The Campus Trilogy (57 page)

‘Yes,' I said. ‘I had heard something about that. It's supposed to come up at the next Chapter meeting. There's an item on the agenda about imposing an admission charge. But surely the other Canons won't approve of it?'

‘You don't know what he's like, Provost. He marches about the place like a sergeant-major barking at us and giving his orders. The whole Chapter is terrified of him. Your predecessor, Provost Woodcock, wouldn't even be in the same room as him without his wife present.' The Precentor gave a little smile. ‘Mrs Woodcock was the only person who could stand up to him and even then, when they did have a battle, it was sort of an honourable draw between them!'

‘Perhaps I'd better set Victoria on him,' I suggested.

The Precentor looked doubtful. ‘She looks far too charming ever to defeat Reg Blenkensop,' he said. I thought back on various
occasions in our marriage when Victoria had completely
humiliated
several of her enemies in the neatest, most elegant way, but I felt this was not the right moment to reminisce.

‘I did speak to Reg about Marmaduke,' I said.

‘He's a monster. He dominates the Green Court. He slaughters the birds and squirrels, he spits at the tourists and he bit my dog.'

‘I heard about that,' I said.

‘The vet bill was seventy-five pounds and poor Otto really needs intensive psychiatric help to get over it. And as for that cat's behaviour during services … it's beyond belief.'

‘I'll see what I can do,' I said.

‘Please, Provost.' The Precentor downed his drink and stood up. ‘I don't know how I can continue any longer if this goes on,' he said as I led him through the hall. ‘We're counting on you to do something about this reign of terror.'

As I let my unfortunate colleague out of the front door, I noticed that Marmaduke was sitting outside on the study window-sill. It was almost as if he had been listening to every word. As soon as the Precentor turned the corner, he sauntered off.

When I went back to the study, Victoria was sitting on the sofa. She shook her head. ‘Poor wretched man. Reg Blenkensop is a real bully. You're going to have to do something about him.'

‘I know. It's going to be a problem …'

Victoria smiled slyly. ‘I think you also have an ethical dilemma here, Harry.' Victoria often teased me about my views. She had always thought my job a bit of a joke. I saw myself as a Christian utilitarian which meant that, with many qualifications and
reservations
, I believe that the right thing to do is whatever leads to the greatest happiness for the greatest number of people.

‘Why is there a difficulty in my situation?' I smiled back at her.

‘Well I expect if you did a survey of cathedral congregations, the majority of them are made happier by the tunes of Handel than by the dischordance of Schoenberg. Therefore, according to your own principles, Blenkensop is right and the Precentor is wrong. The fact that the Precentor is a nice, sensitive man and Blenkensop is an oafish bully is irrelevant. According to your ethical theory you can only judge a situation by its results.'

‘You're looking at the matter too simplistically,' I teased her back. ‘Overall, as a general rule, it produces even unhappier results if bullies are allowed to win. Therefore, it's right to
support
the Precentor in this instance. We may have to endure some ghastly Schoenberg and miss out on some splendid Handel. But this leads to the ultimately happier result that aggressive
behaviour
is discouraged.'

Victoria laughed. ‘You are sweet,' she said, ‘I've never heard such a roundabout way of demonstrating what everyone knows anyway.'

‘What does everyone know?' I asked.

‘That people like Reg Blenkensop and his horrible cat should be clobbered on every possible occasion,' she said as she went off again to the kitchen.

On the day of my first Chapter Meeting, the three Canons, the Archdeacon and the Precentor assembled in a panelled room next door to the old Chapter House. The magnificent Chapter House with its carved stone seats for every canon, residential and non-residential, was only used occasionally on high days and holidays. The small Victorian annexe, known as the library was far more comfortable for everyday business.

