose,' said his aunt after a good suck at her toddy, 'you all know what you're about. I'm sure I don't. I smell danger.' That's a dark saying, Auntie,' remarked Hilary. Cuthbert came in and announced dinner. It was true that he had a very loud voice. CHAPTER II CHRISTMAS EVE Before they went to bed they listened to the regional weather report. It said that snow was expected to fall through the ^ght and into Christmas Eve but that it was unlikely to '^U.l.T. B 34 TIEDUPINTINSEL continue until Christmas Day itself. A warm front ^ approaching over the Atlantic Ocean. 'I always think,' Hilary remarked, 'of a warm front,; belonging to a decollete Regency lady thrusting her opule; prow, as it were, into some consequential rout or ball an warming it up no end. The ball, I mean.' 'No doubt,' his aunt tartly rejoined, 'Cressida will fulf that questionable role at the coming function.' 'Well, you know, darling, I rather think she may,' sai Hilary and kissed his aunt good night. When Troy hung her red dress in her wardrobe thi night she discovered that the recess in which it had bee built must be flanked by a similar recess in the Forresta' room so that the ancient wall that separated them ha; been in this section, removed and a thin partition separata their respective hanging cupboards. Mrs Forrester, at this very moment, was evidently dt posing of her own garments. Troy could hear the scrap of coathangers on the rail. She jumped violently when li own name was shouted, almost as it seemed, into her ei 'Troy I Odd sort of Christian name.' Distantly, Colonel Forrester could be heard to say: '. no ... understand . . . famous . . .' His head. Troy thougl was momentarily engulfed in some garment. Mrs Foi rest sounded extremely cross. 'You know what I think about it,' she shouted an rattled the coathangers, 'I said you know . . .' Troy, reprehensibly, was riveted in her wardrobe. '. . . don't trust . . .' continued the voice. 'Never ha" You know that.' A pause and a final shout: '. . . sooner was left straight out to the murderers. Now!' A final They could hardly call Aunt B a sinful lady, could they? ) Or could they?' , 'Not,' said Mr Smith, 'with any marketing potential , hey couldn't.' I 'I'm going to bed,' Cressida said, trailing about the oom. 'I want a word with Hilary. I'll find him upstairs, suppose. Good night, Mrs Alleyn.' | 'Do we just abandon all this--the tree and so on?' 'I dare say he'll do it when he comes down. It's not late, after all, is it? Good night, Mr Smith.' 'Night-night, Beautiful,' said Mr Smith. 'Not to worry. It's a funny old world but we don't care, do we?' HAPPY CHRISTMAS 65 I rnust say I do, rather. You know?' said Cressida and left them. '^{arvellous!' Mr Smith observed arid poured himself a .jyjnk. 'Can I offer you anything, Mrs A?' Not at the moment, thank you. Do you think this is all a rather objectionable practical joke?' All! That's talking. Do I ? Not to say practical joke, exactly, I don't. But in a manner of speaking--' He broke off and looked pretty sharply at Troy. 'Upset your app'e-cart a bit, has it?' Well . . .' 'Here! You haven't been favoured yourself? Have you?' "Not with a message.' With something, though?' 'Nothing that matters,' said Troy, remembering her promise to Mervyn and wishing Mr Smith was not quite so sharp. 'Keeping it to yourself?' he said. 'Your privilege, of course, but whatever it is if I was you I'd tell 'Illy. Oh, well. It's been a long day and all. I wouldn't say no to a bit of kip, myself.' He sipped his drink. 'Very nice,' he said, 'but the best's to come.' The best?' 'My nightcap. Know what it is? Barley water. Fact. Barley-water with a squeeze of lemon. Take it every night of my life. Keeps me regular and suits my fancy. 'Illy tells that permanent spectre of his to set it up for me in my room.' 'Nigel?' "That's right. The bloodless wonder.' 'What's your opinion of the entourage, Mr Smith?' 'Come again?' The set-up. At Halberds.' Ah. I get you. Well, now: it's peculiar. Look at it any ^Y you like it's eccentric. But then in a manner of speak- '"g. so's 'Illy. It suits him. Mind, if he'd set 'imself up with t.u.i.t. c 66 TIEDUPINTINSEL a bunch of smashers and grabbers or job-buyers or ma?s. i men or any of that lot, I'd of spoke up very strong against But murderers--when they're oncers, that is--they're dif. ' I ferent.' 'My husband agrees with you.' \ 'And he ought to know, didn't 'e? Now, you won't finj i Alf Moult agreeing with that verdict. Far from it.' I 'You think he mistrusts the staff?' ( 'Hates their guts if you'll pardon me. He comes of a if class that likes things to be done very, very regular and respectable, does Alf Moult. Soldier servant. Super-snob. , I know. I come from the one below, myself: not up to his / mark he'd think but near enough to know how he ticks, I Scum of the earth, he calls them. If it wasn't that he can't I seem to detect any difference between the colonel and [ Almighty God, he'd refuse to demean hisself by coming , here and consorting with them.' i Mr Smith put down his empty glass, wiped his fingers / across his mouth and twinkled. 'Very nice,' he said. 'You ' better come and see my place one of these days. Get 'Illy if to bring you. I got one or two works might interest you. We do quite a lot in the old master lark ourselves. Every now 1. and then I see something I fancy and I buy it in. What's ( your opinion of Blake?' ' 'Blake?' ' 'William. Tiger, tiger.' I 'Superb.' i 'I got one of 'is drawings.' ' 'Have you, now!' i 'Come and take a butcher's.' ; 'Love to,' said Troy. 'Thank you.' Hilary came in overflowing with apologies. 'Wh;it y011 must think of us!' he exclaimed. 'One nuisance tread ^ up011 ' another's heels. Judge of my mortification.' 'What's the story up to date, then?' asked Mr Smiti1 , 'Nothing more, really, except that Cressida has been very ;; HAPPY CHRISTMAS 67 pluch disturbed.' 'What a shame. But she's on the road to recovery, I see.' What do you see?' It was worse when they favoured the blood red touch. Still and all, you better wipe it off.' 'What a really dreadful old man you are, Uncle Bert,' said Hilary, without rancour but blushing and using his handkerchief. 'I'm on me way to me virtuous couch. If I find a dirty message under the door I'll scream. Good night all.' They heard him whistling as he went upstairs. 'You're not going just yet, are you?' Hilary said to Troy. 'Please don't or I'll be quite sure you've taken umbrage.' 'In that case I'll stay.' 'How heavenly cool you are. It's awfully soothing. Will you have a drink? No? I shall. I need one.' As he helped himself Hilary said : 'Do you madly long to know what was in Uncle Flea's note?' 'I'm afraid I do.' 'It's not really so frightful.' 'It can't be since you seemed inclined to laugh.' 'You are a sharp one, aren't you? As a matter of fact it said quite shortly that Uncle Flea's a cuckold spelt with three Ks. It was the thought of Aunt Bed living up to her pet name tliat almost did for me. Who with, one asks oneself? Moult?' 'No wonder she was enraged.' 'My dear, she wasn't. Not really. Basically she was as pleased as Punch. Didn't you notice how snappy she got ^vhen Uncle Flea said it was ridiculous?' I don't believe you.' *\7 "ou may as well, I promise you.' ^roy giggled. Of course she'd love it if Uncle Flea did go into action ^ith a horsewhip. I can never understand how it's managed, 68 TIED UP IN TINSEL can you? It would be so easy to run away and leave die horsewhipper laying about him like a ringmaster withou; a circus.' 'I don't think it's that kind of horsewhip. It's one of she short jobs like a jockey's. You have to break it in two when you've finished and contemptuously throw the pieces at the victim.' 