The Devil’s Elbow by Gladys Mitchell
1951
[Extract from the rulebook supplied to the guide/courier on a coach
tour of Scotland]
‘When at the definitely holiday-type grandiose three-star
hotels (cf. particularly those at Scotstone and Blaneden) where after-dinner
ballroom dancing is the norm, the courier should take the opportunity at
tea-time of attaching himself to the largest party, preferably a mixed
gathering, and should remark with apparent casualness that he proposes to wear
full evening costume for dinner. It will be found that this hint will be
conveyed by the eager gleaners to the rest of the coach company without delay.
On no account, however, should notice of any kind be taken
if passengers attend dinner or evening function in undress. It should be borne
in mind that many ladies when travelling consider a light summer garment
sufficient change of attire for evening wear.
capsule wardrobe for the trip
(Add waterproof and a stout cardigan as it is Scotland)
The courier himself, however, must never follow the lax custom of merely exchanging a bow tie for his cravat, but should appear, as he has promised, in full gentleman’s evening wear, so that he can take his place with assurance at table or on the dance floor. The courier at all times must set the tone of the party.’
SO HOW DOES THAT PAN OUT IN THE HOTEL?
When we went down to dinner this evening I could see the
point of the soup-and-fish. All the staying guests (as distinct from us birds
of passage) were togged up in full war-paint. There were dress kilts, buckled
shoes, velvet jackets, clan brooches, magnificent sporrans, the most smashing
stockings, dirks and sgian dubhs (or isn’t that the Gaelic plural?). Our lot
were thrilled, particularly the ladies, but, after dinner, when we all went
along to the ballroom, most of us gave one aghast and terrified glance at an
eightsome reel which was going on, and crawled abjectly away to the lounge. The
Scots must get a frightful kick out of giving the English an inferiority
complex.
comments Well – we always
treasure sociological detail here at Clothes in Books, and this is solid
gold, I absolutely loved it. I wish there had been more and longer extracts
from the rulebook.
This story had a lot going for it: a coach party going on a
tour of Scotland, with part of the story narrated by the young courier, who is
writing daily letters to his fiancée, Em, who happens – coincidence! - to be
temping with series sleuth Mrs Bradley. Usual assistant Laura is on holiday
herself, though not joining the coach tour. A pity. (The question of
whom she is on holiday with is interesting, but not resolved.)
So when things go wrong and someone is murdered, Mrs Bradley is easily brought on board, and has the diary-effect letters to consult and share with us.
There are of course all kinds of dirty deeds going on, some
quite separate plotlines (including CiB favourite smuggling). The
tour continues to some extent, there are lots of visits and rushing around and
amusing themselves in various ways. There is sight-seeing and tennis and swimming
and long country walks. One of the travellers is apparently mad, and behaves
very oddly at times.
It was an entertaining read on the whole, but the problem
for me was that I could not distinguish sufficiently among the travellers: 31
people on the bus, and I couldn’t tell you who half of them are. Not helping, many
of them are single women with similar names: Miss Nordle, Miss Durdle, Miss
Cann, Miss Bernard, Miss Pew, Miss Pratt, Miss Baird, Miss Carter. (For old Brits
like me this reminds us of the firemen’s rollcall in children’s TV show Trumpton:
Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert, Dibble, Grubb’)
I mean. If you’ve ever read this book I would challenge you
to tell me who all these people are without looking it up.
I think we are meant to assume that some of the pairs of
women are lesbians:
Nice women... One is
good-looking, the other not. Both middle-aged, and both seem sensible. Know
their way about, too…Same address on the backs of their luggage labels, I
noticed, so I suppose they’re a couple of what Maurice Richardson calls ‘jovial
collar-and-tie spinsters.’
Later, the detective at the end of an interview is ‘staggered
that anybody could be quite so much like Miss Joyce Grenfell’s portraits of
exotic spinsters.’
I think – I’m not sure – that one of the single ladies is
having her period?
I didn’t know what to do with myself, what with the stomach ache and everything [but] the fresh air and gentle exercise would do me good. My second day [is] quite as bad as my first, and that’s where I did think Lilias rather unkind, her knowing I suffer like I do …’
The coach driver Bert is excellent - this is how our
courier describes him:
He’s much more popular than I
am, although his private name for our coach-load is the Zoo Picnic, and for
Miss Pew, (when he’s tired), that Snotty Old Penguin. I could tell you his
private title for the Pratt girl, but perhaps you’re not quite old enough to
hear it.
There is an excellent atmosphere of that post-War period:
things are getting back to normal, but for example you can’t always get
cigarettes. People are ready to go on holiday and expect a certain level of
luxury. But this is very much mid-20th-century – the tour plan
involves two nights in one place ‘because of the Scottish Sabbath’, they can’t
move on.
That particular hotel is
some sort of hydro, and
although it’s almost given up ‘the waters’ in favour of dinner-dances for the
local residents, the swimming bath is still a feature, and they warm the water
even in summer. The hotel itself is a great, important-looking chunk of masonry
half-way up a hill.
… Hydros have always been a subject of great interest round
here, see the posts here Clothes
In Books, all from between the wars, so this is nicely illustrating
that they have had their day.
There is a wonderful exchange with Mrs Bradley:
‘As for the women,’ he added,
‘takes a man of my experience to handle them. You, now,’ he went on, turning
his head towards where Mrs. Bradley was sitting. ‘You’re a bit desiccated,
ain’t you? Never dreamed of getting married, I suppose?’
‘Three times,’ Mrs. Bradley
replied with great composure, ‘and every time the dream came true.’
‘Honest?’ He looked at her
with great interest and a dawning respect.
[Always a questionmark over her husbands…]
There’s a lot of running around Scotland, place names and
travelling and long carefully-described journeys, as in a previous blogpost
Gladys
Mitchell: My Father Sleeps & Brazen Tongue
That, and the indistinguishable travellers, were downsides
to the book, and annoyed me, but overall there was a lot to enjoy.
Agatha Christie’s Nemesis (1971)
also featured a bus tour: it is by no means a perfect book, but there
wasn’t the same problem sorting out the multiple bus passengers. And in her
glory days, she was the Queen of introducing groups – I frequently say that one
of my favourite scenes in all Christie is the ‘going through the passenger list’
scene in Death
on the Nile (& given an extra shoutout in this post LIVING
A LIFE IN BOOKS: HOLIDAYS: my request to be on that table)
My big question about Devil’s Elbow is this: the
courier’s name is George Jeffries. But he is often referred to as Dan. Which is
apparently a reference to Dan Chaucer. That is a thing: the Canterbury Tales
author is Geoffrey Chaucer, but there is a famous quote about his being Dan
Chaucer – although ‘Dan’ here is a title (ie Master Chaucer) rather than a
first name. it is never explained. I presume he is leading his group of
pilgrims in some way, though that still doesn’t make sense. Explanations
please….
Overall, a book where the positives outweighed the
negatives – I would cautiously recommend it, but perhaps to existing fans of
Dame Beatrice.
A woman in
Scotland in the 1950s
File:Joyce Irene Whalley 1950s.png -
Wikimedia Commons
Scottish
road
[Caveney Brae, Banff, Scotland] (LOC)
| [Caveney Brae, Banff… | Flickr
[Kilchurn Castle, Loch Awe, Scotland]
(LOC) | [Kilchurn Cast… | Flickr
File:Reginald Edward Higgins -
53786d812f.jpg - Wikimedia Commons
Four Scottish Dancers in Highland
Costume | 1954 To obtain h… | Flickr
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