The Campus Trilogy (54 page)

I rewrapped the statue, tied it up with string, and asked the porter if he could keep it in his office until I left. Then we went straight into the dining room. The first person we saw was the Archbishop who was seated at a large table with a group of African bishops, all of whom seemed to be talking at once. They appeared to be united in their disapproval of the activities of their American counterparts. The Archbishop looked agonised, but smiled wanly at me as we passed.

We were shown to a table in the corner of the great room. After we had chosen what we were going to eat and had ordered some wine, Magnus leaned back in his chair. ‘So,’ he said, ‘you’ve been bamboozled. The Archbishop looks a bit under stress which is, after all, what he’s paid for, and you immediately feel that it’s your duty to help him out of a hole and sort out St Sebastian’s Cathedral.’

‘Well I can’t make any decision at all until I’ve talked it over with Victoria.’

‘Oh come on, Harry,’ Magnus was impatient. ‘You know jolly well she won’t be able to resist the chance to live in the Provost’s House. It’s the perfect background for her. Well, it’ll be splendid for me to have you both back. You know I’m still doing a bit of Hebrew teaching for the university?’

‘Really? …’ I was amused. ‘You always said it was such a corrupt crappy place and you couldn’t wait to leave. What happened?’

‘Well …’ Magnus looked embarrassed. ‘They caught me at a weak moment and they asked me very nicely. When I came back from my first cruise, I found that I sort of missed the students … though they get more ignorant every year. I can’t imagine what they teach them in all those schools.’

‘The thing is I promised Victoria we’d move to Shropshire to be near her father. Sir William’s become more feeble recently and he needs some sort of residential care …’

‘You know,’ Magnus said, looking at me penetratingly, ‘the Provost’s House is quite magnificent.’

‘I know, I know … and the Archbishop really is anxious for me to do it. But, when all’s said and done, it’s rather
embarrassing
. After all I did leave St Sebastian’s under a cloud.’

‘So did I … well sort of. But that doesn’t matter now. We’ve
got a new Vice-Chancellor. And after all you’ll be mainly looking after the cathedral. The Visitor is only called into the university when there’s a crisis.’

‘I know. But honestly, Magnus, I’m still rather cross about the way I was treated. I was bullied into leaving. So I don’t really see why I should bail them all out just because the Provost can’t keep his trousers on.’

‘I always thought Christianity taught that you should forgive people, seventy-times-seven if I remember rightly. That’s what the school padre used to say … Never let the sun go down on your anger and all that,’ he added sanctimoniously.

‘Oh shut up, Magnus,’ I responded. He was an old friend, but at times he was infuriating. ‘Anyway, what’s going on at the
university
now? Remember I’ve been away for three years.’

‘They certainly need you, Harry. The place is a mess. A crazy Irish Australian called Flanagan is now in charge. They appointed him not because he had any claims to erudition or indeed any intellectual interests that I’ve been able to discover. But he is a financial genius.’

‘Well that’s all right then,’ I said. ‘At least there’s some money in the kitty. When I was there, cash was always a problem. Remember when the university was threatened with
amalgamation
with Arrowsmith Teacher Training College?’

‘Well that threat has receded. But this Flanagan chap is mad. It’s true that the place is now solvent, but he’s done it by
introducing
the most appalling new curriculum. Most of the students are studying such subjects as Professional Golf, Exotic Dance and Brewing Technology.’

I laughed. ‘I don’t accept that. They’d never get it past the Higher Education Quality inspectors.’

‘That’s just the point,’ said Magnus. ‘Honestly I’m not exaggerating. The most popular undergraduate discipline this year, the one that attracted the most students, was Celebrity Studies.’

‘Don’t be absurd.’ I did not believe him.

‘Honestly it’s true. They seriously study the love life of film starlets. Next weekend there’s to be an international conference, an international conference mark you, on the Plight of the Female Celebrity focussing on the cases of Geri Halliwell and
Amy Winehouse. Apparently, hundreds have enrolled for it and the Vice-Chancellor is dancing all the way to the bank.’

‘But why aren’t the Quality Control people doing something about all this?’

‘I told you, that’s just the point. The Vice-Chancellor has
managed
to fob them off for the last eighteen months or so, but we’ve just heard that St Sebastian’s is going to have a full-scale
inspection
early next year. It’ll be a disaster. Everyone knows that, but apparently Flanagan is completely unabashed. He insists that everything will be fine and he won’t even talk about it.’

