An Unfortunate Habit

Scene: Nutchester, a market town in England. Time: The 1950s.

* * *

Denis Snoad awoke in the morning sunlight. He turned and regarded the tousled blonde head on the pillow beside him. He had been lucky to have found so pleasant a companion for the night on his first day in Nutchester. She -- what was her name? Ah, Astrid, that was it -- Astrid had been working on the very next stand to his in the exhibition hall. By the end of the afternoon they had been in flirtatious conversation, and when the hall closed for the day they had left together.

After an evening's dining and dancing he had driven her back to the hostel a few miles out of town where she was staying with some other Dutch girls. Following her directions, he had parked in a lay-by next to a pair of high iron gates. She had taken him by the hand and led him through the darkness into the building and up to her room.

He recalled her waking him in the early hours and suggesting that it was time for him to leave. "Not yet," he had replied, and pulled her to him. After a while they had both fallen asleep again.

He rose, pulled on his underpants, and went to the window. Opening the curtains, he looked up at the sky and stretched contentedly. Then his glance travelled downwards, and he found himself looking at a walled courtyard, full of people passing to and fro. They were all nuns.

* * *

He shook Astrid rudely awake. "Good God! Are you still here?" she cried. "Why didn't you wake me earlier? Now we're for it!" She leapt from the bed and started hurriedly to dress.

"What's going on?" Denis asked. "The place is full of nuns!"

"Of course it is, stupid! It's a convent, Nutcombe Priory."

"A convent? You said it was a hostel!"

"It is. The nuns run a hostel for young catholic ladies from abroad."

"Christ! How am I going to get out?"

"It's too late to sneak out unseen. Nuns will be working in the grounds all day. A man would stick out like a . . . Well, never mind what like. For the time being you'll have to hide. Mother Superior will be on her rounds any second, and if she sees you here . . . Quick, you'd better hide in the wardrobe."

Denis gathered up his clothes and squeezed into the wardrobe. He was no sooner hidden than the Mother Superior arrived.

"What are you doing there, my girl?" she asked, seeing Astrid at the window.

"I was just fastening the window, Reverend Mother."

"Well, leave it now, and come along. I haven't any time to spare."

The Mother Superior glanced around the room, found everything to her satisfaction, and left. Astrid joined the crocodile of girls behind her.

* * *

When all was quiet, Denis emerged from the wardrobe and considered his position. He had come to Nutchester to supervise the finishing touches to the stand of Spence & Company, manufacturers of games and toys, at the County Show and Trade Fair. Mr Spence, the owner of the company and also Denis's father-in law (how else do you get to be Sales Director at the age of twenty-five?) had consented to his staying at a hotel in Nutchester for the duration of the fair, Denis having insisted that it would be necessary for him to work all hours to ensure the success of their display. He had been looking forward to the opportunities that would be offered by a few nights 'off the leash,' as he regarded it. Upon meeting Astrid, he had asked his assistant, Keith Brooks, to take his suitcase to the Imperial Hotel and tell them that he would check in later.

Luckily the opening of the exhibition was not until eleven o'clock. There was still plenty of time to get there. He would get ready and wait for Astrid to return. With any luck she would have come up with a plan to get him out, and he could be on his way with time to spare. He found a razor on the vanity unit, and washed and shaved. When he went to finish dressing, however, he could not find his trousers. He put the rest of his clothes on, sat on the bed, and waited, feeling peculiarly vulnerable without his trousers.

* * *

Thirty minutes later Astrid returned, carrying a bundle.

"I can't find my trousers," Denis complained. "Where are they?"

"You dropped them on the floor. Reverend Mother nearly saw them. Luckily I spotted them just in time, and got them out of the way."

"Thank goodness. Where did you put them?"

"I threw them out of the window."

"You did what? What on earth were you thinking of? Now what am I going to do?"

"I didn't have any choice, did I? You would have been caught if I hadn't."

"And what do you think is going to happen when the nuns find them?"

"They already have, but it's all right. I saw a nun give them to Sister Constance. She collects unwanted clothing to give to down and outs. She's terribly careless, always leaving bits lying around. The nuns just thought the trousers were some of her stuff."

"Well, all right, but how am I to get out without any trousers?"

