Chapter 18: Seconding

Three weeks in the past, Molcum Corkle makes his way through bracing sea air, with the shushing of waves on sand in his ears, watching the early summer sun dip down to the horizon. Lazabel, once more, thinks he’s out with some work friends. Molcum now has enough real local colleagues - from the latest Short and Madderley office that he’s helped to set up, now up and running in Folder Street - to be able to fake this with confidence. It’s not that the people he’s said he’ll meet aren’t real. He won’t have a problem remembering their names, what they look like, their mannerisms even - it’s just that he’s headed somewhere else entirely.

He strolls the length of the closed South Pier. Though they’re now in the tourist season, the Pier stays closed on Monday nights, which the Committee tonight takes advantage of. Ahead of him, Molcum sees the portly Rollum Osper, hotelier, rolling along beside the taller, gaunt Checkler Forliman, representative for charities and the town’s Railway Society.

This latest Steering Committee meeting will also be its last. A few members have changed since its first incarnation, two and a half months ago from this date. Sir Claren Chinlig of the town’s Chamber of Commerce, had so objected to the plan to sex up the town, is long resigned. Commissioner Stocks of the Kennigwort Police has declared himself no longer needed. Headmaster Leezing has protested that the Committee is such an extra burden on his time that he would rather not attend - he will abide by their decisions. In his stead, he has been sending Mr Cotillier, the electively non-punishing teacher of class ten minus. Cotillier, whose nickname amongst some other staff, and even some girls, is The Pouff, has attended - Molcum can see he is here tonight - but stays silent in the meetings unless called on, and invariably approves the majority decisions.

There’s much less milling around tonight. Molcum sees an earlier arrival, Scunner Pelling, being given a tour by the venue’s owner, Enton Mittles, of the risqué framed photos from The Corus Line’s heyday. There seem to be more of these up tonight - it looks to be a small-scale exhibition - though Molcum is not close enough, just having entered the octagonal building, to make out much detail. But Mittles is animated and Pelling seems to be enjoying their talk, laughing at Mittles’ comments, being made to feel special. Molcum finds he’s feeling a little bit jealous.

Once everyone is in the place, Garrold Munnet, Chairman of the Steering Committee, who Molcum had first met when picking up Taudren from a play-meet with Munnet’s son, quickly calls on the members to take their seats. As soon as they have done so, Munnet calls the meeting to order, then invites its members to reintroduce themselves, starting with himself and running anti-clockwise.

“I am Garrold Munnet of Kennigwort District Planning Authority, but officially now here as a parent of two girls at Kennigwort Girls Independent.” And the man who asked me onto this thing, Molcom thinks.

To his right, the next man speaks. “Carles Egremont, Kennigwort Town Authority chief Executive. Though be assured that none of these proceedings will be reported back to the town’s elected members, since Kennigwort Senior Girls is now fully independent. Glad to be here tonight for one last meeting though, Chair.”

“Idward Eastman,” says the man to Egremont’s right. “Current Governor of Kennigwort Girls Independent.”

The third man along says, “Roman Reghunt. Like Idward, a current governor of Kennigwort Girls. Though I think we’re here to talk about that, eh?”

Next along is the portly, ruddy-cheeked hotelier with his rounded, jolly voice. “Rollum Osper, for touristic interests, own a hotel on the front.”

The taller, thinner man to his right says in a higher pitch, “Getting to know each other quite well by now, aren’t we, Osper? Checkler Forliman, representing town charities. My own particular obsession being the Kennigwort Heritage Railway Society.”

“Lairgy Mudruff, non-tourist businesses, Gattreys Investments,” the last man on that side of the table growls.

The far head of the table declares himself. “Colim Cotting, current Chairman of the Governors of both Independent Schools - boys and girls - though I believe that may be up for debate tonight.”

To his right, on the other side of the table, the relaxed man with a neatly-trimmed grey beard and moustache says, “Enton Mittles. Councillor for Seafront - also not reporting back - here representing Tourist Attractions. Owner of this building, The Chorus Line. Also father of an ex-student at the girls school.”

“Molcum Corkle,” says Molcum. “Parent of one girl and one boy at the schools.”

