The Campus Trilogy (66 page)

There was a pause while Ewing took a deep breath. ‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘it’s the worse case we’ve ever come across. Over the last six years, we’ve inspected nearly a hundred and thirty universities and colleges. One hundred and twenty-eight to be precise. The procedures of the vast majority achieved our “Full Confidence”. A sad fourteen were only awarded “Limited Confidence”, but no institution up until now has received the ultimate condemnation of a “No Confidence” verdict. St Sebastian’s will be the very first.’

‘That’s dreadful!’ I did not know what else I could say.

Ewing shook his head. ‘The institution will be given three years to improve. In the meantime, the University Funding Council will be informed of the result.’ He leaned forward. ‘I have to tell you, Harry, they will insist on a full investigation. The Council could shut off funds altogether if it feels the situation is bad enough. Your predicament is dire,’ he concluded. ‘I know you’ve nothing to do with all this. You’ve only just become Provost. But it is your university and it’s in need of urgent attention!’

My sermon at St Jerome’s seemed to go down quite well and I was given a very nice lunch in the college dining room
afterwards
. A taxi to the station was ordered for half-past two so I had no trouble catching the three o’clock train. I sat down
comfortably
in my corner seat and prepared to enjoy the
Sunday
Times
.

We had nearly reached Reading when I was interrupted by my mobile telephone. A text message had arrived. It was from Felix Glass and he wanted me to call him back as soon as possible. As it happened we were going through a series of tunnels. The signal was very bad so it was a little while before I got through. Felix answered on the second ring and he sounded distraught.

‘Harry,’ he said. ‘There’s been a disaster. Yesterday evening the inspection team from the Quality Control Agency sent Sloth an email. He was as hopeless as usual. He didn’t pick it up until this morning. They told him that they were unable to award the university either the Full Confidence or the Limited Confidence classification in their assessment of the university’s procedures. This was because they had No Confidence at all in any of them
… Sloth contacted me at lunchtime; he just sent on their email with a covering note. Emma didn’t think I should telephone him on a Sunday, but I felt it was a crisis, so I rang him up.’

‘What did he say to you?’ I asked.

‘He was very cagey. He wouldn’t tell me exactly what
happened
, but he admitted that the problem centred around the examinations. Apparently, after talking to Pilkington for a
couple
of hours, they made a gigantic fuss and walked out without even finishing the inspection. Reading between the lines, I think they discovered that the supposed external examiners don’t exist. They’re merely figments of John’s imagination.’

I thought there was no point in concealing the truth from Felix. The whole sorry story was going to come out and it would be all around the university within the next few days. ‘I know all about it,’ I said. ‘I’ve just been preaching at St Jerome’s in Oxford. Last night, by chance, I bumped into Harold Ewing. He buttonholed me and wanted to talk …’

I then recounted my conversation with Ewing. I explained that the suspicions of the inspection team were aroused by the names Pilkington had chosen for the examiners. They subjected him to the third degree and eventually he broke down. The whole appalling truth was revealed.

‘You mean it’s all Pilkington’s fault?’ Felix sounded despairing.

‘Well …’ I tried to be fair. ‘Not really. In the end it all comes down to Flanagan. If Flanagan had not been so determined to start up all these new programmes so quickly, there might have been a chance that all the proper procedures would have been followed. Real external examiners would have been appointed and all the paper-work might have been in order.’

‘Sloth’s not exactly guiltless either,’ observed Felix. ‘As Registrar he was meant to see that our degrees were correctly assessed and examined. It’s part of his job description. He didn’t do it and he went along with Flanagan’s plan of doctoring all the papers. Then he appointed that idiotic wife of his to execute the whole conspiracy.’

‘I suppose I’m responsible too,’ I suggested humbly. ‘Asking Pilkington to prepare the final review was my idea. I made the recommendation both to you and to Sloth.’

‘Yes you did!’ said Felix.

‘I do feel responsible,’ I continued. ‘There’s no doubt that John is efficient and meticulous. I was sure he’d do the job thoroughly. What I hadn’t reckoned on was his complete lack of imagination. When he chose the names of the examiners, he put down the first thing that came into his head. And of course they were all
connected
with the particular subject he was writing about.’

‘What names did he use?’ asked Felix.

‘Oh it was unbelievable! The Dance examiner was a Professor Lightfoot; Golf was the responsibility of a Dr Driver; Professor Eatwell managed the Catering; Brewing was looked after by a Dr Small-Beer and the Drama external was a William Playright!’

‘No!’ said Felix. ‘That’s incredible!’

‘I’m sure Pilkington did his best. It was certainly a very
complete
job, but inadvertently, he blew the whistle on the whole shooting-match …’

‘He’s a colossal dolt!’ was Felix’s verdict,

‘You haven’t heard the end,’ I said. ‘Harold Ewing told me they have no alternative. They have to report St Sebastian’s to the University Funding Council. There’s bound to be a huge
inquisition
. They’ll want to know exactly what’s been going on and, as you know, they have the power to shut off all the money which keeps the place going …’

‘It just gets worse and worse …,’ wailed the first holder of the St Sebastian’s Immanuel Kant Chair of Entertainment.

