`No` said Ms MacTavish emphatically. She had assumed the title Ms for she considered it no business of anyone but herself whether she was married. `I think it is a disgraceful waste of Club funds. For that amount of money we could buy a new projector screen which, if I may add, we badly need.`
The other members of the committee fell into an abashed silence. `But the members have been expressing the view that they are finding inexperienced young girls very unsatisfactory models' persisted the President. `They say it is almost impossible to get them to relax and look natural. There is a general opinion that more mature and sophisticated models are called for; models who know what is expected of them, who can pose without becoming embarrassed, who will be expert in make-up and who will bring with them a choice of costume changes. it is difficult to find anyone like that other than through an agency and this young model is not expensive by agency standards`.
`Our membership tends to be mature` retorted Ms MacTavish, `so therefore they would prefer a mature and sophisticated model. By your own admission they find young girls unsatisfactory yet you are prepared to spend this absurd sum on some young flibbertigibbet`.
`Actually she said she was a soubrette,` put in Davidson who had been given the task (in Ms MacTavish's absence) of researching the model market.
`What's a soubrette?` enquired old Mr Broadbent.
`I'm sure I don't know but it sounds French` someone said
`I thought a soubrette was a nickname` volunteered the Secretary.
`No that's a sobriquet` someone responded
`No matter how they dress themselves up in names and titles they are merely underclad, overpaid strumpets selling a view of their bodies for those who are prepared for the doubtful privilege. I think it is quite shocking` she continued. `I must say I am surprised at respectable responsible married men like yourselves being prepared to do so. If I had been at the last meeting I doubt if the matter would have progressed this far`.
The members all sought refuge in the President's pink face.
`Well we did not think you would feel so strongly on the subject Ms MacTavish. This of course places a completely new complexion on things but the problem remains. If we do not pay for a professional model and the members are becoming increasingly disaffected by this succession of `daft wee lassies` as the members call them, what are we to do? None of the members seems to be able to bring along a reasonable responsive and photogenic lady, so where do we go from here?`
`I should have thought the answer would be obvious` said Ms MacTavish enigmatically but the expressions on the faces of her colleagues made it obvious that the answer was not obvious enough. She added `I myself would be prepared to step into the breach`
She looked around for manifestations of joy and gratitude but found it necessary to look several times before any manifestations manifested themselves; but they were less of joy and gratitude than protestations that they would not dream of permitting her to subject herself to the rigours of modelling while they selfishly indulged their hobby. They appeared greatly concerned that the fatigue of posing under hot lamps would be too exhausting. In no circumstances could such a situation be countenanced. No! No! No! Grateful as they were for such magnanimity the offer could not be accepted.
`I am not made of cotton wool you know` she replied archly, quite missing the point. `We women of the old school are not such frail creatures as you men tend to believe. No, I insist. The members clearly demand a more mature woman whose face reflects a character absent in the vacuous expressions of the young. The call is for an experienced model; have I not sat for my dear husband before his eyes lost the power to focus? Do I not have a selection of different outfits? The blue pinstripe for the businesswoman, the sportswoman with my golf clubs as props, the woman of mystery with my black veil and, to accommodate those with a penchant for glamour, I will wear my diaphanous chiffon blouse. Thus everyone will be satisfied and Club funds will be saved for the purchase of much-needed equipment`.
The members were quite overwhelmed by this spirit of dedication, indeed they were so moved they could not trust themselves to speak for several minutes. After further discussion which changed nothing, the President took the coward's way out and put it to the vote.
`Those in favour of hiring the model for two hours at the rate quoted please show`.
Ms MacTavish looked round catching every eye and dwelling on those whose associated hands appeared to be inclined to be shown. Some hands were raised to shoulder height and then faltered and then employed themselves tugging at ear lobes or abstractly adjusting ties.
`Are there no hands up for the model?` hissed the President giving the assembled hands every opportunity to show themselves not otherwise engaged above shoulder height. `Mr Broadbent is your hand up?`
`..er hand up..er...no.` replied Mr Broadbent waving it vaguely about under Ms MacTavish's unrelenting gaze.
`All those in favour of accepting Ms MacTavish's offer?`
Quick exchange of timid glances and almost imperceptible showing of hands as Ms MacTavish's Argus eye again swept the room.
