Realpolitik At The Refuge

Realpolitik At The Refuge

By Murray

On her way to preside over the monthly meeting of the Governors of the
Jericho Refuge, Mrs Brown stole an imitation leather purse from a city
store. When she got back to her car she emptied her loose change, her
credit cards and her blood-pressure pills from her old purse into the
new one and placed it safely at the bottom of her shopping bag
underneath her cardigan. She had a few minutes to spare when she
arrived at the Refuge and after parking her car on the gravel driveway
she had time to take cuttings from a Mock orange and a Wisteria. She
stowed the cuttings away carefully in a plastic bag lined with damp
moss taken from her garden pool that morning. Mrs Brown then examined
her rather purple face in her compact mirror and walked towards the
imposing stone entrance of the large red-brick building. Two pregnant
girls were mopping the steps and a third girl, also pregnant, was
smoking and laughing, sitting in a stone urn at the side of the steps
and showing more of her legs than Mrs Brown thought decent.

"Have you nothing better to do?" Mrs Brown snapped.

"I'm talking to my friends," the girl said.

""They, at least, are making themselves useful," Mrs Brown said tartly.
"And don't be sure you have any friends here. Please go to Mrs Moles in
the kitchen and ask her what work she requires you to do."

The girl flushed, then ran away along the gravel towards the side of
the house.
Although the place had been called The Refuge for over thirty years Mrs
Brown still thought of it as The Home for Fallen Women.

The Conference Room, as they called the large dining room used for
meetings, was bright with sunlight, flowers and polished wood.

"You may smoke if you wish, ladies and gentlemen," Mrs Brown said,
taking from her shopping bag a pottery ashtray imprinted with the name
of a well-known city hotel.
The heavy cut-glass ashtray in the centre of the table was too remote
for use and the only other smoker, Mr Carlyle, economically tapped the
ash of his cigarette into a match box. The Rev Dunseverick, a
bald-eagle in charcoal grey, sat opposite Mrs Brown. Fr Ryan, the other
clergyman on the board wasn't present and had sent his apologies.

Mrs Brown called on Miss Martin to read the minutes. Miss Martin, a
pale, blonde-haired girl in a striped, charcoal grey business suit,
nervously did so. She wore heavy-rimmed glasses and had only recently
qualified as an accountant. She then passed the minutes to Mrs Brown
who signed them off with a flourish. Miss Martin had to ask Mrs Brown
to return her silver pen, which she was about to absently drop into her
shopping bag.

Financial and other routine matters were dealt with in punctilious
detail under the guidance of Mrs Brown. She then appeared to gird
herself when the disciplinary matter was broached.

"The permanent housemaid, Anne Grimes is pregnant and the caretaker,
Abraham Moles is the father, these are the facts," said Mrs Brown. "Do
we need to call either party?"

"In my opinion we should, if the chairperson agrees," said Miss martin,
her spectacles flashing.

"The facts are not in dispute, surely?" said Mr Carlyle.

"Not at this stage," Mrs Brown said. "If we were to take precipitate
action it might be a different story."

"I presume one or both should be dismissed," Mr Carlyle said.

"Rev Dunseverick?" queried Mrs Brown.

"I am not in favour of, er, precipitate action," he said. ""Judge not
lest ye be judged" and, again, "The mills of the Lord grind slowly, but
they grind exceedingly sure."

"Morals must be observed, surely," said Mrs Brown.

Almost a derisive snort came from Miss Martin and Mrs Brown raised her
ginger eyebrows.

"Miss Martin?"

"Most people aren't moral," Miss Martin said.

"Oh, please explain yourself," Mrs Brown challenged.

"They&;#8230;they are merely conventional," Miss Martin said.

"I see," said Mrs Brown. "and have you any constructive
proposal?"

"Yes, I think the man should be dismissed. Why should it always be the
woman?"

"That should be obvious, Miss Martin," Mrs Brown said.

""He's over fifty years of age and a married man. I'm not ashamed to
say I'm a feminist and I don't see why the woman should always be the
one to be blamed."

