The Campus Trilogy (11 page)

“You look very jolly,” I said. He dropped into my armchair and handed me a letter. “You won’t believe this,” he sounded excited. “You know my aunt gave me a present at Christmas of a few premium bonds. Well, they worked.” The letter was from the office of National Savings, announcing that Magnus had won a quarter of a million pounds. Normally a cheque for small prizes arrives in a standard envelope, but winners of large sums are informed individually.

“That’s amazing, Magnus. I don’t know anyone who has ever won a big prize. My father-in-law has been trying for years; I think he has the full quota of premium bonds, but he’s never won more than a hundred pounds at one time.” I phoned Victoria and told her Magnus’s news. We arranged to have dinner to celebrate in a small Indian restaurant in town. Magnus insisted it would be his treat and he booked a table.

He was waiting for us when we arrived. We had onion bahjis to begin, and Magnus ordered pints of lager all around. Lifting
his glass, he said, “Destruction to our enemies! And Happy Days!”

“Happy days at St Sebastian’s?” Victoria inquired sceptically.

“You must be joking,” he said. “I’ll be giving in my notice as soon as I can. But don’t tell anybody. I have an appointment with the VC and Sloth next week. I want to get the best deal I can. There’s no need for them to know I just won a big prize. I plan to plead poverty … got to squeeze them dry. And then I’m off!”

“Off?”

“I’m going around the world.” Magnus pulled a brochure out of a Marks and Spencer bag that he had put next to his chair. As he flipped through the pages, he enthused about the Queen Christina. He had circled the cabin he wanted to have: it was the cheapest first-class accommodation, but would entitle him to the first-class dining room. There were pictures of elegant, grey-haired couples playing shuffleboard, dancing and swimming in the indoor pool. Some of the men were wearing dinner jackets and their partners were dressed in ball gowns and diamonds. “What do you think?” he asked.

“You’ll love it, Magnus,” replied Victoria. “But do you have a dinner jacket?”

“Mine had the moth decades ago. But I thought I’d be able to find a used one at a charity shop.”

“What about dancing?” I asked.

“Actually, that might prove something of a problem. My aunt insisted I have lessons when I was about eleven. I even learned the tango. But I can’t remember a thing. If I just jiggle about will that be OK?”

“No, Magnus,” Victoria sighed. “It won’t. If you plan to be a hit with the grandmothers, you’ll have to brush up on the fox-trot and waltz. Do you want me to teach you?”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Victoria said. “At Cheltenham we had classes with the gym teacher.”

“Do you think I could learn?” Magnus asked shyly.

“Anyone could learn, even Bossyboots.”

“You know,” I said. “I’ve heard she’s actually quite good at ballroom dancing. I understand she won some competition.”

Magnus had ordered a vast quantity of food including
tandoori
king prawn, chicken korma, and lamb vindaloo as well as a variety of vegetable dishes. I thought I would forget my diet and enjoy myself. After several pints of lager, Magnus looked glazed. “Look, Harry,” he said. “I’ve got to see the VC and Sloth next week to tell them I’m going to leave. I need a friend to come with me. Would you mind?”

“I’d be delighted,” I said. “But what are you going to say?”

“Wait and see,” he replied as he tackled the After Eight mints.

On the day, Magnus arrived half an hour early. He was wearing an old tweed jacket that had a large hole in one sleeve. He smelled of whiskey. “How do I look?” he asked as he slouched into my armchair.

“Terrible,” I said. “What happened to your jacket?”

“I poked a hole in the elbow with a fork.”

“Your breath is quite awful. What have you been drinking?”

“Scotch. Actually, I soaked my jacket in it this morning.”

“Why? The VC will think you’re a tramp.”

“That’s just the idea,” he smiled. He pulled a whiskey bottle out of his brief case and handed it to me. “Want a drink?”

“No thanks, Magnus. But I don’t get it. What are you up to?”

Without answering he stood up. “You know,” he said, “I’m not sure I can stand wearing this jacket. It really stinks of drink. Come on, let’s go.”

When we arrived at Barraclough’s office, the door was open. He was speaking to Sloth and ushered us in. Magnus thrust out his hand; the Vice-Chancellor looked dismayed. He shook it and then stepped back coughing. “You’d better sit down,” he said.

Magnus staggered into an armchair. I sat next to him on a dining chair that had been pulled up to Barraclough’s desk. Sloth sat on the sofa. He was holding a small calculator and had a pile of papers spread out next to him. The Vice-Chancellor looked disapprovingly at Magnus. “I see you’ve had a bit to drink,” he said.

