I Want to be Me

by Nicky Bright

  ‘It’s all or nothing tomorrow,’ she whispered. She took Elfie by the arm and led him away.

  This gave Claudia the opportunity to slip away. She had lost sight of Li but headed off in the general direction of the river. At first, she couldn’t find him. He was nowhere in sight. Then she heard something. She found Li huddled up quite near the river – too near, she thought. He had been crying. She said nothing at first. She just sat down beside him. She was near enough to the river to reach the water. She took her shoes off and dangled her feet in the water, which was deliciously cool. It had been such a hot day.

  ‘Why are you upset, Li?’ she asked eventually. At first he didn’t reply. Then he wiped his face and turned towards her.

  ‘Don’t you know, didn’t you see?’ he said with some feeling. ‘I failed. I made a mistake. It was my fault we lost!’

  ‘No, it wasn’t. It was the accident with the baton. Accidents happen, Li.’

  ‘My bad luck! Joss – even the judge said it.’

  Claudia was having none of this. ‘The judge, and everyone, thought you were fantastic. You can’t blame yourself. Look, I thought you were terrific.’ They both stared at the water for a few moments.

  ‘Did you – did you really?’ Claudia’s opinion clearly meant something to Li.

  ‘Yes, I did – look, let’s be honest with each other. What is really making you sad?’

  Li was silent. He just stared at the River Isis.

  ‘Come on,’ Claudia coaxed him, ‘you can tell me. I won’t tell a soul. I’ve had problems too, you know.’

  ‘All right, I’ll tell you then. I never wanted to come here. I was happy where I was in China. It’s been bad for me in the college.’ Claudia thought for a moment.

  ‘What do you miss the most, Li?’

  ‘My family, most of all. But it’s everything. The people are different there. In my town – it’s quite large, but everyone is friendly. They help you. I had a lot of friends there. Also, I hate the food here. It’s just so bad.’

  Claudia nodded. ‘Li, what are you doing over the summer break?’

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t go home. It costs too much. What about you, Claudia: what are you doing?’

  ‘I’d like to try something different. I’ve had a hard year too, but I’ve managed to come through. I’ve got some new friends. Maybe I’ll play some tennis. I haven’t played before, but I’d like to try. Do you read, Li? I could lend you some books.’

  ‘Yes, I like to read.’

  ‘Look, would you like to meet me after school tomorrow? I’ll bring some books. I know where we can have a soft drink or a coffee.’

  ‘That’s kind of you, Claudia. Yes – I’d like that very much.’

  ‘Well, let’s go back. I’ll tell you where – and please forget about this stuff today – believe me, you did great!’

  That evening, back in Old College, Mozart stayed put in his basket. He felt very sorry for his master, who was banging his head on the desk and blaming Dr Fennell for everything. He purred a deep, throaty purr. He would like to meet this master of Old College in a dark alley one night. He would show him what a sharp pair of claws could do to a bad character like him. Mozart bit into the side of the basket.

  ‘There, there, old chap,’ Sloan said, pulling himself together. He could see that Mozart was upset. ‘Don’t you worry, old fellow, don’t you worry. We’ll get on. We’ll win in the end.’ Sloan soothingly rubbed Mozart’s forehead. Mozart purred softly. This was better. Perhaps they would.

  13

  Game Over

  Do you hear that sound?

  It’s your sound,

  Your voice,

  You.

  Claudia. MySpace.

  On Monday morning, Sloan stood preening himself in front of the mirror in his room. His spirits had already been lifted by the early arrival of a letter, in a pink envelope addressed to Oliver. ‘Dear Oliver,’ it began. ‘I hope you have recovered from your fall the other day.’ It was from Esme. She was inviting him to join her on some birdwatching the next weekend. He had rather liked Esme. Of course, he would be too busy with college matters by then to go, but it was nice to be wanted. He straightened his tie, said goodbye to Mozart and disappeared down the stairs.

  He met up with Jenkins in the main entrance, and almost immediately they began to argue. Herbert, the head porter, looked out through the window in his office. He knew that something was up. The master had already been around, in a somewhat agitated state, to ask him to look out for Sir Michael and to take him to the waiting room when he arrived.

