The Campus Trilogy (18 page)

“That is a problem, but he could come and stay with us. He’d love the United States and he’s never crossed the Atlantic.”

“And what about our house?”

“Look, Harry. We don’t have to make any decisions. But we should think about it. Now, what would you like for supper?”

When I told Magnus about Oscar’s offer, he was astounded. “One-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollars for doing nothing. It’s not fair!”

“But Magnus, you just won a quarter of a million pounds for doing nothing.”

“That’s different. And they’re giving you a house to live in? On an estate? With colonial antique furniture?”

“That’s what the President said.”

“And a car?”

“Well, I was thinking I might buy the car we used when we visited last month. I was offered a deal on it.”

“The Rolls?”

“Do you think I shouldn’t?” I asked sheepishly.

Magnus put his head in his hands. “This isn’t fair!”

“You could visit us on your cruise, once we’ve settled in Virginia,” I said.

“So you’ve decided?”

“No we haven’t, but the tide is turning against St Sebastian’s. The only real objection to Virginia is the thought that that horrid little Grundy will get my job. That does put me off. Not to mention the fact that the ghastly Gold will have won.”

Magnus shook his head gravely. “But you must be
forgiving
toward your enemies. That’s what our school padre used to say.”

“Oh, shut up, Magnus!” I responded.

The last few weeks of the summer term were devoted to
examining
. In the midst of marking exam scripts, we were contacted by the UCU. The union and the university were anxious to
communicate
information about the new pay scale, and a meeting was to take place before the examinations finished. Penelope sent an email out to all members informing them of the date. I emailed her back. Everything that had been happening this past year had been designed to persuade me to take early retirement and I was livid. I was determined not to let the matter rest:

Later in the day, I had an hysterical call from Penelope. “Harry,” she said. “You’ve made a terrible blunder. Your email has gone out to all members of the UCU.”

“I don’t understand.” I was bewildered.

“You replied to my email about the meeting. That was sent to the entire UCU. By emailing me back, your reply went out to everyone on my list.”

I gasped. “But it was marked Private and Confidential.”

“That doesn’t make any difference. By replying to my email, the whole UCU received what you sent.”

“So anyone could read it?”

“Everyone has read it. I have been answering the telephone all afternoon. Harry, you said the Dean was officious. You accused the Vice-Chancellor of corruption. You said John was prejudiced. You labelled the Registrar incompetent. You
maintained
that the Provost has no principles. You are in deep shit, Harry.”

I was aghast, but also a little amused. I laughed.

“Harry,” Penelope went on desperately, “I don’t know how the union is going to defend you. You have libelled the entire administration. This is now potentially a legal matter. We don’t deal with defamation of character.”

“It’s only libellous if it’s untrue,” I said meekly.

“But how are you going to prove it? Oh dear, Harry, I don’t know what to do. I have to see the Vice-Chancellor in an hour. He’s already contacted the university lawyers. Really, what were you thinking?”

“But I didn’t know it would go out to everyone. I never did understand how email works.”

“Anyway, I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you after I see the Vice-Chancellor.”

I put the phone down. It rang again; it was Magnus. “
Magnificent
!” he said. “Best email I’ve ever had! They deserved it! The whole lot of them! Wish I had done it!”

“I’m in the shit,” I said.

“Of course you are! But what a way to go! Have you heard from the Vice-Chancellor yet?”

“No, from Penelope. She’s meeting Barraclough with the university lawyers.”

“Oh dear.”

“I think they’ll probably sack me.”

There was a pause. “I doubt it,” said Magnus stoutly. “If there’s one thing they hate, it’s bad publicity.”

“What should I do?”

“I’d sit tight. See what happens. Keep me informed.
Wonderful
email! I think I’ll frame it.”

I felt terrible and rang Victoria. She roared with laughter. “Terrific mistake! How hilarious! Daddy’ll adore it! They’ll never sue you. There’s too much justification on your side.”