"I've thought of that. I've brought a large size nun's habit. In this you should be able to walk out without attracting attention."

Astrid helped Denis to put the nun's habit on over his own clothes, took him down to a door, and let him out. Following her instructions he walked slowly across the courtyard, head bowed, and along the path to the front gates. Passing through the gates he could see his car a few yards down the road where he had parked it. He gave a sigh of relief and turned towards it. As he did so, a firm hand took hold of his elbow, and a female voice said, "Now then, where do you think you are going?"

He turned to face his captor, and found a nun gazing on him benignly. "Not that way, Sister," she said, and drew him towards the convent minibus and up the step to a seat inside. He sat and looked out of the window morosely. He was still trapped among the nuns, but now in a mobile prison, destination unknown.

When the bus was under way, Sister Agatha distributed collecting tins and issued instructions. He found that they were going to solicit funds on the streets of Nutchester, and was cheered somewhat to learn that at least he was heading in the right direction. In the town the minibus stopped at various points to allow the nuns to alight singly or in groups of two or three. He nervously fingered the beads around his neck and prayed that he would be let off on his own. His prayer was answered, and he found himself alone on a busy shopping street.

* * *

At last he was free from the nuns. True, he was still wearing a nun's habit, but he had his own clothes on underneath, except for trousers. Were it not for that lack, he could doff the habit and take a taxi to the exhibition hall. He started to walk, looking for a tailor's. As he went, passers-by put coins in his collecting tin. He could not refuse them without attracting attention, so he accepted the donations with a grateful smile. He spotted a gents' outfitters with trousers in the window, and entered hopefully.

The shop assistant was unaccustomed to serving any female customer, let alone a nun. "What can I do for you, Sister?" he asked.

In as high a falsetto as he could trust, Denis replied, "I'd like to see what you have in men's trousers."

"You shouldn't have become a nun then," the assistant thought. Aloud he asked, "What size and colour, Sister?"

"30 waist, 31 inside leg. Navy blue." Seeing the assistant's surprise at his familiarity with masculine measurements, Denis added, "They are for the gardener."

The assistant selected a pair of trousers and laid them on the counter. "Will these do, Sister? Or we have them also with a button fly."

"Oh no, I prefer a zip, it saves so much time," Denis replied, adding hastily, "I mean, so the gardener says. These will do fine. I'll take them."

He reached instinctively for his wallet in his hip pocket and realised for the first time that it was not only his trousers that Sister Constance had, but also his wallet, his money, his driving licence, and his car keys.

Denis had no intention of relinquishing the trousers now that he had them literally in his hand. This was no time for the faint-hearted. Looking the assistant straight in the eye, he said firmly, "Put them on our account."

"Do you have an account with us, Sister?"

"The convent does."

The assistant found it hard to believe that a nunnery would have an account with a gentlemen's outfitters, but he hesitated to challenge the veracity of a nun. Seeing him waver, Denis added, "If you don't believe me, ask the manager."

Anxious to be relieved of responsibility in the matter, the assistant went into the office at the back of the shop. As soon as he was gone, Denis quickly bundled the trousers under the skirt of the habit and strode rapidly out of the door.

* * *

As he emerged onto the street he was greeted by Sister Agatha's strident voice. "Ah, there you are, Sister. I was wondering where you'd got to. Come along, I have another street for you to do."

Sister Agatha led Denis along rapidly. At a crossroads they were halted by traffic until the lights changed. Subtlety was not an option. When they started to cross the road, Denis nimbly turned round and went back the way they had come. Caught up in the flow of pedestrians, Sister Agatha had perforce to continue on her way.

* * *

Denis assessed his position. He was once again free of the nuns, and now he had a pair of trousers. If he could find somewhere to change into them, he could ditch the nun costume. His only remaining problem would then be recovering his wallet and car keys.

Wondering where he might change, he walked along, absent-mindedly fingering the rosary around his neck. He looked up to see the front awning of the Imperial Hotel before him. "Good Lord! These beads really work!" he thought. "I'm home and dry!" With a light heart he entered the hotel and went to the desk.

"Would you tell me the room number of Mr Denis Snoad please?" he asked the clerk.

"I'm sorry Sister, but Mr Snoad didn't check in last night and we had to let his room go."