  ‘Keep your heads down today, lads!’ he called out to his colleagues. ‘Something serious is on this morning.’

  The master sat in his study, tapping his desk impatiently.

  ‘Where is that file?’ he asked aloud. He phoned his secretary, yet again. ‘I’m still waiting, Mrs Clark!’ he said quite rudely. There was a knock on the door.

  ‘Come!’ he shouted out. ‘Oh, it’s you, Sloan. Sit down. We’ve got time to go over things. I must tell you, Sloan – yesterday was not a happy day for me.’ Sloan squirmed in his seat. ‘I’m prepared to put it behind me – for the moment – so that we can get on with the foundation arrangements. Now, both of you – listen carefully.’

  Dr Fennell then explained that he was signing the agreement on behalf of the college, and that he would present the agreement to Sir Michael as ‘job done’.

  ‘You, Sloan, as the future, associate director of the foundation…’ he paused briefly, giving Sloan time to swallow the bait, and looked out the window. ‘Well, to help you along with your career, I’m going to give you the credit, Sloan, as the brains behind the whole thing.’ He turned and looked out the window again, a sure sign to those who knew him that he was not being entirely straightforward.

  ‘You’ll sign first, Jenkins will sign second and I’ll sign last.’

  All Sloan could do was mutter ‘thank you, Master’, despite having an uneasy feeling about what was going on.

  ‘I’m not always this generous – and forgiving, Sloan. Ah – that sounds like Mrs Clark now.’ There was a knock on the door. Mrs Clark brought in the foundation file, and the agreement.

  ‘Yes, yes – it all seems fine.’ Dr Fennell quickly checked over the paperwork. ‘Stay, Mrs Clark, you can witness our signatures. Now, sign here, Dr Sloan – and here, Mr Jenkins.’ They all signed.

  ‘When Sir Michael arrives, show him in, Mrs Clark, and call Dr Sloan down from his room at the same time.’ With that, they were all then rudely bundled out of the master’s study, while he retreated behind his desk, where he gleefully looked at the signed papers, turning them over again and again.

  ‘What to do? What to do?’ Sir Michael mused quietly, as his car pulled up outside the college gates. It had been a fast trip in, and he was early. He was met at the gate by Old Herbert, whom he had known for many years.

  ‘Good morning, Sir Michael,’ he said, opening the car door. ‘The master is expecting you, but you are a bit early. Would you mind waiting?’

  ‘Not too long, I hope!’ Herbert could sense that Sir Michael was edgy.

  ‘I’ll make you a cup of tea. It’s Earl Grey that you like, isn’t it, Sir Michael?’

  At least someone knew something at the college, Sir Michael thought, as he sank into a big red leather chair in the waiting room. He opened the file that Helen Brown had given him, and, apart from the documents, he noticed that there were some small white cards in the file.

  He looked through them while he was waiting for the tea to arrive. They contained the names of various things, together with dates, going back a long time. He was pretty sure that they were the names of instruments. Helen Brown was clearly trying to tell him something that the master hadn’t.

  ‘You’ll need this this morning, Sir Michael,’ Herbert said with a wink, as he h
anded Sir Michael his cup of tea. ‘I’ve put in an extra biscuit as well.’ Sir Michael was feeling rather sensitive this morning.

  ‘Oh, will I? What makes you say that?’

  ‘A lot of running around this morning, Sir Michael,’ he said in a lowered voice. ‘I can always tell when there’s something on!’ Herbert tapped his nose, knowingly. This was the final straw for Sir Michael. He decided to trust Herbert and do something.

  ‘Herbert, I want you to tell me, what is under the college? Have you been there? Tell me everything you know.’

  ‘Yes, I have. I go there quite often. I thought you knew all about it, as chairman of the council and everything. It’s full of antiques! It’s absolutely huge!’ Herbert went on to explain what was there in more detail, and as he did so Sir Michael became even more concerned.

  ‘Dr Brown gave me these. She said there was an even larger room that no one knew about that was full of all these things. Chock-a-block! What do you make of that?’ Herbert looked at the cards.

