The Spring Madness of Mr Sermon (10 page)

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^{"By the way, don't call me Mr. Tapper," said his friend, "just 'Tapper' will do. Me real name is Sugg, Algernon Sugg, if you ever 'card anything so daft but my old mum thought 'Algernon' was classy and when it come to naming people my missus run her pretty close. She called our boy 'Ewart Stuart' and then dropped it fer 'Blessing'. She was a Plymouth Sister see, and regarded him as such, tho' I reckon she'd change her opinion if she could see him now. Proper young basket he is but keen mindjew, keen as mustard! No one don't get past Blessing when Flash leaves him in charge o" the shop, not the silver boys who want to give you less'n you paid for sticks-an'-nat, or the bloke up the road whose gran's just hopped it an' shows up with a laundry basket full o' Goss china an' lustres with half the drops missing. Equal to all of 'em Blessing is and him only fourteen!"}

^{As they went along Tapper talked easily of his family and background but seemed not in the least curious about his companion's antecedents. Mr. Sermon learned, for instance, that 'sticks' meant candlesticks and 'flat' meant cutlery. He also learned that Tapper's business establishment in the High Street, Kingsbay, was called
tablesnchairs,
spelled just like that, all in one word, and that he and his boy and his father Flash ran it together, Tapper and Flash taking turns to attend sales or go on the knock in search of stock which was then resold to The Trade or to holiday-makers visiting Kingsbay. The business sounded to be a very prosperous one and Tapper explained that its title, 'Tablesnchairs', had been selected after considerable thought. "You could have called it something fancy, like 'The Copper Kettle' or 'The Spinning Wheel'," he explained, "but after all, what do people need most in life, what bits o' furnitchure-beds aside-is it they can't do without? Tables to eat off an' chairs to sit on! That's the beginning and end of the junk trade and everything else is a luxury. So Flash had a sign made out and it pongs with people so they don't forget it easy, you get me?"}

^{He went on to tell Mr. Sermon that the womenfolk of the Sugg family were short-lived but the men came from much tougher stock for Flash, his father, was now well into his seventies but still active, alert and ready to retire to bed on a quart of beer, a whole rice pudding and half a jar of pickled onions. Tapper's mother had}

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^{died in her forties and was soon followed by Tapper's wife, the Plymouth Sister, and then by Tapper's sister, Beet. Bereft of their womenfolk the men had not bothered to find replacements but had moved into the rooms behind the shop. "Bit of a tip it is," Tapper admitted, "because we don't none of us eat regular but on'y when we feel like it and we don't do much in the way o' cleaning-up neither because it don't give you no heart when dirty stuff keeps going in an' coming out, day after day! We have a go at it Sundays sometimes and make the dust fly but it's as bad as ever by Monday midday, so we let it go for another week. We eat off stock see and have a big wash-up Saturdays and then carry it all down into the shop again!"}

^{To Mr. Sermon this seemed a glorious way to live and he said so, thinking of the spotless kitchen and unfriendly drawing-room at home where Sybil's two dailies followed everybody about complaining of litter and marks on the furniture left by Keith's grease-stained jeans.}

^{Talking this way they reached the village of Bletchley Wood, set in a verdant little valley on each side of a swift-flowing stream and after an enquiry in the main square Tapper drove the van beyond the last houses and into a steep drive that led between high clumps of evergreen to Cedar Walk, the home of the Hon. Mrs. Gliddon-Foster, It was a neatly-kept manor house in pseudo-Georgian style, with a mosaic terrace above the well-cropped lawn and tall windows hung with brocaded curtains. Tapper stopped the van and gave it a keen, professional glance.}

^{"Conner be tough, this is," he said, gloomily. "She obviously ain't 'ard up for a bob or two. I used to feel sorry for some of 'em in the old days but not now. Bloody sight tougher'n the trade they are, most of 'em, and that slick with their adding up it fair takes your breath away! Now we got to box clever here. You sit down and 'ave a fag like you was weighing things up and I'll go in an'do a rekky."}

