All in the Mind

by Judith Cranswick

  Sarah put up her free hand in defence. ‘Hold on! I’ve already phoned Royal Mail and they put me onto their Mail Preferences Service. They can’t guarantee to stop it all, but the woman assured me that they usually manage to cut out ninety five per cent of this kind of addressed mail.’

  ‘So what’s this pile doing here?’ Elizabeth said viciously kicking the couple of small packets along the hallway.

  ‘It takes at least a couple of months before it all gets sorted. In the meantime,’ she said firmly heading for the stairs, ‘I promise you, Liz, I intend to forget all about it. Someone out there has a problem, I’ve no idea who or why he’s picked on me to play his silly games but I refuse to let it get to me. Even talking about it is letting him win.’

  She looked down to find Elizabeth’s narrowed eyes watching her shrewdly. Even Elizabeth knew when to give up. Although Sarah had spoken with a determination that she did not feel, she found herself convinced by her own arguments and felt considerably better.

  Chapter 24

  She was coming out of the door laden with empty bottles when the furniture van drew up. Assuming it was delivering something to the bottom flat, Sarah carried on to cellar to dump her burden.

  ‘Excuse me.’ She turned to see the burly driver jump down anxious to attract her attention before she could disappear around the corner. ‘You Mrs Harcourt?’

  She nodded suspiciously and saw a second man climb out, stroll round and start release the back flap.

  ‘What’s this all about?’

  ‘Your display cabinet.’ He was all ready to join his colleague in the depths the van.

  ‘Just a minute, I didn’t order any furniture.’

  He stopped and turned back and in a pained voice as though talking to a simple-minded geriatric, he said slowly. ‘Your name is Harcourt and this is Flat B Cotman House.’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed reluctantly.

  ‘Then this is for you.’

  The younger man had already eased the cabinet to the top of the ramp and his surly expression clearly indicated that he was not happy at being kept waiting.

  ‘Hang on the pair of you.’

  ‘Look lady, stop messing me about.’

  No doubt she would have been subjected to some choice language if the door to the downstairs flat had not opened, and Mr Erickson emerged.

  ‘Is everything all right Sarah?’

  ‘Just a misunderstanding,’ she said swallowing her anger.

  The driver took the opportunity to disappear into his cab. When he emerged, he was waving a clipboard, which he thrust under her nose.

  ‘See!’ He pointed to the printed delivery details at the top of the form. ‘Now where do you want it?’

  ‘But,’ she repeated firmly, ‘I didn’t order it. You will have to take it back.’

  ‘Can’t do that. It’s been paid for.’ From the look on her face he must have decided that she was about to explode. He ran a hand through the lank, thinning hair, pointed to the details on the sheet and attempted a more reasonable tone. ‘Look darling, telephone order 8th October paid with a credit card. You should have got the confirmation letter a week later. That’s when you should’ve cancelled it if you’d changed your mind.’

  Her heart sank. She was in no position to say that the letter had never been sent. With so much junk mail delivered, she had probably thrown it out without even reading it.

  ‘As I keep telling you, I never made the order in the first place.’

  They stood for some moments glaring at each other across the clipboard.

  ‘Is that your Visa number?’

  Sarah stared at the string of digits above the grubby fingernail stabbing at the flimsy pink sheet. The cold feeling in the pit of her stomach was growing. She turned in desperation to Arnold Erickson still hovering in his doorway. ‘Would you mind just making sure these two don’t unload that while I go and fetch my card?’

  Desperately clinging on to the forlorn hope that the numbers would not coincide, she raced up the stairs. By the time she returned, Arnold was standing arms folded at the base of the ramp. The deliverymen had not taken the offending display cabinet off the van, but she noticed that it still stood at the top of the ramp.

  With bad grace, she seized the proffered clipboard.

  ‘It is my number,’ she agreed reluctantly. ‘Give me the details and I’ll ring the supplier and sort it out straightaway.’

  He shook his head slowly and in a resigned voice said, ‘If you want the paperwork you’ll have to accept the goods.’

  ‘Oh no!’

  The impasse lasted for a good ten minutes and the sheer relief when they drove off, complete with display cabinet, sapped what little energy she had and she slumped back against the wall. She must have looked drained because Arnold invited her in for a cup of tea.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she assured him. ‘I can’t thank you enough. I was terrified if I went upstairs they’d unload that thing and leave it on my doorstep.’

  ‘They couldn’t do that if you hadn’t signed for it.’

  ‘I suppose not. Still I’d better go and try and sort out this mess as soon as possible.’

  ‘The company weren’t that helpful. It was a telephone order and all the details tallied.’

  ‘I hope you’ve cancelled your credit card!’

  ‘First thing I did,’ Sarah said trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. Matt had used much the same words. Did they all think she was gaga? ‘And no I haven’t a clue as to how anyone got hold of my details.’

  There was a long silence at the other end.

  ‘Elizabeth? You still there? Sorry if I snapped. I’ve been through all this with Matt. I suppose someone must have taken them from my bag. If they put the card back straightaway I wouldn’t know anything had happened.’

