The Campus Trilogy

by AnonYMous

  I knew that he had been away. When we arrived at the castle, there was a postcard waiting for us from Turkey. It was a mounted photograph and it showed Magnus in the loud orange and green shirt he had bought in the West Indies. He was standing in front of a ruined temple, surrounded by a troupe of grey-haired ladies. Everyone was smiling at the camera except Magnus who looked exhausted.

  I worked out that he must be back by now and I rang him at his flat in St Sebastian’s. He picked up the receiver on the second ring and I could hear mournful Mediterranean music playing behind him. ‘Welcome back, Magnus,’ I said.

  ‘Ah, it’s you Harry. God it’s been a nightmare! Worse even than usual! Never again! Just a minute. I’ve got to turn the music down. I can’t hear myself think.’

  ‘What on earth is that ghastly noise?’ I asked.

  ‘Terrific stuff. Purchased it in Athens. It’s a group of Greek Orthodox monks chanting. Do you know they go up in baskets to their monasteries and never come down again? After dealing with all my old ladies, I knew just how they felt. In fact, I thought I’d try it out for myself when we went to Mount Athos.’

  ‘You weren’t really going to enrol as a monk?’

  ‘Believe me, by that stage on the cruise I’d have done anything to escape. Somewhere where no women were allowed under any circumstances sounded very attractive. But when it came to the point they wouldn’t have me. There was some stupid business of not being properly baptised. Apparently a nice C of E christening in the parish church when you’re a baby doesn’t count, Anyway, how are you? Back for good now I hope. Is Victoria well?’

  ‘She’s fine. But, look Magnus, I need to talk to you. The Archbishop of Cannonbury summoned me to the club out of the blue. And he made me a job offer. You won’t believe what he wants me to do!’

  ‘He wants you to be Bishop of BongoBongoLand to drive some sense into his fellow-bishops in preparation for the next Lambeth Conference.’ Magnus had always had an inventive imagination.

  I laughed. ‘Well … not quite as daunting as that! No. He’s invited me to become the next Provost of St Sebastian’s Cathedral.’

  ‘No! …’ said Magnus. And there was a long pause while he thought about it.

  ‘Well, Well!’ He came back. ‘Does he indeed! It’s because the present Provost is in hot water, isn’t it? I would have thought he’d been caned enough for his misdemeanours! Doesn’t the Archbishop believe in Christian forgiveness?’

  ‘Magnus! Really! How do you know about it anyway?’

  My friend chuckled. ‘I saw the Sunday Enquirer when I caught the train back from Southampton. It’s not my normal choice of Sunday reading, but I was so exhausted after my labours on the ship, that I thought I should read something completely untaxing. In fact I got a winner. There are few more pleasant spectacles than a member of the established Church on the hop.’

  ‘Was he a nice man? He was appointed after I left St Sebastian’s. His predecessor was ghastly as I remember.’

  ‘A real creep!’ agreed Magnus. ‘He became Suffragan Bishop of Puddlethorp you know. I only ever met this one a couple of times. He seemed all right. The usual Church of England ineffective ass if you know what I mean.’

  I tried to sound offended. ‘Magnus, I am an ordained clergyman of the Anglican Church. Am I the usual ineffective ass?’

  ‘Only sometimes,’ pronounced Magnus. ‘Even after all these years you still believe the best of people instead of really taking on board the eminently sensible doctrine of original sin. In my experience, the vast majority of the human race is uniformly ghastly as you’ll very quickly discover if you’re foolish enough to take on the provostship. You’re not really going to say yes are you?’

  ‘I don’t know what to do. The Archbishop put on a lot of pressure. I’ll have to talk about it with Victoria, but perhaps it really is my duty …’

  ‘Victoria’s the last person you should consult. You know she’s a complete sucker for beautiful architecture and even I accept that the Provost’s House in the Cathedral Close is one of the most pleasing buildings in England. No … you need someone objective to talk some sense into you. Why don’t you invite me to dinner at the club? I’ve got nothing decent to eat in the flat and I could be with you in an hour if I catch the six o’clock train.’