'You're wonderfully well-informed, aren't you?' 'It's only guesswork.' 'All the same, you know, it's no joke, this business. It's upset my lovely Cressida. She really is cross. You sec, slie'j never taken to the staff. She was prepared to put up with them because they do function quite well, don't you think? But unfortunately she's heard of the entire entourage of a Greek millionaire who died the other day, all wanting to come to England because of the colonels. And now she's convinced it was Nigel who did her message and she's dead set on making a change.' 'You don't think it was Nigel?' 'No. I don't think he'd be such an ass.' 'But if—I'm sorry but you did say he was transferred to Broadmoor.' 'He's as sane as sane can be. A complete cure. Oh, I know the message to Cressida is rather in his style but I consider that's merely a blind.' 'Do you!' Troy said thoughtfully. 'Yes, I do. Just as—well—Uncle Flea's message is rather in Cuthbert's vein. You remember Cuthbert slashed oui; at the handsome commis who had overpersuaded his wife. Well, it came out in evidence that Cuthbert made a great to-do about being a cuckold. The word cropped up all over his statements.' 'How does he spell it?' 'I've no idea.' 'What is your explanation?' 'To begin with, I don't countenance any notion that both HAPPY CHRISTMAS 69 Mjgel and Cuthbert were inspired, independently, to write noisoii-pen notes on the same sort of paper, (it's out of "he library) in the same sort of capital letters.* (Or, thought Troy, that Mervyn was moved at the same time, to set a booby-trap.) 'Or, equally,' Hilary went on, 'that one of the staff wrote the messages to implicate the other two. They get on extremely well together, all of them.' Well, then?' 'What is one left with ? Somebody's doing it. It's not me and I don't suppose it's you.' No.' 'No. So we run into a reductio ad abswdum, don't we? We're left with a most improbable field. Flea. Bed. Cressida. Uncle Bert.' 'And Moult?' 'Good heavens,' said Hilary. 'Uncle Bert's fancy! I forgot about Moult. Moult, now. Moult.' 'Mr Smith seems to think--' 'Yes, I dare say.' Hilary glanced uneasily at Troy and began to walk about the room as if he were uncertain what to say next. 'Uncle Bert,' he began at last, 'is an oddity. He's not a simple character. Not at all.' 'No?' 'No. For instance there's his sardonic-EastEnd-characteract. "I'm so artful, you know, I'm a cockney." He is a cockney, of course. Vintage barrow-boy. But he's put himself in inverted commas and comes out of them whenever it suits him. You should hear him at the conference table. He's as articulate as the next man and, in his way, more civilized than most.' 'Interesting.' Yes. He's got a very individual sense of humour, has Uncle Bert.' ^Tending towards Black Comedy?' He might have invented the term. All the same,' Hilary 70 TIED UP IN TINSEL said, 'he's an astute judge of character and I--I can't pre. tend he isn't, although--' He left this observation unfinished. 'I think I'll do the tree,' he said. 'It settles one's nerves.' He opened the lid of the packing-case that had been placed near the tree. Mr Smith had left ajar the double-doors into tlie great hall, whence there now came sounds of commotion. Somebody was stumbling rapidly downstairs and making ambig. uous noises as he came. A slither was followed by an oath and an irregular progress across the hall. The doors burst wide open and in plunged Mr Smith: an appalling sight. He was dressed in pyjamas and a florid dressing-gown. One foot was bare, the other slippered. His sparse hair was disordered. His eyes protruded. And from his open mouth issued dollops of foam. He retched, gesticulated and contrived to speak. 'Poisoned!' he mouthed. 'I been poisoned.' An iridescent bubble was released from his lips. It floated towards the tree, seemed to hang for a moment like an ornament from one of the boughs and then burst. 'Soap,' Hilary said. 'It's soap, Uncle Bert. Calm yourself, for heaven's sake, and wash your mouth out. Go to a downstairs cloakroom, I implore you.' Mr Smith incontinently bolted. 'Hadn't you better see to him?' Troy asked. "What next, what next! How inexpressibly distasteful. However.' Hilary went. There followed a considerable interval, after which Troy heard them pass through the hall on their way upstairs. Soon afterwards Hilary returned }ooW deeply putout. I HAPPY CHRISTMAS ft *In l"s barley water,' he said. 'The strongest possible solution of soap. Carnation. He's been hideously sick. This settles it.' 'Settles--?' 'It's some revolting practical joker. No, but it's too bad! And in the pocket of his pyjama jacket another of these filthy notes. "What price Arsnic." He might have died of fright.' 'How is he, in fact?' 'Wan but recovering. In a mounting rage.' 'Small blame to him.' 'Somebody shall smart for this,' Hilary threatened. 'I suppose it couldn't be the new boy in the kitchen?' 'I don't see it. He doesn't know their backgrounds. This is somebody who knows about Nigel's sinful lady and Cuthbert being a cuckold and Vincent's slip over the arsenical weed-killer.' 'And Mervyn's booby-trap,' Troy said before she could stop herself. Hilary stared at her. 'You're not going to tell me--? You are I' 'I promised I wouldn't. I suppose these other jobs sort of let me out but--all right, there was an incident. I'm sure he had nothing to do with it. Don't corner me.' Hilary was silent for some time after this. Then he began taking boxes of Christmas tree baubles out of the packing case. 'I'm going to ignore the whole thing,' he said. 'I'm going to maintain a masterly inactivity. Somebody wants me to make a big scene and I won't. I won't upset my staff. * won't have my Christmas ruined. Sucks-boo to whoever it may be. It's only ten to eleven, believe it or not. Come on, let's do the tree.' They did the tree. Hilary had planned a golden colour s eme- They hung golden glass baubles, big in the lower ranches and tapering to minuscule ones at the top, where ^Y mounted a golden angel. There were festoons of glitter 72 TIED UP IN TINSEL ing gold tinsel and masses of gilded candles. Golden stars shone in and out of the foliage. It was a most fabulous tree 'And I've even gilded the people in the crib,' he said 'I hope Aunt Bed won't object. And just you wait till the candles are lit.' 'What about the presents? I suppose there are presents?' 'The children's will be in golden boxes brought in by Uncle Flea, one for each family. And ours, suitably wrapped, on a side table. Everybody finds his own because Uncle Flea can't read the labels without his specs. He merely tows in the boxes in a little golden car on runners. 'From outside? Suppose it's a rough night?' 'If it's too bad we'll have to bring the presents in from the hall.' 'But the colonel will still come out of the storm?' 'He wouldn't dream of doing anything else.' With some hesitation Troy suggested that Colonel For- rester didn't seem very robust and was ill-suited to a passage, however brief, through the rigours of a midwinter storm, clad, she understood, in gold lame. Hilary said he could wear gloves. Noticing, perhaps, that she was not persuaded, he said Vincent would hold an umbrella over tlie colonel and that in any case it wouldn't do for his wig and crown of mistletoe to get wet although, he added, a sprinkling of snow would be pretty. 'But of course it would melt,' he added. 'And that could be disastrous.' Hilary was perched on the top of the step-ladder. He looked down through green foliage and golden baubles at Troy. 'You don't approve,' he said. 