One of my duties as Provost was to act as chairman of
Chapter
Meetings. I sat in a large Chippendale armchair at the head of a mahogany table with the Canons arranged in order of
seniority
. Canon Sinclair, who was within a year of retirement was on my right. He had just been diagnosed with the beginnings of Parkinson's disease and was a little shaky. The Archdeacon, a brisk sensible man, who was responsible for diocesan affairs sat on my left. The great bulk of Reg Blenkensop was on the other side of Sinclair and the red-haired Canon Trend who was said to be a promising young man destined for great things, was next to the Archdeacon. The Precentor was uncomfortably isolated by himself next to Blenkensop with no one opposite him; he looked pale and tired after his most recent confrontation. I made a
mental
note to have a leaf taken out of the table. Then the Precentor could sit fronting me at the end so we could all see one another at future meetings.

The minutes of the last meeting had been circulated. We
embarked on the agenda which was unexceptional. After an hour we had covered all the items except the last which was
ominously
headed ‘Admission Fees'. This item had been suggested by Canon Blenkensop and he introduced the subject. ‘Gentlemen,' he began. ‘As you know a considerable number of cathedrals are now charging for admission. Some are even asking for fees to enter the precincts. This of course has many advantages. It
preserves
the quiet of the cathedral neighbourhood and deters
undesirables
from putting off genuine visitors.'

‘I thought Christianity was founded for the benefit of
undesirables
. Publicans and sinners our Lord called them,' quavered Canon Sinclair … rather bravely, I thought. I realised that here was a potential ally. I would ask Victoria to invite him to lunch.

Reg Blenkensop magisterially ignored this interruption. ‘I am not suggesting we take this step at this juncture despite its
advantages
. In the first instance I am merely recommending that we charge a nominal entrance fee to the cathedral itself …' He paused, clearly expecting general agreement and approbation.

‘But why?' blurted out the Precentor. ‘Our cathedral is a place of prayer and worship. It's not a tourist attraction. This is not Disneyland. God's grace is free. We shouldn't think of charging people.'

‘It would make a considerable difference to the cathedral's finances …,' began the Archdeacon. He was of a practical turn of mind.

‘Precisely,' continued Blenkensop smoothly. ‘You've hit the nail on the head, Archdeacon. It would bring many great
benefits
. We would find it easier to keep the fabric of this great
building
in repair and we have to face facts. It is a major tourist attraction. Every year thousands of visitors come to see our
historic
buildings. They drop their wrappers on the Green Court; they stamp out their cigarettes on the pathways; they toss their empty beer cans in the cloisters; and, unsuitably dressed, they sun themselves on our benches. At present they do all this for free.'

‘Surely then you're suggesting an entrance fee to the precincts?' I asked.

‘Not at this stage. It's always more sensible to proceed slowly. To test the waters, we should charge visitors who wish to come into the cathedral. This will deter all those hoardes of French
adolescents whose teachers dump them in the building as if we were a kind of baby-sitting service.'

I could not resist it. ‘But you reminded me only yesterday that Jesus said “Suffer the little children to come unto me.”'

Canon Blenkensop went purple. ‘Provost, I have to say with all due respect for your great learning and your academic
qualifications
and so on, you have no experience whatsoever in cathedral administration. You are only here as a caretaker and your
interference
in this matter is not welcome. No indeed! I must insist on my right as a member of the Chapter that the motion be put to a vote.'

At this point Marmaduke sauntered into the Chapter House. He leapt on a radiator just inside the door and settled himself comfortably to enjoy its warmth. I felt his cold green eyes balefully staring at me. The whole Chapter looked at him and then looked back at me.

I made up my mind. ‘I'm sorry Reg. It's a big decision. I want further investigation as to how it has worked out at other
foundations
. Would you look into it, Derek?' I turned to young Canon Trend.

‘Yes Provost,' he mumbled, looking away from Reg Blenkensop.

‘We will examine the matter again in six weeks' time when we have more solid information,' I declared. ‘Now, if there is no other business, we can adjourn.'

The Canons rose slowly from their chairs. Blenkensop stood rigidly, put a pair of gold spectacles in a leather case, and picked up his papers. Without speaking, he marched to the door and passed out into the cloisters. His cat followed him.

