The World According to Bertie - Alexander Hanchett Smith [45]
He had expanded. ‘And this city is a good example. It’s full of understandings, connections, networks. Some of these are fairly open. Everybody knows who’s in which political party and who their friends will be. So when a public job comes up, the rhetoric will be about who’s best for the post and so on. But we all know that that is just rhetoric. What really counts is who knows the people in power. Which shouldn’t surprise anybody, I suppose. That’s how most places are run, isn’t it? We like our friends; we trust them; we reward them.
‘But if you think that it’s all that open, then you need to think again. It’s the connections beneath the surface that can be really important. If you go to some grand function or other, what do you find? I’ll tell you, Matthew: everybody there knows one another, except you! Isn’t that interesting? When I was on the Artists’ Benevolent Committee, I would be thrown a few scraps of invitations to some of these official parties – receptions and so on – and what do you think I found? Everybody who came in the door immediately went off and chatted with somebody or other. Nobody stood around and looked spare. They all knew one another.
‘Now, I’m not one of these people who imagine conspiracies, Matthew, but I’m not blind. And I’m also quite interested in what makes things tick, and so I had to ask myself: how did they all know one another? And what do you think the reason is?’
Matthew looked vague. He was thinking of how many people he knew, and he had decided that it was not very many. He was intrigued, though, and he wondered if Angus knew of some secret cabal. Was his father involved? he asked himself. His father seemed to know an awful lot of people, and Matthew had always assumed that this was because he was a Watsonian, and had played rugby. But was there something more to it than that? He looked at Angus. ‘Are there . . . are there circles?’
For a moment, Angus appeared puzzled by the question. Then he leaned forward and whispered: ‘Yes. There are circles.’ And with that he had made a circular movement with a finger.
Matthew was not sure how to take this. So he simply repeated: ‘Circles.’
Angus nodded gravely. ‘Lots of them.’
‘But what proof do you have?’ Matthew asked.
‘Look at the architecture,’ said Angus. ‘And I don’t just mean Rosslyn Chapel, although that’s very interesting. Look at Moray Place. Start walking at one point and carry on, and where do you end up? Where you started! It’s a circle, you see.
‘And then there’s Muirfield Golf Course, where the Honourable Company of Edinburgh Golfers has its seat. What happens if you start on the first tee? You walk all over the place, but you end up more or less where you started – back at the clubhouse. Circular.’
‘So what does all this mean?’ asked Matthew.
‘I would have thought it’s pretty obvious,’ replied Angus. ‘This is a city which is built on the circular. So if you want to understand it, you have to get into that circular frame of mind. And that frame of mind is everywhere. Look at an Eightsome Reel. How do people arrange themselves? In a circle. And that’s a metaphor, Matthew, for the whole process. You get in a circle, and you work from there. You refer to others in the same circle. You don’t think outside the circle.’
‘You mean outside the box,’ Matthew corrected him.
‘No, I said circle,’ insisted Angus. ‘And that’s what I mean.’
And then Angus had become silent. Matthew wanted him to say more, but he had not, and he had been left with the uncomfortable conclusion that Angus was either slightly mad or . . . and this was a distinct possibility, slightly circular. But the conversation had remained with him, and now, sitting again in the Cumberland Bar, again with Angus, he had reason to recollect