Oliver Murray

Realpolitik at the Refuge


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. She had a few minutes to spare when she arrived at the Refuge and, after parking her car, she had time to take cuttings from a philadelphus and a wisteria that grew along the front wall. She stowed the cuttings away in a plastic bag lined with damp moss that she had taken from her garden pool that morning. Mrs Brown then examined her face in the mirror of her compact and walked towards the entrance of the red-brick building.

A pregnant girl was mopping the front steps and another 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 appeared acceptable.

"Have you girls nothing better to do?" Mrs Brown demanded.

"We’re just talking," the seated girl said.

"Your friend, at least, is making herself useful," Mrs Brown said tartly, "which I can hardly say about you. Please go to Mrs Moles in the kitchen and ask her if there is any work she needs doing."

The girl blushed, then climbed out of the urn and ran away along the gravel towards the side of the house.



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. The heavy cut-glass ashtray in the centre of the table was too remote for use and Mrs Brown produced from her shopping bag a pottery ashtray bearing the name of a well-known city hotel. The Rev Dunseverick, a bald-eagle in grey sat opposite Mrs Brown alongside cherub-faced Mr Carlyle. Fr Ryan, the other clergyman on the board was absent and had sent his apologies.

Mrs Brown called on Miss Martin, the secretary, to read the minutes. Miss Martin, a pale girl in heavy-rimmed glasses, who had only recently qualified as an accountant, nervously did so. She then passed the minutes with her pen to Mrs Brown who signed them off with a flourish. Miss Martin had to ask Mrs Brown to return the heavyr 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 for serious matters.

"I am afraid there is a disciplinary matter which must be addressed, " she said, tapping the blotter in front of her with her spectacles. She looked around her, challengingly.

Nobody spoke, although Miss Martin made a note on her pad.

"Very well, some of you will already have heard that the permanent housemaid, Anne Grimes is pregnant. Further enquires have revealed that 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, however, 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.

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…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, foolish though she may be, 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 ago 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, sympathetically but quietly, dispense with the girl’s services."

"Sympathetically!" Miss Martin exploded, "May I protest in the strongest possible terms?"

"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, wife of the said Abraham, is the permanent housekeeper here. She works extremely loyally for quite small wages, partly because it would be difficult for her husband, er, Abraham, to find employment elsewhere. Abraham is not a bad man, but a certain propensity for drink…"

"That is not our concern," Miss Martin said hotly.

"If I may be permitted to continue," Mrs Brown said, " I would be most anxious not to lose her services."

"I think the Chair…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 spectacles.

"What about you, Rev Dunseverick?" Mrs Brown demanded.

"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 … that need to be dealt with," she stammered.

"Can we deal with the matter in hand?" Mrs Brown asked tartly. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

Miss Martin hesitated.

"Well…I would be in favour of the dismissal of this man Moles," she said. "I’ve seen him about the place and he’s a typical leering male with only one thing on his mind. "

"Miss Martin, please, be aware of what you are saying," Mrs Brown cautioned.

"Anyway, my fall-back position would have to be – no dismissal for either. But certainly not the girl on her own."

"I don’t want to have to call a vote on this," said Mrs Brown. "It would appear that we may be evenly divided ."

"I am not sure that is the case," Miss Martin said, "Mr Carlyle didn’t say…"

"Whatever way Mr Carlyle would vote is irrelevant, Mrs Brown said.. "The motion could not succeed, as, at best, we would be evenly divided. 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 residents 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 bit 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.

The Rev Dunseverick had already left. Mrs Brown looked around her, said a tart goodbye to Miss Martin and Mr Carlyle and then sailed out through the door in her usual stately fashion.

Miss Martin rounded angrily on Mr Caryle.

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

Mr Carlyle, embarrassed, was 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… it cost nearly six quid – and she’s got away with it."

"Look, she’ll get caught in time. She’s been reported before. Some shop assistant…someone who doesn’t know her…"

"Yes, some shop assistant will lose her job…like happened before."

"Have a care…the hand that wields the knife…"

"What do you mean? I have no personal ambitions...but that woman…"

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

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

Three giggling pregnant girls strolled in.

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