  I realised that that was exactly what was going to happen. After we had said goodbye, I booked a table for two in the club dining room and left another message for Victoria telling her that I would not be home until well after midnight. Then I went back up to the drawing room and immersed myself in the Archbishop’s discarded Church Times.

  Just before seven, Magnus arrived clutching a gigantic package. Deeply tanned, he was wearing a khaki suit with a floppy red and white bow tie. The porter looked suspicious as he ushered him into the lobby. He was only partially reassured when Magnus insisted that his parcel was not a bomb, but an important Greek antiquity.

  He then shoved the parcel into my arms. It weighed a ton. ‘Here, Harry,’ he said. ‘Found this on Crete and couldn’t resist.’

  ‘Do you want me to unwrap it now?’

  ‘Why not? It’s just the thing for the Acropolis.’

  Inside I discovered a very battered two-foot-high female stone figure. She had enormous breasts and a very round stomach. I was a little taken aback. ‘What is it?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s a female pre-Minoan fertility goddess. I found her in a little shop on a back street in Knossos and couldn’t resist her. I thought she would make a nice pair with my African god that I keep in my room at the university.’

  I remembered the African statue. Indeed it was notorious throughout St Sebastian’s. It stood at least three feet high. Magnus put it on a table and used its enormous phallus as a peg for his coat.

  ‘Didn’t they go?’

  Magnus shook his head. ‘They’re really rather incompatible. Too much of a good thing, if you know what I mean. And then I realised that she was just the present for my friends the Gilberts. It will challenge Victoria’s interior decorating skills to the utmost. Particularly in the Provost’s House. I would recommend putting her in the dining room. It’ll put the entire cathedral chapter off its pudding! And anyway I must pay you back for the nice dinner I am about to eat.’

  I rewrapped the statue, tied it up with string, and asked the porter if he could keep it in his office until I left. Then we went straight into the dining room. The first person we saw was the Archbishop who was seated at a large table with a group of African bishops, all of whom seemed to be talking at once. They appeared to be united in their disapproval of the activities of their American counterparts. The Archbishop looked agonised, but smiled wanly at me as we passed.

  We were shown to a table in the corner of the great room. After we had chosen what we were going to eat and had ordered some wine, Magnus leaned back in his chair. ‘So,’ he said, ‘you’ve been bamboozled. The Archbishop looks a bit under stress which is, after all, what he’s paid for, and you immediately feel that it’s your duty to help him out of a hole and sort out St Sebastian’s Cathedral.’

  ‘Well I can’t make any decision at all until I’ve talked it over with Victoria.’

  ‘Oh come on, Harry,’ Magnus was impatient. ‘You know jolly well she won’t be able to resist the chance to live in the Provost’s House. It’s the perfect background for her. Well, it’ll be splendid for me to have you both back. You know I’m still doing a bit of Hebrew teaching for the university?’

  ‘Really? …’ I was amused. ‘You always said it was such a corrupt crappy place and you couldn’t wait to leave. What happened?’

  ‘Well …’ Magnus looked embarrassed. ‘They caught me at a weak moment and they asked me very nicely. When I came back from my first cruise, I found that I sort of missed the students … though they get more ignorant every year. I can’t imagine what they teach them in all those schools.’

  ‘The thing is I promised Victoria we’d move to Shropshire to be near her father. Sir William’
s become more feeble recently and he needs some sort of residential care …’

  ‘You know,’ Magnus said, looking at me penetratingly, ‘the Provost’s House is quite magnificent.’

  ‘I know, I know … and the Archbishop really is anxious for me to do it. But, when all’s said and done, it’s rather embarrassing. After all I did leave St Sebastian’s under a cloud.’

  ‘So did I … well sort of. But that doesn’t matter now. We’ve got a new Vice-Chancellor. And after all you’ll be mainly looking after the cathedral. The Visitor is only called into the university when there’s a crisis.’

  ‘I know. But honestly, Magnus, I’m still rather cross about the way I was treated. I was bullied into leaving. So I don’t really see why I should bail them all out just because the Provost can’t keep his trousers on.’

