Ten Lords A-Leaping (7 page)

Dolamore’s speech was frequently interrupted by cheers, though his fan club, it seemed to Amiss, was mainly at the back of the hall. He couldn’t imagine the woolly hats would be entirely supportive of the notion that species egalitarianism put them on a par with mice. Yet he acknowledged Dolamore’s astonishing oratorical gift. His apparent sincerity was so overwhelming it was hard not to ignore the content and simply be carried along by the style.

From the premise of the equality of all species, Dolamore took his audience logically through history from barbarism to enlightenment, bringing in and extending to animals insights from an eclectic range from Thomas Paine to Buddha. Movingly, he described the advance from darkness into light. His voice soared and swooped and sometimes fell to a near murmur, but it was clear, often thrilling and always compelling.

Having taken the audience through landmarks like the abolition of bear-baiting and cock-fighting he produced his charter of demands for the future. The whole audience was caught up in the excitement. Even the baroness was rapt in concentration. The sporadic applause increased in frequency and loudness and now came from all round the room. But such was Dolamore’s quality as an orator that he could instantly, with no more than a gesture of a finger, restore absolute silence.

When his peroration about the Brotherhood of the Species ended with the exhortation, ‘to take this crusade into every home in Britain so as to make it a shining example to the world,’ Dolamore sat down abruptly, sweat glinting on his face and staining his vest. His eyes continued to bore into the audience, which rose as one activist and cheered and clapped like crazed pop fans. Even Amiss was sufficiently carried away to stand up, but emboldened once again by his companion’s rugged independence in staying in her seat without clapping, he sat down again.

‘He hasn’t converted you?’

‘I never was cut out for Nuremberg rallies,’ she said acidly. ‘For a moment there I had my doubts about you.’

After about three minutes, Dolamore rose to his feet and made a silencing gesture to the audience, hands up and palms out as if to push them back into their seats. They obliged instantly.

The chairman stood up, seeming a little dazed.

‘Thank you, Jerry. My goodness, what an experience this has been for all of us. What an extraordinary trio of champions we have here. Our fine legal mind…’ He bowed at Parsons. ‘Our humble, loving Brother, so attuned to his animal friends.’ He bowed at Brother Francis. ‘And now our great inspiration, our champion, advancing before us all with the banner of justice and equality. Truly he is the veritable Lord Wilberforce of our time.’

The slightly baffled look on Dolamore’s face gave Amiss the impression that the name of that doughty opponent of slavery had not been big in Australia. The chairman looked at his watch.

‘Good Lord. How time flies. It’s a quarter to ten and we really must be out of here by ten o’clock.’

As bathetic moments went, thought Amiss, this rather resembled a caretaker explaining to the SS that he’d be locking up in a minute so would they please make ready to march out of the stadium. ‘So only a few questions. Yes?’

A woolly hat rose.

‘Please,’ she squeaked. ‘I want to know what we are to do?’

The chairman looked enquiringly at Lady Parsons.

‘Write in support of this bill to your MPs and local councillors and tell them you want evidence that they are putting pressure on members of the House of Lords through public speeches and private lobbying. I understand the Animal Rights Federation can provide you with lists of companies with peers as board members. Write to the chairmen threatening to boycott their company’s products if the peers on their board don’t vote the right way. And write individually to peers making it clear that this issue will not go away.’

‘Brother Francis?’

‘Prayer, of course. And spreading the word to your friends and neighbours so that they too can help in this holy work.’

‘Jerry?’

‘Demonstrate outside the Lords and outside the homes of the key perpetrators of these foul practices. We will hand you the list at the door. And remember too, that it is, as Brother Francis says, a holy crusade, so we must make it clear that wrongdoing will be punished. And when you demonstrate, do so with fervour and do so with pride.’

This solicited another outbreak of cheering and clapping. From the back of the hall came a truculent North-country accent.

‘We don’t want to be namby-pamby about this.’

‘A man after your own heart,’ whispered Amiss to the baroness.

‘If the police try to silence us or deny us our right to protest democratically, it is our duty to resist them as we would any forces of fascism.’

‘Excuse me, Chair,’ said Lady Parsons. ‘It is important that no one should damage this cause by any form of violence.’

‘The violence,’ said the heavy voice from the back, ‘will be from the oppressive agents of the state. Self-defence is our right.’