The next after Molcum, a wiry compact man, says, “Scunner Pelling, joiner by trade. Parent of one girl who’s just left and one who’s just starting.”

Molcum is pleased that Pelling has sat next to him this time. He’d already taken his own usual seat, with Mittles then taking his normal seat to his left. But the next two have swapped places, which he finds he doesn’t mind. Though Pelling has some intensity to him, at least he’s not Dickle, whose nose twitches and sudden flourishes of scratching can make Molcum jump right there in his seat. While the man himself, with his nasal monotone voice, he’s starting to find reptilian. Pelling, with his throaty, coarse laugh and quick hand movements is still more animated than Molcum prefers, but he’d rather have Pelling than Dickle to his right.

“Pieter Dickle,” says the man to Pelling’s own right. “Teacher and Department Head, Kennigwort Independent Girls. Looking forward to this particular meeting.”

“Yeah and I’m Lankworth Scutter, parent of Imenna, JT you prob’ly know her as,” says the next along. “Dickle certainly knows her, don’t you? He’s had her spread her bits for him often enough.”

At this mention by Scutter, Dickle’s nose goes through a paroxysm. He’s trying hard not to look at the sleazy-voiced man.

“Don’t think I haven’t watched the lot,” Scutter sniffs. “Still, if it can make us a few bob in the end, like that one was promising...”

That one seems to be Garrold Munnet at the near head of the table. Munnet cues the last man, to his immediate left, to speak. This man’s voice produces oddly rounded vowels, while his head moves seem over-rotated - mannered - perhaps falsely feminised. “Frink Cotillier, teacher at the girls school,” the man enunciates slowly, “standing in for Headmaster Leezing.”

“Welcome all,” says Munnet, then looks down at papers immediately in front of him. By his right hand is a pile of folded voting slips and a jar full of half-length pencils. “The main item on tonight’s agenda is the reconstitution, as trailed by Messrs Reghunt and Cotting, of the Board of Governors of Kennigwort Independent Girls. Though there may be some crossover members between the two schools - the senior boys and senior girls schools - will from now on have independent governing bodies. Mr Cotting, could I ask you to please prepare the ground?”

The man at the opposite head of the table to Munnet clears his throat. “With pleasure,” he says. “Firstly, let me just look around. I think it fair to say that everyone now present is fully in on board for the tone of the changes that we’ve all approved for the girls school. Each of you, if not fully enthused, is at least acquiescent. I must say it makes for a welcome change to the atmosphere in which myself, plus Governors Eastman and Reghunt have been working in our parallel roles of active governors. Until just last week, we were part of a group of five. Some of you here may have voted directly for Governor Eastman, of course, when the intransigent DR-supporting female governor, Miss Fingler, was recalled last year in a special election. Following which, old Mr Tumper was - ah - minded to resign. Which, as you should know, allowed Governor Reghunt there to win a second special vote.”

As he mentions their names, each of these men, second and third away from Garrold Munnet, nods.

Cotting continues, “The three of us have been undergoing a series of unpleasant - argumentative - frankly, bad-tempered meetings with the two remaining old cohort of governors, Pelacki and Sheed. Meetings to which, I might add, Headmaster Leezing sent regular apologies for absence. Different excuses, same result.”

Dickle openly laughs when he hears this.

“Though consistently out-voted,” Cotting says, “Sheed and Pelacki did succeed in making the atmosphere quite unbearable. But we three battled on and I am pleased to announce that the process is, at last, complete. Kennigwort Independent Girls’ alternative uniforms and Allowable Punishment Rules have now been fully revised, in line with the plan approved by this steering committee, and broadly in line with the Government’s own allowances in last year’s Education Reform Bill. Written, revised, voted and approved by majority vote. My great personal thanks to my colleagues Eastman and Reghunt for battling through that ugly process. In thanks - and since their presence here tonight must surely be both pertinent and propitious - they sit here to fill spaces vacated by other former Steering Committee Members.”

“I think a round of applause is in order for your sterling efforts,” says Munnet, and starts the clapping himself.