  ‘I always thought Christianity taught that you should forgive people, seventy-times-seven if I remember rightly. That’s what the school padre used to say … Never let the sun go down on your anger and all that,’ he added sanctimoniously.

  ‘Oh shut up, Magnus,’ I responded. He was an old friend, but at times he was infuriating. ‘Anyway, what’s going on at the university now? Remember I’ve been away for three years.’

  ‘They certainly need you, Harry. The place is a mess. A crazy Irish Australian called Flanagan is now in charge. They appointed him not because he had any claims to erudition or indeed any intellectual interests that I’ve been able to discover. But he is a financial genius.’

  ‘Well that’s all right then,’ I said. ‘At least there’s some money in the kitty. When I was there, cash was always a problem. Remember when the university was threatened with amalgamation with Arrowsmith Teacher Training College?’

  ‘Well that threat has receded. But this Flanagan chap is mad. It’s true that the place is now solvent, but he’s done it by introducing the most appalling new curriculum. Most of the students are studying such subjects as Professional Golf, Exotic Dance and Brewing Technology.’

  I laughed. ‘I don’t accept that. They’d never get it past the Higher Education Quality inspectors.’

  ‘That’s just the point,’ said Magnus. ‘Honestly I’m not exaggerating. The most popular undergraduate discipline this year, the one that attracted the most students, was Celebrity Studies.’

  ‘Don’t be absurd.’ I did not believe him.

  ‘Honestly it’s true. They seriously study the love life of film starlets. Next weekend there’s to be an international conference, an international conference mark you, on the Plight of the Female Celebrity focussing on the cases of Geri Halliwell and Amy Winehouse. Apparently, hundreds have enrolled for it and the Vice-Chancellor is dancing all the way to the bank.’

  ‘But why aren’t the Quality Control people doing something about all this?’

  ‘I told you, that’s just the point. The Vice-Chancellor has managed to fob them off for the last eighteen months or so, but we’ve just heard that St Sebastian’s is going to have a full-scale inspection early next year. It’ll be a disaster. Everyone knows that, but apparently Flanagan is completely unabashed. He insists that everything will be fine and he won’t even talk about it.’

  ‘Perhaps everything is all right.’ I was determined to try to look on the bright side. ‘All these inspections only come down to having all the right paperwork in place. No one cares about the reality.’

  ‘But the paperwork’s non-existent. You know what the Registrar is like.’

  Unfortunately, I remembered all too well the deficiencies of Registrar Sloth. ‘And,’ Magnus continued, ‘he’s recruited his wife – no interview or advertisement or anything like that – to be the new Quality Control Officer. She is paid an enormous salary. She sits surrounded by paper which she systematically loses and the whole thing is a complete shambles from first to last.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound good.’ It was true that Mrs Sloth was even more incompetent than her husband. I could see the situation was serious. ‘So you think the university needs a Visitor who will crack the whip a bit.’

  Magnus giggled. ‘That’s an unfortunate expression given the present Provost’s troubles,’ he said as he tucked into a large plate of moules marinière.

  When I finally crept into the castle at half past one in the morning, Victoria was reading in bed with both our Siamese cats curled up on her lap. They had travelled back with us from America in the hold of our aeroplane, but the authorities had insisted that they go to a cattery for a month for a thorough veterinary inspection. In fact the total cost of their travel and medical arrangements had been more than double ours. They had finally arrived at the castle roughly at the same time as Victoria that afternoon and she had been delighted to see them.

  After I had kissed everyone, Victoria got straight down to business, ‘I got your message,’ she said, ‘but your telephone was turned off.’

  ‘We’re not supposed to use mobiles in the club. Now listen, Victoria, I’ve got some important news.’

  ‘The Archbishop wants you to do something for him.’

  ‘Yes he does. You’re not going to believe it, but he wants me to be the Provost of St Sebastian’s. Just temporarily.’

  ‘But they have a Provost …’

  ‘They had a Provost,’ I corrected her. ‘He’s just been sacked for cavorting with prostitutes. Well, actually, just one prostitute. One of the girls who graduated from the university this year was paying off her student loans by working in an escort agency. She recognised the Provost as the man who gave her her degree and she went straight to the Sunday Enquirer with the story. They wrote her a huge cheque.’