  ‘It’s the same kind of stuff. If Dr Brown said they were there, then they are there!’

  Sir Michael thought hard for a few minutes.

  ‘Where is Dr Brown now, Herbert?’

  ‘Just saw her – she was going to her room. That’s where she is.’

  ‘Listen, Herbert, I want you to do something for me.’ Sir Michael motioned to Herbert to come closer. ‘Over here. The walls have ears you know.’ Sir Michael whispered something to Herbert. ‘Got it?’ he asked.

  ‘Got it, Sir Michael!’

  ‘Exactly?’

  ‘Exactly!’

  ‘I’ve always been able to rely on you, Herbert. Over the years, you’ve been a good friend.’

  ‘I won’t let you down. Never have, have I?’ Herbert immediately left to carry out his assignment.

  Sir Michael nodded. He and Herbert did go back many years. Too many years. Old Herbert knew where the bones were buried around the college like few others. After about 10 minutes there was a knock on the door and Mrs Clark came in.

  ‘Dr Fennell will see you now, Sir Michael,’ she said.

  The master was all smiles as he ushered Sir Michael into his study.

  ‘You know Dr Sloan and Mr Jenkins, of course?’ he said blandly, pointing to his fellow conspirators. Sir Michael was not amused.

  ‘What the devil are they doing here? I came to see you! I have an appointment with you.’ Sir Michael was visibly annoyed, but the master was now very close to his prize and batted on.

  ‘As I recall, Sir Michael, I asked if I could see you first. Would you mind? And then you can see me.’ The master was behaving badly, as if he were now completely in charge of everything already. Sir Michael was ruffled. He was being sorely tested.

  ‘Get on with it then!’ he said gruffly.

  ‘You know I’ve been negotiating with a Canadian group to set up a foundation. Council was told about it and they asked me to get on with it. It will tie us in with a prestigious Canadian university and give us lots of money. Well, I’m pleased to tell you that I have completed the agreement. Here it is.’ Dr Fennell handed Sir Michael the agreement.

  ‘We’d like you to sign it now, Sir Michael. We’ve already signed it. If it isn’t signed now the consequences might be bad.’

  Sir Michael, who had been standing, slumped into a chair.

  ‘I don’t believe this,’ he said. ‘I haven’t seen this before – who said you could? Who gave you permission to do this?’ He started looking over the document.

  ‘I believe I have the authority,’ Dr Fennell said smugly. ‘I have had advice that I do.’

  ‘It’s signed away our library and museum pieces. This is terrible. I won’t sign this!’ Sir Michael was going quite red in the face.

  ‘It will look better for you if you did sign it, Sir Michael. ‘It’s a done deal. Council will back me to the hilt.’ Sir Michael looked at his watch.

  ‘In a hurry, Sir Michael? Well, just sign and we can all be on our way.’ There was a knock on the door.

  ‘I told that secretary not to disturb us!’ Dr Fennell growled. The door opened, and in walked Dr Helen Brown.

  ‘Not now, Dr Brown, not now! I’m busy!’ Dr Fennell shouted very rudely.

  ‘Dr Brown is here at my request, Master,’ said Sir Michael, ‘and you’ve met the chief constable, Sir Robert Folsom, of course?’ he added serenely. Sir Robert stepped into the room. He was a tall, big man, and this morning, in his chief constable uniform, he looked particularly big. The master was surprised to say the least, perhaps even shocked. He opened his mouth but no words came out.

  Eventually he spluttered ‘what are you doing here? What’s going on?’

  ‘I’ll explain,’ said Sir Michael. ‘Sir Robert, please take a seat. Dr Fennell is trying to get me to sign an agreement which is illegal. It’s possible that a fraud is being attempted here in this very room.’ The master jumped to his feet and began to babble. Dr Sloan looked as though he was trying to hide.

  ‘Just keep quiet, Dr Fennell,’ Sir Michael continued. ‘This document attempts to sell off priceless museum pieces to an overseas foundation. This collection was donated under a deed of gift. Here is a copy. The college can’t sell or dispose of any of the pieces under any circumstances. They have to be used for the benefit of students. I’ve got the backing of a London firm of solicitors.’

