‘Or famous pictures?’ said Anne Umfraville. ‘A man once told me I looked like Mona Lisa. I admit he’d drunk a lot of Martinis. We want something that will bring everyone in ‘
‘Rubens’s Rape of the Sabine Women,’ said Moreland ‘or The Garden of Earthly Delights by Hieronymus Bosch We might even be highbrows, while we’re about it, and do Les Demoiselles d’Avignon. What’s against a little practical cubism?’
Sir Magnus nodded approvingly.
‘We girls don’t want to die of cold,’ said Anne Umfraville. ‘Nothing too rough, either. I’m not feeling particularly cubistic tonight.’
‘Or too highbrow,’ said Templer. ‘Nick will get out of hand. I know him of old. Let’s stick to good straightforward stuff, don’t you agree, Magnus — Anne doing a strip-tease, for instance.’
‘Nothing sordid,’ said Anne Umfraville, her attention distinctly engaged by this last suggestion. ‘It must all be at a high intellectual level, or I shan’t play.’
‘Well-known verses, then,’ said Moreland,
I was a king in Babylon,
And you were a Christian slave….
— not that I can ever see how the couple in question managed to be those utterly disparate things at the same moment in history — or, to change the mood entirely:
Now all strange hours and all strange loves are over,
Dreams and desires and sombre songs and sweet …
There is good material in both of those. The last would be convenient for including everyone.’
My own mind was still on the tapestries. What could be better than variations on the spectacle these already offered?
‘Why not the Seven Deadly Sins?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Anne Umfraville.
‘Modern version,’ said Moreland.
‘A good idea,’ agreed Sir Magnus. ‘A very good idea indeed.’
He nodded his head in support of the Board’s — the Cabinet’s — proposal. That was the tone of his words. He glanced round to talk. There was no dissentient voice.
‘I shall look forward to seeing some first-rate acting after dinner,’ he said.
He nodded his head again. Everything he did had about it heavy, sonorous overtones. He was entirely free from gaiety. Nothing of that kind could ever have troubled him. There was suddenly a tremendous gasp from Betty Templer, who had been quite silent while all this discussion was taking place.
‘Oh, we haven’t got to act, have we?’ she now cried out in a voice of despair. ‘I can’t act. I never was able to. Need we really?’
‘Oh, don’t be so silly, darling,’ said Templer, addressing her for the first time that evening rather sharply. ‘It’s only a game. Nothing much will be expected of you. Don’t try and wreck everything from the start.’
‘But I can’t act.’
‘It will be all right.’
‘Oh, I wish I hadn’t come.’
‘Pull yourself together, Betty.’
This call to order made her lips tremble. Again, I thought there were going to be tears. However, once more she recovered herself. She was more determined than one might suppose.
‘Yes, you must certainly play your part, Betty,’ said Sir Magnus, with just a hint, just the smallest suggestion, of conscious cruelty. ‘We are exactly seven, so everyone must do his or her bit.’
‘We’re eight,’ said Moreland. ‘Surely you yourself are not going to be sinless?’
‘I shall only be the photographer,’ said Sir Magnus, smiling firmly.
‘What are the Seven Deadly Sins, anyway?’ said Anne Umfraville. ‘I can never remember. Lust, of course-we all know that one — but the others, Pride------ ‘
‘Anger — Avarice — Envy — Sloth — Gluttony,’ said Isobel.
‘They are represented all round us,’ said Sir Magnus, making a gesture towards the walls, at the same time wiping his lips very carefully with a napkin, as if in fear of contamination, ‘sometimes pictured rather whimsically.’
He seemed cheered as Moreland by what lay ahead. He must also have decided either that a little more drink would improve the tableaux, or that the measure of wine up to then provided was insufficient to clear him unequivocally of the sin of Avarice, because he said in an aside to the butler: ‘I think we shall need some more of that claret.’
‘How are we to decide what everyone is going to do?’ said Anne Umfraville. ‘Obviously Lust is the star part.’
‘Do you think so, Anne?’ said Sir Magnus, feigning ponderous reproof. ‘Then to prevent argument, I must decide for you all. It will be my privilege as host. I shall allot everyone a Sin. Then they will be allowed their own team to act it. Peter, I think we can rely on you to take charge of Lust — which for some reason Anne seems to suppose so acceptable to everyone — for I don’t think we can offer such a sin to a lady. Perhaps, Anne, you would yourself undertake Anger — no, no, not a word. I must insist. Matilda — Envy. Not suit you? Certainly I think it would suit you. Lady Isobel, no one could object to Pride. Betty, I am going to ask you to portray Avarice. It is a very easy one, making no demand on your powers as an actress. Nonsense, Betty, you will do it very well. We will all help you. Hugh, don’t be offended if I ask you to present Gluttony. I have often heard you praise the pleasures of the table above all others. Mr Jenkins, I fear there is nothing left for you but Sloth. There are, of course, no personal implications. I am sure it is quite inappropriate, but like Avarice, it makes no great demands on the actor.’
If the administrative capacity of Sir Magnus Donners had ever been at all in question before that moment, his ability to make decisions — and have them obeyed — was now amply demonstrated. Naturally, a certain amount of grumbling took place about the allotment of Sins, but only superficial. No vital objection was raised. In the end everyone bowed to the Donners ruling. Even Betty Templer made only a feeble repetition of the statement that she could not act at all. It was brushed aside for the last time. Moreland was especially delighted with the idea of portraying Gluttony.
‘Can we do them in here?’ he asked, ‘everyone in front of his or her appropriate Sin?’
‘Certainly,’ said Sir Magnus, ‘certainly. We will return after coffee.’
He had become more than ever like an energetic, dominating headmaster, organising extempore indoor exercise for his pupils on an afternoon too wet for outdoor games. A faint suggestion of repressed, slightly feverish excitement under his calm, added to this air, like some pedagogue confronted with aspects of his duties that gratify him almost to the point of aberration. The rest of dinner passed with much argument as to how best the Sins were to be depicted. All of us drank a lot, especially Moreland, Templer and Anne Umfraville, only Sir Magnus showing his usual moderation. The extravagance of the project offered temporary relief from personal problems, from the European scene. I had not expected the evening to turn out this way. There could be no doubt that Sir Magnus, genuinely exhilarated, was, as much as anyone, casting aside his worries. While the table was cleared, we had coffee in the Chinese Room, drawing lots as to the order in which the Sins should be presented. Camera and arc lamps were moved into the dining-room.
‘Do you want any companions, Hugh?’ asked Sir Magnus.
‘Gluttony at its most enjoyable dispenses with companionship,’ said Moreland, who was to lead off.
He had surrounded himself with dishes of fruit and liqueur bottles, from both of which he was helping himself liberally.
‘Be prepared for the flash,’ said Sir Magnus.
Moreland, not prepared, upset a glass of Kümmel. He must have been photographed half-sprawled across the table. It was agreed to have been a good performance.