The Campus Trilogy

by AnonYMous

  ‘Well, Felix,’ the Vice-Chancellor began, overwhelming me with his alcohol-laden breath, ‘I understand you’re off to Las Vegas for the New Year. I’ve just had a letter from Sylvester. He tells me they’ve booked the top suite for you and your wife at the Ziggurat.’

  I leant as far back into the sofa as I could and nodded. Two days previously I had received a letter from the Mancinis with two first-class return air tickets. We were to arrive in Las Vegas on the evening of December 30th. All expenses would be covered for the trip and one of the Mancini staff – a certain Wolfie Goldberg – was to meet us at the airport and take us to the hotel. The first night we were to have dinner with Sylvester himself at his house and we would be given our full programme then.

  As I was telling Flanagan about the arrangements, another of Pilkington’s postgraduates came over with a plate of selected canapes. They looked even worse than in the kitchen. Flanagan gazed at them and shook his head. ‘Looks awful,’ he said, ‘Just get me another drink, would you mate?’ The student scurried away.

  ‘Now Felix, I’ve several pieces of good news. First of all, I’ve been in touch with our friend Sir William Dormouse. He tells me that his rich pal – that Porpoise bloke – has arranged for the young artist to do a large portrait of St Sebastian for the Great Hall.’

  ‘Probably the person who painted Harry’s wife,’ I suggested. ‘I saw it when I visited Sir William’s daughter and son-in-law in Sweetpea. It was quite something.’

  ‘Quite something is what I’m hoping for,’ boomed Flanagan. ‘Anyway, he’s started work on it already and he’ll send it to the university as soon as it’s finished.’

  ‘For the casino?’ I asked.

  ‘Right! It’ll strike all the right notes. A giant St Sebastian pierced with banknotes and golden arrows. Absolutely top-notch for the Golden Arrow Casino! Of course, until we get the squash courts fixed, it’ll go in the Great Hall. A good change from all those dull portraits of my illustrious predecessors.’

  ‘What are you going to do with the pictures of the old Vice-Chancellors?’ I asked.

  ‘Put them on a bonfire if I had my way.’ He saw I looked aghast. ‘No, they can go in the Senior Common Room for the time being. Put our colleages off their lunches.’ He guffawed loudly. I was very aware that everyone in the room was listening to the conversation.

  ‘Anyway,’ I said, ‘they’ll all go back to the Great Hall when the new casino is ready.’

  ‘Oh no they won’t.’ Flanagan was in full flow. He looked around for Pilkington. ‘John, you need to hear this … and get me another drink, would you?’

  The graduate student appeared as if by magic and another glass of red wine was put in the Vice-Chancellor’s hand. John Pilkington came over and Flanagan looked up. ‘I’ve got some very good news. I’ve just heard from a friend on the local council that the university has been awarded a licence to perform civil marriages and commitment ceremonies. That’s where the money lies nowadays. From now on the Great Hall will be given over to that purpose.’

  There was a stunned silence in the room. The Great Hall was the glory of the university. All important lectures and dinners were held there. It gave our students a small glimpse of the traditional university experience. They could imagine they were back in a time when students were undergraduates, when the term was for tutorials, the vacations for reading parties and no one even thought of supporting themselves with a part-time job. In the Great Hall even the staff could enjoy the illusion that they were scholars in a university, not wage-slaves striving after targets in an education factory.

  The Vice-Chancellor was impervious to the sensation he had caused. ‘I heard there’s a shortage of marriage venues in the St Sebastian’s area, now the Church no longer has a monopoly.’ He looked spitefully at Chantry-Pigg. ‘We think that we’ll be able to clean up. We’ll do as many as four or five ceremonies a week. If the couple want religion, they can always use the chapel and our caterers will do the wedding breakfasts. It’s a winner, a real little earner…’

  The whole party stood like statues. Then Chantry-Pigg cleared his throat. ‘With all due respect, Vice-Chancellor, you seem to be taking the sacrament of marriage very lightly …’

  Flanagan brushed him aside. ‘We must move with the times, Crispin, we must move with the times. Anyway, it won’t just be weddings. We’re doing commitment ceremonies as well. There’s a big demand. If we’re to hit our targets, we must diversify. Diversification … that’s the name of the game nowadays!’

