The Campus Trilogy

by AnonYMous

  ‘He can’t. Not with that evidence. Then Chantry-Pigg must have his immediate line-manager. That’s the Trustee of the Chapel, that stupid sheila Jenny Sloth. She’ll do what the Provost tells her. Then, to make sure, the third member must be a senior university officer. Let’s have Patricia Parham. She’s the Dean and she won’t stand for any nonsense.’

  We both smiled. Flanagan became serious again. ‘My secretary will organise a day next week for the hearing. She’ll be in touch. Tell your little girl not to worry. She’ll have to tell her story, but she can bring in a friend and you should be there too. Tell her that the university will not tolerate this type of behaviour. We’re on her side.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  It Was Irremediably Disgusting

  The Vice-Chancellor moved fast. Mary and Rosalind had to submit a formal complaint against Chantry-Pigg. This would be accompanied by a transcript of the tape recording of the incident. Father Chantry-Pigg, they declared, had twice made advances to Mary in the chapel vestry. The tape recording was of the second encounter which they submitted as proof of their allegation. They also explained that after both occasions they had met with Magnus and me. As soon as Flanagan received this, he set up the hearing.

  As their philosophy teacher and a senior member of the university, I was to be their representative. The Provost, in his capacity as Visitor of the University, would preside and the other members of the panel would be the Dean – Patricia Parham – and the Trustee of the Chapel Committee –Jenny Sloth. The meeting was to be held in the Vestry since this was where the alleged events had taken place. The Vice-Chancellor made it clear that he wanted to be kept informed at every stage.

  Chantry-Pigg was asked to respond to Mary and Rosalind’s allegation. His defence was a classic. He first outlined in detail his educational background and religious training. He pointed out that he had been a student of the current Archbishop of Cannonbury when the Archbishop had been Principal of Highminster Theological College. He was certain, he stated, that the Archbishop would be willing to write a testimonial on his behalf. During his ordination training, he had been awarded the Anselm medal for a dissertation on the subject of clerical vestments; subsequently he had written a number of pamphlets and learned articles about this sadly neglected topic. Once he had joined his order of friars, he had been appointed spiritual director to the Anglican order of the Little Sisters of the Pyx in Oxford. During his career, he stressed, there had never been a word of complaint against him nor a single hint of impropriety.

  After five pages, he turned to his short career at St Sebastian’s. He acknowledged that both Mary and Rosalind had been active members of the choir, but he had always been worried about Mary. There was a danger with impressionable young girls, that they became over-enamoured with their pastor. It almost certainly was the expression of a need for a father-figure, which sadly, all too often in these degenerate days, they lacked at home. Mary had made it clear that she was in love with him. She hung about the chapel constantly and always wanted to discuss his sermons. On one occasion she was particularly persistent and insisted on exploring some philosophical detail. He had had no alternative but to rebuff her. No doubt this current complaint was the result of her feelings being hurt on that occasion.

  In any event, he insisted, nothing had happened in the chapel vestry. The transcript could only be a forgery. There could be no genuine tape recording of a conversation with Mary, because none had taken place.

  Mary was incensed by this defence. As it happened, she came from a very secure loving home and she lived with both a mother and a father. In any event, Chantry-Pigg was telling one lie after another. She was very distressed to discover that a clergyman could be so dishonest. As she said to me, ‘I don’t see how I can ever go inside a church again. I will never be able to trust the priest.’

  On the day of the hearing, I arrived early. I had never been in the vestry before. It was next door to the chapel and shared the same musty smell. It was panelled in light oak. A modern crucifix hung on the wall over a Victorian flat-top mahogany desk stacked with papers and an array of prayer-books. In the corner was a large wooden table surrounded by six chairs that had been arranged for our meeting. At one end of the table was placed an old Welsh Eisteddfod throne carved with a dragon and the date l899. It was intended for the Provost and I wondered how the university had acquired it.

