The brigadier’s wife, when they all returned from Spain, complained that such a modern innovation as central heating spoiled the internal appearance of the house, clashing with the furniture, the china, and the tapestries. But when winter set in, and she was warm and snug, she decided that the contrast was really quite interesting, and one must not stand in the way of progress.
About ten years later, Mrs. Stammers felt able to introduce yet another innovation: the television. The brigadier’s wife was adamant in her refusal to have one, but she had been equally adamant about central heating. The brigadier declared a state of neutrality.
There was no doubt at all that had those been the days when women were allowed as equals within the ranks of the Foreign Office, Mrs. Stammers would have written her name in large letters as a peacemaker, a precursor of the great Dr. Henry Kissinger. She suggested that the television should be installed in her quarters (she had a bedroom and a small sitting room, which she hardly ever used, spending most of her time in attendance or chatting to the general and his wife in their sitting room). Brigadier and Mrs. Thundackaray-Harding could come and watch it whenever they wished. If they liked it, it would be moved to their sitting room. It took Mrs. Thundackaray-Harding a little longer to become reconciled to this innovation, but the brigadier, a keen sportsman, found watching the horses (inter alia) on television so much more interesting than listening to the races on the radio. Mrs. Thundackaray-Harding gave way, on the grounds that the brigadier should be spared having to climb all the way up to Mrs. Stammers’s quarters. When color television arrived, the largest and best set was installed in the sitting room and the old black and white set relegated to the attic (this was not a household that threw anything away). The notion of Mrs. Stammers watching television on her own was never entertained, of course.
A while must have passed before Mrs. Stammers’s abilities as a diplomat were tested. By that time, there were not enough buckets and bowls to place under every leak in the roof. A house is constructed differently from a man. In his old age, man gives way from the bottom up, so that long after, say, his feet stumble over every obstacle, no matter how tiny, his head can still grasp great affairs of state and construct remedies for the world’s ills. The foundations of a house, on the other hand, are still firm when the roof has long since given way to the ravages of time.
Knowing how Mrs. Thundackaray-Harding felt about workmen violating her furniture, china, and tapestries, Mrs. Stammers suggested that renewing the roof should coincide with the annual holiday to Spain. She would cope with the invasion, while the brigadier, with his usual stoic fortitude, faced Spanish waiters and their offerings. As soon as order was restored, she would join them. This time, Mrs. Thundackaray-Harding agreed without even token resistance.
Unlike London, or any of the great metropolises, where all such arrangements are made through firms so large as to be virtually branches of the civil service, St. Albans has never lost its country air of personal contact and personal service. Such jobs as the installation of central heating, television sets and aerials, and even new roofs on old houses, are carried out by friendly neighborhood types. Many of them, like yeomen of old, in order to preserve the freedom of the individual from the grasping claws of the taxman, will oblige you by accepting cash, so that no record of the transaction should betray its essentially materialistic nature.
The two friendly gentlemen who came to inspect the roof and give a quote did offer the general (very discreetly) the choice of two prices, depending on whether he wished to pay by check or cash. The general immediately accepted the higher offer on the principle that one must pay for the best. He wrote out a check on the spot, and the two friendly types went on their way, shaking their heads and remarking at the ways of the Almighty bestowing so much on the most profligate.
The day came when Brigadier and Mrs. Thundackaray-Harding flew off to Spain, while Mrs. Stammers armed herself with plenty of beer, sausages, and suchlike in advance of the invasion to entice the workers into a more cooperative frame of mind. The invasion consisted of the two friendly types, who arrived late in the morning, not too early to upset the inhabitants of the house. Mrs. Stammers asked them to mind the furniture, the china, the tapestries, and the other treasures... and offered them lunch, which they managed to put away with the help of a little beer. They inquired, discreetly, into the age of the house and its contents, and having been told that everything was of the greatest antiquity, exchanged glances and at the earliest possible moment headed for a public telephone.
Those of you unwise to the ways of the world are unlikely to imagine a link between roofing specialists and the antiques trade. Well, antiques traders have long since recognized that if a house needs to be re-roofed, it is most probably a very old house. The law of probabilities being what it is, an old house will, most likely, have old furniture. Moreover, pursuing probability still further, the owner may be unaware of the value of such old furniture. Therefore, the antiques trade maintains a friendly but very discreet relationship with neighborhood types who specialize in re-roofing old houses. This discreet relationship is maintained by the passage of moneys of various denominations in exchange for information about a new job.
The two neighborhood types telephoned a member of the antiques trade, a gentleman named Harry Clauson, and told him, very excitedly, that there was a household of stuff going back to before the deluge, or just about... and a friendly old lady in the house, who had just finished serving them lunch... all alone, she was.
Mr. Clauson went round straightaway. He was in his thirties, a handsome, well-dressed man, the sort that old ladies trusted on sight. He wore a natty little hat, carried a walking stick with a heavy silver handle, and looked like a prosperous young merchant banker. Even such as he are supported by the Hertfordshire countryside.
He knocked on the door and Mrs. Stammers answered.
“Good afternoon! Good afternoon, dear lady. Good afternoon!” and he doffed his hat.
“Good afternoon, sir, and what can I do for you?” she asked, hoping it was something.
“What a very lovely house! What a very, very lovely home, indeed. I’ve just bought one just like it, y’know, and I wondered if I could see how you have furnished yours. You see, I’m single, and it’s my very first house, and I’d like to get it right... I say, you don’t think its frightful cheek of me, do you?”
“Oh, no, not at all. Do come in! Can I offer you a cup of tea, or something a little stronger?” Mr. Clauson was made welcome and invited to look round while she made a cup of tea.
Clauson did look round. There was no doubt he had struck gold dust. None of the stuff would bring newspaper reporters to Sotheby’s, but it was all good solid furniture, such as would fetch many pounds from other dealers and even customers. His mouth positively watered at the sight of what he saw.