'You think I'm effete and heartless and have lost my sense of spiritual values.' This came uncomfortably near to what in fact Troy had been thinking. 'You may be right,' he went on before she could produce an answer. 'But at least I don't pretend. For instance, I'"1 a snob. I set a lot of importance on my being of ancient . FR1;HAPPY CHRISTMAS 73 lnea°<- I wouldn't have proposed to my lovely, lovely rress!da if she'd had a tatty origin. I value family trees yen more than Christmas trees. And I love being rich and able to have a truly golden tree.' 'Oh,' Troy said, 'I've nothing but praise for the golden tree.' 'I understand you perfectly. You must pray for The in the chapel tomorrow.' 'I'm not qualified.' Hilary said: 'Never mind about all that. I've been keeping the chapel as a surprise. It really is quite lovely.' 'Are you a Christian?' 'In the context,' said Hilary, 'it doesn't arise. Be an angel and hand up a bauble.' It was midnight when they had completed their work. They stood at the other end of the long room before the dying fire and admired it. 'There will be no light but the candles,' Hilary said. 'It will be perfectly magical. A dream-tree. I hope the children will be enchanted, don't you?' "They can't fail. I shall go to bed, now, I think.' 'How nice it's been, doing it with you,' he said, linking his arm in hers and leading her down the room. 'It has quite taken away all that other beastly nonsense. Thank you so much. Have you admired Nigel's kissing-bough?' They were under it. Troy looked up and was kissed. 'Happy Christmas,' said Hilary. She left him there and went up to her room. When she opened her wardrobe she was surprised to hear a murmur of voices in the Forresters' room. It was distant "id quite indistinguishable but as she hung up her dress she heard footsteps tread towards her and the colonel's volce) close at hand, said very loudly and most decisively: No^my dear, that is absolutely final. And if you don't, I Will, A door slammed. Troy had a picture of Mrs Forrester 74 TIEDUPINTINSEL banging her way into their bathroom but a moment later had to reverse this impression into one of her bangins; h^ way back into the bedroom. Her voice rose briefly and indistinctly. The colonel's footfall receded. Troy hastily shut the wardrobe door and went to bed. Christmas Day came in with a wan glint of sunshine. The view from Troy's bedroom might have been framed by robins, tinsel and holly. Snow took the sting out of a landscape that could have been set up for Hilary's satisfaction. As she dressed Troy could hear the Forresters shouting to each other next door and concluded that the colonel was back on his usual form. When she opened her v/ardrobe she heard the now familiar jangle of coathangers on the other side. 'Good morning!' Troy shouted. She tapped on the common wall. 'Happy Christmas!' she cried. A man's voice said: 'Thank you, madam. I'll tell the Colonel and Mrs Forrester.' Moult. She heard him go away. There was a distant conjunction of voices and then he returned, discreetly tapping on the wall. 'The Colonel and Mrs Forrester's compliments, madam, and they would be very happy if you would look in.' 'In five minutes,' Troy shouted. 'Thank you.' When she made her call she found Colonel and M" Forrester in bed and bolt upright under a grren'.inec umbrella of the sort associated with Victorian missionuii65 and Empire builders. The wintry sun lay across their counterpane. Each wore a scarlet dressing-gown, the sKir8 of which were deployed round the wearer like some w0"' HAPPY CHRISTMAS 75 ctfous calyx. They resembled gods of a sort. In unison they wished Troy a Happy Christmas and invited her to sit down. 'Being an artist,' Mrs Forrester said, 'you will not find it out of the way to be informally received.' At the far end of the room a door into their bathroom stood open and beyond that a second door into a dressing- room where Moult could be seen brushing a suit. 'I had heard,' said Troy, 'about the umbrella.' 'We don't care for the sun in our eyes. I wonder,' said Mrs Forrester, 'if I might ask you to shut the bathroom door. Thank you very much. Moult has certain prejudices which we prefer not to arouse. Fred, put in your aid. I said put in your aid.' Colonel Forrester who had smiled and nodded a great deal without seeming to hear anything much, found his hearing-aid on his bedside table and fitted it into his ear. 'It's a wonderful invention,' he said. 'I'm a little worried about wearing it tonight, though. But, after all, the wig's awfully long. A Druid with a visible hearing-aid would be too absurd, don't you think?' 'First of all,' Mrs Forrester began, 'were there any developments after we went to bed?' 'We're dying to know,' said the colonel. Troy told them about Mr Smith and the soap. Mrs Forrester rubbed her nose vexedly. 'That's very tiresome,' she wd. 'It upsets my theory, Fred, it upsets my theory.' 'Sickening for you, B.' 'And yet, does it? I'm not so sure. It might be a ruse, you know I said . . .' 'I'm wearing my aid, B.' ^'What,' Troy asked, 'is your theory?' 'I was persuaded that Smith wrote the letters.' 'But surely . . .' He's a good creature in many ways but his sense of aumour is coarse and he dislikes Cressida Tottenham.' 76 TIED UP IN TINSEL 'B, my dear, I'm sure you're mistaken.' 'No you're not. You're afraid I'm right. He doesn't think she's good enough for Hilary. Nor do I.' 'Be that as it may, B.' 'Be that as it is, you mean. Don't confuse me, Fred.' '--Bert Smith would certainly not write that disgraceful message to me. About you.' 'I don't agree. He'd think it funny.' The colonel looked miserable. 'But it's not,' he said. 'Hilary thought it funny,' Mrs Forrester said indignantly and turned to Troy. 'Did you? I suppose Hilary told you what it said.' 'In general terms.' 'Well? Funny?' Troy said: 'At the risk of making myself equally objectionable I'm afraid I've got to confess that . . .' 'Very well. You need go no further.' Mrs Forrester looked at her husband and remarked, astoundingly. 'Impertinent, yes. Unfounded, of course. Preposterous, not so far-fetched as you may suppose.' A reminiscent gleam, Troy could have sworn, came into Mrs Forrester's eye. 'I don't believe Bert would make himself sick,' the colonel urged. 'I wouldn't put it past him,' Mrs Forrester said darkly. 'However,' she continued with a wave of her hand, 'that is unimportant. What I wished to talk to you about, Mrs Alleyn, is the line I hope we shall all take in this matter. Fred and I have decided to ignore it. To dismiss it- she swept her arm across the colonel who blinked and drew back--'entirely. As if it had never been. We refuse to give the perpetrator of these insults, the satisfaction oi paying them the slightest attention. We hope you will J0111 us in this stand.' I 'Because,' her husband added, 'it would only spoil everything--the tree and so on. We're having a rehearsal ^tcr HAPPY CHRISTMAS 77 church and one must give one's full attention.* 'And you're quite recovered, Colonel?' 'Yes, yes, quite, thank you. It's my old ticker, you know. A leaky valve or some nonsense of that sort, the quacks tell me. Nothing to fuss about.' 'Well,' Troy said, getting up. 'I'll agree--mum's the word.' 'Good. That settles that. I don't know how this girl of yours is going to behave herself, Fred.' 'She's not mine, B.' 'She was your responsibility.' 'Not now, though.' The colonel turned towards Troy but did not look at her. His face was pink. He spoke rapidly as if he had memorized his observations and wished to get rid of them. 'Cressida,' he explained, 'is the daughter of a young fellow in my regiment. Germany. 