One member seems to clap ironically - Lairgy Mudruf, the gruff investments firm owner - while others seem sincere, and at least a couple cheer. Mittles, owner of the Chorus Line, leads this biggest response, with Pelling joining in. Molcum, in the middle, feels frozen-faced and embarrassed by comparison.

Cotting, Eastman and Reghunt take the accolade, till Cotting makes downward motions with both hands. “As seems to be the way with these things,” he says, “after final approval, both Sheed and Pelacki resigned from the Board of Governors. From both the girls and boys schools, I should add.”

“In protest?” asks the growl-voiced Mudruff, to Cotting’s immediate left.

“I believe so,” says Cotting. “But that leaves us with a Board of Governors consisting of just three people - Leezing being a serial no-show from the girls side, and his counterpart from the boys school having no right to attend any girls school discussions - which is, of course, inadequate. In fact, having a board of just five active governors struck the three of us as being under-powered, at best.”

“Though that’s how the council did set it up,” says Mittles (also Councillor for Seafront).

“Of course,” Cotting replies. “Though with there being just the three of us did allow us to co-ordinate our responses closely. As well as helping with the drafting process. But we intend - hope - to expand that number again today in a newly-constituted Board.”

“How many?” asks Mudruff.

“We propose - suggest - twelve.”

Opposite Mudruff, Enton Mittles, so recently cheering, asks skeptically, “You mean - through a public vote?”

Cotting clears his throat again. “Actually, no. We think - wonder - if such a vote might prove counter-productive. Also, the categories of members we hope to bring in are not necessarily ones you’d put to a public vote.”

“Why?” Mudruff asks with phlegmatic brevity.

“If I may?” says Egremont, the young Town Chief Executive, up by Garrold Munnet’s right.

Cotting nods and points towards the man.

Egremont says, “Some potential voters - parents of schoolgirls - may shortly become cognizant of the newly-resigned governors’ objections. The departing governors, Mr Sheed and Mr Pelacki, may publicly disown those new rules, to avoid association with them. They are - broadly - Democratic Reform-supporting, I imagine. A public vote is likely to provide them with a platform to broadcast their objections. For framing them antagonistically, in fact. Which might well prove counter-productive to this Committee’s stated policy - the aptly-named Notoriety Gambit, our adopted scheme to propel the town to prominence. To put the gambit as succinctly as I can, controversial publicity gets everyone talking, especially beyond the town, so should theoretically prove both inexpensive and surprisingly effective as a form of advertising. But if the cat is let out of the bag too soon, local parents may get the wrong impression and start making a fuss. Thinking the governors’ new rules are intended to target all girls at the school - when in truth, they are not. You must all be aware that new yellow and, particularly, orange uniforms will soon be introduced, bringing to prominence the daughters of - in the cases of Mr Scutter and Mr Pelling - more willing, enthusiastic parents.”

Mudruff growls, “Or the kids of single mothers who can’t vote. Girls with wimps for fathers, like that. Don’t glare at me, Corkle, I’m just calling a spade a spade here.”

Molcum keeps his lips pressed tight. But Enton Mittles adds, “The lookers’ parents might benefit soon enough anyway, from a share of SPD distribution profits.”

“What profits?” snipes Mudruff, “that BaseGirlies Database is free!”

Egremont, ignoring the use of the popular reworking of Schoolgirl Punishment Database, says, “Fair share of peripheral advertising. International distribution and so on.”

Mittles crows, “Commerce! You see? The way of the world!”

Lankworth Scutter, glaring at Mudruff, grumbles, “Easy for you rich sods to gloat. My Imenna’s ticket to stardom, this is. She gets thousands of clicks, her! Deny me and her that, would you?”

Mittles says, “We’re not denying anyone anything. As you know, I’m all for it! Bring it on. Bring it here!”

The young Chief Executive, Egremont, quietly clears his throat. “If I may continue,” he says. “Recall that this Committee was convened by invitation. And the three remaining members of the Governors Board may, to prevent another unscheduled pubic vote, second others into positions vacated by resigning members.”

The rotund Rollum Osper hesitantly lifts his hand.

“Mr Osper,” Garrold Munnet says, pointing with a gentle whole-hand movement.