‘Perhaps everything is all right.’ I was determined to try to look on the bright side. ‘All these inspections only come down to having all the right paperwork in place. No one cares about the reality.’

‘But the paperwork’s non-existent. You know what the Registrar is like.’

Unfortunately, I remembered all too well the deficiencies of Registrar Sloth. ‘And,’ Magnus continued, ‘he’s recruited his wife – no interview or advertisement or anything like that – to be the new Quality Control Officer. She is paid an enormous salary. She sits surrounded by paper which she systematically loses and the whole thing is a complete shambles from first to last.’

‘That doesn’t sound good.’ It was true that Mrs Sloth was even more incompetent than her husband. I could see the situation was serious. ‘So you think the university needs a Visitor who will crack the whip a bit.’

Magnus giggled. ‘That’s an unfortunate expression given the present Provost’s troubles,’ he said as he tucked into a large plate of moules marinière.

When I finally crept into the castle at half past one in the
morning
, Victoria was reading in bed with both our Siamese cats curled up on her lap. They had travelled back with us from America in the hold of our aeroplane, but the authorities had insisted that they go to a cattery for a month for a thorough veterinary inspection. In fact the total cost of their travel and medical arrangements had been more than double ours. They had finally arrived at the castle roughly at the same time as Victoria that afternoon and she had been delighted to see them.

After I had kissed everyone, Victoria got straight down to business, ‘I got your message,’ she said, ‘but your telephone was turned off.’

‘We’re not supposed to use mobiles in the club. Now listen, Victoria, I’ve got some important news.’

‘The Archbishop wants you to do something for him.’

‘Yes he does. You’re not going to believe it, but he wants me to be the Provost of St Sebastian’s. Just temporarily.’

‘But they have a Provost …’

‘They had a Provost,’ I corrected her. ‘He’s just been sacked for cavorting with prostitutes. Well, actually, just one prostitute. One of the girls who graduated from the university this year was paying off her student loans by working in an escort agency. She recognised the Provost as the man who gave her her degree and she went straight to the
Sunday Enquirer
with the story. They wrote her a huge cheque.’

Victoria put her book down. She grinned. ‘That was very bad luck for the poor old provost. I can’t remember any of my contemporaries at Girton going in for the oldest profession when they left. It’s not exactly what you expect of a sweet girl graduate.’

‘Your friends all got government grants to support their education.’

Victoria became grave. ‘You’re right, of course. That is
dreadful
. A student shouldn’t be so desperate for money that she would decide to be a hooker.’

‘Well I think as far as selling the story to the newspaper, she recognised a commercial opportunity when she saw it. But the fact is, it won’t do as far as the Provost is concerned and he and his wife have left St Sebastian’s, bag and baggage, already.’

‘Poor wretched woman …’ Victoria shook her head, ‘It’s not fair. She hasn’t done anything wrong.’

I continued. ‘As you know, the Provost’s House is quite
spectacular
. The Archbishop emphasised that, if we take it on, you’d get the chance to decorate it. And it would only be for a year or so. We can buy our own house now, just as we planned, and it will give us a chance to fix it up while I try to sort things out at St Sebastian’s. And they’d pay me something too.’

‘But they were beastly to you at the university Harry and, as Provost, you’d have to be their Visitor.’

‘I know. I’ve thought about it. Magnus invited himself up to the club for dinner. He told me about the university. Things aren’t good at all. I have a nasty feeling that it may be my duty to do it.’

‘You mean it would result in the greatest good for the greatest number.’ Victoria always mocked my attempts at systematic ethics.

I was serious. ‘Perhaps …’ I said. ‘Anyway, unless you really hate the idea, we ought to go for a look at the very least.’

‘I’m not likely to hate the idea of living in that wonderful house,’ murmured Victoria as she turned over to go to sleep.

The next day, we told Sir William about our possible plans. He was very amused. Then we set off for St Sebastian’s on the train. The city looked very familiar and it was a glorious autumn day. The sun was shining as we walked through the Monks’ Gate into the cathedral precincts. Visitors were wandering around the Green Court. At one end was the Provost’s House, a glorious symmetrical Queen Anne building of old red brick with white small-paned sash windows. Across from it loomed the grey stone mass of the cathedral. ‘It is beautiful,’ I said.

Victoria sighed. ‘All right, Harry. I agree, but one or two things must be made clear. You promise that it’s only for a year, or at the very most two.’

‘No more,’ I said.