1950. We were on an exercise and my jeep overturned.' Here the colonel's eyes filled with tears. 'And do you know this dear fellow got me out ? I was pinned face down in the mud and he got me out and then the most dreadful things happened. Collapse. Petrol. And I promised him I'd keep an eye on the child.' 'Luckily,' said Mrs Forrester, 'she was well provided for. School in Switzerland and all that. I say nothing of the result.' 'Her mother died, poor thing. In childbirth.' 'And now,' said Mrs Forrester suddenly shutting up their umbrella with a definitive snap, 'now she's in some sort of actressy business.' 'She's an awfully pretty girl, don't you think?' lively,' said Troy warmly and went down to breakfast. Hilary was busy during the morning but Troy did a Wain amount of work on the portrait before making her- iw ready for church. When she looked through the library windows that we on the great courtyard she got quite a shock. Nigel ^8 TIED UP IN TINSEL had completed his effigy. The packing-case was mantled ;n frozen snow and on top of it, sharply carved and n ^iiy quite impressive in his glittering iciness lay Hilary's Bill. Tasman ancestor, his hands crossed, rather like flatfish on his breast. At half past ten the monk's bell rang fast and exuberantly in its tower as if the operator was a bit above himself. Troy made her way downstairs and across the hall and following instructions, turned right into the corridor which served the library, the breakfast-room, the boudoir, Hilary's study and, as it now transpired, the chapel. It was a superb chapel. It was full, but by no means too full, of treasures. Its furniture included monstrance, candlesticks, Quattrocento confessional--the lot: all in impeccable taste and no doubt, awfully valuable. Troy experienced a frightful desire to hang crinkly paper garlands on some insipid plaster saint. Cuthbert, Mervyn, Nigel, Vincent, Kittiwee and the boy were already seated. They were supplemented by a cluster of odd bodies whom she supposed to be outside workers at Halberds and their wives and children. Hilary and Cressida were in the front pew. The rest of the house-party soon assembled and the service went through with High Church decorum. The prison chaplain gave a short, civilized sermon. Colonel Forrester, to Troy's surprise and pleasure, played the lovely little organ for the seasonable hymns. Hilary read the gospel and, Mr Smith, with surprising aplomb and the full complement of aitches, the epistle. At three o'clock that afternoon the ceremony of the tree was rehearsed. It was all very thoroughly planned. The guests would assemble in the library, Troy's portrait and impedimenta having been removed for the occasion to Hilary's study Vincent, with umbrella and a charming little baroque car on runners, loaded with Christmas boxes, would be stationed outside the drawing-room windows. At eight o'clock ie HAPPY CHRISTMAS '79 corded joybells would usher in the proceedings. The children would inarch in procession two-by-two from the library across the hall to the drawing-room, where they would find the golden tree blazing in the dark. The adults would follow. These manoeuvres executed, Colonel Forrester, fully accoutred as a Druid, would emerge from the little cloakroom next the drawing-room where Cressida had helped to make him up. He would slip through a door into the entrance porch and from there into the wintry courtyard. Here he would effect a liaison with Vincent. The recorded music, s'eighbells, snorts and cries of 'Whoa!' would be released. The french windows, flung open from within by Cuthbert and Mervyn, would admit the colonel towing his gilded car. To a fanfare ('of trumpets also and shawms,' Hilary said) he would encircle the tree and then, abandoning his load, would bow to his audience, make one or two esoteric gestures and retire to the limbo whence he had come. He would then pick up his skirts and bolt back through the hall and into the cloakroom, where with Cressida's help he would remove his beard, moustache and eyebrows, his wig, his boots and his golden gown. In due course he would appear in his native guise among the guests. The rehearsals did not go through without incidents, most of which were caused by the extreme excitability of the colonel himself. Troy became very anxious about him and Mrs Forrester, whose presence he had feebly tried to prevent, finally put her foot down and told Hilary that if he wanted his uncle to perform that evening he must stop making him run about like a madman. She would not be answerable for the consequences, she said, if he did not. "he then removed her husband to rest in his room, obliging h""! to his mild annoyance, to ascend the stairs backwards ^d stop for ten seconds at every fifth step. Gressida, who seemed to be extremely unsettled, drifted "P to Troy and watched this protracted exit. ^he colonel begged them not to wait and at Cressida's 80 TIED UP IN TINSEL suggestion they went together to the boudoir. There are moments,' Cressida said, 'when I catch myself wondering if this house is not a loony-bin. Well, I mean, look at it. It's like one of those really trendy jobs. You know, the Happening thing. We did them in OrganicExpressivists.' 'What are Organic-Expressivists?' Troy asked. 'You can't really explain 0-E. You know. You can't say it's "about" that or the other thing. An 0-E Exposure is one thing for each of us and another for each of the audience. One simply hopes there will be a spontaneous emotional release,' Cressida rapidly explained. 'Zeil--our director--well, not a director in the establishment sense--he's our source--he puts enormous stress on spontaneity.' 'Are you rejoining the group?' 'No. Well, Hilary and I are probably getting married in May, so if we do there wouldn't really be much point, would there? And anyway the 0-E's in recess at the moment. No lolly.' 'What did you yourself do in the performances?' 'At first I just moved about getting myself released and then Zeil thought I ought to develop the Yin-Yang bit if that's what it's called. You know, the male-female bit. So I did. I wore a kind of net trouser-token on my left leg and I had long green crepe-hair pieces stuck to my left jaw. I must say I hated the spirit-gum. You know, on your skin? But it had an erotic-seaweed connotation that seemed to communicate rather successfully.' 'What else did you wear?' 'Nothing eke. The audiences met me. You know? Terribly well. It's because of my experience with crCpehaii" that I'm doing Uncle Fred's beard. It's all readymade and only has to be stuck on.' I do hope he'll be all right.' So do I. He's all up-tight about it, though. He's fantastic, isn't he? Not true. I'm way up there over h"11 HAPPY CHRISTMAS 8l and Auntie B. I think he's the mostest. You know? Only don't exactly send Auntie B, I'm afraid.' She moved gracefully and irritably about the beautiful little room. She picked up an ornament and put it down again with the half-attention of an idle shopper. There's been a row in the kitchen,' she said. 'Did you know? This morning?' Not I.' 'About me, in a sort of way. Kittiwee was on about me and his ghastly cats and the others laughed at him and-- I don't know exactly--but it all got a bit out of hand. Moult was mixed up in it. They all hate Moult like poison. 'How do you know about it?' 