"We are not really concerned with blame," said Mrs Brown. "Our concern
is the good order and proper running of this institution."

"With respect to the chair," Miss Martin said, "I must object to that
out-dated description of the Refuge. And surely we have long won the
battle over type-cast sexual roles?"

Mrs Brown lit another cigarette.

"I can see we are not going to be unanimous on this," she said. "My own
opinion is that we should quietly dispense with the girl's
services."

"I protest in the strongest possible terms," said Miss Martin.

"If I may be allowed to continue," said Mrs Brown smoothly, "the girl
is a liability. Yes, "she held up an admonitory hand, "a liability.
Even if we were to dismiss Moles she may well prey on his
successor."

"This is outrageous," Miss Martin said under her breath.

"In addition," Mrs Brown said, "you will all be aware that Mrs Moles is
the housekeeper here. She works extremely loyally for quite small wages
and I would be most anxious not to lose her services."

"I think the Chair&;#8230;er, Chairperson has summed up the position
very clearly, very succinctly, " said Mr Carlyle, with a nervous glance
at Miss Martin who was furiously polishing her glasses.

"What about you, Rev Dunseverick?"

"Let him who is without sin cast the first stone," said the
clergyman

"Hopeless," said Mrs Brown under her breath.

"I agree with Rev Dunseverick," said Miss Martin.

"So far as I can see the Rev Dunseverick has merely quoted
Scripture."

"If the cap fits, wear it!" Miss Martin said.

"What exactly are you trying to say, Miss Martin?" Mrs Brown
challenged.

Miss Martin hesitated for a moment.

"There are matters that &;#8230; that need to be dealt with," she
stammered.

"Can we deal with the matter in hand?" Mrs Brown asked tartly.

"Well&;#8230;I would be in favour of dismissal of this man Moles,"
Miss Martin
said. "I've seen him about the place and he's a typical leering male
with only one thing on his mind. Anyway, my fall-back position would
have to be - no dismissal for either. But certainly not the girl on her
own."

"That's two for and two against," said Mrs brown. "Not a very
satisfactory outcome, but there it is."

There was little further business and the meeting closed with Mrs Brown
excusing herself to freshen up. After repairing her make up she looked
around the pale green, marble-tiled bathroom, more luxurious than the
much more basic one provided for the use of the women of the Refuge. On
a shelf over the bath was an expensive glass jar of bath salts. Mrs
Brown had some difficulty getting it into her bag as it was quite a lot
bigger than anything she had taken before. Although she covered it with
her cardigan it was difficult to conceal completely but she had become
more careless of late and didn't really bother too much as she came
back to the door of the boardroom where she said goodbye to Miss Martin
and Mr Carlyle. The Rev Dunseverick had already left.

Miss Martin rounded angrily on Mr Carlile.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she demanded. "Damn you, you're
hopeless."

Mr Carlyle, was embarrassed, but stung by her criticism.

"Why didn't you?" he asked huffily.

"I'm her enemy, she knows it," the girl said. "She would have accused
me of planting it."

"You DID plant it," Mr Carlyle said.

"Only in the bathroom. SHE stole it."
He shrugged again.

"She had it - you could see it sticking out. You only had to confront
her.."

"She'd have fought like a tiger all the way up to the Charity
Commissioners," Mr Carlyle said.

"We went to the trouble of&;#8230; it cost nearly four quid - and
she's got away with it."

"Look, she'll get caught in time. She's been reported before. Some shop
assistant&;#8230;someone who doesn't know her&;#8230;"

"Yes, some shop assistant will lose her job&;#8230;like happened
before."

"Have a care&;#8230;the hand that wields the knife&;#8230;"

"What do you mean? I have no personal ambitions. &;#8230;but that
woman&;#8230;"

"Perhaps you are not so brave yourself, Miss Martin," Mr Carlyle
said.

"If the cap fits, Mr Carlyle, if the cap fits!&;#8230;I practically
came out with it at the meeting," Miss Martin exploded. "You heard
me&;#8230;"

Three giggling pregnant girls strolled in.

" Can we have the room for our
relaxation classes, now, Miss," one of them said.

The End.