Gardy Loo!

Tags

affrontee gules, Alex Salmond, Auchentoshan, Bannockburn House, bauchle, beeswax, Bohemia, Bonnie Prince Charlie, chamber candlestick, chatelaine, Clementina Walkinshaw, dexter and sinister, Faberge egg, Game of Thrones, Gardy Loo!, King of Cumbria, lion sejant, Lost Middlelands, manflu, mizmaze, Nemo Me Impune Lacessit, Pele Tower, reivers, Rory Stewart, The National Trust, The Proclaimers, The Young Pretender, Tindall, Tyndale, Walter Scott, Wyvern Mote

Drusilla and Murgatroyd sipped their Auchentoshans simultaneously

and gazed at the faux Faberge egg sitting on the coffee table.

Sorry to have disappointed you, said Murgatroyd.  It isn’t one of the missing

ones.  Bless Aunt Augusta.  She was trying to bestow something on you,

but it is practically worthless.

The Tindall Jewell, on the other hand is priceless. I wonder if it had any

connection to either of the Tyndales who turned down the throne of

Bohemia?  I must do some research.  But I suppose it is earlier than

that.  Looks medieval.

The strange coincidence is, as we discussed earlier, that a branch of the

Tindalls owned this pele tower at one time.  So, in a sense, you might be

coming home.  I’ll dig out the charters tomorrow.  I was going to frame one

or two for the Great Hall.

I’m not going to drag Gus through a lengthy process of establishing rights.

The insurance on the jewel would be a liability and a nightmare.  It should

remain with The National Trust at Wyvern Mote, Dru stated firmly.

I think you are right, Murgatroyd nodded sagely.  I get in a tizzy over the

security of Bonnie Prince Charlie’s communion chalice.  I hated getting it

marked by ultraviolet, but it is alarmed in that niche by the fireplace.  One

day it will be yours, my girl.  Come to think of it, you do resemble

Clementina Walkinshaw a tad.

Well, thanks for that.  I have no intention of escaping to a convent just

yet.  Do you think it came from Bannockburn House when Clementina was

nursing The Young Pretender from a nasty bout of Manflu?  He probably was

demanding the Last Rites histrionically- you know- the way all you guys do

when you catch a cold!

So the story goes, but Walter Scott and his ilk tended to embellish things

as you can imagine.  It does come from the Rebellion period and has a very

good maker.  I won’t take it out now, but it bears the motto: Nemo Me

Impune Lacessit and the lion sejant affrontee gules, crowned, holding in

dexter paw a sword and an erect sceptre, proper..

Whae dare meddle wi’ me?  A motto I would gladly adopt as my own ,

smiled Dru.  Well, I must go up the spiral stair to bed.  My head is

spinning with all this history, the Auchentoshan, or losing myself in the

mizmaze this afternoon. 

I’m sure it is a combination of all three, speculated Murgatroyd, handing

her a beeswax taper in a pewter chamber candlestick.  The hive has

been busy to light you on your way.  I’ve only been stung twice.  You can

taste the honey at breakfast, my sweet. 

She felt a renewal of filial affection which wasn’t diluted by being shared

with her biological pater.

The embers were dying, so Murgatroyd placed the fire-guard in front of the

glow and rolled back the rug, lest a spark should catch.  He was turning into

a fussy old chatelaine.  Dru left the egg on the table.  If there should be a

raid by the reivers, they were welcome to it.  The egg, not the table!

She dreamt of Border tussles: mafia bosses fuelled by proxy wars, with

visages remarkably like Rory Stewart.  She briefly counted sheep in Cumbric,

that language, Stewart claimed, of The Lost Middlelands.  She thought she

saw the face of the last independent King of Cumbria who vanished in the

11th century and screamed as it morphed into the heavy-browed, jowly

phizzog of Alex Salmond.  Clearly she had watched too many Game of Thrones

episodes.  Or he had.

Thank goodness the tower was fortified!  Any snatch of The Proclaimers

which might herald the approach of The First Minister and penetrate the foot

thick walls and she would be tipping the contents of her chamber pot out of

the window.  If Alex was stationed below with his troops and that wee

bauchle, the standard bearer, who shall remain nameless, Dru would not even

give them the warning:  Gardy Loo!

Snod’s Law

Tags

Bourbon biscuit, Caracas, crystal ball, DNA analysis, Elgin marbles, exhumation, Katherine of Aragon, kinship, Lady of the Bedchamber, perjury, St Birinus, Tindall, Tyndale, Wyvern Mote

Costamuchamoulah must-seen cafe was open on the Bank Holiday and, the

weather being clement, Sonia, Diana and Dru were sitting in the courtyard,

out of earshot, they hoped, of the other customers.  Snod came in, looking

ill-at-ease in this bastion of good taste.  He was probably the only

customer who could have explained what a ‘bastion‘ was.  Most would

have thought it a term of abuse.

I just want a simple coffee.  Why does life have to be so complicated? he

grumbled.

Diana cleared her jacket from the spare chair that she had been reserving.

I’ve been studying the paperwork from Aurelia, she began.  The Tindalls of

Coquetbrookdale!  Quite a family.

Not related to that rugby player with the smashed nose who married Zara?

queried Sonia.