Denis involuntarily uttered an expression which caused the clerk's eyebrows to collide with his hair line.

"We kept it as long as we could," said the clerk apologetically, badly shaken.

"What about his luggage? Is that here?"

"Again, I'm sorry, Sister. We asked the YMCA if they could accommodate Mr Snoad should he turn up late and fortunately they said yes, so we sent his suitcase there."

Uttering a few more execrations seldom heard among cloistered communities, Denis asked directions to the YMCA. Stunned, the clerk provided them.

* * *

Denis walked along the street muttering angrily to himself. He should now be changing into his own clothes in the comfort of a hotel room, but instead had acquired the additional problem of errant luggage, requiring yet another mission. Following the hotel clerk's directions, he found the YMCA and approached the desk.

"May I have Mr Snoad's case, please?" he asked.

The clerk eyed him suspiciously. Females were not allowed on the premises, but he was not sure whether nuns counted as females or not. "Not unless you have some authority," he said at last.

"I have Mr Snoad's authority to collect it."

"I can't accept that, Sister. Even if you were Mr Snoad himself" -- the clerk smiled at so ridiculous a supposition -- "I'd have to ask you for some form of identification. Now please leave. This is a male establishment and you should not be in here."

"Oh, for God's sake!" Denis cried in exasperation. "Damn you and your stupid rules! I need that bloody suitcase!"

"I think you'd better go before I call the police," said the clerk, pressing a bell concealed under the counter.

Out of the corner of his eye Denis saw other staff advancing. Discretion became the better part of valour. He fled.

* * *

Panic was beginning to set in as he ran away down the street. He was still in nun's clothing, and without access to either his money or his luggage. He did have a pair of trousers, but nowhere to change into them. He looked at his watch. Ten forty! He had only twenty minutes to rid himself of the nun's habit and get to the official opening of the Fair.

Turning a corner he saw the entrance to the Railway Hotel and made his way swiftly there. If he could change in the hotel, with a bit of luck he could still make it in time. He entered the hotel and followed the signs to the toilets. It was then that a problem struck him. In which loo should he change?

If he entered the ladies' he would come out dressed as a man, while if he wished to come out of the gents', he would have to enter as a nun. He soon concluded that the gents' was the obvious choice, for while he could not be certain who might be around as he left, he could keep watch to ensure the coast was clear before he entered. He counted those going in and coming out, and when he was confident that it was unoccupied he moved towards the door of the men's room.

"Sister!" The hotel porter gripped his arm. "That is the gentlemen's wash-room! The ladies' is this way."

"Let me go, my man!" ordered Denis, struggling to free himself from the man's grip. Salvation was but a door away and no-one was going to stop him now. "Let go, I say!"

"But Sister!" the attendant persisted, tugging him towards the other door.

Denis cracked. He could not face another set-back. "Are you going to let go, or do I have to belt you?" he snarled.

The porter was taken aback but did not relax his grip. Denis kneed him in the groin, and the porter doubled over, clutching himself.

The struggle, though short, had not gone unnoticed. A small audience had gathered, and Denis realised that he now had no hope of changing and departing unmolested. Before he could be stopped he ran out of the hotel. In the street a line of taxis stood in a rank. He jumped into the first one and cried, "The Exhibition Hall, and fast!"

* * *

The taxi made its way to the Fair and drew up at the entrance.

"That'll be seven and six," said the cabbie.

Denis automatically felt for his wallet before remembering that he still had no money. However, fumbling to reach his non-existent hip pocket had caused the coins in the collection tin to rattle.

"Have you got a knife?" he asked.

The cabbie passed him one and watched as Denis cut the tape securing the lid of the tin and took out the coins to pay him. As Denis entered the hall, the cabbie wrestled with a moral dilemma. He wanted his fare, but doubted that it was right for it to come from a charity collection tin. On the other hand, it hardly seemed proper to suspect a nun of wrongdoing.

Denis relaxed as he entered the hall. He was still in nun's clothing, and still without his money and luggage, but he was now on home territory and could call upon the assistance of Keith. The formal opening of the exhibition had already taken place, and exhibitors and buyers were slowly dispersing towards the various stands. Denis looked towards his own display and saw a man whose back was towards him talking to Keith. He approached and interrupted. "Keith, a word with you, please. It's urgent." At the sound of Denis's voice the man turned, and Denis was face to face with his father-in-law.