  Pilkington looked as if he were about to faint. ‘Commitment ceremonies … You mean between homosexuals … I really think …’

  I realised that Flanagan was very drunk by this time, but no one was about to cross him when he demanded yet another glass of wine. ‘You’ve no business to think, John, that’s my job. Weddings and commitment ceremonies, that’s what we’re at. St Sebastian’s will be famous for them. I want none of your po-faced Methodist principles here! I’ll have another glass of that red stuff please …’

  Helga came forward. She looked frightened, but she put her hand on Flanagan’s arm. She was obviously used to dealing with this situation. She said in her German accent, ‘Alf, I think it’s time for us to go home. We both need an early night.’ She turned to our host and smiled, ‘Thank you for a lovely party Dr Pilkington.’ There was a short tense moment. I thought the Vice-Chancellor was going to argue the point, but then he nodded, heaved himself up and stumbled towards the door. The party had come to an end.

  On the way home Emma shook her head about the food. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know you could still buy tinned asparagus. And all that grease! Honestly I could almost hear everyone’s arteries screaming for mercy!’

  ‘It was dreadful,’ I agreed.

  ‘Do you think Maureen Pilkington would be offended if I sent her a BBC helpsheet on healthy eating?’ my wife asked.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  New Year with the Mafia

  We were sitting down to breakfast the next morning when Imogen and Judith, Patricia Parham’s partner, came through the front door. We knew that Imogen had spent the night on duty at the Women’s Refuge and it seemed that she had met Judith there. Judith was also a volunteer. They both looked sleepy as if they had been up most of the night and they were clearly worried.

  Emma provided them both with orange juice, coffee and toast and Imogen began the story. ‘It was a fairly quiet evening. There were the five usual women and their children. They live in the Refuge for the time being while they’re waiting for injunctions against their partners. Anyway they’d just gone up to bed and I was having a session with Jan, who’s the senior paid worker – she’s being really helpful about my dissertation …’

  ‘I was upstairs, settling one of the children who had earache,’ Judith broke in. ‘Anyway there was a ring at the door bell …’

  ‘Jan went to answer it,’ Imogen continued, ‘and Liz, the other paid worker, went out to join her. I peeked through the door and it was Mrs Flanagan, the Vice-Chancellor’s wife. As soon as Jan had taken her into the kitchen, which is the only warm place in the house, I shot upstairs to warn Judith.’

  ‘You see, it’s all meant to be confidential,’ explained Judith. ‘If we happen to know a woman who comes in, then we have to make ourselves scarce. Well both Imogen and I met Mrs Flanagan after that awful priest’s inauguration ceremony. I’m not sure she’d remember us, but it’d be very embarrassing if we met again at a university social occasion.’

  ‘So we stayed upstairs and let Jan and Liz cope with the situation. It was serious. Helga was crying and she was in real pain. Apparently Professor Flanagan had kicked her and she had fallen down the stairs. Jan had to drive her to the casualty department at the hospital. She was bruised all over; she wrenched her shoulder trying to save herself on the bannister; a couple of ribs are cracked and she has sprained her ankle badly. She was lucky. They initially thought it was broken.’

 
‘What time was this?’ asked Emma.

  ‘About eleven.’

  Emma and I looked at each other. ‘We saw them last night at a party,’ I said. ‘Professor Flanagan was very drunk. Helga persuaded him to go home but he was quite docile when they left.’

  ‘That’s not all,’ said Judith. ‘After Jan had put her in the car and they had gone to hospital, we didn’t feel like going to sleep so we had more coffee and Liz told us that this wasn’t the first time. She looked back in the record book and Helga’s been in three times since September.’

  ‘Why doesn’t she leave him?’ I asked.

  Emma looked thoughtful. ‘I must admit I was worried about her. I thought there might be something odd. When we went to that party at Cuckoos’ Roost, she and I had a good chat. She had made a really splendid German feast and I wanted her to come on my programme to talk about food from the Black Forest. She seemed to be very pleased with the idea.’

