Only a Matter of Time by VC Clinton-Baddeley

Only a Matter of Time by VC Clinton-Baddeley

published 1969

 

I had an unexpected reaction to this book: I wanted to rewrite it. VC Clinton-Baddeley was trying his best to keep the Golden Age detective story going in the 1960s and 1970s, while including reflections on modern life, and he sounds like a lovely man.

Two of his books have featured on the blog:

Clinton-Baddeley, VC My Foe Outstretch'd Beneath the Tree

Clinton-Baddeley, VC To Study a Long Silence

This one combines elements of both these. ‘My Foe’ came up in a post about very strange and unconvincing plot elements, ridiculous ways of passing on messages and this one has that in spades. The second centred on split-second timing and long discussions of such – and here we go again.

The opening chapters deal with industrial espionage at Bexminster Electronics, and the lives of the directors. It is very dull, and I have just (having only lately finished the book) had to look up again what the secret is: something about a new electronic device? But the really key item is the launch dates. This info must be kept from competitors at all costs. Are you losing interest yet? – I was. I felt VC C-B hadn’t even bothered to think up something exciting.   

Things perk up as we get to the music festival being held in Bexminster: I very much enjoyed the descriptions of obscure choices for the programme, and the revival of a lost opera – right up my street. And happily we now get series character Dr Davie, always a joy. Previously described by me as: an amiable old buffer, an Oxbridge academic, detective story fan and all-round busybody. He spends a lot of time complaining about modern life, and is (in my view) always teetering on the edge of being tedious and annoying. But he does have a certain charm, which carries the story along.

There is then a lot about antique shops in the High St, and the first hint of secret messages being hidden in a lidded Worcester sugar bowl.

The book has many short sections, and most of them begin by going over the end of the previous one in an extraordinarily annoying way. So Dr D will overhear part of a phonecall, then the next part will tell you what the recipient of the call was doing an hour or so beforehand. This conceit should have been dropped.

Two nice characters are murdered over the next day or two. 

There is a harrowing description of events in Prague in 1944, overshadowing someone’s life. It may be mean to criticize, but the incident doesn’t seem to hang together, and it’s full relevance is never really explained.

The all-important piece of paper is found in a pocket, and everyone knows that, but somehow Mr Davie is mystified that it is no longer in the sugarbowl.

A character seems not to have a car, but then suddenly has a car.

There is a missing piece of valuable china, and a clock that stops, and alibis that are being examined carefully. But heavy-handed hints – including the title, which tells you what to look at - mean that it is very easily guessed who must be guilty (without even having to pay attention to the careful timings and the geography of alleys and contiguous building and the mysterious bridge). That is, if you have even bothered to keep straight in your head who the various characters are.

Dr Davie (we don’t know his first name, just his initials – RV) bumbles around, commenting on modern life: he unexpectedly has a manicure in pursuit of clues, he enjoys his food, he likes antique china and enjoys the musical events.

In particular The Fairies:

“ a piece arranged for Drury Lane in 1755 from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, with songs from Shakespeare, Milton, Waller, Dryden etc… an entertaining literary curiosity.

The music was by the almost forgotten John Cristopher Smith, pupil and amanuensis of Handel…”

All of which was real, and certainly something I would pay good money to see.

“Oberon and Puck were splendid young men with excellent voices…’ and startling costumes.

‘My dear! Those costumes!’

‘It was terribly funny and absolutely delicious at the same time.’

‘I hope Oberon won’t catch cold.’

‘Splendid – I particularly liked the rabbits.’

I have a theory that you can learn about an era from looking at the way fairies were portrayed in Midsummer Night’s Dream – traditional and floaty, modernist or punk – they are all there. See also the recent stage adaptation of Noel Streatfeild’s Ballet Shoes, here and here, though I didn’t describe the fairies, who were rather like robots.  And this is tiny sample from Google Images:

(and here’s my favourite MND fairies – at least, I assume they are   in the play, though I’m not sure about the mermaid.)

The picture is from 1888. It is by Joseph Noel Paton and shows Oberon and I think Puck and a mermaid.

King and queen of the fairies meeting gnomes, an illo from Wikimedia Commons. It is by Montagu Barstow, who was the husband of Baroness Orczy of Scarlet Pimpernel fame.

Titania is by Arthur Rackham, from NYPL.