'I heard. Hilly asked me to look at the flowers that have been sent. The flower-room's next the Servants' Hall, only we're meant to call it the Staff common-room. They were at it hammer-and-tongs. You know. Yelling. I was just wondering whether I ought to tell Hilly when I heard Moult come into the passage. He was shouting back at the others. He said : "You lot! You're no more than a bloody squad of bloody thugs," and a good deal more. And Cuthbert roared like a bull for Moult to get out before one of them did him over. And I've told Hilly. I thought he might have told you, he likes you so much.' No.' 'Well, anyway let's face it I'm not prepared to marry into a permanent punch-up. I mean it's just crazy. It's not my scene. If you'd heard! Do you know what Cuthbert said? He said: "One more crack out of you and I'll bloody block your light."' What do you suppose that means?' 'I know what it sounded like,' Cressida said. 'It sounded like murder. And I mean that. Murder.' 8a TIED UP IN TINSEL It was at this point that Troy began to feel really disturbed. She began to see herself as if she was another person, alone among strangers in an isolated and falsely luxurious house and attended by murderers. That, she thought, like it or lump it, is the situation. And she wished with all her heart she was out of it and spending her Christmas alone in London or with any one of the unexceptionable friends who had so warmly invited her. The portrait was almost finished. Perhaps quite finished. She was not sure it hadn't reached the state when somebody with wisdom should forcibly remove her from it and put it out of her reach. Her husband had been known to perform this service but he was twelve thousand miles away and unless, as sometimes happened, his job in the Antipodes came to a quick end, would not be home for a week. The portrait was not dry enough to pack. She could arrange for it to be sent to the framers and she could tell Hilary she would leave--when? Tomorrow? He would think that very odd. He would smell a rat. He would conclude that she was afraid and he would be dead right. She was. Mr Smith had said that he intended returning to London the day after tomorrow. Perhaps she could leave with him. At this point Troy saw that she would have to take a sharp look at herself. It was an occasion for what Cressida would probably call maintaining her cool. In the first place she must remember that she was often "" overcome, in other people's houses, by an overpowenng desire to escape, a tyrannical restlessness as inexplicable as it was embarrassing. Every nerve in her body would suddenly telegraph 'I must get out of this.' It could happe"' even in a restaurant where, if the waiter was slow with the bill, Troy suffered agonies of frustration. Was her present HAPPY CHRISTMAS 83 most ardent desire to be gone no more than the familiar attack exacerbated by the not inconsiderable alarms and eccentricities of life at Halberds ? Perhaps Hilary's domestics were, after all, as harmless as he insisted. Had Cressida blown up a servants' squabble into a display of homicidal fury? She reminded herself of the relatively calm reaction to | the incidents of the Forresters and, until the soap episode, of Mr Smith. She took herself to task, tied her head in a ; scarf, put on her overcoat and went for a short walk. : The late afternoon was icily cold and still, the darkening sky was clear and the landscape glittered. She looked more closely at Nigel's catafalque which was now frozen as hard as its marble progenitor in the chapel. Really Nigel had been very clever with his kitchen instruments. He had achieved a sharpness and precision far removed from the blurred clumsiness of the usual snow effigy. Only the nor: them aspect. Troy thought, had been partly defaced by the wind and occasional drifts of rain and even there it was the , snow-covered box steps that had suffered rather than the effigy itself. Somebody should photograph it, she thought, before the thaw comes. She walked as far as the scarecrow. It was tilted sideways, stupid and motionless, at the impossible angle in which the wind had left it. A disconsolate thrush sat on its billycock hat. By the time she had returned, tingling, to the warm house, | Troy had so far got over her impulsive itch as to postpone ^y decision until the next day. She even began to feel a reasonable interest in the party. And indeed Halberds simmered with expectation. In the ^ormous hall with its two nights of stairs, giant swags of m, mistletoe and holly caught up with scarlet tassels hung in classic loops from the gallery and picture rails. Heroic '"gs blazed and crackled in two enormous fireplaces. The ^ell was superb. 84 TIED UP IN TINSBL Hilary was there, with a written timetable in his h m,j issuing final instructions to his staff. He waved gaily to Troy and invited her to stay and listen. 'Now! Cuthbert! To go over it once more,' Hilary was saying. 'You will make sure the drawing-room door is locked. Otherwise we shall have children screaming in before they should. When everybody is here (you've got your guest list), check to make sure Vincent is ready v/ith the sledge. You wait until half past seven when the fust recorded bells will be played and Colonel Forrester will come downstairs and go into the cloakroom near the drawing-room where Miss Tottenham will put on his beard.' 'Choose your words, sweetie,' Cressida remarked. 'I'd look a proper Charlie, wouldn't I?' Kittiwee sniggered. 'Miss Tottenham,' Hilary said, raising his voice, 'will help the colonel with his beard. You now check that Nigel is at hand to play his part and at a quarter to eight you tap the door of the cloakroom near the drawing-room to let Colonel Forrester and Miss Tottenham know we are ready. Yes?' 'Yes, sir. Very good, sir.' 'You and Nigel then light the candles on the tree and the kissing-bough. That's going to take a little time. Be sure you get rid of the step-ladder and turn off all the liglits. Most important. Very well. That done, you tell Nigel to return to the record-player in the hall here. Nigel: at five to eight precisely, you increase the indoor recording of the bells. Plenty of volume, remember. We want the house to be full of bells. Now! Mervyn! When you hear the bells, unlock the drawing-room doors and, I implore you, be sure you have the key to hand.' 'I've got it on me, sir.' 'Good. Very well. You, Guthbert, come to the library and announce the tree. Full voice, you know, Cuthbert. Give it everything, won't you?' HAPPY CHRISTMAS 85 Sir.' 'You and Mervyn, having thrown open the drawingroom doors, go right through the room to the french windows. Check that the colonel is ready outside. Vincent will by this time be with him and will flash his torch. Wait by the windows. Now, then. The crucial moment,' Hilary excitedly continued, 'has arrived. When everybody has come in and settled in their places--I shall see to that and I dare say Mrs Alleyn will be very kind and help me-- you, Cuthbert, stand in the window where Vincent can see you and give his signal. Vincent, be ready for this. You must keep out of sight with the sleigh, until the last moment. When the inside bells stop, bring the sleigh into the courtyard, where you will join the colonel. And when you get your signal, the sound effects for the entrance will be turned on. The loud-speakers,' Hilary explained to Troy, 'are outside for greater verisimilitude. And now, now, Cuthbert! Keep your heads, you and Mervyn, I implore you. Coolness is all. Coolness and co-ordination. Wait for your own voice shouting "Whoa" on the loud-speakers, wait for the final cascade of sleigh-bells and then, and only then--fling wide the french windows and admit the colonel with his sledge. Vincent, you must watch the colonel like a lynx for fear that in his zeal he tries to effect an entrance before we are ready for him. Make certain he removes his gloves. Take them off him at the last moment. He has to wear them because of chilblains. See he's well en train beforehand with the tow-ropes of his sledge over his shoulders. He may show a hideous tendency to tie himself up in them like a parcel. Calm him.' 