‘And I must find a room for Daddy and Bess in one of the St Sebastian’s nursing homes.’

‘Of course,’ I promised.

‘And you won’t get flustered and upset by university politics.’

‘I’ll only be the Visitor. I won’t get involved.’

‘Huh!’ My wife was not convinced. ‘And you won’t become entangled in cathedral politics either.’

‘They won’t take any notice of me. I’m just an ignorant
academic
,’ I said.

‘And you’ll let me decorate the house the way I want to. You won’t interfere.’

‘You can have it exactly as you want. The Church will pay so you may have to talk it over with someone in the diocese.’

Victoria nodded. ‘All right, Harry. We’ll go. But please, please, please, pretty please, try not to get mixed up with things you don’t understand …’

So, the decision was made. I wrote my letter to the Archbishop and received a very grateful effusion by return of post. There was to be no delay. It was a case of crisis management and it was thought important that the new Provost should be put in place as soon as possible. Victoria and I were permitted to stay in the
castle
for just one more week and then we had to move.

Victoria felt wretched leaving her father. He had suddenly become an old man and she thought she should be looking after him, rather than gadding about redecorating the most beautiful house in England. Sir William was philosophical about the
situation
. He had accepted that he needed more help. When we finally departed and Victoria kissed him goodbye, she insisted that she would be returning very soon with a list of first-class residential homes near St Sebastian’s. ‘I promise the carers will be pretty,’ she said.

The old Provost had sent in a remover’s van and all his
possessions
had already disappeared from the house. Happily he owned a holiday cottage in Northumberland so he and his wife were not homeless. Meanwhile Victoria was busy looking at
pattern books from various grand interior designers while I made arrangments for some of our furniture to be transported from our old house to the Provost’s residence. In fact, the house was already exquisitely equipped. One of its previous occupants had been a bachelor. He had loved pretty things and, when he died at the immense age of ninety-seven (there had been no retirement age for clergy in those days) he had left his collection to the
cathedral
. Nonetheless, we felt we wanted to have a few of our own treasures around us so I made a list of the things that needed to be collected from our old house.

On the day of the move, Victoria and I drove to St Sebastian’s. There was a new system of one-way streets past Arrowsmith College, but at last we found ourselves in the cathedral precincts. A group of noisy French students were screaming at each other and dropping litter on the steps of the cathedral. Lugging a heavy cat basket – it is surprising how much two well-fed Siamese weigh – I staggered across the Green Court in the direction of the Provost’s House. As I walked through the front gate, I almost tripped over a vast ginger-and-white creature who was sitting next to the doorstep. He was dismembering and noisily
consuming
an unfortunate squirrel. As I passed by he stared at me with luminous green eyes. Then, quite deliberately, he spat. Our two cats peered out of the cat basket and immediately became
shivering
, tremulous wrecks. Victoria followed behind carrying a small bag and a jewel case. The ginger beast pointedly turned his back on her and proceeded with his luncheon.

Our cats became more and more agitated. We rang the bell and a grey-haired lady carrying a feather duster appeared. I recognised her as the wife of one of the university porters. She used to ‘do’ for me in my study when I taught at St Sebastian’s. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Thomas,’ I said.

Mrs Thomas beamed, ‘Recognised me you did!’ she said. ‘I told Evan that Professor Gilbert wouldn’t forget a face. And how are you, Sir? And Mrs Gilbert too?’

Victoria rose to the occasion. She was proud of being Welsh and had learned to speak the language from her nanny when she was a small child. ‘
Da iawn, diolch. Hyfryd gwrdd a chi eto!
Ydych chi wedi dod ‘n helpu ni heddiw?
’ (Very well, thank you! Lovely to meet you again! Have you come to help us today?)

Mrs Thomas was enchanted, ‘
Ydw! Ydw! ‘W i wedi gweithio
yn y Ty Provost am sbel
.’ (Yes I have. I’ve been working at the Provost’s House for quite a while.) ‘But a long time it is since I’ve spoken the old language, Madam. To tell you the truth, Evan grew up in Pembrokeshire and English always came easier to him. And then when we moved to St Sebastian’s and the children were in school, they didn’t like me to speak Welsh to them. It marked them out, you see. So what with one thing and another, I only ever spoke it to Mam when she came to live with us, her arthritis being so bad, and she’s been gone these ten years.’

By this time we were all inside the hall and the front door was shut. ‘Who does that large ginger beast belong to, Mrs Thomas?’ I asked.