  Just before eleven, Mary and Rosalind arrived. They looked very smart. Mary had on a dark red sweater and a black skirt; Rosalind was in an emerald green trouser suit. Both were wearing discreet make-up. Patricia was the next to enter just as the cathedral bell was striking the hour. She looked as though she had been working on her car – there was grease on the cuffs of her denim jacket. Underneath she was wearing a mauve woolly sweater, slightly grubby blue jeans, and large silver hoop earrings. She was followed by Jenny Sloth, trim in a navy blue suit and high heels. Jenny did not look friendly.

  We assembled ourselves around the table and waited in silence. It was ten minutes before the Provost and Chantry-Pigg came in together. The friar was wearing his brown habit and the Provost was in cassock and dog collar. They had obviously been in conference together and I began to feel uneasy.

  The Provost took possession of the Eisteddfod chair. He extracted gold-framed spectacles from his top pocket, and he opened a file that he brought with him. ‘Perhaps we should begin with a prayer,’ he intoned. I looked at Patricia who made a face. He then recited a lengthy invocation in which he asked God to guide us in judgement. The details escaped me, but he found it necessary to enlist the help of all the saints in Heaven to look down on our deliberations.

  Chantry-Pigg did not look as subdued as I would have liked. He sat wrapped in his robe staring at Mary and Rosalind. The girls were uncomfortable under his gaze. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ the Provost began, ‘we are here to examine the complaint lodged by these two students against the chaplain of this university, Father Crispin Chantry-Pigg. You have before you the accusation made by these undergraduates and Father Chantry-Pigg’s response. Now before we go any further, I must point out that in these kind of proceedings, tape recorded evidence is inadmissable. My fellow panellists must wipe from their minds the contents of the transcript which they have received among their papers. Furthermore I must insist that the original tape recording be handed over to me immediately and I will destroy it.’

  Mary and Rosalind looked shocked. ‘But Provost,’ I objected, ‘the statement made by these students is based primarily on this tape recording.’

  ‘Tape recordings are notoriously suspect.’ The Provost was adamant. ‘There is every opportunity for distortion and forgery. How can we know for certain whose voice is on the recording? These girls may have made use of an imposter. I cannot have a man’s reputation destroyed on the basis of such unreliable evidence. Now I will not discuss the matter further. That is my ruling on the subject.’

  Patricia was not having it. ‘I must object,’ she interrupted. ‘You cannot simply dismiss the tape recording. At the very least, the panel should hear it and be allowed to judge for itself whether it is a recording of a real happening.’

  ‘That is precisely my point, Madam Dean.’ The Provost was not going to budge. ‘The panel will not hear it. Nor should they consider any transcript of its contents. As I said, tape recordings are inadmissable. There can be no guarantee whose voice is upon them. Therefore I require that the original be handed over to me immediately.’

  ‘But …’ Rosalind interjected.

  ‘There is no “but”, young lady. I tell you quite frankly I am appalled that a privileged young person like yourself should bring such a case against your very distinguished chaplain. It is profoundly unlikely that any friend of the dear Archbishop could behave in the way you have alleged. I believe you have used one of your evil-minded friends to imitate Father Chantry-Pigg. I can only hope you can show the panel better evidence than you have produced so far. I have been assured that the tape recording is a mali
cious forgery. If this proves to be the case, then in my opinion you and your friend should be expelled immediately from the university. You will have made damaging and potentially libellous charges against a man of God and such behaviour cannot go unpunished. That will be my recommendation to the Vice-Chancellor.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Provost,’ Patricia was persistent. ‘You appear already to have made a judgement about this case. And we haven’t yet had an opportunity to consider it.’

  ‘We are considering it. As chairman, it is my view that the students’ accusation is itself under scrutiny. They have offered no proof of what they allege.’

  ‘But they have provided a tape recording of what took place,’ I said.

  The Provost looked at me with loathing. ‘I’m sorry Dr Glass. You are clearly incapable of listening to what I have just said. The evidence you refer to is inadmissable. It must be set aside. It has no place in these proceedings. I cannot expect someone of your background to understand. Of course I have the greatest respect for the Jewish people, but you cannot begin to appreciate what an admirable man you have in Crispin Chantry-Pigg. He comes from a distinguished clerical family. I believe you people do at least recognise the importance of family. He has an impeccable record as a caring and effective pastor. How could I explain to the dear Archbishop that this man’s reputation and career was destroyed on the word of two evil-minded young Jezebels. It would be a calumny.’