'Do my best, sir,' said Vincent, 'but he does show the whites of his eyes, like, when he gets up to the starting cage.' 'I know. I depend on your tact, Vincent. Miss Tottenham will see him out of the cloakroom and you take over in the courtyard. After that he's all yours.' 'Thank you, sir,' said Vincent dubiously. 86 TIED UP IN TINSEL 'Those,' said Hilary, surveying his troops, 'are my fina] words to you. That is all. Thank you.' He turned to Tro" 'Come and have tea,' he said. 'It's in the boudoir. We help ourselves. Rather like the Passover with all our loins, such as they are, girded up. I do hope you're excited. Are you?' 'Why--yes,' she agreed, surprised to find that it was so 'I am. I'm very excited.' 'You won't be disappointed, I promise. Who knows said Hilary, 'but what you won't look back on tonight as a unique experience. There, now!' 'I dare say I shall,' Troy said, humouring him, CHAPTER IV THE TREE AND THE DRUID Bells everywhere, the house sang with their arbitrary clamour: it might have been the interior of some preposterous belfry. Nigel was giving zealous attention to his employer's desire for volume. 'Whang-whang-whang-wAara^,' yelled an over-stimulated little boy making extravagant gestures and grimaces. Sycophantic little girls screamed their admiration in his face. All the children leapt to their feet and were pounced upon by their parents assisted by Hilary and Troy. Three of the parents who were also warders at The Vale began to walk purposefully about the room and with slightly menacing authority soon reformed the childish rabble into a mercurial crocodile. 'Bells, bells, bells, bells'.' shouted the children like infant prodigies at grips with Edgar Alien Poe. Cuthbert entered, contemplated his audience, fetched a THE TREE AND THE DRUID 87 deep breath and bellowed: 'The Tree, sir.' An instant quiet was secured. The bells having given a definitive concerted crash hummed into silence. All the clocks in the house and the clock in the stable tower struck eio-ht and then, after a second or two, the bells began again, very sweetly, with the tune of St Clement Danes. 'Come along,' said Hilary. With the chanciness of their species the children suddenly became angelic. Their eyes grew as round as saucers, their lips parted like rosebuds, they held hands and looked enchanting. Even the over-stimulated little boy calmed down. Hilary, astonishingly, began to sing. He had a vibrant alto voice and everybody listened to him. 'Oranges and lemons, say the Bells of St Clement's You owe me five farthings, say the Bells of St Martin's. Two and two they walked, out of the library, into the passage, through the great hall now illuminated only by firelight, and, since the double-doors of the drawing-room stood wide open, into the enchantment that Hilary had prepared for them. And really. Troy thought, it was an enchantment. It was breathtaking. At the far end of this long room, suspended in darkness, blazed the golden Christmas tree alive with flames, stars and a company of angels. It quivered with its own brilliance and was the most beautiful tree in all the world. 'When will you pay me? say the Bells of Old Bailey, When I grow rich, say the Bells of Shore ditch.' The children sat on the floor in the light of the tree. Their elders--guests and the household staff--moved to the far end of the room and were lost in shadow. Troy thought: This is Uncle Flea's big thing and here, m a moment, will come Uncle Flea. Hilary, standing before the children, raised his hands ^r quiet and got it. From outside in the night came sounds that might have been made by insubstantial flutes piping in 88 TIED UP IN TINSEL the north wind. Electronic music, Troy thought, and really almost too effective : it raised goose-pimples : it turned one a little cold. But through this music came the jingle of approaching sleigh-bells. Closer and closer, to an insistent rhythm, until they were outside the french windows. Nothing could be seen beyond the tree but Hilary in his cunning had created an arrival. Now came the stamp of hooves the snorts, the splendid cries of 'Whoa.' Troy didn't so much as think of Cuthbert. The windows were opened. The tree danced in the cold air: everything stirred and glittered: the candle flames wavered, the baubles tinkled. The windows were shut. And round the tree, tugging his golden car on its runners, came The Druid. Well, Troy thought, it may be a shameless concoction of anachronisms and Hilary's cockeyed sense of fantasy, but it works. The Druid's robe, stiff, wide-sleeved and enveloping, was of gold lame. His golden hair hung about his face in formal strands and his golden beard spread like a fan across his chest. A great crown of mistletoe shaded his eyes, which were spangled and glinted in the dark. He was not a comic figure. He was strange. It was as if King Lear had been turned into 0-Luk-Oie the Dream God. He circled the tree three times to the sound of trumpets and pipes. Then he dropped the golden cords of his car. He raised his arms, made beckoning gestures and bowed with extended hands. Unfortunately he had forgotten to remove his gloves which were of the sensible knitted kind. 'Fred. Your gloves I said--' But he was gone. He had returned whence he caiw- A further incursion of cold air, the windows were sbiit, tl^ bells receded. He was gone. THE TREE AND THE DRUID 89 The joyful pandemonium that now broke out among the children was kept within reasonable bounds by Hilary and Troy, who had become a sort of ADG to the action. The names of the families were emblazoned in glitter on the boxes and the children broke into groups, found, delved and exclaimed. Mervyn stood by the tree with an extinguisher, watching the candles. Hilary signalled to Nigel, who switched on the liffhts by a wall table where the grown-up presents were assembled. Troy found herself alongside Mrs Forrester. 'He was splendid,' Troy cried. 'He was really splendid. , 'Forgot his gloves. I knew he would.' \ 'It didn't matter. It didn't matter in the least.' if 'It will to Fred,' said Mrs Forrester. And after a moment: , 'I'm going to see him.' Or Troy thought that was what she I said. The din was such that even Mrs Forrester's well1 projected observations were hard to hear. Hilary's adult visitors and the household staff were now opening their presents. Nigel had begun to circulate with champagne ( cocktails. To Troy they seemed to be unusually potent. Cressida was edging her way towards them. At Hilary's ' request she wore her dress of the previous night, the glittering trouser suit that went so admirably with his colour scheme. She raised her arm and signalled to Mrs Forrester over the heads of the intervening guests. Something slightly less lackadaisical than usual in her manner held Troy's attention. She watched the two women meet in the crowd. Cressida stooped her head. The heavy swag of her pale "air swung across her face and hid it but Mrs Forrester ^as caught by the wall light. Troy saw her frown and set I "er "louth. She hurried to the door, unceremoniously shov'"g herself through groups of visitors. Cressida made for Troy. GO TIED UP IN TINSEL 'I say,' she said, 'was he all right? I tried to see 'out t couldn't get a good look.' 'He was splendid.' 'Good. You spotted him, of course?' 'What?' 'Spotted him, I said--Great Grief!' Gressida exclaimed 'I'm beginning to talk like Aunt Bed. You saw, didn't vou^" 'Saw? What?' 