‘Yes, well, I’m sure no one will do anything silly,’ said the chairman, with more hope than conviction. ‘Now if that’s all…’

To Amiss’s alarm, the baroness leapt to her feet. ‘Mr Chairman.’

‘Yes?’

‘I have a question for each of the speakers.’

‘Oh, I don’t think there’s time…’

‘There will be time if you don’t interrupt.’

He subsided into his chair looking sullen.

‘First, Lady Parsons. You stated that it was the duty of the Lords, as of the Commons, to respond to the wish of ninety-four per cent of the population that fox-hunting be abolished.’

‘Certainly.’ Parsons was calm.

‘How do you square that with your well-known opposition to capital punishment. Over ninety-four per cent of the population are in favour of that.’

‘That is an absolutely false comparison.’

‘How?’

‘Because it is the duty of representatives of the people to be morally in the lead. On capital punishment, in due course the people will follow. In this case, the people have been morally ahead of their legislators.’

‘What a load of dishonest bullshit.’

‘Really,’ squeaked the chairman. ‘I must protest.’

Hisses and boos came from the audience. She raised her voice. ‘Now, I would like Brother Francis, Lord Purseglove, to explain how if animals are all that is good, sweet and innocent, they spend so much of their time hunting and killing each other.’

‘Only some of them,’ he bleated. ‘Think how many of them are vegetarian: the hippopotamus, the squirrel, the hare. It will be for us to wean those still locked in the primitive pursuit of flesh to a vegetarian path. Why, I have as a companion, at this very time, a pussy cat who is fed on soya and biscuits and if you saw her gambol happily when I bring her her food, you would know that she had no need for the flesh of her fellow creatures.’

Her contemptuous snort trumpeted forth.

‘My God, you’re even barmier than I thought. Some people are daft enough to try to alter human nature, but you’re the first person I’ve come across who’s ambitious enough to take this as far as the animal kingdom. I wish you luck.’

He smiled at her in a saintly manner. ‘Thank you, sister.’

‘Now, Mr Dolamore,’ she shouted over the chorus of disapproval which had broken out behind her. Dolamore quelled the audience with a gesture. His eyes bored into hers.

‘You make it clear that it’s all baloney about this bill being a one-off. That wasn’t just rhetoric. Fishing next, then the shooting and killing of animals for meat or clothing. This is what your organization wants. Is that now official?’

‘Certainly,’ he said. ‘I am not a compromiser.’

‘Nice company you find yourself in, Lady Parsons,’ she said. She picked up her voluminous bag, jerked her head at Amiss and began to walk down the aisle towards the back door. The booing started halfway down and from the back row suddenly erupted several dozen angry people shouting abuse, waving banners and fists and blocking her exit. Amiss looked around for police, bouncers or just people anxious to defend the right to express dissent. There were none, merely some anxious-looking people who had no intention of getting themselves mixed up in any trouble.

‘Let’s just stand here, Jack, until they calm down,’ he whispered.

‘Rubbish. When I want to leave I leave. Out of my way!’ she shouted to the group in front of her.

The hubbub grew louder. An unpleasant-looking individual with a banner saying, ‘Animal Liberation is the Moral Issue’, stepped forward and waved a piece of paper in front of her.

‘Sign this petition.’

She looked at it. ‘Certainly not.’

‘Sign it!’ he shouted. His cohorts took up the chant.

Amiss could hear bleatings from the platform. He looked back quickly and saw all four on their feet calling for calm. But on this occasion even Dolamore’s hypnotic influence had no effect; the mob were caught up in their local objective.

‘Sign it!’ they shouted. ‘Sign it, sign it, sign it, sign it.’

Jack Troutbeck began to push forward. Frightened but resigned, Amiss moved with her. Suddenly he felt a stunningly painful blow on his shoulder and emitted a yelp. An ugly-looking youth leered at him, raised his banner high in the air and aimed it at Amiss’s head. Within seconds he had screamed, dropped his banner and was clutching his right arm, on which Jack had just landed an energetic blow with a horsewhip. As she brandished it at the youth in front, he hesitated.

‘Tally-ho!’ she shouted and cracked the whip on the floor with a noise so threatening that ahead of her the demonstrators parted like the River of Jordan. She turned, bowed at the platform and, followed by a rather sheepish-looking Amiss, marched out with her head held high and a happy and triumphant grin.