‘Oh dear,' said old Canon Sinclair, shaking his head. ‘This kind of conflict is always so unpleasant. It is indeed!'

Despite all my worries about the cathedral, I still wanted to keep in touch with the university. After all, as Provost, I was the
official
Visitor. In particular I was anxious about the coming quality inspection later in the academic year. Felix Glass was clearly uneasy about it. Early in the week I made a telephone call to the Vice-Chancellor's secretary to ask if he could spare the time to have a little chat. Alf Flanagan was efficient. The very same
afternoon he rang me back to invite me up to the university. Felix, as Head of the Faculty of Entertainment, would join us and he would explain to me what was happening.

On the appointed day I made my way to the Vice-Chancellor's office. Nothing had changed. It was still located in the Old Building on the top floor. When I arrived, I knocked on the door and heard a loud cuckoo coming from inside. Flanagan opened the door himself. He was wearing his dark suit, this time with a florid purple and gold tie. The silk handkerchief which flowed from his pocket was black. He shook my hand heartily and drew me inside. ‘G'Day, mate,' he said.

The room was much as I remembered it under his predecessor. There was the same emerald green fitted carpet on the floor. The furniture was reproduction mahogany and the pictures were undistinguished but inoffensive. However, I could not fail to notice an enormous brown cuckoo clock hanging behind the Vice-Chancellor's large pedestal desk. The desk itself was
covered
with an untidy array of papers. Felix was already sitting on the sofa.

Despite his girth, Flanagan was clearly a man who found it
difficult
to stay still. I sat down in one of the armchairs, but the
Vice-Chancellor
continued to pace the room. ‘As you know,' he began, ‘we are to have a visitation from the Higher Education Quality Control people within the next few months. I've tried to put them off as long as I could, but like death and taxes, they catch up with you in the end. I can't imagine what they expect to find. The whole thing's damned silly in my opinion, but there it is.'

‘How long will they be staying?' I asked. ‘Should Victoria and I be doing something for them at the Provost's House?'

Alf Flanagan suddenly became enthusiastic. ‘That'd be great mate! They'll certainly be impressed by the architecture and Victoria could keep anyone sweet. I understand the delegation will be in St Sebastian's for five days, Monday to Friday, so we must find plenty for them to do. We don't want to have them
asking
awkward questions, do we?' He roared with laughter. Felix looked agonised.

Flanagan was impervious to the effect he was having on his audience. ‘I've already booked the best rooms at the White Hart Hotel. They'll have their breakfast there, but we'll give them a
fair-dinkum lunch in Flanagan's and dinner in the Old Hall. I'm going to line up the lecturers in the Catering department to ply them with plenty of their best food and drink. Hopefully they'll go off to sleep after meals and won't be too much of a nuisance to us!'

He rummaged among the papers on his desk and handed over several menus and a wine list. ‘Got to keep the buggers happy whatever it costs. That'll be the job of your department, Felix. You'll need to find some of your prettiest little sheilas to act as waitresses. Make sure they're careful. However tempting, it wouldn't be a good idea to drop soup all over them. And I've just ordered a couple of cases of Bordeaux and Burgundy from my wine club that we can put in the cellars …'

‘But Alf,' Felix sounded desperate ‘A visitation from the Higher Education Quality Control Committee requires more than just entertainment. They'll want to see documents to show we're doing our jobs properly. Things like grade criteria and external examiners' reports and teaching statistics and minutes of committee meetings and so on. Then all our partnership-
institutions
need similar paperwork to justify our giving them degrees. And I'm sorry to fuss, but we don't have anything like a
comprehensive
record. Everything was started up too quickly…'

Flanagan turned to Felix in the manner of a kindly uncle. ‘Don't get so hot and bothered, mate. It'll all be fine. I've asked poor old Registrar Sloth to manufacture whatever paperwork we need.'

‘How can he manufacture the paperwork?' I asked. ‘Surely the documents should reflect what is actually going on and should already be in place.'