Grand Days by Frank Moorhouse

think there could be sixty of such,’ said Ambrose, ‘but we could follow up on that.’ He half-turned to Edith to make sure she’d noted it.
    Mandates asked if he could have the floor. Ambrose nodded.
    Mandates said that he had been authorised by his Director to say that the moving of the Mandate section to the Annex would be firmly opposed.
    Edith felt a tension enter the sub-committee. Back in Australia, she and John Latham had taken an interest in the Mandates section because Australia held New Guinea as a League Mandate. Members of this Section had been a little too enthusiastic in collecting evidence on the performance of the governing country from sources other than officials of the country, causing some unease among the mandate powers.
    â€˜On what grounds, then, does Mandates so strenuously oppose going to the Annex?’ Ambrose asked, nodding in her direction, as if to say, get this down in full.
    Mandates ran through a list of objections. ‘For instance, the question of the mandate of Iraq will be coming up at the next Assembly and we need to be situated close to the Council during that debate.’
    â€˜The chaps who ride camels,’ said Political, ‘and who eat dust and flies.’
    â€˜And in the case of Syria,’ said Liverright, ‘we have the chaps who eat snails and frogs watching over the chaps who eat dust and flies.’
    Edith enjoyed the irreverence while not smiling herself.
    Mandates went on, ‘May I continue, Major?’
    â€˜Settle down, everyone,’ said Ambrose.
    â€˜Finally, there is something I wish to say that doesn’t have to go in the minutes.’ Mandates glanced at Edith.
    Edith bridled. She did not like people instructing her onwhat should or should not go in minutes. Minutes were a legal record.
    She glanced at Ambrose who gave no indication that he saw the contention, so she spoke. ‘I feel that anything of substance said at this meeting should be in the legal record.’
    Mandates pulled a face of surprise. ‘For God’s sake, Madam Minutes Secretary, this is simply a sub-committee talking about the allocation of rooms.’
    Edith swallowed, gripped her pencil, and said, looking straight at him, ‘My name is Edith Campbell Berry.’ She then turned making a silent appeal to Ambrose.
    He said, ‘I rule that anything of substance goes into the minutes.’
    She did not say it, but it was also her experience that only the minutes truly remembered. Committees had faulty memories. ‘One more thing, if I may, Mr Chairman?’ Edith said, relishing speaking out, feeling the relaxation which always came to her once she had managed to speak.
    â€˜Speak, Madam Secretary, speak.’
    â€˜This meeting may only be about the allocation of rooms, but how we set ourselves up in buildings is a portrait of ourselves. More than that, even, it is an assertion of the gravity and spirit of the covenant.’ She then said quietly, so that it didn’t sound pretentious, ‘The physicals incorporate the philosophical.’
    â€˜Nicely put,’ someone said.
    â€˜We could adjourn and talk among ourselves,’ Mandates said, persisting, ‘or does Madam Minutes Secretary, Edith Campbell Berry, have objections to that also?’
    Ambrose laughed loudly, perhaps to break the tension. ‘I have ruled that everything said is for the record.’
    Mandates continued on, unhappily, ‘We fear that to move Mandates out of the Palais could be understood by the delegatesas being a punishment of Mandates. In a sense, it will be seen as being thrown out of the Palais. Downgraded.’
    â€˜We won’t sack you,’ Joshi said. ‘Someone has to stop those black chaps eating each other.’
    Edith suppressed her smile. She was curious that Joshi didn’t see himself as black. And she also noted to herself that she had never seen a black man on a committee before in her life.
    Ambrose