“More than a bit. Actually quite a lot.”

Sloth stared at Magnus’s jacket. The hole had got bigger and his elbow was even more visible. Barraclough shifted
uncomfortably
. “I understand you want to talk to us about early retirement,” he said.

“I do.” Magnus looked exceedingly tipsy. “I can’t cope, Vice-Chancellor. I’m simply exhausted. I feel on the verge of a breakdown …”

“I see.”

Magnus leaned forward; the fumes wafted from his jacket and Barraclough moved his chair backwards. “The idea of
summer
school is the final straw,” he declared. “Can’t concentrate on teaching or anything. When I look at the students in my classes, I feel sick. That’s why I’m here.”

Sloth began doing some sums on his calculator. Magnus stretched out and sighed. The Vice-Chancellor took out a file and made notes. Magnus belched noisily. “What kind of a deal have you got to offer me?” he asked.

Sloth looked up from his work. He passed over his pocket calculator to Barraclough. The Vice-Chancellor made a note and handed over a piece of paper to Magnus who dropped it. I reached down and handed it to him. He looked as though he was going to pass out. Drunkenly he read out the note: “‘Enhancement of five years. No part-time teaching. Beginning October.”’

Magnus looked stupefied. “Vice-Chancellor,” I said. “
Perhaps
we ought to discuss details when Magnus is in a better state.”

“I’m fine,” Magnus belched again. “But not too frisky after so much whisky!” He took out a pen, crossed out October, and added: ‘One year study leave on full pay.’ “Think I deserve it,” he said. “Anyway, I won’t get my full pension if I retire in the autumn. I’m only sixty next year. So I need five full years enhancement after that.” He winked at Barraclough and passed him back the note.

The Vice-Chancellor shook his head. “I’m not sure ….”

“It’s non-negotiable,” Magnus interrupted. “Take it or leave it. A one-day offer. It expires at midnight. Otherwise, I’ll stay here and endure it for six more years, and you’ll have to pay me until I’m sixty-five. Is that what you prefer?”

Barraclough shook his head. “No, Magnus. You’ve got to go.”

“Then you’ve got to pay me. It’s not exactly a golden handshake. You’re getting off lightly. Most academics want part-time teaching. I want to leave for good.”

Sloth passed a note across the desk. The Vice-Chancellor read it and sighed. “All right, Magnus. It’s not unreasonable. But no part-time teaching. After next year, you’ll be fully retired. I hope you make profitable use of a year’s sabbatical. Perhaps you’ll manage to get something written for the RAE.”

Magnus brightened. “Good,” he said. “If you’d care to sign your note, then I’ll consider the matter done. I’ll sign it too as a goodwill gesture. The Registrar and Harry can witness the deal. That will constitute my notice as well as your guarantee about the sabbatical and the five years’ enhancement. You can draw up the formal letter later.”

Barraclough looked puzzled, but signed anyway. He passed the note to Sloth who scribbled his signature and then gave it to me. Both Magnus and I added our names “Shall we celebrate?” Magnus asked, taking his whiskey bottle out of his briefcase. It was followed by four tumblers which he put on the desk.

Barraclough recoiled, “Not today,” he said.

“If not now, when?” Magnus asked.

“Perhaps later. I’m sure your department will have a
retirement
party. You can celebrate then.”

Magnus packed up his glasses, leaving the whiskey bottle on Barraclough’s desk. He stood up. “Now, Vice-Chancellor, is this absolutely legal?” He sounded far more sober. “Can I come back if I change my mind?”

“No Magnus,” Sloth said. “You can’t. I’m afraid you are definitely going. There’s no coming back.”

“And you can’t renege on your part of the bargain? I get five years’ enhancement to my pension after my one year’s paid sabbatical?”

“That’s correct,” said Barraclough.

“Right. Well, then there’s one thing I want to mention to you on this happy occasion. I thought you might like to know that my aunt Ursula gave me some premium bonds for Christmas.
And I won one of the big prizes. A quarter of a million to be precise. Just got the letter last week.”

Barraclough looked shocked. He opened his mouth and closed it. “So,” Magnus continued, “I think I can spend next year quite profitably on a round-the-world cruise. Actually, I just booked it. Reserved a snazzy little first-class cabin. Harry’s wife promised to give me some dancing lessons so I can tango with the old ladies.”

