14. A Famous Visitor
The celebrated conductor Sir Malcolm Sargent was a personal friend of the Brabournes and is probably Ashford’s most famous musical son. His visits to the Brabournes did not usually take in Mersham le Hatch, but once the Brabournes had another pressing engagement and, unable to entertain him for the afternoon, hit on the idea of showing him their original mansion. “Flash Harry [the orchestral musicians’ nickname for him] is coming here this afternoon”, announced Betty Rayment breathlessly. “But you will kindly not address him by that name”. The plan was that David Dear and I, as the two musical boys, would play duets on the library piano so that, purely coincidentally, he would stumble upon us during his guided tour of the Hatch and admire our playing. We would then accompany him over to the schoolrooms, where he would meet Betty Rayment and inspect the old Snetzler organ. The plan evolved as it went along. He must have arrived earlier than expected since we never got to the library – he was already sitting on the front steps with Miss Leila and Miss Dave. He looked so dapper that I could hardly believe this was a man in his seventies. We skipped the bit about playing duets on the library piano and accompanied him over to the Music Room. We did not have him to ourselves for long. He was a sort of pied piper. Whenever a child hove in sight, he would crack a corny joke and the child would join the party. By the time we got to the music room there were about twenty of us, all hanging onto his words. I doubt if a single one of them knew who he was and, thoroughgoing Beatle-fans one and all, they would have been horrified if they had known he was a classical musician.
Though David Dear and I were supposed to be the Caldecott’s musical rising stars, this is where Jane Pooler-Williams was in her element. After playing a few notes on each of the Chapel organs, Sir Malcolm quizzed his new fan club.
Sir M: Which of you plays a musical instrument?
Jane raised her hand and stepped forward before anyone else had a chance.
Sir M: What instrument do you play?
J: The piano, Sir Malcolm.
Sir M: Do you play your scales?
J: Yes, Sir Malcolm.
Sir M: Which is the easiest major?
J: (after a slight hesitation): Not C major.
Sir M (obviously delighted): I quite agree. With the others, you just remember where the black notes are and your fingers take you there.
The sad corollary to this is that, though he looked the picture of health and vitality, Sargent must already have had the cancer that was to kill him and he died not long after.
I will mention here one other famous visitor, this time non-musical. Unlike Sir Malcolm Sargent, Sir Edmund Hillary, though undaunted by the rigours of Mount Everest, was kept at a safe distance from the Caldecott rabble. He was entertained to dinner in the hall, at one of the two big long wooden tables and with a selection of the more presentable staff. Just at the end of our dinner, the dining room door slowly opened, the great man stepped in and we were allowed to look at him for a full sixty seconds. Perhaps the sight of us provided him with some compensation for his failure to find the Yeti.