Chapter 8

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‘So that’s the opposition. Your next job is to get to grips with our side.’ The baroness scooped another snail out of its shell, inserted it into her mouth and crooned appreciatively.

‘You like snails?’

‘Especially when they get the garlic just right. I like lots.’ She looked in a rather troubled fashion at his plate. ‘Are you sure that pâté is all right? It looks a bit finely cut to me.’

‘It suits me. But thank you for your concern.’

She shook her head. ‘Pâté should be coarse and preferably made of wild boar. Anyway, did you enjoy yourself?’

‘Well, I certainly wasn’t bored. Now, in view of a) your provocative interventions and b) the fact that you just happened to have a horsewhip in your bag, I infer that you set out to stir them up.’

‘Just a shot across their bows.’

‘Doesn’t it alert them to trouble ahead?’

‘When in doubt, I always believe in a foray into enemy territory. You can undermine their morale while picking up some gen. This time, for instance, we’ve seen how they crumble when you show them who’s boss.’

‘Jack, I think you may be getting muddled between a parliamentary challenge and animal activists. It’s a vote that will determine what happens to fox-hunting, not hand-to-hand combat between you and some hairy oiks.’

‘All part and parcel of the same thing,’ she said carelessly.

A parody of a French waiter oiled his way over to her side. ‘I ’ope zat everyzeeng is to your satisfaction, madame, your ladeeship. It ees a very great ’oneur to ’ave you ’ere tonight.’

‘The
escargots
were excellent, thank you, but I am perturbed about my companion’s pâté.’

The waiter gazed worriedly at the small piece remaining on Amiss’s plate.

‘It ees not good?’

‘Very nice indeed, thank you,’ said Amiss firmly. ‘I have no complaints whatsoever. It was absolutely delicious.’

The baroness shook her head. ‘He has no taste,’ she said sadly to the waiter. ‘I can see that the texture is all wrong – too smooth. Tell the chef.’

‘But, of course, your ladeeship. Immediately, your ladeeship.’ He collected their plates and departed with another bow.

‘Jesus, am I not to be permitted a view on the food that I’m eating myself?’

‘Course you are, but I’m not going to pay any attention to it if it’s clearly misplaced.’

‘What’s with all this bowing and scraping and “your ladeeshiping” anyway? I wouldn’t have thought you’d start throwing your title about like some counter-jumper.’

‘My dear Robert.’ The baroness took another large mouthful of wine, smacked her lips appreciatively and sighed with contentment. ‘Mmmmm, I am enjoying myself. Nothing gives me an appetite like a bit of exercise before dinner. Didn’t the Queen’s message yesterday state that I should feel free to use all the… what was it?… rights, privileges, pre-eminences and all the rest of the goodies that come with being a baroness? And what do you think titles are for if not to fling around in restaurants? Surely you understand that that’s one of the main advantages of the ennobled state, playing on the snobbery of restaurateurs. Look around this place.’

Amiss surveyed the packed room. ‘We have the best table.’

‘Exactly. Even though I didn’t book it until six o’clock this evening. If I’d said Miss Troutbeck we’d have been doing well to get a billet at the kitchen door. What you have to learn, my boy, is that one gets on in life only by using all one’s assets to the full. You’re not wholehearted enough, that’s your trouble.’

The waiter reappeared, placed in front of both of them a plate of boeuf bourguignon, stood back and contemplated Jack Troutbeck apprehensively. She dug around investigatively. ‘Ah, good, plenty of shallots. Good big lumps of bacon. Excellent. And the beef looks satisfactorily chewy.’

He beamed with relief.

‘But where is our claret?’

He clapped his hands above his head in a tragic gesture and disappeared at top speed.

‘I’ll hand it to you, Jack. I’ve never seen a French waiter reduced to such a quivering state before.’

‘Only way to deal with them.’ She speared a piece of beef and chewed it ecstatically. ‘They’re happiest this way. Dammit, the whole point about the French is that they respect food, so they like you to make a fuss about it, even if you’re being critical. That’s what the apologetic English never understand. I shall henceforward be a popular pet in this restaurant for reasons unconnected with my title.’ The waiter arrived and poised the bottle over her glass. ‘No, just pour it. If it’s not right I’ll send it back.’