“Seconding. That’s just asking someone to do it, right?” he asks.

“Yes,” says Egremont.

“But,” says Osper, “he just said twelve. Expand them up to twelve, the governors. Can just three governors invite in all nine? I mean, and who would they be?”

Munnet says, “These are the issues we are here to discuss. But in principle, I personally see no problem in the plan. What form do you imagine for your expanded Board of Governors, Cotting?”

“Yes, thanks. We were thinking,” says Cotting, “since Town Council reps are no longer required - they made the school independent to cut themselves out - plausible deniability, all that - that we could have me, Eastman and Reghunt restyled as Community Governors. Since we’ve been voted in by parents and so on. We’d add two more School Governors from the staff - Leezing is the only one right now - and bring in three Parent Governors too, plus three School-Sponsoring Governors.”

As each category is mentioned, Molcum spots more Steering Committee members looking up and down the table. There are fourteen men present. Three are already governors. Nine places are on offer. He finds himself saying, “Do you mean - from us lot?”

There’s a general murmuring. Forliman from the Railway Society says, “Sponsoring? What sort of sponsors are you looking for then?”

Lairgy Mudruff, the growl-voiced owner of the Investments Firm, says, “Can’t be us, Gattreys. Not yet, anyway. Bit of a red flag at this point in the thing.”

“Really?” asks Cotting, to Mudruff’s right. “Myself and the others had sort of hoped -”

“Investments. Too risky. Maybe later. Let’s see how this town notoriety bollocks works.”

“Well that’s the thing. Notoriety.” This comes from Osper, the portly hotelier. “I mean, I’m here for hotels in general I suppose, but what about me? What if some parent - some DR fanatic - decides to target me and my business?”

“That is a valid point,” says Munnet from the table’s left head, directing his comment to Cotting at far right.

“Well we three are public as Governors,” he says. “Our addresses are listed already.”

Molcum pipes up. “I wouldn’t want my own name known. If you imagined me being in the running, that is. Definitely not by my employers - not even by my own family, to be honest. They don’t exactly know I’m here again tonight.”

“My point, more or less,” growls Lairgy Mudruff.

Though further down the table, Scutter mutters, “Coward.”

“Well I’ll do it,” says Mittles. “The Chorus Line may be a café right now, but I’d love it to loop back to the sauce of its past! If you’re looking for sponsors, and the buy-in won’t rifle my pockets too deep ... that is, if The Chorus Line is not too small a business ... I’d even put up signs!” He makes a big gesture, arms up in the air drawing a banner. ”’The Chorus Line, proud sponsors of Kennigwort Independent Girls!’ You can publish this address as a sponsoring business! I don’t hide the place’s history, and it certainly seems to intrigue a lot of hubbies. Though they can look embarrassed if their ball and chains are glowering at them!” He points behind to framed black and white photos.

“That’s exactly the sort of idea. Fantastic,” says Cotting. “So, you’d like to be a governor?”

“For the cause!” says Mittles theatrically. He’s right next to Chair of Governors Cotting. Mittles leans forward, drops the man a wink and whispers, “Talk turkey later, eh?”

Munnet, the meeting’s chairman, says, “Quick vote, please. Simply put, those in favour of expanding the cohort of School Governors via seconding - given that parents, sponsors and school staff are generic categories, I suppose. Leaving total numbers out of it, for now.

He gets thirteen to one for, with none against and only Lairgy Mudruff abstaining.

Cotting the governor asks, “May I ask your reason for abstaining, Mr Mudruff?”

Garrold Munnet, chair of this meeting, says, “We needn’t grill members on their answers, Cotting.”

But Mudruff has shrugged and is already answering. “Quirk. Trying it on for size? Bit of a rubber-stamp body this, right?”

“I’d do it,” says Lankworth Scutter in his guttering voice. “Cause I’m a parent, aren’t I? Specially if there’s money in it. Don’t care if you stick my address down on some official wotsit, do I? Everyone knows my daughter’s a slut.”

After a short, embarrassed silence, Governor Cotting says, “I’m sure we will bear that in mind, Mr Scutter.”