by Tom Davies
“Great idea, Chloe. Let’s check diaries now.”
CHAPTER 23
1998
“Simon McGuire here, Alec. How are you?”
“Simon. Good to hear you. I’m well, apart from students, lectures and marking! Thanks for your emails.”
“It’s just a quickie, Alec. I’m calling to confirm our Course Board meeting for the Zombek Project. Monday the ninth, here at ten-thirty. OK?”
“That’s fine Simon. Who’ll be present?”
“Just Chloe, me, you and the other External Examiner, Emma Hardacre. I do have a further request, Alec; we need to do a bit of serious thinking about some aspects of the programme. Could you possibly come down on Sunday evening? We could go for a meal and discussion. There’s a new Italian restaurant I want to try, within walking distance. You can stay here. Obviously this would be recorded as consultancy.”
“That sounds sensible, Simon, and very civilised too. Supposing I get to yours at six o’clock, OK?”
“Great, that’s great, Alec. I’m sure we can sort things out between us all. I was thinking along the lines of asking you take on a private contract.”
“I’m always in the market for consultancy, Simon. Look forward to seeing you then.”
Simon broke the connection and immediately dialled Chloe. “Hi Chloe, it’s me. I’ve sorted Alec as we discussed. How did you get on?”
“Hello Simon. That’s good. I’ve done the same with Emma. She’s coming down on the Sunday. I hope the budget can stand it?”
“You’ve done well, Chloe. Yes, the budget’s fine. I’ve cleared arrangements with Luke Nweewe. There’s contingency funding available, don’t worry!”
“I’m not worried, Simon. I suggest that you and I meet on the Friday before and decide our tactics.”
“What a good idea, Chloe. Would you like to have dinner, at the Maison d’Amor in Albury?”
Chloe wondered at the expense, but not for long. She would love to see if the place lived up to its reputation. “All right, Simon, let’s do that.”
*************
“I love this restaurant, Chloe. The food is always absolutely superb. Let’s have a couple of drinks at the bar and mull over things before we order.”
“OK, Simon.”
They checked the cocktail menu. Chloe chose a Bellini and Simon a Pernod. They decided to move to a more discreet area so they wouldn’t be overheard.
Chloe started the conversation. “This is how I see things. As we’re going at the moment, about fifty Zombekians would fail end-of-first-year examinations. That would be disastrous!”
“Too bloody right! So let’s decide how to retrieve, Chloe. What we must do is make the remaining tuition this year much more directive. We should focus on essentials and work them harder.”
“That’s right, Simon. But I also think it’s prudent to share both the load and the responsibility with the External Examiners. After all, we’re paying them well to take an independent view of the needs of the students, and suggest ways of meeting them.”
She paused and gazed levelly at him over the rim of the glass.
He scrambled to get his mind around all the things she might mean. Some thoughts are better not articulated. She was proving a strong ally. What was her interest? Perhaps that, also, was better un-articulated.
“There are more funds available, of course, but we need to ensure value for money.”
“Agreed, Simon. That’s a message for you to get across to Alec. I’ll do the same with Emma.”
In a while the maître d’ came with the menu. It didn’t take them long to choose, and both wanted the same. A bottle of Fleurie was ordered. They started with foie gras, which was to be followed by Chateaubriand. The bottle of Fleurie was already ‘breathing’ on the table.
The Chateaubriand proved superb: dark and slightly crisped at the edges, pink in the middle. The little vegetables almost slid down the gullet like oysters. The whole creation assaulted the senses. It was a joy to the eye, a sinful temptation to the nostrils and heaven to the palate. The excellent accompanying President XV washed away any concerns about grotty students, low pass levels and, worse, ensuing retribution. The couple talked, instead, about astrology!
“Surely, you don’t believe in all that star sign business do you, Chloe?”
“The study of celestial influence upon our lives could be said to be one of the world’s oldest sciences. It certainly pre-dates Christianity by a considerable period. In France, some companies use it as an aid to recruitment and selection.”
Simon realised he hardly knew anything about this woman. She was clever and attractive, which made her desirable. But what was inside?
“Go on, tell me more!”
“Well, in this country, most people confine their knowledge of astrology to reading the ‘stars’ sections in magazines and the popular papers. And, since those are mainly ‘fun’ things, it gets a bad press, if you’ll pardon the pun. But, actually, there’s a whole raft of scientific study and tabular data behind astrology. In essence, Simon, astrology is the study of the motions and relative positions of the planets, sun and moon, interpreted in terms of human characteristics and activities.
One’s precise time and location of birth is regarded as a crucial determinant.
“Well, as a student I used to read my stars to see if it was going to be a lucky gambling day. But that’s about the limit of my involvement, Chloe. Give me an example of someone’s alleged characteristics.” He reached for the coffee jug.
“OK. I’m a Scorpio. Actually, I’m a double Scorpio.”
“What does that imply?”
“Both the Sun and the Moon were in Scorpio when I was born. I’ve had a personal birth chart interpretation. It confirms what I know to be the truth. For example, I have intense, powerful, feelings. When I commit to someone, or some mission, I’m unwavering and prepared to sacrifice all. Of course, there is a corollary to that. I tend to expect total and unswerving loyalty from my partner in return.”
“That sounds rather a black and white view of relationships, Chloe. Do you think that’s a realistic expectation?”
“What it does, Simon, if you believe in it, is point up the prudence of selecting partners and associates who’s own star signs influence them towards that characteristic.”
“What else would you say about Scorpios in general, Chloe?”
“Well, it’s said that we are passionate, don’t accept fools gladly and that once trust has been lost there’s no road back. I suppose you might feel that’s black and white, too.”
“I think I might be kinder and say you’re sharply focused! Employers value that. It means you’d be a great project leader. Point you towards a target and you bludgeon through to the end, blasting all obstacles aside!”
“Mmm, it’s a thought. I’d need to think about that inference, Simon!” She nibbled a piece of Turkish Delight.
“Tell me which star signs might be incompatible with you, Chloe.”
“Geminis are a nightmare. They tend to have two sides to them. They can get extremely interested in someone or something, spend enormous energy, then switch off and move on, just like that! They can sometimes be moody too. Switching from being brilliant company to miserable old buggers!”
“I think I can see, from what you tell me of yourself, that you seek consistency from others. Are there any other star signs incompatible with Scorpios?”
“Well, speaking on a personal basis, I had a disastrous relationship with a Capricorn, although that was some time ago.”
She decided to switch tack. The conversation was heading for undesirable territory. At university she’d finished with her Gemini man. It was very painful, she’d committed deeply. But he’d become impossible and turned out to be serially unfaithful.
After three years she’d still not shrugged off the ensuing emotional baggage and come to the view that perhaps he was just acting in a normal male way, chancing his luck whenever it came. Consequently, she had co
me to doubt her own sexuality. If he was a typical male perhaps she was destined to be different? At the time she was into athletics, 1500 metres, and had represented England a couple of times. She’d developed an attachment for another woman team member. She was a Capricorn. They’d set up together. It was lovely for a time, sensitive and caring, but then turned sour.
Two good things emerged. Chloe shrugged off her scars from university and she resolved all doubts about her sexuality. She was definitely seeking a male mate, but had just temporarily lost direction. But today was not the occasion for all that to surface. Instead she asked, “By the way, when’s your birthday, Simon?”
“Twelfth of November, Chloe!”
“Oh my God, another Scorpio!”
“What does that mean, Chloe? Is the sky about to fall in?”
She was embarrassed, hadn’t meant to reveal that she was thinking about all this in personal terms with him. Two Scorpios can often have a wonderful relationship, as near perfection as you can get. On the other hand, such a partnership can descend into abso-bloody-lute hell.
She bluffed it out. “No, not at all, idiot! It’s just that I thought you’d be something different. Look, the taxi will be here shortly. I must leave you for a minute.” She picked up her bag and made for the loo.
By the time the taxi arrived she was under control and spent the short journey talking about the wonderful food. She was quick to make her exit.
“I’ve had a lovely evening, Simon. We must do it again sometime. See you on Monday. ’Bye-ee!”
She kissed his cheek, left the cab, and walked into the building.
*************
Simon looked at the other three and thought, ‘It’s now or never,’ then drew a deep breath and said, “Thanks for all that, then. I think we’ve sorted out all the elements of the problem. Let me summarise and propose a way ahead. The Zombek students are, in the main, hard working with the right outlook. It’s just that twenty-five per cent of them are finding it very hard going. Pucklebridge has the resources to deliver tuition to them. But there’s a great deal for them to absorb. I suggest that, for the rest of this academic year, their studies must become very much more focused on essentials. Hopefully, next year, we can allow them to broaden out a bit.
“Chloe and I have talked this over and this is what we’d like you to do. We’d like you, Alec, to produce and deliver to us, by the end of March, an end-of-first-year exam paper on Principles and Practice of Accounting. Only Chloe and I will be seeing it, of course, until exam time. We’d like it accompanied by an annotated reading list. We’d like you, Emma, to do the same for Principles and Practice of Economics.”
Both Emma and Alec made to speak, but Simon continued, “I’ve spoken with the Education Attaché at the Zombek embassy about this. He’s been in touch with base. Their view is that we are breaking new ground here, in a major experiment in applied higher education. They recognise the workload. They’ll be happy to receive from each of you, as independent consultants, via myself, an invoice in the sum of five thousand pounds.”
All present knew what was being said: Nobody wanted to be first to speak. The visitors were obviously wrestling with conflicting emotions. Alec’s silent face was a picture. It reflected, in turn, concern, greed and indecision. Emma wriggled agitatedly on her seat to the extent that she was fortunate to remain on it. Chloe had an irrational desire to laugh like a maniac. Simon ended the silence.
“Look, I think that about covers our agenda today. We’re delighted to be associated with you in spreading higher education. I’ve booked a lunch table for four. Let’s go; I’m starving.”
*************
“How’s the Wiener schnitzel, Luke?”
“Great, Simon. I just love the sauerkraut too. How’s your Bratwurst?”
“Wonderful. I just have to restrain myself. Otherwise there’ll be no room for strudel. Shall I shout for more beer?”
“No, I’m all right. Look, for God’s sake tell me about the exam results.”
“These are only preliminary assessments by Chloe and me. The students’ papers have been sent off for double marking, as we agreed, to the External Examiners. However; the news is good. Only nine students failed to get sufficient marks in all subjects. And each of those only dipped in one subject. We shall simply ‘refer’ those for a resit early in the next academic year. How about that!”
“Terrific, Simon, that’s fantastic! You and Chloe have done very well. My uncle will be delighted.”
“Well, once we got the exam papers, we re-programmed tuition and then just put in two months’ bloody hard work. The kids were great, too. They mostly worked like Trojans.”
“Can our Education Attaché expect a further invoice from the External Examiners? They must be burning the midnight oil.”
“Yes, Luke, as we agreed, we telephoned them and apologised for asking them to prioritise us. June is a busy time for them. We sweetened it by asking them to submit privately, another consultancy invoice each, for £2,000. They know what’s required!”
“Well that’s that, then, for another year! I think I might just be able to manage a bit more strudel, Simon. How about you?”
*************
Saturday, a month later, proved to be one of those rare, magical, days whose influence affects the rest of one’s life. It had an inauspicious start. At 11.30, Simon gathered the resolve to leave bed, started the coffee pot and produced toast. He sat, unshaven and scrunching noisily, at the computer and called up Outlook Express. There were two emails. One was from Alec and one from Emma. The exam papers were now marked and, as he and Chloe had forecast to the Vice-Chancellor, just nine students had been referred for resit in one subject. “Wonderful! Marvellous!” he proclaimed to the empty room.
There was just one letter in the conventional, old-fashioned paper-through-the-letter-box delivery. He ripped the flap open.
Dear Simon,
The Board has reviewed your performance during the academic year. I am delighted to inform you that your achievements have been recognised by an award of £10,000 per annum, to be consolidated with immediate effect, into your salary.
Congratulations.
Very well done.
Stuart Mison
“Bloody fantastic!” he hooted.
Later in the afternoon he browsed in the bookshop, went on to Pizza Hut and rounded off with a visit to the cinema. To Simon, this was a little tour of pure self-indulgence. Pity there was no one to share it with. However, if one could have absolutely everything, there’d be nothing left to strive for.
On the way home, purely on impulse, he pulled into a garage and bought a bunch of flowers and the best box of chocolates on offer. He’d thought of someone he could share his good news with, at least…
“Hello Simon! What a lovely surprise.”
“Hello Janet. I saw some flowers and chocolates and thought of you! However, perhaps you should beware a Greek bearing gifts!”
“I’m onto that one, Simon. It’s Virgil. And I think it should be, ‘I fear the Greeks, even when they offer gifts.’ They’re lovely, thank you. Are you coming in for a drink?”
“Love to, Janet.”
“Go into the sitting room. The bottle and glasses are there … I’ve just opened a Nuit St. George, OK?
“Mmm, that’s fine. I like Nutty Saint George! Wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, anyway!”
“Oh dear, Simon, sit back, drink up and stop it.” But she couldn’t resist the pleasure of the challenge and continued, “That saying has its counterpart in many languages. How are you, anyway? What’s new with you?”
“I’ve great news, Janet. All but nine of the Zombek students passed their end of year exams. And those nine are just referred for resit in one subject.”
“My dear Simon, I’m so pleased for you. You must have done things well.”
He wondered if her choice of words was deliberate. She’d been about a long time. He replied, “Old Mison must think so, Janet; he’s u
pped my salary by ten grand. I got a letter today.”
So that was it. He wanted to share his good news. She’d wondered about his visit. Still, at my age, she thought, one really mustn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. She answered, “That’s wonderful, Simon, really wonderful. You top up the glasses, I’ll open the chocolates.” She resolved to maintain his sense of wellbeing.
“What have I interrupted, Janet?”
“Nothing really, Simon. I was just about to pour a drink, which you’ve saved me doing myself, and then listen to a new CD.”
“Oh, what’s on it?”
“It’s called ‘Side by Side’ and the players are Itzhak Perlman and Oscar Peterson.”
Janet had surprised him again. It was, of course, his mistake. Oscar Peterson had been playing small group jazz, and bringing joy to devotees, for years and years. Janet, now 60-ish, probably developed the taste in her twenties.
“I think he’s tremendous. Can we listen to it?”
“Of course. You can help me confirm a view I’m forming. I read somewhere that he’d had a stroke. So I was delighted to find him still recording. However, when I listened to this I thought his style had changed drastically. It was still marvellous, but different. Then it occurred to me. He’s only playing with the right hand. The backing group play in a way that augments that. Perlman weaves in and out and around Peterson in a sort of Stephane Grapelli way. Let’s listen and you tell me what you think.” She pushed the chocolates back across the coffee table to Simon.
They sat back and listened awhile. Simon closed his eyes. Janet watched him, apparently casually, but carefully. After a while he said, “I think you’re right. That track of Dark Eyes confirmed it for me. Great sound though. Can I top us up?”
She’d looked at the bottle a minute before. If they drained it he would have had three glasses. She thought that was about right. “Yes, please, let’s share it.” In a while she’d offer coffee. “These chocolates are more-ish, Simon. Come on, help me out. Have another.”
“I really was very pleased with Mison’s letter, Janet. He’s a remote figure to me, most of the time. The award seems to imply his interest in my work.”