There was an examiners’ meeting the next afternoon. I didn’t want to go, but I had to attend since all my courses were being discussed. I came in late and sat at the back. Everyone stared. John looked extremely hostile. Magnus had kept a seat for me. He looked radiant and passed me a note: ‘Everyone’s talking about your email. I think you’ve shocked their bourgeois sensibilities. But don’t worry, they’re all enjoying themselves. The greatest happiness of the greatest number, remember!’

At the end of the meeting, Magnus and I walked to the Senior Common Room for tea. Standing in the queue, I sensed everyone looking at me. I heard colleagues whispering as we made our way to a table in the corner. Magnus poured us both tea and handed me a teacake. “Any news?”

“Nothing yet,” I said.

“What did Victoria say?”

“She was delighted. She thought it was the funniest thing she had ever heard. She doesn’t think they’ll sue.”

“Of course they won’t. But they will summon you.”

“I know.”

“Have you decided about the American job?”

“Maybe I ought to take it.”

“Of course you should! You have no choice now. But make them sweat first. Be sure to get the best retirement deal you can from St Sebastian’s.”

“But I won’t be retiring. I’ll be going to another job.”

Magnus looked at me as if I were an idiot child. “Really, Harry! You’re so unworldly! How your father made a fortune in fish fingers is beyond me. Didn’t you pick up any of his financial skills?”

“I was always hopeless. That’s why I went into academic life,” I said meekly.

“Listen to me,” said Magnus, “You’ll be retiring from the English university system, so of course you can get a deal. What you do in America is your own business. As far as the university is concerned you’ll be an old age pensioner like the rest of us.”

“What kind of deal are you thinking of?”

“They’re not going to want bad publicity. In the end they’ll pay you to go away. Insist that they enhance your pension to the maximum and make them give you a paid year’s sabbatical.
After all, I set a precedent. If they did it for me, they will have to do it for you.” Magnus thought for a moment and then he whispered, “But don’t let them know you are going to another job, whatever you do. If they think you are going to leave anyway, they won’t give you a thing. You know what they’re like.”

“So what should I do?”

“They’re bound to set up some kind of disciplinary panel. They’ll huff and they’ll puff, but they won’t dismiss you. You’re too well known, too many friends in high places. There’d be too much bad publicity for the university. Once they give you another warning, go and see Barraclough, looking desperate. Tell him the stress has got to you and you might think about leaving if he offered a good enough deal. Then wait and see what comes up. You’ve got to be firm with those bastards. This is no time to for Christian charity or forgiving your enemies or any nonsense like that …”

“You think it will work?” I found it hard to believe.

“Trust me.” Magnus was very positive. “I know it will.”

After tea I returned to my office. There was a call from Penelope. “Sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner,” she said. “But I wanted to get in touch with Morris. The Vice-Chancellor is planning to set up a disciplinary panel under Provision 35 of the university regulations. There’s a real danger here. Potentially they could sack you on the spot for gross misconduct. Morris doesn’t think they will and he will fight them if they do. He wants to be your representative. The Vice-Chancellor will let us know the date of the meeting. In the meantime, Morris wants you to write a letter about the email. You’ve got to explain that it was sent out by mistake. And, he says you must retract what you said.”

“But every word of it was true!”

“I know that and you know that, but Morris thinks you have no choice.”

“I see. And what does he think will happen?”

“In the end, they’ll give you another written warning. So you’ll have two written warnings. I have to say you are near the ejector button, but Morris insists that it’ll be all right.”

“Well, that’s comforting.”

“Sorry, Harry, but that’s the way it is. It was a very stupid thing to do.”

That evening Victoria and I discussed the future. I was still waiting for the official letter from Oscar and I was uneasy about the decision. Victoria was much more upbeat. “Look, Harry,” she said. “It’s only for a few years. You’re over sixty already. At most you only have four more years here, and do you really want to endure any more time with that loathsome lot? They really want you to come to Sweetpea. You’ll be popular, which would be a nice change for you. We don’t have to sell the house or anything. We can just lock it up for the duration and hire someone to look after it. You should look on it as an adventure. It’s a wonderful opportunity.”

“But what about our life here? And your family?”