The first person I met when I arrived back at the Provost’s House was Marmaduke. He was sitting in our front garden and for the first time in our acquaintance he looked nervous. I soon
discovered
why. Using my latch-key I opened the front-door and Bess tried to push pass me. She clearly intended to round up the
ginger-and
-white beast and teach him some manners. However, before she had the chance, she was called to heel by Sir William. This gave Marmaduke the opportunity to flee for his life. He was half-way across the Green Court before he paused for breath.

‘What are you doing here?’ I asked my father-in-law. I was fond of Sir William, but I was tired after my journey and was looking forward to a quiet little chat with Victoria.

‘Daddy’s upset,’ said Victoria. ‘I told him to call a taxi and come over. He’s just arrived.’

‘I need a drink,’ said Sir William.

I left my bag in the hall and the three of us trooped into the study. Cleo and Brutus had already positioned themselves on the top of the tallboy to keep out of Bess’s way. However, I thought I could detect definite smirks of satisfaction on both their faces. They were not displeased at seeing Marmaduke humiliated.

Victoria poured out whisky for all of us and I asked the old man what had happened. ‘Kev’s been arrested!’ he said.

My mind was not working properly. ‘Who on earth is Kev?’ I asked.

‘Kev and Steve are the gardeners at the Priory,’ said my wife impatiently. ‘Daddy takes an interest in their welfare. You remember, he took them clay-pigeon-shooting.’

I nodded. The shaved and tattooed young men were decidedly memorable. ‘What’s he done?’ I asked.

‘That’s the point,’ boomed Sir William. ‘He hasn’t done
anything
. He was working overtime in the gardens this afternoon, tidying up and so on. Then suddenly a couple of policemen turned up and, without a by-your-leave, they hustled the lad into their car. It was a thoroughly bad show!’

‘But he must have done something to arouse their suspicions,’ I persisted.

‘Well I made Matron take me to the police station. I had a word with the desk sergeant. He was a disgrace to the force, slouching about in his seat, his tie all over the place. I made him stand up properly and call me “Sir”. As I told him, it’s my taxes which pay his wages.’

‘But what about Kev?’ I tried to get the old man to focus on the matter in hand.

‘Well once I’d explained who I was, he realised he’d better look a bit sharp. Kev was just keeping a bag for a friend. He had no idea what was in it, but it turned out that the friend had just done a house burglary and he’d stored the loot there.’

‘Well then Kev is guilty of receiving stolen goods, William,’ I said. ‘That’s quite a serious criminal offence.’

‘Nonsense!’ said my father-in-law. ‘He didn’t know what was
in that bag … He was just doing a favour for a pal. It could have happened to any of us!’

‘Well what did you do about it, Daddy?’ asked Victoria.

‘The police had shut him in one of their cells. I insisted on
seeing
him by himself and then I sat with him while he made his statement. I know he’s telling the truth. He wasn’t involved with that burglary.’

‘Kev is helping Daddy redesign the flower beds at the back of the Priory,’ Victoria told me. ‘He’s a good worker and the Priory can’t afford to lose him.’

‘The problem is that he’s on his final warning,’ said Sir William. ‘Last time he came before the Magistrates, they told him that he would go to prison if he ever came before the courts again.’

‘So what will happen now?’ I asked.

‘His case’ll come up by the end of the month. I’ll go and give a statement on his behalf. I’ll make sure Matron does too!’ Not for nothing had Sir William commanded a regiment.

‘Perhaps you could get all your lady-friends to sign a petition!’ suggested Victoria.

‘Damned good idea!’ said Sir William. He relaxed in his chair and he addressed himself to his whisky. Then he looked up. ‘He’s a helpful, reliable lad and I’ll get him on the straight-and-narrow if it’s the last thing I ever do! You never know when a boy like that may be useful!’

After we had driven my father-in-law back to the Priory, Victoria and I sat together in front of the study fire. I told her all about my encounter with Harold Ewing and my telephone conversation with Felix.

‘Tell me! Do you feel guilty about the university because you didn’t tell the investigating team straightaway what was going on?’ asked Victoria. ‘Or are you really upset because you
recommended
Pilkington to do the evil deed and as a result the
university
was found out?’

I knew that she was teasing me, but it was a serious question. I sighed. ‘I don’t know. Of course I should have told Ewing what was happening, but the thought of the university failing the inspection was too horrible to contemplate. I’m right about that.
Once the Funding Council comes in, it’s not impossible that the whole institution will be amalgamated with somewhere else or even be closed down altogether. There may be job losses … Unemployment will increase in the town … There’re all sorts of ghastly possibilities … It’s a real mess …’

‘Poor Harry!’ said Victoria. ‘Real life is not as simple as all your philosophers would have us believe, is it?’

The following week passed without any more mishaps. Kev’s case was due to come up before the court in a fortnight. Since his encounter with Bess, Marmaduke was avoiding our front
garden
. Canon and Mrs Blenkensop were taking a short holiday in Italy and Victoria’s Tuesday lecture – this time on Welsh
porcelain
– was generally enjoyed. I heard nothing more from the
university
. Then, on the following Monday morning, a letter arrived on offical writing paper. It was from Robert Sloth in his capacity as Acting Vice-Chancellor and was dated the previous Friday. It read as follows: