Tim Connor Hits Trouble

by Frank Lankaster

  Swankie was still unsure precisely where Broome’s comments were leading. He was unaware of any serious issue in relation to Connor although he now regretted his own role in appointing him. Connor gave the impression of being slightly disorganised and at times adopted a confrontational manner that had not been apparent at interview and which suggested that in the long run he might be as troublesome as Henry Jones. But these matters could not be construed as misconduct and judging from the summary of student evaluations and peer reviews passed on to him, Connor was otherwise doing a reasonable job. Still, if there was a legitimate opportunity to get rid of him, Swankie was prepared to listen.

  ‘Perhaps you could tell me what has been said about him and who said it, Geoffrey.’

  Broome gave Swankie a measured look. ‘For the moment the possible allegations must definitely remain confidential. It was made by three of his first-year students. It’s unusual for such youngsters to seek me out. I presume they were unaware of the complaints procedure and came straight to the top. These days I don’t keep an open door to students but if they insist on seeing me I will. That’s their right as customers.’

  Instinctively Swankie was uneasy at this. Of course students had their rights and much had been done to implement them in recent years, including giving them the opportunity to evaluate teaching staff. But their criticisms were not always well considered or informed. As was sometimes the case with imposed market mechanisms, one group’s freedom could be at the expense of others.

  ‘And what was the complaint, Geoffrey?’ He leaned forward, intrigued to hear the proposed case against Connor.

  ‘The students accused Connor of racism although I think they used the wrong term. In effect one of his lectures was apparently critical of multiculturalism.’ Broome assumed a solemn expression. ‘We are a multicultural society, Howard,’ he shook his fist firmly, adding portentously, ‘we are a multicultural university. There can be no suggestion of, well racism is not perhaps the issue,’ he struggled to find the right word, ending rather weakly, ‘of opposition to, I mean, anti-multiculturalism.’

  Swankie waited to hear more, but nothing was immediately forthcoming. On the contrary Broome looked as though he thought little more needed to be said. Swankie found Broome’s blustering performance disconcerting. Racism was a tricky issue on which skewer anyone other than the most blatantly bigoted and, whatever his faults, Connor was certainly not that. All that Swankie knew about Connor suggested that he was strongly anti-racist. It was possible that the real problem was in the students’ mistaken perceptions, apparently adopted by the Vice-Chancellor. Not for the first time Swankie decided that his role should be in guiding the Vice-Chancellor away from making an embarrassing cock-up.

  Geoffrey’s strengths lay in running the business and financial side of the university and Swankie had noticed that his grip of social and cultural issues was less secure. Yet perversely it was in these areas that Broome was most outspoken possibly to paper over his limited knowledge or, even worse, unaware of it. His pronouncements tended to be driven by politically correct positions that now shaped the culture of higher education rather than by his own intellectual grasp of matters. Usually his efforts were adequate to meet the expectations of the educational establishment but multiculturalism had become a complex and controversial area. Broome did not seem fully up to speed. It was one thing to support Britain as a multicultural society as both Broome and Connor did, it was quite another to understand the complexities of academic opinion about multicultural theory and policy which, Swankie knew Connor did and Broome apparently didn’t. It was not unusual for some academics and policy wonks to oppose certain multicultural policies arguing that they had the opposite effect to what was intended, separating people rather than bringing them together. It was quite fair to criticise multiculturalism in that sense and Swankie guessed that Connor had made some allusion to this approach.

  Broome’s account was probably unintentionally distorted and inflated. There was little chance of Connor being legitimately disciplined on the grounds outlined. To try to do so might bring adverse publicity to the University and perhaps precipitate a court case that it would probably lose. He needed to persuade the Vice-Chancellor to take a less dramatic view of the complaint against Connor but without appearing to diminish his authority or, God forbid, making him feel foolish. Swankie’s own professional ambitions required him to keep Broome onside but preferably not at the expense of implicating himself in a fiasco. He approached the matter cautiously.

  ‘Vice-Chancellor, I believe the students may have misled you although I’m sure not deliberately. I know from my own conversations with Connor and my familiarity with his work that he is fully committed to Britain’s multicultural society and he is certainly not racist. As you are aware there is legitimate academic debate about multiculturalism and multicultural policy and I am sure that Connor was merely reflecting this. In that context, he might also have identified his own views.’ Swankie paused before making a tactical play, ‘I’m sure I can take this matter off your hands and deal with it appropriately myself.’

  Broome hesitated. He was half aware that Swankie had provided an opportunity for him to exit gracefully from what he was beginning to see might be an awkward situation. He hovered between relief and resentment. He disliked Swankie assuming the higher intellectual and moral ground at his expense. But he conceded that this area was one in which his colleague had superior expertise and in effect Swankie was advising him not to get entangled in this case. Yet he still felt uneasy about Connor even if he wasn’t guilty of racism. He decided to raise a second complaint made by the students albeit in such vague terms that he had initially decided not to mention it to Swankie.

  ‘The three students who complained to me also mentioned another matter about Connor. They suggested that he is inclined to be over friendly with female students. Admittedly they failed to come up with anything substantial but they did refer to an incident in one of his lectures when a student seemed to refer to a close personal relationship with Connor, perhaps an affair.’

  ‘How extraordinary, Vice-Chancellor… Not the alleged relationship, although that is of concern enough, but that it arose as a matter of comment during a lecture. Has the young lady in question made a complaint herself?’

  ‘I understand not and that she insists that she has nothing to complain about.’

  ‘In which case, Geoffrey, we have nothing to complain about either.’

  Immediately he regretted indulging in verbal finesse.

  Broome looked more flustered than annoyed. His tone was defensively bombastic.

  ‘Of course, I’m not suggesting that we do. I’m not illiberal, you know, Howard. I’m simply making a more general observation that we must appoint people who maintain the ethos of the university, the ethos that we’ve struggled so hard to create in recent years. We can’t have young male members of staff or for that matter staff of any age,’ his glance settled briefly on Swankie, ‘rampaging around treating the female students as their personal harem.’ Concerned that he had over-gendered the point at the expense of males he added ‘or female members of staff rampaging either.’ Finally in an attempt to cover every angle he concluded ‘with either or any sex.’ He leant back breathless but confident that he had covered the ground correctly.

  Swankie struggled with a powerful urge to laugh, hoping that the silence he managed to maintain would be deemed as respectful. Broome composed himself, still unwilling to leave the subject of Connor. But it was with diminishing conviction that he floated a suggestion he had thought up earlier.

  ‘I was thinking that we should at least require Connor to repeat his probationary year. If there is something in what the students say it will do no harm to serve him a warning. We don’t want another Henry Jones on our hands.’

  ‘Geoffrey, I don’t think we can take action against Connor on the grounds that he might be a Henry Jones in the making. Hopefully Jones is a once in a lifetime nightmare – if I may use
such unprofessional language. No, you can leave Connor to me. I’ll talk to him. I could conduct his end of year appraisal. They’re due very shortly. There may be grounds for requiring him to repeat his probationary year but I don’t think we can go beyond that without risking a backlash.’

  Struggling to reach a decision, Broome tried to find eye contact with Swankie. He failed to do so. Swankie, his hands together as in prayer, was gazing thoughtfully at his fingertips.

  Irritated, Broome decided that he had had enough of this particular problem. ‘Alright, Howard, I’ll leave it with you but let me know if there is anything we need to be seriously concerned about.’ He paused for a moment, taking a look at his watch. ‘And now for Henry Jones, a more straight-forward case, I think you’ll agree.’

  ‘What do you have in mind, Geoffrey? I don’t doubt we can soon reach a consensus for action on this one.’ Swankie was beginning to enjoy the edge in the conversation he had acquired over his superior. He hoped Broome was impressed rather than annoyed. Egoist though Geoffrey was, he appreciated that he relied heavily on his senior colleagues.

  Broome felt that he was now on more secure ground. ‘I’ve had your report on him. It’s clear that he’s not doing the job he’s paid to do. He’s been in breach of contract for some time. As you know he refuses to submit any medical information on his condition. We should dismiss him. I take it that is also your view?’

  ‘In principle, yes. The only issue to consider is that he will be sixty-five in less than three years and we could require him to leave then as surplus to requirements without risking the kind of fuss that he might try to make now. On the other hand three more years of Jones in his present frame of mind is unthinkable. Of course he’s entitled to due procedure but the case for his dismissal is unanswerable.’

  ‘So we’re agreed then. I’ll set the necessary mechanisms in motion. But do recheck the details of your report.’

  The two men relaxed for a moment, satisfied with their efforts. Broome leaned forward, clicking his tongue in apparent annoyance. ‘Howard, we’ve been so preoccupied with these unpleasant matters that I’ve forgotten even to offer you coffee. Unfortunately I have another appointment shortly but would you like me to have something sent in for you before you leave?’

  Swankie took the hint and politely turned down the offer. There was no point in hanging around when Broome had finished with you.

  ‘Thank you, Geoffrey, but no, I have an urgent appointment to keep myself.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure I can’t get you something.’

  ‘No, I’m fine thanks, really.’

  ‘I’ll say goodbye then and thank you for your helpful input.’

  ‘Not at all, Geoffrey. Goodbye.’

  The Vice-Chancellor’s secretary had already left her office when Swankie passed speedily through. Broome walked over to the window facing the courtyard in front of the building. He watched his colleague get into his car and then adjust the driving mirror so he could look at himself. Swankie fiddled for a moment with his tie, already quite straight, and smoothed down his hair, in an attempt to cover his balding crown. Next, rather bizarrely Broome felt, Swankie appeared to practise smiling for a few moments.

  ‘Bloody vain bugger,’ thought Broome, guffawing to himself. As he did so, Swankie suddenly looked straight up at him. Broome swiftly converted his guffaw into a cheery smile. Swankie reddened and attempted to smile back.

  Despite the minor embarrassment of his departure, Swankie felt thoroughly pleased with life as he drove out of the university grounds and towards Wash. He was finally getting rid of Jones and without any manoeuvring on his part had found himself in a strong tactical position with Connor. And he could claim to have done so without compromising his principles. Indeed, it was his principles that had carried the day. Admittedly delivering a tutorial on the complexities of multicultural theory to Geoffrey was a bit risky. Bloody arrogant bugger, Geoffrey. But overall Swankie felt he had negotiated matters with some panache. He may even have boosted his chances as a possible contender to replace Geoffrey when the latter quit. He stroked his jacket lapel in self-congratulation. What a card he was! What a winner! A good day, indeed!

  And it wasn’t over yet. The best was still to come. Or he hoped it was. He checked his watch. It was twenty-five to five. He had a few minutes to spare before his five o’clock date. There was just time to detour round Wash Heights before dipping down to his rendezvous on the East side of the city. Once on the Heights he pulled into a lay-by close to a golf course. He took out a bottle of water and a small packet of pills from his briefcase. Removing one of the pills, he bit it in two, swallowing one half with a draught of water. That should do me despite lack of recent practice. After all I’m barely fifty-three.

  He checked his watch again. It was already ten to five. He hoped he’d timed the Viagra correctly. He was tempted to switch back and cut straight through the city to ensure he was punctual. He didn’t want to appear anything less than razor keen. Caution prevailed. There was less chance of being recognised if he went by the less travelled back-road route. He threaded his way impatiently across the upper reaches of the city before turning right into a broad pebble-dash road flanked on both sides by large detached houses. He pulled into a small secluded side-road where he parked his car as inconspicuously as possible. Feeling more excited than for some time he locked his vehicle and walked swiftly towards an imposing Georgian mansion. The wrought iron gate was already open – he imagined in anticipation of his arrival. He went through and walked up the crescent drive.

  His knock on the door was answered almost immediately. ‘Hello Howard, do come in.’

  ‘Hello Aisha, it’s good to see you. You look lovely.’ His attempt to kiss her on the lips was swiftly diverted to her cheek where it landed awkwardly. She drew back before he had a chance to plant a second kiss. Howard’s optimism dropped a notch.

  ‘You look very nice yourself, Howard,’ said Aisha in a matter of fact tone. ‘Have you come straight from work?’

  Yes, I’ve just had a long session with Geoffrey,’ he replied, seizing the opportunity to impress.

  ‘Geoffrey?’Aisha queried.

  ‘Yes, Aisha, Geoffrey the Vice Chancellor, you know, the boss.’

  ‘Yes, of course, he doesn’t cross my path as often as he does yours. In fact he barely crosses it at all. Did you reach any interesting conclusions or is it all confidential?’

  Howard was tempted to play the privileged insider and drop a few hints about his conversation with Broome but quickly decided on discretion. Besides he’d noticed that far from being impressed, Aisha seemed to react against anything implying self-importance.

  ‘Nothing that won’t be in the public domain in a day or two.’

  ‘I see,’ said Aisha flatly, quickly losing interest.

  By now the distance between the scenario Swankie had imagined and what was unfolding was too apparent for him to ignore. It didn’t help that his penis was making a determined attempt to break out of his trousers. The Viagra had kicked in a bit earlier than he had anticipated. He had also begun to feel slightly light-headed. He gazed at Aisha through a haze of frustrated longing. He decided to go for broke. Don’t go home with your hard on.

  ‘Aisha, I want to ask you if we can take our relationship beyond the platonic stage to a new level. We have a lot in common both intellectually and emotionally.’ He was aware of how stiff he sounded despite his palpitating emotions. He strained to get across his feelings, to connect. What would Clint do in this situation? He would give it his best shot.

  ‘Aisha, the truth is I’ve fallen in love with you and I believe you find me not unattractive. We both have dead-in-the-water marriages. Let’s sleep together. Let’s do it now.’

  ‘Howard, don’t be ridiculous. It’s not possible. It could wreck both our lives. And I have a child to consider. I like you but that’s as far as it can go or as far as I’ve ever wanted it to go. And you mustn’t think that I find you unattractive… Bu
t, we can meet and talk as before. There’s nothing wrong with that. I have several men friends. But it’s not a good idea to meet here again. We are definitely not going to be lovers. Definitely not.’ Aisha’s expression was even more unambiguous than her words.

  Howard was as miffed that his declaration of passion should be seen as ‘ridiculous’ as he was pole-axed by its flat rejection. There was no doubting Aisha’s intent or rather total absence of intent. Looking wistfully at her it dawned on him that he had been playing way out of his league. He had imagined himself in the Premiership when his true form hardly made the Beazer League South. But if you don’t try you don’t know. He knew now.

  Still, there was a cracker of a surprise for someone that night!

  Chapter 21

  In Some Other Lifetime

  It was late one night early in summer term when Tim got a call from Henry. His voice sounded muffled, as though he was talking from some distant place.

  ‘Henry, are you alright?’

  ‘Not really Tim, I’ve been sacked.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Henry, that’s dreadful.’ Tim had been expecting the news but still felt for his friend. ‘When did it happen?’

  ‘Earlier today. The VC wielded the knife but we know who held his hand.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess so. Henry I’m sorry.’ He felt his response was failing to match the seriousness of the news. Not that he underestimated the mess Henry was in. But he was stumped for what to say and even more for what to do. He decided the best he could do for now was to listen. Henry sounded badly shaken: dumped by Annette and now by his employers; a double termination. His battles with his wife and bosses had at least given him a sense of engagement. Now both had called time on him. He wasn’t worth the trouble. Tim struggled to find meaningful words of support. ‘Henry, you could appeal. Or, like you said, see if the union will take up your case.’