Barraclough stared at Magnus as he stood up and did a little jig. “Come on Harry,” he said, as he made his way to the door. As he danced out, he slipped out of his sport jacket and slung it over a coat hook on the back of the door. “Perhaps you can find a good home for my jacket. Give it to one of your wage-slaves,” he said. “I’m off to see my tailor!”

Later in the afternoon Magnus and I caught the train to London. We took the underground to Bond Street, and walked to a small antique shop near Berkeley Square that specializes in leather luggage. Magnus found a very heavy trunk with brass fittings and arranged for it to be delivered to the university. We then went to Jermyn Street where he bought a selection of silk ties. “Got to be equipped for the voyage,” he announced as he gathered up his purchases.

In the evening we went to the Acropolis for dinner.
Afterwards
, as we walked up the stairs to the drawing room, I saw the Bishop of Bosworth, my old friend Charles, talking to the Lord Chancellor. He joined us for coffee later and I introduced him to Magnus. “Charles and I were at Cambridge together,” I explained. “Now he’s a bishop!”

“How very grand!” Magnus said slyly.

“Magnus is off on a round-the-world cruise.” I said. I explained that he was going to have a year’s sabbatical and then would retire from St Sebastian’s. Charles looked envious. “And how are you, Harry?” he asked. “Is that little difficulty with the undergraduate sorted out?”

“Not exactly,” I said. I explained that even though the matter with Lisa had been dropped, I was having difficulties with my Head of Department and the Dean. Magnus made snide remarks as I recounted the story of Pilkington and Catnip. “But
that prissy fusspot got what she deserved,” Magnus affirmed. “Upstaged by a gorilla.”

“I think I read something about that in
Private Eye
,” Charles said. “But I’ve got some good news for you, Harry. Of course, it’s strictly confidential,” he whispered.

“Can Magnus know?” I asked.

“Well, he shouldn’t. You shouldn’t either for that matter. But I suppose it won’t do any harm. You’re going to get an award in the Queen’s Honours List. I rounded up some of my fellow bishops and we sent in a recommendation along with suggestions of referees. It’ll be for your contribution to Christian ethics.”

I was elated. “This isn’t a joke?”

“No really, Harry. It’s in the bag. I had a word with the
Archbishop
at Cannonbury last week. He’s one of your referees.”

“He’s to be a knight?” Magnus was impressed.

“Well, not exactly,” Charles said. “More like an OBE.”

“Oh dear,” Magnus said. “Well, you’ve got to start
somewhere
!”

I was a bit disappointed: I wasn’t going to be called ‘Sir’, and Victoria wasn’t going to become a Lady. But at least an OBE was something. “Thanks Charles,” I said. “Very kind of you.”

“Don’t mention it old chap. I felt you needed a treat after the nonsense with that student.” Charles got up to greet a fellow bishop and disappeared into the library. Magnus finished his glass of port, picked up the
New York Review of Books
and settled into his armchair. He was elated. “Well, Harry,” he said. “That’ll make Barraclough even more angry. He’s been longing for a gong, and he won’t like the fact you got one. Pilkington and Bossyboots will be furious when you go to Buckingham Palace to pick up the thing. You’ll get to meet the Queen and shake the royal hand. I can’t wait to see their faces!”

Both of us had too much to drink and were rather
bleary-eyed
on the way home. The train was late and we arrived after midnight. We took a taxi and out of curiosity passed by Catnip’s house; her lights were on, and we heard familiar voices at the door. I told the driver to stop. Pilkington and his wife and my postgraduate Ronald Grundy and his fiancée Lisa Gold
were just leaving. I looked at Magnus. “What’s that all about?” I asked.

“Doesn’t look good to me,” Magnus said peering out the window. “We’d better not get caught staring.” And with that the taxi sped off into the darkness.

Victoria was waiting for me in the drawing room when I arrived home. She was curled up on the sofa reading the latest P.D. James novel; Cleo and Brutus were asleep by her feet. They looked a picture. “Did you have a nice time with Magnus?” she asked. I had phoned her in the afternoon to tell her about our meeting with the Vice-Chancellor and Sloth.

“Lovely,” I said, as I collapsed into the armchair opposite. “Now, look, Victoria, I’ve got some good news. I saw Charles at the club. He told me I’m going to get an award in the Queen’s Honours List.”

“A knighthood?” she asked hopefully.