  Clearly beaten, the master was desperately looked for a way out.

  ‘I know nothing about this – nothing, absolutely nothing!’ Dr Fennell had begun shouting again. However, Sir Michael was now on his tail.

  ‘Ah, you say that, Master – but how do we know that? And if you had brought this to council as you should have done, you’d have found out.’

  The master was now quite red in the face and very, very upset. Unfortunately for him, he happened to look out the window.

  ‘What’s that policeman doing there?’ he asked, pointing at a large uniformed policeman in the square, with his arms folded, looking into the master’s study.

  ‘Someone had to bring the handcuffs,’ Helen Brown chimed in rather acidly.

  ‘Now, now, Dr Brown,’ said the chief constable, speaking very slowly and deliberately. ‘Only if necessary, only if necessary.’

  The master had only one place to go.

  ‘It was Sloan’s idea!’ he shouted ‘I trusted him and he let me down. Look! Look! It’s his signature on the document. Mine is underneath it! I just confirmed it!’

  Sloan jumped to his feet and shouted something no one understood, then slumped back into his chair, utterly defeated by the master’s treachery. Mr Jenkins stood frozen at the study window, staring at the burly policemen in the square.

  ‘Calm down, everyone!’ Sir Michael said. ‘We might be able to do something. First, though – what were you getting out of this, Master?’

  ‘Nothing, nothing – well, not much. A visiting professorship, I’d have to work, of course. A few trips overseas, some expenses – really not much.’ Sir Michael looked meaningfully at the chief constable and nodded slowly.

  ‘He’s done it for personal gain. It’s a bad look, I’m afraid. Have the Canadians seen this document?’

  Dr Fennell looked as though he was about to pass out. There was a wild look in his eyes, and the red in his face was beginning to look purplish.

  ‘No! No – look – I’ll do anything. It’s not my fault!’ Sir Michael sensed that it was time to move in for the kill.

  ‘Well, here it is, Master. We’ll take this document of yours for bedtime reading. You will appoint Dr Brown as the new professor of music and head of museum studies. I am confident she’ll sort out this collection business. Your contract is up at the end of next year. We will see how you go. You will appoint Sir Robert here as visitor to the college, and he’ll keep me informed. You will deal with Dr Sloan and Mr Jenkins as
you see fit.’

  The chief constable smiled. He had visions of many more of those wonderful college puddings. ‘I’m only available in the evenings,’ he said, with those delicious puddings firmly in mind.

  The master stood up to protest. This was all too much. However, Sir Michael remembered what Dr Brown had said to him, and was quick to repeat it to Dr Fennell.

  ‘Chief constable, do you wish to take the master down to the station for questioning?’

  ‘No, no, not that!’ Dr Fennell collapsed back into his chair.

  ‘Not necessary,’ said the chief constable, to the master’s relief. Then, after a moment, ‘At this stage.’ The master knew when he was beaten.

  ‘Well, I’ll leave it there,’ Sir Michael said. ‘I expect you will sort this out with Dr Brown now – meaning right now, Master.’ Sir Michael was growing in confidence by the second. He was on his game well and truly. ‘And keep me informed, about Dr Sloan and, well, everything. All right? I’ll call in tomorrow.’ He turned to the chief constable. ‘Early lunch at the club?’ With that he and the chief constable turned away and left the room. They passed Herbert on the way out.

  ‘Game over, Herbert,’ Sir Michael said. ‘Thanks for everything.’

  ‘Three monkeys, Sir Michael!’ Herbert replied.

  ‘What’s that about monkeys?’ Sir Robert asked, a little confused.

  ‘It’s a private joke. It goes back a long way. I was a student here once, you know.’

  Back in the study, there was a heavy silence that went on and on. Finally, the master spoke.

  ‘Dr Brown, it gives me pleasure to offer you a position as professor of music and head of museum studies. I was impressed by your conference paper, of course.’ He could not resist playing the boss, even now. Helen Brown was, however, up to the task.