  ‘What happened?’ asked Imogen.

  ‘It was strange. I rang up a couple of times. She was completely different, monosyllabic and shy. She was anxious to get off the phone as soon as possible and she made it clear that she didn’t want anything to do with me. I couldn’t understand it. She was so friendly at the party.’

  ‘That’s how it often is,’ said Judith. ‘Violent men terrorise their wives. They undermine their confidence and want them entirely to themselves. What they’re doing is isolating them and cutting them off from any female support or help …’

  ‘Anyway you haven’t heard the end,’ Imogen interrupted. ‘At seven in the morning there was a tremendous hooting outside the front door and someone leaned on the doorbell for a couple of minutes. I looked out of the window and there was the biggest Mercedes-Benz you’ve ever seen in your life with the Vice-Chancellor stamping beside it. I heard Jan trying to persuade Helga to stay in the Refuge, that she’d be safe there, but then I heard Helga say, “No, No! He really does love me. It was my fault. He just doesn’t know his own strength sometimes”, and she limped out of the house, climbed into the car and off they went.’

  ‘That’s what happens,’ said Judith resignedly. ‘These women are so beaten down that they believe that it’s their own fault that they’re battered. It’s really sad …’

  Emma was conscience stricken, ‘I wish I had known. Perhaps I could have helped the poor woman, but I don’t expect there’s anything anyone can do.’

  After Judith had left and Imogen was having a bath, Emma took me on one side. ‘Be careful of the Vice-Chancellor, Felix. You know he’s a bully. You saw how he treated John Pilkington. Judith’s story just confirms it. No wonder Helga’s so frightened. But it’ll have bad implications for the university. I’ve seen it in one or two departments in the BBC. Once there’s a bully in charge, a whole bullying culture takes hold and it sweeps through the entire organisation. Do look out …’

  It was time for me to leave for the university. I had a busy day so I gave Emma a kiss and set out on my way.

  When I arrived in my room, Mrs Brush was emptying the waste-paper basket. I asked her how she was and then enquired after old Mrs Catnip. Mrs Brush was full of it. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘you’ll never guess. Elsa didn’t play bingo last night. She’d had a small win last week and she decided she’d try blackjack. She said she’d been reading up about it. Well… she won more than a hundred pounds.’

  I thought of Sir William Dormouse. Clearly Mrs Catnip was another cardsharp. How did these old people do it? Mrs Brush was in full flow. ‘She’s always had a very good memory you know. Even at bingo she always remembers all the numbers that are called in every game. I think that’s why she’s good at cards. She won every hand yesterday.’

  ‘Did she say anything about a book I gave her?’ I asked.

  ‘She mentioned something about learning how to count cards … I really don’t remember … but she’ll make a fortune if she goes on like this …’

  ‘She ought to be careful not to let on that she has a system for winning. You remember Professor Harry Gilbert?’

  ‘Oh yes. I never got to clean his room, but I know he had some nice things. A real gentleman, he was. Always said “Good Morning”. I heard he went to America …’

  ‘He did. The reason I mention him is because his father-in-law, Sir William Dormouse, is an expert on blackjack. He wins every time. Anyway he was thrown out of the casino in Las Vegas because he won too much money. Mrs Catnip must be careful.’

  ‘I’ll tell her. Thrown out of the casino because he won too much! Well I never!… She’ll be tickled pink!’ And with that Mrs Brush picked up her cleaning equipment and stumped off to her duties.

  When I was alone, I turned on my computer. There were two emails from Pilkington. The first said that the department had entered into three more partnerships. We were now going to award degrees to two Bible colleges in Japan and to a Lutheran seminary in Sweden. I was sure the Vice-Chancellor would be pleased with this, but I wondered how we were going to assess written work in Swedish and Japanese.

  The second email was marked URGENT. It read as follows:

  Dear All

  You will be aware from the Vice-Chancellor’s comments at our annual Christmas party that the university intends to transform the Great Hall into a wedding venue. It will no longer be available for university functions.

