Murder in the Museum. Simon Brett

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СКАЧАТЬ would have guaranteed the financial future of Bracketts for the next five years.’

      ‘But,’ Graham Chadleigh-Bewes spluttered, ‘it would also have removed the reason for Bracketts’ existence! Bracketts without the Esmond Chadleigh papers in its Library is just another country house.’

      For once, Gina Locke found herself in full agreement with him. ‘And if we sold the papers, we’d remove the main exhibit that’s going to be put in the Esmond Chadleigh Museum.’

      ‘Surely, though—?’

      But that was as far as Josie Freeman was allowed to get. With proper deference to her status and money, Lord Beniston silenced her and tried to get the meeting back on track.

      ‘Fellow Trustees, we are rather going over old ground here. We discussed the letter from Professor Marla . . .?’

      ‘Teischbaum,’ Gina supplied.

      ‘Thank you . . . at the last meeting. We put the matter to the vote, and the idea was rejected. So, with respect, Josie, I don’t think there was anything casual about our discussion.’

      ‘She won’t go away, though,’ said George Ferris with gloomy certainty. There was also a smugness in his manner; he had special knowledge which he intended to share with the other Trustees at his own chosen pace.

      ‘What are you talking about?’

      ‘Professor Marla Teischbaum. I’ve heard through colleagues – former colleagues – at West Sussex Libraries, and in the County Records Office . . . on which, incidentally, I am something of an expert. I have even published a modest tome on the subject. It’s called How To Get The Best From The Facilities Of The County Records Office, in case I haven’t mentioned it before.’ (He had mentioned it before, at every opportunity.) ‘Marla Teischbaum’s been making a lot of enquiries. You see, she’s going ahead with her biography, with or without the co-operation of the Bracketts Trustees.’

      ‘Well, good luck to her. She won’t get far,’ said Graham Chadleigh-Bewes with childish satisfaction. ‘The best authorities on Esmond are sitting here in this room as we speak. And so long as none of us agree to speak to this dreadful woman, then we’ll be fine.’

      ‘How do you know she’s a dreadful woman?’ asked Carole, intrigued.

      ‘With a name like that, she’s got to be, hasn’t she?’ There was a playground snigger in his voice. ‘So . . . absolute solidarity, all right? None of us must talk to her.’

      ‘I’m not so sure about that, Graham.’ There was an evil twinkle in George Ferris’s gnome-like eye. ‘A bit of competition might be healthy. Might put a rocket up you to get your bloody biography finished.’

      ‘Now that’s not fair. As a Literary Executor, I’m kept incredibly busy, talking to publishers about new editions of Esmond’s work, getting together a selection of the letters, going round doing readings at schools, lobbying Literary Editors to—’

      ‘Gentlemen, gentlemen!’ Once again Lord Beniston felt the meeting was getting too far out of his control. ‘Could we get back to the agenda, please? We’ve agreed we are not going to co-operate with Professor Marla Teischbaum’s proposed biography. If we have any trouble from her, we will deal with it as the need arises.’

      ‘Which may be sooner rather than later,’ murmured George Ferris.

      ‘What do you mean by that?’

      ‘I happen to know . . .’ The former librarian slowed his words down to give his revelation full impact ‘ . . . that she will soon be in Sussex – if she isn’t here already – to continue her researches.’

      ‘That’s not a problem. So long as none of we Trustees tell her anything.’

      ‘But we can’t stop her coming round Bracketts as a member of the general public, can we?’

      ‘No, of course we can’t, but she’s hardly going to be able to write a definitive biography on the basis of one Guided Tour, is she? I really think you’re making rather too big a thing of this.’

      George Ferris looked suitably deflated – and not a little peeved – as the Chairman moved the agenda on. Gina Locke, without much optimism, enumerated various possible sources of funding, and Sheila Cartwright compounded the gloom by saying that all the Director’s suggestions had been tried in the past, without success. Sheila hinted at the existence of potential sponsors, to whom she had exclusive access, who might save the day. But she couldn’t provide detail at that time. Everything, she said, building mystery around herself, was at a delicate stage of negotiation.

      Carole got the feeling Gina was only going through the motions, providing the data Lord Beniston had asked from her, but awaiting the right moment to put forward her real agenda.

      The moment came after Josie Freeman had asked Graham Chadleigh-Bewes about ‘any developments on the film front?’ At a meeting some two years previously he had announced to the Trustees with enormous excitement that a production company had been enquiring about the rights in The Demesnes of Eregonne, a children’s fantasy novel by Esmond Chadleigh which had had a considerable vogue in the 1930s. The delusion had spread of a block-busting movie, generating huge book sales, and of the elevation of Esmond Chadleigh to Tolkien-like status. The huge publicity build-up surrounding the film of The Lord of the Rings fed this fever. If ever the time was right for a movie version of The Demesnes of Eregonne, it was now.

      But after the initial spurt of enthusiasm, the project seemed to be going the way of all films. At first the production company was going to commission a draft screenplay; then it was going to take the idea to Hollywood (‘where it’s just the kind of thing they’d love’); then the name of an A-List international star was attached to the project; then there was talk of Anglo-Australian funding; then an actor about to leave a popular British soap was said to be ‘looking for a vehicle’ and The Demesnes of Eregonne ‘could be the one’; then there was a suggestion of repackaging the idea and pitching the book as the basis for a six-part children’s television series. Then everything went quiet.

      When Graham Chadleigh-Bewes had last spoken to the production company (which, incidentally, had never come up with any evidence of actually having produced anything), he had been told that ‘while the enthusiasm for The Demesnes of Eregonne within the company remained as strong as ever . . . it wasn’t really a good time.’ The trouble was, they said, the hype and success surrounding The Lord of the Rings had really ruined the chances of any other project in the same genre.

      It was when Graham came to the end of this predictably depressing saga that Gina Locke moved up a gear and started to put forward what she really believed in. ‘All of which leads me to the conclusion, Mr Chairman . . .’ (she wasn’t going to risk stumbling on meeting protocol now she was talking about something important) ‘ . . . that Bracketts can no longer go on with its current amateurish attitude to money, crossing our fingers and living on hope. If this organization is going to have any future at all, it is time we employed the services of a professional fund-raiser.’

      ‘That’s ridiculous!’ snapped Sheila Cartwright, too incensed even to be aware that meeting protocol existed. ‘That’s just creating another job for some Media Studies graduate with no knowledge of the real world!’

      Even if she hadn’t herself been a Media Studies graduate, Gina Locke would have bridled at that. СКАЧАТЬ