  ‘At least you’ve reported it to the police.’

  ‘Not officially. Matt said in the circumstances he didn’t think they would be able to do anything so there’s really not much point.’

  ‘Sarah!’

  ‘You’re supposed to be giving me comfort and sympathy not scolding me like a child. I know I’m lax about leaving my bag around in the office but only when Lucy’s there. And no, I don’t think it was Lucy for a moment and, before you make any other suggestions, Nathan doesn’t have my details. Our joint cards were all cancelled when we separated.’

  ‘Calm down. You really are in a state. You sure you don’t want me to come round?’

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.’

  ‘That’s what friends are for.’

  After a few more pleasantries, Sarah put the phone down and wandered into the kitchen to make herself yet another cup of coffee. Alienating her best friend, her only friend, wasn’t the most sensible thing to do. There really was no point in keep going over and over it, she thought as she banged mugs and jars about in her frustration. If only she could remember if she had left her bag in the living room while she was getting dressed the evening Nathan took her out to dinner.

  As if she did not have enough to make her feel as though the whole world was against her. Matt had really upset her. And after all he’d said about letting him know if anything else happened!

  Still, that was no excuse for slamming the phone down on him. It was not as if she had expected him to come rushing round full of sympathy all ready to crusade on her behalf until the problem was solved, but there was no need to be so bloody patronizing. How dare he assume she had not cancelled her cards after her bag was stolen? Did he think she was totally incompetent? Obviously, or he would not have asked if she was sure she had not ordered the cabinet and forgotten all about it. That had really shaken her to the core. How could he?

  The next day was filled with a succession of meetings and it was a relief to get back to her desk in the late afternoon. In her usual bulldozer fashion, Eunice Robinson arrived just after five o’clock saying that she wanted to discuss the Personal Tutor training programme with Sarah as soon as possible
. Resisting the temptation to plead pressure of work, Sarah realised she would have to face the woman sometime and might as well get the interview over with there and then. Eunice was still in Sarah’s office half an hour later when Lucy tactfully knocked at her door to say she was going home.

  Eunice looked none too pleased at the interruption. She was in the middle of justifying the extra resources needed for a new programme.

  ‘I think a basic counselling course is an excellent idea,’ Sarah said truthfully, hoping to cut short Eunice’s pedantic insistence on listing every point in its favour. ‘And, I’m prepared to fund it from the Staff Development budget.’ Anything to get rid of the woman.

  Eunice visibly relaxed and very nearly permitted herself a smile. ‘Even though it will require a greater time commitment, I’m sure it will be very popular.’

  ‘Let’s hope you get a lot of interest,’ Sarah said pulling some papers towards her and wishing fervently that the woman would take the hint and let her get on.

  ‘I want to make the sessions on writing applications and interview techniques compulsory. Several tutors haven’t a clue on how to help the students with such basic things.’ Eunice stared at her defiantly.

  Sarah sighed. She could not let that go.

  ‘I agree that they would all benefit but I’m not sure it would be wise to force some of the more recalcitrant ones. They didn’t take kindly to having to do subject training when that was introduced.’

  ‘Surely acting as a Personal Tutor looking after the overall needs of students is equally important?’ Eunice was ready to argue the cause so dear to her heart.

  ‘I agree,’ Sarah cut in quickly. ‘But we’ve been through the arguments many times before. If you force the issue, lecturers will refuse to take on the role of personal tutor at all.’

  ‘They are the very ones who need the training most, and if you give the likes of Stan Higgs and his cronies the option, they won’t do it.’

  ‘If you crack the whip and they do turn up, they’ll be so set against it they’ll get nothing from the session. Plus, there’s a real danger that they could undermine the whole programme with snide comments. They’ve learnt all the tricks from the boys they teach.’

  ‘They wouldn’t be so unprofessional!’

  ‘Don’t you believe it,’ Sarah said ruefully. ‘I’ve seen more childish behaviour around the boardroom table than in any classroom – all the body language, the smirk or rolling up the eyes at a crucial moment in the debate. Compulsion does not work. You need to think about ways of persuading them.’

  ‘How can I do that when you’ve got morons like those Motor Vehicle lecturers who openly say that the Student Support Programme is nothing more than wet nursing?’ Every muscle in the taut body quivered in indignation at the recalled slur.

  ‘That’s the sort of comment they make just to annoy you. If they really thought that, they’d never have allowed themselves to be talked into being personal tutors in the first place.’

  For an intelligent woman, Eunice could be so blinkered by her own zeal that she failed to see the games other people play. It was a paradox that someone who had undeniable empathy with students had an almost total lack of social skills when it came to dealing with a group of men proud of their tough, working-man image.

  ‘If you can’t appeal to their sense of professionalism, try self-interest. Then they won’t lose face. Rather than putting on the training at the end of the day, perhaps you could time it for the beginning of the afternoon and offer lunch as part of the deal. If needs be, I’ll find the money from somewhere and it needn’t all come from your budget.’

  ‘And what happens if they have lectures at the same time?’ Eunice was determined to be difficult.