^{He got out of the car and marched boldly up to the front door, leaving Mr. Sermon with the impression that he was now almost a partner in the enterprise. A woman answered his ring and they exchanged conversation after which Tapper went in with a backward thumbs-up sign as the door closed behind him.}

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^{Ten minutes passed and Mr. Sermon sat back and relaxed, watching the rooks soar over the elms and an indolent gardener weed a bed near the drive. He was on the edge of a luxurious doze when the van door opened so suddenly that he almost toppled out onto an excited Tapper, who now looked eager and conspiratorial and laid a warning finger on his lips.}

^{"You know anything about picshures?" he demanded. "Oils, like they have in the National Gallery?"}

^{"I used to go to the Gallery and the Tate quite often," said Mr. Sermon, "and I've read quite a bit about the lives of painters."}

^{"Just what the kewrater ordered!" said Tapper. "Now listen, you want to do me a good turn? A real good turn?"}

^{"If I can help I certainly will," said Mr. Sermon, "but I'm not an expert on paintings."}

^{"You don't have to be," said Tapper, "because she ain't either. I twigged that right away and the picshures is wors'n I thought. A flippin' landscape in there looks like a storm at sea and God knows 'ow many of her flippin' ancestors are looking down at yer like you was pinching the spoons from out under 'em! No, I don't want the picshures, but I'm in a bit of a spot, because I got to pretend I like 'em and you're gonner be a Godsend mate because you look right an' talk right, get me?"}

^{"No," protested Mr. Sermon, "not altogether; you mean you aren't going to buy the pictures after all?"}

^{"Not if I can help it!" declared Mr. Tapper, fervently. "But I am gonner buy that French bit if I have to camp on the flippin' lawn for a week! Proper plum it is, bin in the fam'ly fer a century or more. She knows it's good o' course but she ain't up-to-date with prices because she's already sold me a jardiniere for twenty and I c'n get twice that for it from the trade be just making a 'phone call! Now listen, mate, you take your cue from me, come in an' praise them picshures an' make out you'd like to buy 'em all but can't afford more'n two, an' want "to get a partner down from London to pick out which two, get me? You don't have to say much, just let slip a few names an' types o' painting as a smoke-screen!" and, presumably considering that this was an adequate brief, Tapper returned to the front door followed by a dubious Mr. Sermon who was already}

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^{asking himself if what he was called upon to do could be considered honest trading.}

^{He decided that it was the moment he met the Hon. Mrs. Gliddon-Foster, who was precisely the type of woman Mr. Sermon had been at pains to avoid when he met one at Sybil's social gatherings. She was distant, patronising and utterly without humour. She spoke in a county voice and kept her face stiff and expressionless but she could not hide the greed in her eyes. She tried very hard to give the impression that haggling over money distressed her but Mr. Sermon had no doubt whatever that in all matters pertaining to money she was as shrewd as a Petticoat Lane huckster and twice as pitiless. She was aged about sixty and well-dressed in country tweeds but the thing that attracted Mr. Sermon's attention were her hands which were like powerful little claws, with blue veins showing through taut, transparent skin. They were the hands of a selfish, acquisitive woman and seeing them Mr. Sermon put his conscience in his pocket and followed her across the wide hall and into a room on the left of the stairs.}

^{"That's two of "em," said Tapper, meekly, "the others are in the 'all Perfesser."}

^{The title caused the woman to glance sharply and distastefully at Mr. Sermon but he ignored the look and concentrated on the two pictures adorning the wall that faced the big window. They were as Tapper had suggested, mediocre oil-paintings, the work of a Victorian artist obsessed with the cult of castle ruins and cloud-draped mountains. Both pictures vaguely suggested the Highlands and one had a bilious-looking stag in the foreground. They were the kind of landscapes that Mr. Sermon had seen hanging in provincial hotels and between them they covered the entire wall.}

^{"Hum!" he said deliberately as Tapper and the woman hung back, and then, even more deliberately, "I see! Ah yes! Hum!"}

^{He had never wanted to be an actor. Never once had he sought a part in one of Sybil's plays or operas but deep down he had always known that he could act a part as well as the next man and a good deal better than some of Sybil's amateurs. He was acting now and was very conscious of the fact. He could sense his audience hanging on his words and the feeling of power this gave him was very}

