Murder in the Museum. Simon Brett

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ current form would not exist, he had spoken no less than the truth.

      Her arrival that afternoon changed the mood of the Trustees’ Meeting. All the members – excepting, of course, Gina Locke – seemed visibly to relax in Sheila Cartwright’s presence. With her there, the Director’s gloomy prognostications became somehow less threatening. Sheila Cartwright had already overcome so many obstacles at Bracketts, she would surely have ways of dealing with the latest challenge. She knew everyone with any power in West Sussex; she could fix it. The older Trustees thought the place had been run better under her amateur administration, and had never really supported the appointment of a full-time professional Director.

      Lord Beniston beamed as he brought her up to date. ‘Gina’s been spelling out our rather tight current financial outlook . . .’ A private chuckle defused the seriousness of this ‘ . . . and we were just going through potential sources of funding to rectify the situation. We’ve already discussed the Lottery . . .’

      ‘Which I’m sure proved as unhelpful as ever.’

      A more general chuckle greeted this. Sheila Cartwright had so much experience in the affairs of Bracketts. Whatever new solution was suggested for the organization’s predicament, she had been there and tried it. Carole Seddon began to see just how inhibiting Sheila’s presence at the meeting must be to Gina Locke. Every suggestion the Director made would now be referred for the blessing of Bracketts’ originator and moving spirit.

      Lord Beniston continued in his condescending chairman’s role. ‘We had actually just got on to the subject of the Museum . . .’ he said, knowing the word would prompt a response.

      All Sheila Cartwright actually said was ‘Ah’, but the monosyllable was a huge archive of previous discussions and arguments about the subject.

      ‘Still, before we move on to that – the Museum is actually listed on the agenda as Item Seven – I thought we should have a little more detail on potential sources of funding.’ He flashed a professional smile at Gina. ‘If that’s all right with you . . . ?’

      It was a question that could only have one answer, and the Director dutifully supplied an ‘Of course’ before reordering her papers and beginning. ‘Well, not a lot has changed on that front since our last meeting. As you know, we have always received a certain amount of legacy income, but as the generation to whom Esmond Chadleigh was important dies off—’

      ‘I don’t think you can say that,’ protested Graham Chadleigh-Bewes. ‘There is a universality about Esmond’s work. Children still respond with enormous pleasure to Naughty Nursie’s Nursery Rhymes.’

      ‘That’s good,’ said Belinda Chadleigh, recognizing the title through the miasma of other words.

      ‘I’m sure they do.’ Gina Locke, like everyone else, ignored the old lady and spoke calmly, repeating a response that she had often had to make before. ‘But the fact remains that Naughty Nursie’s Nursery Rhymes are out of print—’

      ‘Though I am in discussion with a publisher who’s considering reprinting them.’

      ‘I know that, Graham. However, since those discussions have already gone on for over a year, and since very few children at the beginning of the twenty-first century actually have “Nursies”, naughty or otherwise, I would think it unlikely that—’

      ‘You don’t know anything about publishing!’

      ‘I admit I’m not an expert, but I do know enough about—’

      ‘What’s more, you don’t know anything about literature!’

      ‘Listen, Graham . . .’

      Ever diplomatic, Lord Beniston intervened. ‘Now, please, can we take things in order? There’ll be time for everyone to raise any points they wish to. Gina, you were talking about legacy income . . .’

      ‘Yes.’ Managing quickly to cover her anger, the Director went on, ‘Basically there’s less of it. Esmond Chadleigh’s contemporaries have mostly died off, and I don’t think we can expect much more from that source. We’ve only had one legacy of two thousand pounds in the last six months.’

      ‘So what else might we hope for?’

      ‘The royalty income from the estate is also going down.’ Gina gave Sheila Cartwright a gracious nod, which clearly cost her quite a lot. ‘Of course, we enormously appreciate the work Sheila did in getting the agreement of Esmond Chadleigh’s heirs to pay twenty-five per cent to Bracketts . . . but Naughty Nursie’s Nursery Rhymes—’

      ‘That’s good,’ murmured Belinda Chadleigh.

      ‘—isn’t the only book that’s out of print . . .’

      ‘I’m in discussion with publishers about a lot of the others, too,’ said Graham Chadleigh-Bewes petulantly.

      Gina Locke gave no reaction to this, as she went on, ‘So I can’t see the royalty income going up much in the future . . . unless there’s a sudden revival of interest in Esmond Chadleigh’s works.’

      ‘Presumably that will be stimulated in 2004 . . . centenary of Esmond’s birth . . . and of course when the biography comes out.’ As he spoke, Lord Beniston looked across to the writer’s grandson.

      Graham Chadleigh-Bewes squirmed. ‘Still a bit behind on that,’ he confessed. ‘You know, new material keeps being unearthed . . . and then I’m kept very busy by my discussions with publishers about getting Esmond’s books back into print and . . .’ The words trickled away into nothing . . . rather as, Carole Seddon began to suspect, the much-discussed biography might.

      ‘What about the opposition?’ asked George Ferris slyly.

      ‘What opposition?’ Lord Beniston sounded testy. He clearly disliked the ex-librarian, though whether this reflected the natural antipathy of the aristocrat to the pen-pusher or had some deeper cause, Carole did not know.

      ‘A letter was read at the last meeting. From an American academic. Don’t you remember?’

      The Chairman resented the implication. ‘Of course I remember, George.’

      ‘Her name was Professor Marla Teischbaum. She wrote asking for the co-operation of the Bracketts Trustees with a biography of Esmond Chadleigh that she was proposing to write.’

      ‘And we very rightly refused such co-operation!’ Graham Chadleigh-Bewes snapped. ‘We don’t want any unauthorized biographies of Esmond. We only want the authorized biography!’

      ‘I agree,’ said George Ferris drily, ‘but how long are we going to have to wait for it?’

      ‘I’m working as hard as I can!’

      ‘Just a minute,’ Josie Freeman interrupted. ‘Was this Professor Marla Teischbaum from the same American university that wanted to buy the Esmond Chadleigh papers?’

      Gina Locke had the facts at her fingertips. ‘No, that was the University of Texas. Marla Teischbaum’s at Berkeley.’

      ‘Wasn’t there a Bishop Berkeley . . .?’ asked Belinda Chadleigh, insubstantial and, as ever, ignored.

СКАЧАТЬ