'Him.' 'Who?' 'Moult.' 'Moult?' 'You don't tell me,' Cressida bawled, 'that you didn't realize? Sharp as you are and all.' 'I don't know what you mean.' 'It wasn't--' An upsurge of laughter among the guests drowned Cressida's next phrase but she advanced her if lovely face towards Troy's and screamed: 'It was Moult, i The Druid was Moult.' I 'Moult!' 'Uncle Flea's had a turn. Moult went on for the part.' 'Good Lord! Is he all right?' 'Who?' 'Uncle--Colonel Forrester?' 'I haven't seen him. Aunt B's gone up. I expect so. It seems he got over-excited again.' 'Oh!' Troy cried out. 'I am so sorry,' 'I know. Still,' Cressida shouted, 'just one of those things. You know.' Nigel appeared before them with his champagne cocktails. 'Drink up,' Cressida said, 'and have another with me. i need it. Do.' 'All right. But I think there's rather a lot of brandy i" them, don't you?' 'There'd better be.' THE TREE AND THE DRUID 91 Hilary broke through the crowd to thank Troy for her nresent: it was a wash-drawing she had made of the scarecrow field from her bedroom window. He was, she could see, as pleased as Punch: indistinguishable thanks noured out of him. Troy watched his odd hitched-up mouth (like a camel's, she thought) gabbling away ecstatically. At last he said: 'It all went off nicely, don't you think, except for Uncle Flea's gloves ? How he could!' Troy and Cressida, one on each side of him, screamed their intelligence. Hilary seemed greatly put out and bewildered. 'Oh no!' he said. 'You don't tell me! Moult V And then after further exclamations, 'I must say he managed very creditably. Dear me, I must thank him. Where is he?' The over-stimulated little boy appeared before them. He struck an attitude and blew a self-elongating paper squeaker into Hilary's face. Toy trumpets, drums and whistles were now extremely prevalent. 'Come here,' Hilary said. He took Cressida and Troy by their arms and piloted them into the hall, shutting the doors behind them. The children's supper was laid out in great splendour on a long trestle table. Kittiwee, the boy and some extra female helps were putting final touches. That's better,' Hilary said. 'I must go and see Uncle Flea. He'll be cut to the quick over this. But first tell me, Cressida darling, what exactly happened?' 'Well, I went to the cloakroom as arranged, to do his make-up. Moult was there already, all dressed up for the part. It seems he went to their rooms to help Uncle Fred ^d found him having a turn. Moult gave him whatever he has but it was as clear as clear he couldn't go on for the show. He was in a great taking-on. You know? So they cooked it up that Moult would do it. He'd heard all about 1 over and over again, of course and he'd seen the rehear^ and knew the business. So when Uncle Fred had sim'""ed down and had put his boots up and all that (he FR1;Q2 TIEDUPINTINSEL wouldn't let Moult get Aunt B), Moult put on the ro!)c ;;;,j wig and came down. And I slapped on his whisbis npd crown and out he went into the courtyard to liai ' v.iih Vincent.' 'He really did manage all right, didn't he? I came in for his entrance. I couldn't see him awfully well becaus; of being at the back but he seemed to do all the things. And then when he eggzitted I returned to the cloakroom and helped him clean up. He was in a fuss to get back to Uncle Fred and I said I'd tell Aunt B. Which I did.' 'Darling, too wonderful of you. Everybody has clearly behaved with the greatest expedition and aplomb. Now, I must fly to poorest Flea and comfort him.' He turned to Troy. 'What a thing!' he exclaimed. 'Look! Both you darlings continue in your angelic ways like loves and herd the children in here to their supper. Get Cuthbert to bellow at them. As soon as they're settled under the eyes of these splendid ladies, Cuthbert and the staff will be ready for us in the dining-room. He'll sound the gong. If I'm late don't wait for me. Get the grown-ups into the diningroom. There are place-cards but it's all very informal, really, And ask Cuthbert to start the champagne at once. An revoir, au 'voir 'voir,' cried Hilary running upstairs and wagging his hand above his head as he went. 'All jolly fine,' Cressida grumbled. 'I'm worn to a frazzle, But still. Come on.' She and Troy carried out Hilary's instructions and presently the adult party was seated round the dinner-table, Troy found herself next to her acquaintance of the, moors, Major Marchbanks, who said politely that this was a piece of luck for him. 'I was too shy to say so when we met the other afternoon, he said, 'but I'm a great admirer of your work. I've actually got one of your pictures and who do you supp '?" ^wt it to me?' 'I can't imagine.' FR1;THE TREE AND THE DRUID 93 'Can't you? Your husband.' 'Rory'' 'VVe arc old friends. And associates. He gave it to me ^e occasion of my marriage. And long before yours, I expect. He may not have even met you then.' 'I don't paint in the same way now.' 'But it's been a development, I venture? Not an abandonment?' 'Well,' said Troy, liking him, 'I choose to think so.' Mr Smith was on her other side. He had heard about Moult's gallant effort and was greatly intrigued. Troy could feel him there at her left elbow, waiting to pounce. Several times he made a rather sly exclamation of 'Oi,' but I as Major Marchbanks was talking she disregarded it. When Jshe was free she turned and found Mr Smith with his ^thumbs in his armholes and his head on one side, contemplating her. He gave her a sideways chuck of his head and a click of his tongue. 'Oi,' he repeated. Troy had taken a certain amount of champagne. 'Oi, yourself,' she replied. 'Turn up for the books, Alf Moult making like he was Nebuchadnezzar in a bathrobe.' Troy stared at him. 'You know, you're right,' she said. There was something distinctly Blakian. Disallowing the bathrobe.' 'Where's he got to?' 'He's up with the colonel, I think.' "E's meant to be doling out mince-pies to the little angels.' "That's as it may be,' Troy said darkly and drank some \ more champagne. Hilary had arrived and had sat down beside a lady on Major Marchbanks's left. He looked slightly put out. Mr ^ith called up the table to him. ' 'Ow's the colonel?' and , ws^ ' 'Better, thank you,' rather shortly. The old lady's keeping him company, then?' "ss.' Hilary added some appropriate general remarks 94 TIED UP IN TINSEL about his uncle's disappointment and signalled to Cutlibp who bent over him with a major-domo's air. None of \^ servants, Troy thought, seemed to be at all put out by ^ presence of so many of Her Majesty's penal servriiits. 'f^ haps they enjoyed displaying for them in their new role1; Hilary spoke quietly to Cuthbert but Cuthbert ^h seemed incapable of quiet utterance, boomingly replied 'He's not there, sir,' and after a further question : 'I couldn't say, sir. Shall I enquire?' 'Do,' said Hilary. Cuthbert made a slight, majestic signal to Mervyn, who left the room. 'That's peculiar,' said Mr Smith. 'Where's Alf gone to hide 'is blushes?' 'How do you know it's Moult they're talking about?' They said so, di'n they?' 'I didn't hear them.' 'It's peculiar,' Mr Smith repeated. He leant back in his chair and fixed his beady regard upon Hilary. He did not pick his teeth. Troy felt that this was due to some accidental neglect in his interpretation of the role for which he so inscrutably cast himself. She drank some more champagne. 'Tell me, Mr Smith,' she began recklessly, 'Why do you--or do you--' But Mr Smith was paying no attention to Troy. His attention was fixed upon Mervyn, who had returned and was speaking to Cuthbert. Cuthbert again bent over his employer. 