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^{gratifying. He paused for an interval in order to build suspense and then said; "Interesting brush work! Remarkable cloud movement! Reminiscent of Cotman at his best but leaning, I feel, towards the younger Bonnington."}

^{He heard Tapper hiss with pleasure and bowing slightly in the direction of the Hon. Mrs. Gliddon-Foster, he added: "Perhaps I could view the portraits, Madam ?"}

^{They moved out into the hall where a group of three-quarter-length portraits were hanging under the staircase and in semi-darkness along the wall leading to the kitchen. They were not very good portraits.}

^{"Remarkable!" exclaimed Mr. Sermon, at length. "Eight of them and five in the Kneller tradition! Family portraits no doubt?"}

^{The woman made a strangled sound that was not exactly noncommittal but could have had several interpretations. Tapper twinkled and slowly rubbed his hands together, his eye roving along the hall and into the drawing-room where stood the French commode he had marked down. Already his mind was juggling with the telephone numbers of dealers as far apart as Kensington, Richmond and Brighton and his appreciation of the odd little man he had picked up on the road grew in proportion to his estimated net profit. Mr. Sermon was now completely immersed in his role of art-dealer and turned to Mrs. Gliddon-Foster with a splendid show of heartiness.}

^{"The point is, Madam," he said, "I could make you an offer for all of them, both landscape and portraits, but I don't think I could do you the justice you and canvases deserve. I could offer to buy the landscapes, or two of the portraits, and leave the remainder on reserve. How does that strike you? Please be frank!"}

^{"I had rather hoped to sell them all," grumbled Mrs. Gliddon-Foster but it was clear from her tone that she now accepted Mr. Sermon, placing him on an altogether different level from his companion. "However, if you only want two ... by the way, which two?"}

^{"Ah," said Mr. Sermon, gravely, "that's the difficulty! That will be a matter for my partner to decide," and he looked hopefully at Tapper who started and rubbed his nose.}

^7b

^{"The Perfesser means his partner in London, M'm," said Tapper,}

^hastily-

^{Mrs. Gliddon-Foster had narrow arched brows and when she drew them together she looked rather like a thwarted Donald Duck.}

^{"You mean you can't decide about them now?"}

^{"We could pay a deposit," said Tapper, "and I'm willing to pay cash down for the commode and the jardiniere. Sixty-five and twenty was your rock-bottom, wasn't it, Madam?"}

^{Mrs. Gliddon-Foster winced but said: "That's so, eighty-five in all, plus the deposit on the pictures of course!"}

^{"Then suppose we make it a round hundred?" ventured Tapper, already groping for his wallet and somehow suggesting to Mr. Sermon that he was pulling a gun.}

^{"Very well," said Mrs. Gliddon-Foster crisply, "one hundred pounds. Cash I presume?"}

^{"By all means, by all means," said Tapper, counting out twenty five-pound notes and winking at Mr. Sermon so brazenly that the latter looked away in embarrassment.}

^{"I must say it's bin a pleasure doin' business, M'm," said Tapper, as they returned to the front door and paused on the steps. "I'll send a carrier over for the furniture tomorrow and the Perfesser here, he'll be in touch with you about the picshures later in the week, won't you Perfesser?"}

^{"Er . . . yes, certainly," mumbled Mr. Sermon, whose mind had been occupied with an attempt to reconcile Tapper's casual sacrifice of fifteen pounds for pictures that he had no intention of collecting. The acting phase had passed and Mr. Sermon realised that he was sweating slightly, so excusing himself quickly, he ran down the steps and climbed into the van. He raised his hat to Mrs. Gliddon-Foster who made an extremely painful attempt to smile. They drove off down the drive exchanging no word but once they were back on the road and coasting along into the village, Tapper relaxed and thumped Mr. Sermon's knee so hard that he cried out in pain.}

^{"Marvellous," he said, "absolutely bang-on, mate! You know what you are Perfesser? You're a ruddy natchrule! I on'y wish old Flash could have been in on that. It's like I said, she fell for the old Oxford talk right away, just like I thought she would."}