  Without a pause the Provost took out a letter from his file; I could see that there was a gold mitre on the top and the address of the Archbishop’s palace. He handed out copies and cleared his throat. ‘As you will see, this is the original testimonial for Father Chantry-Pigg when he came to St Sebastian’s from no less an authority than the Archbishop himself. Now,’ he continued, ‘this meeting is not to be adversarial. Both parties shall be given an opportunity to state their case. Then the panel may cross-examine their statements.’

  Mary and Rosalind looked shocked. ‘But Provost,’ Mary said, ‘without the tape recording, it is just my word against his.’

  ‘That is true. But you should have known this.’

  ‘But Dr Glass told us that our tape recording was essential to our case. Without it, you won’t believe us.’

  ‘Well, that may be. Now, do you have anything to add to what you wrote in your statement?’

  Mary’s answer was inaudible. She was on the edge of tears. The Provost then turned to Chantry-Pigg. ‘And you, Father Crispin, is there anything you would like the panel to hear at this stage?’ Chantry-Pigg was not one to lose the opportunity of making a speech. He opened his mouth, but Patricia cut across him.

  ‘Forgive me, Provost,’ she said, ‘you are deliberately making it impossible for Mary to make a case. I would like to know what evidence you would accept for misbehaviour on the part of the clergy. Would a video be enough? Presumably you would say that it was set up with actors. Would independent witnesses be sufficient? I imagine that unless the Archbishop himself were the source of the testimony, you would not accept it.’

  ‘I am not dealing with theoretical questions, Madam Dean. The point is that these two girls have made a serious accusation against one of God’s ministers, but they seem to have no evidence whatsoever for their claims.’

  Crispin Chantry-Pigg seemed to have forgotten that it was his conduct which was on trial. He put up his hand, ‘Mr Chairman, if I may … Obviously it grieves me to hear such a charge. But it is very important that everyone should be allowed to speak. We have not yet heard from my valuable Trustee of the Chapel, Mrs Jenny Sloth. If she might be permitted …’

  The Provost immediately turned to Jenny. His manner was ingratiating towards her. His tone softened. ‘Of course. The admirable Mrs Sloth. What do you think of this sad matter, my dear?’

  Jenny was overwhelmed. She blushed and then she looked to Chantry-Pigg for guidance. He smiled reassuringly at her. She turned back to the Provost. ‘All I can say, Provost, is that Father Crispin is the most wonderful man. He has done so much for the chapel. I just can’t believe that these ungrateful little hussies can bring themselves to tell such lies about him. But of course girls nowadays …’ She wiped away a tear. It was clear she was thinking of Joy Pickles. ‘Girls nowadays … they have no respect for the bonds of sacred matrimony, running about half-dressed, stealing other women’s husbands …’

  I had heard enough. ‘I was under the impression that Mr Chantry-Pigg is not married,’ I said.

  ‘Nonetheless,’ interjected the Provost, ‘He is a wonderful addition to our community, and we are indeed grateful to have him here. Thank you for your contribution, Mrs Sloth.’

  Patricia was determined to fight to the last. ‘I’m sorry, Provost, but I insist that we hear the tape recording and judge for ourselves.’

  ‘I am not going to satisfy your prurient interest, Dr Parham’ said the Provost, ‘and there is an end of it. The original recording and all copies must be given to me. Now!’ He glared at Mary and she meekly handed over the tape recording. ‘Thank you. That is the end of the matter. We will hear no more of it.’

  Patricia was furious, ‘If you refuse to allow us to hear it, then I will formally object to the procedure you have adopted. As Dean of the university, I am totally opposed to this course of action, and I want my objections noted.’

  ‘That is your right, Madam Dean.’ The Provost put on his gold spectacles again and read out the regulations regarding the disciplinary procedure. The panel members were to make a recommendation concerning any action to be taken. The majority decision would prevail and there was no appeal against it.