No, not the same branch. Elizabeth Swan married John Tindall and this was

how the- here Diana lowered her voice and looked around furtively – the

Tindall jewel came into Elizabeth’s possession.  It had been handed down

from generation to generation, from mother-in-law to daughter, or daughter-

in-law.

A relation of Sir William Tyndale, who was knighted at the marriage of Arthur,

Prince of Wales to Katherine of Aragon, originally seemed to have acquired it,

possibly from a royally-esteemed Lady-of-the-Bedchamber.

Whose bedchamber? asked Sonia, forthrightly.

Ah, that might have been telling! said Diana, coyly.  No, it might have

come into the family through a marriage.

Which leaves the problem of what you are going to do about it, said Snod,

nodding to Dru.  The letter says that it comes to the wife, or daughter of any

of her sons.

I’m definitely out of the picture, said Diana.  But what if you were to marry in

the near future?  Would that rule Dru out?  She was desirous of protecting

her daughter’s interests.

And can we be sure that Lionel and Peregrine did not have any illegitimate

daughters? asked Sonia.  They would have entitlement.

I suppose Bunbury et al will advertise in the press in Thailand and Canada for

any claimants to come forward within a certain period of time.  They might

have to be subject to DNA analysis, said Snod.

I might have to give a swab too, interrupted Dru.  They might want to check

your paternity.

Diana blushed and her chin disappeared into her collar.  Shhh! she hissed.

I might have to have a DNA test, agreed Gus, not relishing the idea,

as he confused it with sperm banks for some reason.  After all, my father is

not named on my birth certificate and my mother is designated as Berenice. 

Just because Lady Wyvern, er.. Aurelia, paid some school fees and confessed

to perjury in her letter, it might be seen as the ravings of a madwoman and

Anthony being dead too, how can we prove kinship?

There could be a hair on Aunt Augusta’s sheets, suggested Dru.

Don’t be silly, laughed Diana.  I expect that in an establishment as genteel

as Snodland Nursing Home for the Debased Gentry, they have probably

changed the bedding since Anthony’s last nocturnal perambulation.

Dru looked sceptical.  From what I’ve read, it’s a miracle if the sheets

are laundered at all on some of these premises. But, seriously, DNA

is pretty resistant material.  It survives washing machines, apparently.

Sonia said: Washing machines have inbuilt obsolescence nowadays,

so it wouldn’t be difficult to outlast them.  I only had mine three years.

Yes, but you don’t use de-calcifiers, reprimanded Diana.  That’s why

your towels are brick hard.

Sonia shot her a look that might have been interpreted as inviting

her to lodge elsewhere if she had any further criticisms.

Well, I am not going to sanction any exhumations, avowed Gus.  And

that includes Berenice’s.  It’s rather extreme to rule out a blood

relationship.

You wouldn’t have to, clarified Sonia.  You could get a sibling swab from

Aunt Augusta which would disprove your relationship to her entire family.

Not by stealth, Diana countered.  Only by informed consent and the

authorities might think she is too confused to comply.

Nonsense, said Sonia.  From what you’ve told me-here she nodded

towards Dru- she has all her marbles and it wouldn’t surprise me if she

had some of the Elgin variety too, stashed in her bedside locker, alongside

her gin.  Anyway, you could ask that De Sousa chap in Caracas to supple a

hair.  That would disprove that he is your half brother.

Oh, I’d forgotten about Hugo, said Snod, a trifle guiltily.  I’d better write to

him to disabuse him of our familial ties.  He will be disappointed.

Well, you asked me what I was going to do, Dru finally chipped in.  And I have

already decided.  If the lawyers are satisfied that Dad is Aurelia’s son and I am

offered the jewel, I am going to say that I want it to remain on exhibition at

Wyvern Mote.

These things can bring a curse on families and I don’t want Mum to regret

that she should have had no stake in it. Nor do I want to alienate any future

step- mothers. (Here Gus flushed deeply)  And, anyway, what would I do

with it?

It’s probably uninsurable in private hands. I don’t need the money.  I am more

interested in my career and this seems as good a time as any to announce

that I have been short-listed for the post of Head of St Birinus Middle, with the

blessing of its finest Master, my father!

And she raised her coffee cup to her lips in a loyal toast.  I wouldn’t need

any treasures, as there is accommodation provided and, without having to

worry about a mortgage, I would be well provided for and would have an

adequate salary and pension.

That’s my girl! Gus flushed with pride.  He could only hope that she would

be successful.

He had declared his affiliation and conflict of interest to the Governors and

had stepped down from the interview panel.  He had yet to be informed of

the other candidates.

But what about your parentage? Sonia challenged Gus.  Don’t you want to

have everything cleared up?  I know there is no inheritance involved, since

Wyvern is now National Trust, but aren’t you a teeny bit curious?

I thought you would have taken out your crystal ball and enlightened me,

teased Gus. But, I’ll take Aurelia’s word for it. As far as I am concerned, at my

time of life, I am grateful to one parent alone and he is the one who has

perpetually looked out for me through thick and thin..

And that is..? they all asked simultaneously.

St Birinus. And Snod twiddled the ring on his little finger and drained his

cup of basic filter coffee with satisfaction, even though there were no

accompanying Bourbon biscuits on offer.

So, you don’t mind the uncertainty? Sonia probed a little further.

No, Gus shook his head. It’s just like many of life’s vicissitudes: an

exemplification of Snod’s Law!