Grand Days by Frank Moorhouse Page B

go to the Annex, which must have been pretty much known before the meeting, there was, in fact, no decision that this committee could have reached — unless some sections ganged up on one section and threw it out of the Palais. For this committee the problem was insoluble. It was the wrong committee for the problem.
    She put down her pencil. It clattered and the committee looked to her, as did Ambrose.
    â€˜Our minutes secretary has spoken,’ said Ambrose. ‘This meeting is closed.’
    People gathered their papers and began to leave. But most of them came over to welcome her personally.
    The two women came to her and told her not to take too much notice of Liverright’s joking or Mandate’s irritability. ‘Liverright’s a smart aleck,’ Figgis said. They both said that they would contact her and invite her to tea.
    As the two women stood there talking to her, she was aware that Liverright was also waiting back.
    When they’d gone, he came over to her. ‘Hope you weren’t offended.’
    â€˜I can take a joshing.’
    â€˜Good.’ He said lamely, ‘I hope I see you about the place.’ He then said, ‘Do call in,’ with a charm which changed it from a courtesy to a personal proposition. He shambled off.
    Her first day and her first approach of that sort from a young man. She was conscious that Ambrose was eavesdropping.
    Ambrose and she were left in the room. She liked the aftermath of committee meetings, the sudden relaxing into informality as the gathering was reduced to those who were allies, or to those who were linked together as officials of the situation. Now she was left with her new friend who at the same time was an allied functionary — the chairman and the minutes secretary.
    â€˜Somewhat of a flop,’ he said. ‘Hope you don’t judge the Secretariat by this meeting.’
    â€˜I was somewhat of a flop as well. Sorry.’
    â€˜You weren’t! Not at all. I thought you were precisely correct. Handled it all well.’
    She needed to believe him but couldn’t decently seek any further assurance. She said, ‘It was not the right committee for the sort of decision we had to make,’ hoping to repair her position by saying something of merit.
    â€˜Who should make it?’
    â€˜You and I should’ve made it,’ she joked.
    â€˜Shall we?’
    â€˜Make a recommendation? On what authority?’
    â€˜Oh, we could say that following the impasse of the meetingthe secretary and chairman make the following recommendation, blah blah.’
    â€˜Could you and I agree?’
    â€˜Let’s try. Who would you send to the Annex?’
    â€˜On the evidence of this one meeting?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜And bring down on my head the wrath of whatever section we send to Siberia?’
    He laughed. ‘And upon my head as well.’
    â€˜Translating can go for a start. As punishment for japing me.’
    Ambrose pursed his lips. ‘A very good idea indeed.’
    It was too soon to admit it as a fully certain idea, but Edith already sensed romantic competition for her between Ambrose and Liverright. She said, ‘After all, Translating is not dealing directly with delegates, only with documents,’ trying to make it sound a rational suggestion.
    â€˜Fine, we send Translating to the Annex,’ said Ambrose. ‘Write it down. Bundle off Liverright and his gang.’
    She laughed. ‘I suppose I could punish Mandates as well. But that would be unfair.’
    â€˜You would have the death of two fine ladies on your conscience. We will send Translating. We shall wage utter war on Translating,’ Ambrose said, looking to her as he echoed their time on the train.
    She smiled at him and gathered her things.
    After the meeting she went to the library and surreptitiously looked up Zembla in the atlas and encyclopedia and could not find it. Zembla was, then, a fictitious