* * *

"Denis?" said Mr Spence, peering at him incredulously. "Denis? Is that you?"

"Hello, sir," said Denis. "I didn't expect to see you here. Have you come to see how the Exhibition's going?"

His father-in-law refused to be side-stepped. "Denis, what on earth are you doing in that ridiculous costume?"

Twenty-odd years of habitual lying had taught Denis that telling the truth was never a good idea, and the present situation confirmed that belief. Imagine saying, "It all began with my being unfaithful to your daughter with a girl I picked up on my first night away from home." Ridiculous! With his customary glibness he answered, "It's a gimmick, sir." Inventing the story as he spoke, he explained that the costume was a device to attract buyers' attention, to differentiate their stand from those of their rivals. He had, he said, thought of various ways to exploit the costume in his presentations: "Even a novice will enjoy . . . None of your convent-ional games . . . You'll get into the habit . . . Your mother will enjoy our superior games . . ." and so on.

Michael Spence was not wholly convinced of either the effectiveness or the propriety of this novel approach, but as it was too late to alter it he held his peace and moved away to inspect the other stands.

* * *

Denis cursed his luck as he took his place on the stand. Because of his father-in-law's unexpected arrival he was now committed to staying in the nun's habit all day. He was still separated from his wallet and his luggage, but these problems, he thought, he could now delegate.

To his surprise, his extemporised sales gimmick, with which he was now compelled to persist, did in fact attract favourable attention, and he was kept busy delivering his pun-laden presentation, but in time there was a lull, and he button-holed Keith. He instructed his assistant to book him a room at any hotel in town other than the Imperial or the Railway, and to collect his luggage from the YMCA and take it to that hotel. He gave him a note of authorisation for the YMCA, and impressed upon him that the new hotel was to be instructed to retain the room until he appeared.

That left only the recovery of his money and car keys, and that he expected Astrid to accomplish. She had been taken aback to see him arrive at the exhibition hall still dressed as a nun, and had observed incredulously as he performed his presentations in that garb. He intended to speak to her as soon as the exhibition closed for the day, and get her to retrieve his trousers, or at least the wallet and car keys from them.

* * *

As Michael Spence toured the exhibition hall examining his rivals' products, he gave a lot of thought to his son-in-law. He had never really taken to Denis, but his daughter Victoria doted upon him, and so for her sake he had suppressed his doubts and given the lad rapid advancement. The previous evening Vicky had told her parents that she was pregnant, and it was in his mind to take the opportunity to retire and hand the reins over to Denis. He had come to Nutchester to see Denis in action one more time before making a final decision and, if satisfied, to break the good news to him. His initial reaction on seeing Denis in nun's attire, and hearing his scheme to base his presentation upon it, was to abandon all thought of giving him control of the company. As the day went on though, and he saw the favourable attention his stand was receiving from the buyers and the press, he warmed towards his son-in-law.

Towards the end of the afternoon he approached Denis, and with one arm around his shoulders drew him to a quiet section of the stand.

"Now, Denis, you and I must have a chat about the future. Let's have dinner together at the Imperial and we can talk. Shall we say eight o'clock?"

"Yes, of course, sir," answered Denis.

"You'd better drop this 'sir' business and call me Michael from now on."

Denis was astonished, since it had been Mr Spence himself who had insisted on a formal mode of address from the very beginning, and he began to sense the plans which his father-in-law wished to discuss.

"Did you phone Vicky last night?" Mr Spence continued.

"No, I didn't get a chance, Michael. As you could see, I've been too busy here today. I'll phone her tonight."

"Best leave it until after we have had our chat," advised Mr Spence, "then you'll have some news for her. See you this evening then, Denis, about eight."

* * *

When Mr Spence left, Denis smiled in anticipation. If he had read the signs correctly, the old boy was going to retire and give him control of the company. As he stood congratulating himself, Keith returned and told him that he had booked him in at the Belvedere Hotel and transferred his luggage there from the YMCA. Denis felt a weight lift from his shoulders. After the alarums and excursions of the morning, things were returning to normal. He had only to recover his wallet and all would be well again.