  ‘If that does happen then we could look at getting in someone to cover so they could be released. It is only an idea. I think you should to talk to Dev Sharma. It’s his people you really want to get involved and he knows them better than anyone, he might have some suggestions.’

  ‘I don’t see why I should spend that amount of money from my budget, which is already overstretched, just to accommodate a handful of stubborn individuals who ought to be brought into line.’

  Sarah pushed back her chair. When Eunice realised that Sarah was refusing to negotiate any further, she glared at Sarah for a moment and then took the hint. Without another word, Eunice got up and swept out of the room. The door closed with a bang.

  ‘And thank you too,’ Sarah said, feeling not a little aggrieved. The woman might have shown some gratitude for the offer of extra funding even if she did reject her advice and support.

  Chapter 25

  That was enough. Eunice had sapped what little energy she had left. Time to call it a day and make tracks for home. Sarah glanced at the stack of filing trays perched on the far right-hand corner of her desk. In the top tier marked “urgent”, a good half dozen sheets of paper and a couple of bulky folders lay accusingly. Although the middle tray had no label, it contained all the things that needed action within a day or two. The bits and pieces she would need to create time to look at, but could get away with shelving for the moment, were stuffed into the bottom.

  There was no way she could face any of it now and she would take only the absolute essentials back home to tackle later. Even sorting out those would mean checking tomorrow’s diary and flicking through all the stuff in the top two trays. So much for the theory that the good manager never wastes time going through papers more than twice, she thought ruefully. Nonetheless, first priority – a cup of coffee!

  As she walked down the corridor towards the little kitchen, she noticed the light shining through from George’s office. It was reassuring to know that she was not the only one still hard at it. Evenings could be the most profitable time to get on with the things that took concentrated thought because there were no interruptions. Nonetheless, it struck her how surprisingly quiet the place was. It was strange to think that on the lower floors the rooms would already be filling up with evening class students intent on trying to improve their qualifications. At seven o’clock, the place would be humming with all the adult education classes.

  Someone had already put away the kettle and thrown out the last of the day’s milk. Oh well, black coffee would help to stimulate the old grey cells and relieve the torpor all the sooner.

  As she waited for the water to boil, she stood at the window looking down at the pattern of lights shining from the occupied rooms in the adjacent buildings. She pressed her cheek against the cool pane in an effort to see if there was a light in Frank Wagner’s room but it was not possible to see that far. Thursday was his duty night. The faculty directors each took it in turn to be on the premises in case of any emergency until the place was locked up. She supposed when the number of faculties was reduced, she and George would have to join the rota. As she was so often around until late in the evening, she decided it would not make a great deal of difference; however it would be another chore to have to cope with.

  Half an hour later, she had pared down the pile to take home and put all the relevant papers into her briefcase. As she went to switch off her desk lamp, she realised her dirty mug was still sitting there. Rather than traipse all the way down to the kitchen, she decided to leave the mug until morning and assuaged her guilt by hiding it in her drawer so that Lucy would not end up having to wash it.

  She picked up her briefcase and handbag, put her coat over her arm and made sure that both inner and outer doors were locked. When she pushed through the swing doors into the stairwell, her eyes had to adjust to a sudden darkness. She cursed as she fumbled around trying to get her hand, still clutching the office keys, from beneath the folds of her coat to reach the switch. She flicked it a couple of times only to turn out the weak glimmer coming up from the lights on the lower landings. The top bulb must have gone. With care, she would be able to see well enough to make her way down the upper flights by the pale moonlight coming in through the narrow ornamental glass panes running do
wn the length of the outside wall.

  At the top of the stairs, she stopped to put away the clumsy bunch of keys to leave a free hand for the banister. She put down her briefcase and felt something touching the top of her left foot. It was an odd sensation, a thin line of gentle pressure.

  She looked but could see nothing in the gloom. As she bent down to feel what it was, her fingers found a taught, thin wire running across her shoe. She ran her hand along it to the point where it lay trapped beneath the briefcase. When she lifted her case, the wire sprang back up to a level just above her ankles.

  She went back to the heavy swing doors and managed to wedge one open with the fire extinguisher. With the help of the extra light from the corridor, she could make out that the wire had been twisted around the metal posts supporting the handrails on either side of the stairs. If she had not stopped at that point and inadvertently pushed it down with her briefcase, the wire would have sent her tumbling down the concrete steps.

  An icy tingling prickled down her spine. That the trap had been intended for her, she did not doubt. Everyone else used the lifts at the other end of the corridor. She was the only person who regularly used the emergency fire escape. There was no way of telling when the wire had been put there, but she was now the only one left in the Administration Block. Unpleasant phone calls and unwanted mail and packages were one thing, but this was in a different league.

  He had gone too far this time. She should have confronted him after he had scared Justin half to death. Now she had no option but to bring in the police. But what evidence did she have that Nathan was responsible? Ever since she had seen that figure running away from her in the shopping precinct, she had been fixated on him. And who knew better than he the effect the books on China and the Les Miserables CD would have on her? But was that enough? Did he even know that she was virtually the only one who used these stairs? How well did he know the layout of the college? And how had he got in and out without being seen?