  He then asked Jenny Sloth for her view. She said that of course Father Chantry-Pigg was innocent so nothing should be done. She only regretted he had been put through such a horrible experience. Patricia reiterated her objections and said advice must be sought concerning the admissablity of the tape recording. The Provost then said he agreed with Jenny Sloth. Their two opinions consituted a majority. Father Chantry-Pigg was thus exonerated of all charges and it was to go on record that the university authorities had complete confidence in its chaplain.

  With that the Provost stood up. He gestured to Chantry-Pigg and Jenny Sloth that they should leave the room with him. Then he turned to Mary and Rosalind. ‘I will be recommending to the Vice-Chancellor that your places here should be terminated. You are unworthy to be members of this university,’ he declared and with considerable dignity the three of them left the room.

  ‘A bloody disgrace!’ Particia snorted. Mary began to cry; Rosalind was furious. ‘I don’t understand it,’ she stormed. ‘I thought the university was supposed to protect its students.’

  Patricia shook her head. ‘I will be going to see the Vice-Chancellor this afternoon,’ she said. ‘That was a travesty. Don’t worry. We’re not going to allow anything to happen to you two.’

  Partially reassured, the two girls set off in the direction of the Student Union as Patricia and I made our way to the Senior Common Room. We were both stunned. There was still a possibility that Flanagan might intervene. But the Provost, as Visitor of the University, was technically his boss. Probably the most sensible thing would be to concentrate on damage limitation. At least Mary and Rosalind must be protected.

  Afterwards I set off for home. I thought I needed to calm down and I did not want to meet my smug theological colleagues in the Senior Common Room. As I walked down the High Street, I passed the Amalfi, our local Italian restaurant. To my astonishment, the Provost, Chantry-Pigg and Jenny Sloth were having lunch at a table in the window. They were laughing and clearly enjoying themselves. Chantry-Pigg was pouring out what looked like a bottle of champagne and the Provost had tucked his napkin into his dog collar and was eating snails. They were too preoccupied with their triumph to notice me.

  I was outraged. The moment I arrived in the house, I telephoned the Vice-Chancellor’s secretary to make an appointment. She was out, but I left a message on her answerphone. Later in the day I received an em
ail. Patricia Parham had already been in touch and Flanagan wanted to see us both at half-past ten on the following morning. He was due at a Senate meeting at eleven o’clock, but he was able to fit us in briefly beforehand. I then contacted Mary and Rosalind and asked them to come and meet us outside Flanagan’s office so we could let them know the outcome of our discussion.

  The next morning I started off for the university at ten. As I passed through the cloisters, I saw the Provost on his bicycle heading toward town; his cassock flapped in the wind as he passed through Trinity Gate. He looked as if he did not have a care in the world. I felt murderous, but I tried to remind myself that not all clergy were as appalling as Chantry-Pigg and the Provost. Harry Gilbert was ordained and several of the school chaplains at Westminster had been good, kind men.

  I collected my post from my pigeonhole in the Arts Block, and crossed the street. Several of my theology colleagues were standing chatting outside the Old Building; they looked in my direction but made no gesture of recognition. As the cathedral struck the half hour I knocked on the Vice-Chancellor’s door. From inside Flanagan shouted: ‘Come in Felix.’ Patricia was already sitting on the sofa and Flanagan was at his desk playing with his roulette wheel. He gestured for me to sit in the arm-chair.

  ‘I received a note from the Provost,’ he said. ‘He told me the case was dismissed.’

  I nodded. ‘It was a disgrace. The Provost refused to hear the tape. He said it was inadmissable evidence. Then he insisted that it be given to him and destroyed. He just wouldn’t listen to reason.’

  Flanagan nodded. ‘Patricia has just told me.’ He was icy calm. It was as if he were keeping himself tightly in check. In many ways it was even more disconcerting than when he had lost his temper.

  ‘Look, Vice-Chancellor,’ I said, ‘there’s no way I can accept the result. Nor can Patricia. It’s against natural justice. You can’t just dismiss evidence. I can’t imagine what the Provost was thinking.’