“We can come back for vacations. And, really, Harry, they want you to do so little, you’ll be free to come back during term if we want to.”

“Are you sure Victoria? It would be a big change for you.”

“Well, I’ve been looking up the American antique fairs on the internet. They sound splendid. There’s a big one in New York at Christmas. Oh come on, Harry,” she said impatiently, “You’ll love it.”

The next day I received the letter from Sweetpea formally offering me the Chair. If I accepted the job we could move over the summer and my class would begin in August. Apparently, Thomas Jefferson Porpoise was anxious to organize a ball in our honour. He understood Victoria’s birthday was in July and that would be another thing to celebrate. The letter was sent by the President of the Board of Trustees.

I showed it to Victoria and she was astonished. “How did Thomas Jefferson find out about my birthday?” she asked. “That settles it! Of course we must go!” It seemed that the decision was made. I wrote back immediately, but I stressed that my acceptance must be confidential until I had given in my notice to St Sebastian’s.

The next week I had a short letter from the Vice-Chancellor. The disciplinary hearing was to take place the first week of June. The panel, he wrote, would consist of the Visitor, the
Vice-Chancellor and the Dean. I had the right to bring a
representative
to the meeting. The Registrar would handle all correspondence and would be in the chair. Following the
meeting
, the panel would make a report to the university council, but I did have the right to appeal against its decision. After I read the letter, I emailed Morris O’Murphy. I asked if he would be able to come on the suggested date. He emailed me back to say he was free, but he insisted I come to see him as soon as possible to discuss strategy.

When I arrived at Morris’s office in Paddington, I was greeted by the same receptionist in African dress. She offered me a cup of coffee and handed me the latest UCU
newsletter
. Morris, she said, had been in since seven working on a complicated case. It was now nearly one o’clock.
Looking
bleary-eyed, he staggered into the waiting room. “Bloody mess,” he announced. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a cotton blazer. “Want a doughnut?” he asked holding out a sugary bag.

I had offered to take him out to lunch. We set off for a nearby Italian restaurant. Morris was clearly well known – the waiter asked if he wanted his usual table. We both ordered spaghetti vongole and a green salad. Morris ate several bread sticks as he told me about the latest case. “Man’s a complete idiot. Exposed himself to one of his postgraduates. She’s on a Fulbright scholarship, and now the American Embassy is up in arms. He said it was a misunderstanding. To make it worse, she’s the daughter of a Baptist minister.” He shook his head. “I’ll never understand academics.”

I smiled wanly. Our spaghetti arrived. The waiter sprinkled parmesan cheese on top. He gave twice as much to Morris as he did to me. “Now,” said Morris, “Your case. Look, Harry, you’ve got to learn how to send out emails.”

“I know,” I said.

“Damn big blunder.”

“You’re right,” I said humbly.

Morris caught the waiter’s attention. “Could we have some garlic bread?” he asked. “I imagine the Vice-Chancellor’s quite upset.”

“I think so. I haven’t seen him recently.”

“You did imply he was corrupt.”

“He is, but it was supposed to be confidential.”

“Nothing’s confidential, Harry. Particularly if you send an email to every member of the UCU.”

I sighed. “It was stupid.”

“Well, you’ll have to argue it was a mistake.”

“It was.”

“And you’ll have to retract your allegations.”

“But they’re true!”

“You’ll never be able to prove it. But, they won’t sue you. They won’t want even to try. The publicity would be too
dreadful
. So, they’ll give you a warning. It will be unpleasant. But, I’ll be there to defend you. We’ll have to plead incompetence.”

“Wanda will love it. So will the Registrar. And Barraclough will want vengeance.”

Morris finished his spaghetti and picked up the menu. “You don’t mind if I have a look at the desserts,” he said. “The chocolate profiteroles are particularly good here.” I made a mental note to send another large cheque to Christian Aid.

The next few days were devoted to examining, but I told Magnus that I had accepted the offer from Sweetpea and I swore him to secrecy. A week before the disciplinary meeting he came to my office. He was wearing a new blazer with an Oxford crest. “Where did you get that?” I asked.