  Some of you may be disappointed with this. Yet, given the financial situation, it is important that the university should make full use of its facilities. Hence, I believe (with some reluctance) that we should welcome this proposal since it will raise some much needed revenue.

  However, I do also think that we have a moral duty to resist the suggestion that civil commitment ceremonies for homosexual couples should be conducted on our premises. St Sebastian’s was founded as a Christian missionary college. Our founders would turn in their graves at the thought of such a desecration of their vision. Quite apart from the ethical question, such ceremonies are a betrayal of our whole tradition. I have discussed the matter with our chaplain, Father Chantry-Pigg. He shares my whole-hearted opposition to this plan.

  Attached to this email is a copy of a petition which I am circulating round the department. The original is in the secretarial office and I would be grateful if you would take the time to come in to sign it by the end of the week. It will then be delivered to the Vice-Chancellor. I cannot believe he will continue with this venture if he finds the Theology department unanimous in its opposition.

  With Best Wishes

  Dr John Pilkington,

  Head of Department

  I was sorry Magnus was away on his cruise ship. His comments would have been a tonic. As it was, I deleted the email off my machine. I certainly was not going to sign such a petition.

  I told Emma about it at dinner that evening. We were eating a cheese soufflé which was a delight. Emma was incensed. ‘What a bigot!’ she declared. ‘His wife can’t cook; their house is a disaster; and his opinions are appalling. Really, Felix, I don’t understand your new colleagues. Are they all like that?’

  ‘Maybe. They won’t talk to me, so I really don’t know them. But from what I’ve seen, I think they will probably all sign this idiotic petition.’

  ‘But surely the Vice-Chancellor won’t pay any attention.’

  I laughed. ‘I shouldn’t think so!’ Then I became serious. ‘Actually, you have to hand it to Pilkington. He’s brave. He knows what Flanagan’s wrath is like, but he still sticks to his principles.’

  Emma snorted. ‘I wish he’d be brave about something sensible.’

  It turned out that I was the only member of the Theology department not to sign the petition. Pilkington informed my colleagues of this fact in another email. I felt hostility all around me. At coffee and lunch-time I was isolated and everyone turned aside if they happened to pass me in the corridors. I looked forward more and more to Magnus’s return.

  Then, just before the winter break, we all received a Christmas card from Flanagan. On the front w
as a German woodcut of a cuckoo clock with a Christmas greeting. Inside the Vice-Chancellor had scribbled a personal message: ‘Enjoy yourselves in Las Vegas. Remember me to Sylvester. Best regards, Alf and Helga.’ Also in the envelope was an enclosure.

  It was a glossy pamphlet. At the top was a company logo of an arrow piercing a heart with ‘Mixed Blessings’ written in fancy lettering underneath. At the bottom of the page Mixed Blessings was described as a subsiduary company of St Sebastian’s University specialising in high-class catered events.

  Inside the text read:

  St Sebastian’s University is proud to announce the establishment of Mixed Blessings, a wedding and partnership service based on our beautiful, historic campus in the centre of the medieval town of St Sebastian’s. The university Great Hall is licenced for all civil wedding and partnership ceremonies. It can hold up to 250 guests and with its oak-panelled walls and arched ceiling it provides an elegant setting for your special day.

  The famous American artist Julian Bosey has been commissioned to paint a magnificent portrait of the Christian martyr St Sebastian which will provide a unique backdrop for photographs. Together with the beautiful quadrangle and gracious lawns outside, the setting and ambiance are unique in the county.

  The catering service is of the highest international standard. Our experienced banqueting manager will sit down with you personally to ensure that you have exactly what you want on this great day in your life. Choice extends beyond food. If you opt for a religious service, the magnificent Gothic chapel is at your disposal. If you prefer a secular celebration, the local registrar will conduct exactly the type of ceremony you prefer.

  Our hand-picked staff are ready to discuss all your requirements, including table decorations, musical entertainments and anything else to make your great day unique and memorable. We can direct you towards our own carefully selected firms of photographers, printers, florists and car hire services, all of whom will offer you our generous Mixed Blessings discount. Of course, if you prefer, you can bring in your own specialists. Everything is designed to make your celebration as splendid and care-free as possible.