‘He’s Canon Blenkensop’s cat. He’s called Marmaduke. Terrible he is, but the Canon won’t hear a word against him. He’s always catching birds and squirrels. Then he fights with all the other animals in the precincts. I should look out for your two if I were you. Precentor Samuel’s dog had to go to the vet after being bitten and I heard that the bill was more than sixty pound.’

‘I don’t think we’ll have to keep them in. It looks like they’ll be too scared to go out. Can’t Canon Blenkensop keep him under control?’ asked Victoria.

‘It’s not just his cat, Madam. No one can keep Canon Blenkensop under control either if you’ll pardon my saying so. He didn’t like the last Provost at all. He walked all over him at Chapter meeting so everyone said and the Provost was right scared of him.’

I felt the conversation was becoming rather too gossipy. ‘Would you mind taking my wife’s bags upstairs, Mrs Thomas?’ I said.

The hall had a wonderful cornice and was beautifully
proportioned
, but the paintwork was stained and shabby. I saw what the Archbishop had meant when he said that the house needed Victoria. She would have a wonderful time putting it all to rights. The walls were decorated with imposing gold-framed portraits of my predecessors. It was a daunting thought that my image might be hung here in future years.

Beyond the hall was a sizeable study where I supposed I was to write my sermons. There was a magnificent old Isfahan carpet on
the floor and the furniture looked to be of museum quality, but again, although everything was clean, there was an undefined air of shabbiness and neglect. We shut the doors and opened the cat basket. Slowly and reluctantly Brutus and Cleo emerged from the depths. They crept out, looked about them and promptly retreated under a handsome walnut tallboy.

Mrs Thomas then showed us the rest of the house. Balancing the study was a magnificent dining room with a long mahogany regency table and twelve William IV dining chairs, all with fine needlepoint seats. Hanging over the table was a huge Venetian chandelier. It was superb, and sparkled in the autumn sunshine.

‘That can’t be easy to keep clean …,’ I remarked to Mrs Thomas.

‘No,’ she said, pleased that I had noticed. ‘I have to get the men to take it down and then I wash each piece by hand. Two whole days it takes me.’

‘It looks beautiful,’ I said.

The drawing room was situated on the first floor and ran the full length of the house. It was the shape of two symmetrical cubes placed together and with the right paint colours and
curtains
, it would be the most perfect room for a grand party. Then on the next floor there were six bedrooms and two old-fashioned bathrooms, all overlooking the cathedral. Much needed to be done to make them as pleasant as they could be.

The inspection took us some time and the cathedral clock was chiming the hour as we descended a small winding staircase, which led to the old servants’ rooms and, finally, to the
somewhat
primitive kitchen. Victoria made a face when she saw it. ‘What sort of budget will the diocese allow me?’ she asked.

‘I have no idea. The Archbishop didn’t mention it. I don’t think you should spend too much, Victoria. The Church of England has more important things to do with its money than lavish it on housing for a couple of already very privileged people.’

‘Nonsense!’ said Victoria. ‘You’re doing the Archbishop an enormous favour, putting off your retirement to take on this job. And, in any case, the Church is a steward of this wonderful property and it’s its duty to exercise that stewardship in the best way possible. It shouldn’t just let things rot.’

I did not want to argue. Having spent the whole of my
professional
life pondering ethical dilemmas, it was all too easy to see both sides of any problem.

Finally, at the back of the house was a lovely walled garden. It had been a mild autumn and the traditional English roses still bloomed as they clambered over the mellow brick walls. There was a spacious lawn and old mulberry and quince trees heavy with fruit. The air was sweet with the fragrance of its ripeness.

‘“Our lot has been cast in a goodly heritage,”’ I quoted.

Victoria snorted. ‘Try not to be pompous, darling,’ she said.

Mrs Thomas brought us coffee in the study while Victoria tried unsuccessfully to entice the cats from under the tallboy. They were completely traumatised by the move and the encounter with Marmaduke had been the last straw. Just as Victoria gave up and started to pour out, there was a huge
rat-tat-tat
on the front door. I hastened to open it and, to my
amazement
, there was a rotund figure hidden behind a large bunch of golden chrysanthemums. Although I had never met him, I knew instinctively who it must be … the Vice-Chancellor of St Sebastian’s University.