`It is unanimous that the Club accepts Ms MacTavish's offer to model at the next practical portrait night. The next item is the continuing saga of the slide projector.
After the meeting Ms MacTavish was as usual the first to leave - something to do with popping into her sister's. The door had scarcely closed behind her when the furore erupted. Rage, frustration, teeth gnashing, table pounding and melodramatic poses being struck then ensued. Everyone talked at once but if individual utterances could have been identified and modified they would have approximated the following:-
`I do not consider her to be of sufficient allure to justify the expenditure of photographic materials`
`Her countenance is reminiscent of an......(no euphemism available)`
`Why did no one vote against her? What price democracy when dictatorial persons prevail?....and so on`
Courage started to return on the departure of she who had put it to flight in the first place and mutinous rumblings were followed by a unanimous declaration (not for minuting) that they would boycott the practical portrait night and further, they would incite other members to do likewise. The President, to his everlasting shame, did not attempt to persuade the malcontents to abide by the democratically taken decision but merely raised his hands in resignation as someone who could not prevail against such strong feeling.
As they did not wish to jeopardise their Thursday nights out from their respective spouses by failing to exercise that right, they agreed to meet at the `Duke` There they would discuss general photographic topics deriving comfort simultaneously from John Barleycorn and contemplation of the discomfiture of Ms MacTavish as she waited, loins girded with Harris Tweed golf skirt, striking a sporting pose with a No 5 iron and waiting for the exponents of lensmanship who would not come.
On the club nights that succeeded this unprecedented decision, Ms MacTavish became aware of a certain atmosphere; a studied lack of reference to the forthcoming practical portrait night; an averting of faces when she mentioned it and, most damning of all, a failure by the President on the preceding week to announce it at all, far less to announce that she would figure largely (if that is not to unkind a phrase) in it.
This occasioned in the lady misgivings which she discussed with her husband one evening while preparing her Ovaltine. The conversation only served to add weight to her misgivings as he suggested discreetly that perhaps her kind offer had been accepted solely due to the vehemence with which she had made it and that it was possible, more shame on them of course, that they remained unshaken in their wish to hire a flibbertigibbet.
Ms MacTavish mulled over this possibility for a few days and then came to a decision. She would come to an arrangement with Hilary, an attractive young woman in her office who had aspirations to become a photographic model and was anxious to acquire a portfolio, by which Hilary would take her place while she (Ms MacTavish) would represent herself as indisposed on the night. This would give the members what they wanted, save herself from the ignominy of withdrawing, save Club funds and assist Hilary in compiling a portfolio.
This she did with the result that on the night of the Great Practical Portrait Boycott, the delicious Hilary turned up at the Club brimming with enthusiasm and bearing a large selection of swimwear. She was met by old Mr Broadbent with his Zeiss Ikon who, due to his hearing difficulty, was unaware of the conspiracy and was happily prepared to devote two rolls of film to Ms MacTavish.
`I am afraid Ms MacTavish has been took ill and I am here in her place` piped Hilary presuming that, as she was early, the other members would be arriving shortly. Mr Broadbent pointed to the darkroom which was used for changing and when she emerged wearing the flimsiest of bikinis, Mr Broadbent, who had set up the lights, was so overcome by a severe attack of camera shake, that he was unable to set his shutter speed. Indeed she almost induced in him a severe heart attack when she further piped `Or would you prefer me topless?`
At that moment the other members, unaware of the shocks being sustained by Mr Broadbent, were assembling in the `Duke` while Ms MacTavish was staring at the mantel clock in her home trying to envisage what would be happening at the Club.
`I do hope I'm doing the right thing sending Hilary` she confided to her husband with uncharacteristic self doubt. `What if they find her too young and inexperienced after all I have said?`
`No I am sure you made the right decision` he reassured her. `I am sure they will be delighted with Hilary, she is so keen and anxious to please, not like the girls your members find so lack-lustre and tiresome`.
Unaccustomed to being at home on a Thursday evening, Ms MacTavish paced restlessly up and down in an agony of indecision while her husband looked at her over the top of his `Amateur Photographer` Finally he laid it down and said, `You are obviously not going to settle down tonight dear. Slip on your coat and we will go down to the `Duke` for a relaxing gin and bitter lemon.