  Victoria put her book down. She grinned. ‘That was very bad luck for the poor old provost. I can’t remember any of my contemporaries at Girton going in for the oldest profession when they left. It’s not exactly what you expect of a sweet girl graduate.’

  ‘Your friends all got government grants to support their education.’

  Victoria became grave. ‘You’re right, of course. That is dreadful. A student shouldn’t be so desperate for money that she would decide to be a hooker.’

  ‘Well I think as far as selling the story to the newspaper, she recognised a commercial opportunity when she saw it. But the fact is, it won’t do as far as the Provost is concerned and he and his wife have left St Sebastian’s, bag and baggage, already.’

  ‘Poor wretched woman …’ Victoria shook her head, ‘It’s not fair. She hasn’t done anything wrong.’

  I continued. ‘As you know, the Provost’s House is quite spectacular. The Archbishop emphasised that, if we take it on, you’d get the chance to decorate it. And it would only be for a year or so. We can buy our own house now, just as we planned, and it will give us a chance to fix it up while I try to sort things out at St Sebastian’s. And they’d pay me something too.’

  ‘But they were beastly to you at the university Harry and, as Provost, you’d have to be their Visitor.’

  ‘I know. I’ve thought about it. Magnus invited himself up to the club for dinner. He told me about the university. Things aren’t good at all. I have a nasty feeling that it may be my duty to do it.’

  ‘You mean it would result in the greatest good for the greatest number.’ Victoria always mocked my attempts at systematic ethics.

  I was serious. ‘Perhaps …’ I said. ‘Anyway, unless you really hate the idea, we ought to go for a look at the very least.’

  ‘I’m not likely to hate the idea of living in that wonderful house,’ murmured Victoria as she turned over to go to sleep.

  The next day, we told Sir William about our possible plans. He was very amused. Then we set off for St Sebastian’s on the train. The city looked very familiar and it was a glorious autumn day. The sun was shining as we walked through the Monks’ Gate into the cathedral precincts. Visitors were wandering around the Green Court. At one end was the Provost’s House, a glorious symmetrical Queen Anne building of old red brick with white small-paned sash windows. Across f
rom it loomed the grey stone mass of the cathedral. ‘It is beautiful,’ I said.

  Victoria sighed. ‘All right, Harry. I agree, but one or two things must be made clear. You promise that it’s only for a year, or at the very most two.’

  ‘No more,’ I said.

  ‘And I must find a room for Daddy and Bess in one of the St Sebastian’s nursing homes.’

  ‘Of course,’ I promised.

  ‘And you won’t get flustered and upset by university politics.’

  ‘I’ll only be the Visitor. I won’t get involved.’

  ‘Huh!’ My wife was not convinced. ‘And you won’t become entangled in cathedral politics either.’

  ‘They won’t take any notice of me. I’m just an ignorant academic,’ I said.

  ‘And you’ll let me decorate the house the way I want to. You won’t interfere.’

  ‘You can have it exactly as you want. The Church will pay so you may have to talk it over with someone in the diocese.’

  Victoria nodded. ‘All right, Harry. We’ll go. But please, please, please, pretty please, try not to get mixed up with things you don’t understand …’

  CHAPTER TWO

  Our Lot Is Cast in a Goodly Heritage

  So, the decision was made. I wrote my letter to the Archbishop and received a very grateful effusion by return of post. There was to be no delay. It was a case of crisis management and it was thought important that the new Provost should be put in place as soon as possible. Victoria and I were permitted to stay in the castle for just one more week and then we had to move.

  Victoria felt wretched leaving her father. He had suddenly become an old man and she thought she should be looking after him, rather than gadding about redecorating the most beautiful house in England. Sir William was philosophical about the situation. He had accepted that he needed more help. When we finally departed and Victoria kissed him goodbye, she insisted that she would be returning very soon with a list of first-class residential homes near St Sebastian’s. ‘I promise the carers will be pretty,’ she said.