'Moult, sir,' he intoned, 'is not on duty in the hall.' 'Why the devil not!' Hilary snapped quite loudly. 'I'm sure I can't say, sir. He received instructions, sir Very clear.' 'All right, well, find him, Cuthbert. He's wanted with th; colonel. Mrs Forrester won't leave the colonel by himself Go on, Cuthbert. Find him. Go yourself.' Cuthbert's eyebrows mounted his forehead. He incline"' THE TREE AND THE DRUID 95 turn' I 1:0 Mervyn and raised a finger at Nigel with whom , final' left the dining-room. Mervyn remained in sole command. Hilary looked round his table and said, laughingly, and in French, something about the tyranny of one's dependents which, Troy imagined, was incomprehensible to all but a fraction of his guests. She turned to Major Marchbanks. She was now fairly certain within herself that she would be showing great strength of character if she were to refuse any more champaene. She looked severely at her glass and found it was full. This struck her as being exquisitely funny but she decided not to interfere with it. 'Who,' asked Major Marchbanks, 'is Moult?' Troy was glad to find that she was able to give him a coherent answer. 'Do you,' she asked, 'find this party very extraordinary?' 'Oh, but completely fantastic,' he said, 'when one looks at it objectively. I mean four hours ago I was doing the honours at The Vale Christmas feast and here I am with three of my warders, drinking Bill-Tasman's champagne and waited upon by a company of you know what.' 'One of them--Cuthbert, I think--was actually at The Vale, wasn't he?' 'Oh yes. He's an old boy. I recommended him. With appropriate warnings, you know. I really think he rather likes displaying his waiter's expertise for us Vale persons. He was at the top of his profession was Cuthbert.' 'He's given me a morsel too much to drink,' Troy said carefully. Major Marchbanks looked at her and burst out laugh- ^g. 'You don't tell me you're tiddly?' 'That would be going too far, which is what I hope I "ayen't. Gone,' Troy added with dignity. 'You seem all right to me.' 'Good.' 96 TIED UP IN TINSEL 'I say,' Hilary said leaning towards Troy and speakinp across the intervening guests, 'isn't it too boring about Moult? Aunt Bed won't budge until he relieves her.' 'What can he be doing?' 'Flown with success, I dare say, and celebrating it. Here's to your bright eyes,' Hilary added and raised his glass to her Troy said. 'Look. I'll nip up and relieve Mrs Forrester. Do let me.' 'I can't possibly--' 'Yes, you can. I've finished my lovely dinner. Don't stir, please, anybody,' said Troy and was up and away with a celerity that greatly pleased her. At least, she thought, I'm all right on my pins. In the hall the children's supper party was breaking up and they were being drafted back into the drawing-room. Here they would collect their presents, move to the library and gradually be put in order for departure. On their account the party would be an early one. At the foot of the stairs Troy encountered Cuthbert. 'Have you found Moult?' she asked. 'No, madam,' Guthbert said making a sour face. 'I don't understand it at all, madam. It's very peculiar behaviour.' (So, Troy irrelevantly thought, is killing a commis while you're carving a wing-rib.) She said: 'I'm going up to relieve Mrs Forrester.' 'Very kind, I'm sure, madam. And too bad, if I may say so, that you should be put upon.' 'Not a bit of it,' said Troy lightly. 'Moult.'' Cuthbert said. He actually spoke softly but with such a wealth of venom that Troy was quite taken aback. She continued upstairs, and finding herself a bit swinimy in the head, went first to her own room. There she took two aspirins, put a cold sponge on the back of her neck, openc her window, stuck her head out and gasped. Two snow flakes touched her face: like the Ice ManJ6"5 fingers in Hans Andersen. She paused for one mornei11 THE TREE AND THE DRUID 97 look ^ ^le deadened landscape and then shut her window, Arew her curtains and went to call on the Forresters. Colonel Forrester was in bed and awake. He was propped up by pillows and had the look of a well-washed patient in a children's ward. Mrs Forrester sat before the fire, knitting ferociously. Thought you might be Moult,' she said. Troy explained her errand. At first it looked as if Mrs Forrester was going to turn her down flat. She didn't want any dinner, she announced, and in the same breath said they could send up a tray. 'Do go, B,' her husband said. 'I'm perfectly well. You only fuss me, my dear. Sitting angrily about.' 'I don't believe for a moment they've really looked for him, I said--' 'All right, then. You look. Go and stir everybody up. I bet if you go, they'll find him.' If this was cunning on the part of the colonel it was effective. Mrs Forrester rammed her knitting into a magenta bag and rose. 'It's very kind of you,' she snarled at Troy. 'More than that yellow doll of Hilary's thought of offering. Thank you. I shall not be long.' When she had gone the colonel bit his underlip, hunched his shoulders and made big eyes at Troy. She made the same sort of face back at him and he gave a little giggle. 'I do so hate fusses,' he said, 'Don't you ?' 'Yes, I do rather. Are you really feeling better?' Truly. And I'm beginning to get over my disappoint- "^cnt, though you must admit it was provoking for me, wasn't it?' if s> , 'Absolutely maddening.' t.u.i.t. d 98 TIEDUPINTINSEL 'I hoped you'd understand. But I'm glad Moult did it nicely.' 'When did you decide to let him?' 'Oh--at the last moment. I was actually in the dressin?. room, putting on my robe. I got a bit stuck inside it as one can, you know, with one's arms above one's head and one's mouth full of material and I rather panicked and had a turn. Bad show. It was a crisis and there had to be a quick decision. So I told him to carry on,' said the colonel as if he described a tight corner in a military engagement, 'and he did. He put me in here and made me lie down and then he went back to the dressing-room to put on the robe. And carried on. Efficiently, you thought?' 'Very. But it's odd of him not to come back, isn't it?' 'Of course it is. He should have reported at once. Very poor show indeed,' said the colonel, drawing himself up in bed and frowning. 'You don't think he could have gone straight to your dressing-room to take off the robe? There's a door from the passage into the dressing-room, isn't there?' 'Yes. But he should have made his report. There's no excuse.' 'Would you mind if I just looked in the dressing-room? To see if the robe is there?' 'Do, do, do, do,' said the colonel. But there was no golden robe in the dressing-room which, as far as Troy could judge, was in perfect order. A little crimson room it was, with a red flock wall-paper and early Victorian furniture. Heavy red curtains on brass rings were drawn across the windows. It might have been a room in Bleak House and no doubt that was exactly the impression Hilary had intended it to make. She looked "I the cupboards and drawers and even under the bed, where she found a rather battered tin box with 'Col. IF. Forrester painted in white letters on it. Remembering Hilarys re marks upon their normal luggage, she supposed this "llls THE TREE AND THE DRUID 99 tain the Forresters' valuables. c comewhere, a long way off, a car door slammed. She .light she could hear voices. <,he half opened the curtains and heard more doors slam .,,1 engines start up. The guests were leaving. Rays from '^yjsible headlamps played across the snowy prospect, horns soufldcd, voices called. JVoy rattled the curtains shut and returned to the ' colow1- ']