‘G’day, mate,’ he said as he shook my hand. ‘Alf Flanagan, here.’ He could not have been much more than five-foot-two inches high, but he made up for his lack of inches in girth and
personality
. Wearing a grey flannel suit that barely met around his middle, he sported a St Sebastian’s tie while a large maroon handkerchief flowed out of his breast pocket. Before I could get out a word of greeting or welcome, he bounced over the front doorstep and into the hall.

‘Good to have you back in St Sebastian’s. I’ve heard all about you from your old friend Magnus Hamilton. Just what we need! A breath of fresh air! Incidentally is that your cat? He’s dispatched that wretched squirrel in a most unchristian fashion.’

‘Our cleaner told us it belongs to one of the canons.’

‘Rough little bugger! He hissed at me when I went past.’

I introduced the Vice-Chancellor to Victoria and she asked him if he would like to join us for coffee. Mrs Thomas brought in a tray with a cup and saucer and some home-made shortbread fingers. He was on his feet in an instant.

‘Well hullo, Mrs Thomas, and how are you? I was saying to Evan just the other morning that it’s been too long since we saw each other. And how are young Bronwen and Huw getting along?’

Clearly Flanagan was superbly good at people-management. Mrs Thomas was thrilled by the encounter with her husband’s boss and disappeared down to the kitchen smiling. The
Vice-Chancellor
then turned to Victoria and asked all about her father. He had met him previously more than a year earlier. He had even stayed overnight at the castle to discuss some university business while Victoria and I had been in Virginia.

‘A real top bloke! A bonzo sportsman and a gentleman if ever I met one. Eighty-eight is he now? It’s a great age!’ I could see Victoria melting. Anyone who liked her father could do no wrong in her eyes. I made a little promise to myself that I would not allow myself to be manipulated by his bluff Australian charm.

Alf Flanagan spread himself on the sofa and dunked his
biscuits
into his coffee.

‘When d’you plan to start at the cathedral?’ he asked.

‘Actually,’ I said, ‘I’m supposed to begin straightaway. The last Provost has already moved out all his things and our
furniture
is due to arrive tomorrow.’

‘Poor sod!’ he said. ‘Cyril Woodcock was an idiot in many ways, but he was an improvement on his predecessor and it could’ve happened to any of us.’

‘How is his wife?’ Victoria asked. ‘It can’t have been much fun for her.’

‘Well she was half the trouble. Double gussetted if you know what I mean! Anyway she gave him hell about it all. And to make her feelings clear, when they left she drove the car straight across the Green Court. The gardeners were not pleased. You can see the tyre tracks by the Monks’ Gate.’ Turning to me, he smiled. ‘Let’s talk of more pleasant things. I want you both to come to Flanagan’s for lunch on Monday.’

‘Flanagan’s?’ Victoria looked puzzled.

‘The new university restaurant. A fair-dinkum place even if I say so myself. You’ll remember it as Brewster’s Brewery just behind the university.’

I did remember it. Brewster’s Brewery was an old St Sebastian’s business. In my years at the university it had been very run down and the managing director, the last scion of the original family, was said to have a serious drink problem. The Vice-Chancellor continued his explanation, ‘We’ve taken over the building. I got a nice lump of European money to keep the operation going. I’d just closed the Chemistry department, which was a waste of space if ever there was one. I’d managed to get rid of the professor, but I was stuck with some of his underlings. So I set them to organise a department of Brewing Technology. It’s been a top enterprise. We make all our own beer: Flanagan’s Finest, it’s called. Place is booming! We’ve got outlets all over the country and we’re planning to export to Europe this year. That’s organised by the Business Studies department. It gives them something useful to do …’

‘But what about the restaurant?’ asked Victoria.

‘Well it’s all part of the enterprise. The Travel and Tourism department train the waiters and waitresses as part of their
hospitality
course and we use the old brewery offices as a small
catering
department to produce the food. It’s a thoroughly professional enterprise.’

‘It must cost a fortune,’ my wife observed. ‘Presumably you have to pay all the cooks and waitresses the government
minimum
wage even if the beer comes very cheaply.’

Alf Flanagan roared with amusement. ‘Pay them? … I’ve never heard such nonsense! They pay us! They’re students! This is all part of their course! St Sebastian’s University is famous throughout the United Kingdom for providing the very best work experience for its undergraduates. You should just see their curriculum vitaes when they leave us!’

‘So Brewing Technology and Travel and Tourism and Catering are all academic disciplines now? Is that right,
Vice-Chancellor?
’ I always like to get things clear in my own mind.