Pecking Order (22 page)

‘I doubt that,’ Eric whispered under his breath. He waited a few moments. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Fleming. He doesn’t appear to be in here.’

‘No,’ she agreed mournfully. ‘Thanks anyway.’

‘That’s no problem, and I’ll keep my eye out for him. Don’t worry - I’m sure he’ll reappear soon.’

As he walked back across the lawn to his own house he reflected on the concern shown for a missing cat while, if events so far were anything to go by, an old person could lie dead and undiscovered in their flat for days.

Chapter 34

The toilet roll made a soft drumming sound as Eric pulled a length of tissue clear. He tore it off, bunched it into a loose ball and pushed it into his trouser pocket. Back in his office he waited until ten-past-eleven; he knew from the departmental timetable that, by then, she would be well into her last tutorial of the year. Slipping out of his office, he locked the door behind him, walked quickly down the corridor, went through the two sets of double doors and entered Patricia's half of the floor.

He rarely ventured in here and looked with distaste at the mass of colourful posters brightening the walls. As he passed the main tutorial room he could hear her voice inside, confident and authoritative, yet not too serious. Just as he went past the door some comment caused a swell of laughter from the many people packed inside.

At the end of the corridor he knocked on the door marked, Mrs P. Du Rey BA MA.

A voice on the other side said, 'Come in.'

He opened it up and Lisa, Patricia's young secretary, looked up from her computer. Surprised, she said, 'Hello Professor ... I'm afraid Pat's in the middle of a tutorial. You probably passed ...'

'Don't worry,' said Eric with a hint of urgency in his voice. 'I just need to borrow a couple of recent Government Green Papers I know she has.'

‘Oh, right ... um, which ones?' she said, starting to get up.

'No, no, no,' said Eric, waving theatrically with his hands. 'Don't let me interrupt you. It'll be far quicker if I just pop in and get them, I know exactly where they are.'

Lisa sat back down in her seat and said a little uncertainly, 'OK then.'

Eric quickly crossed to the other door leading into Patricia's private office. On his side of the department this area was a reading room: he didn't believe in the head of the department having an office any larger than that of his co-lecturers. And to have a private secretary was unthinkable. He opened the door and, leaving it slightly ajar, went over to the bookshelf behind Patricia's desk. Scanning the shelves he waited until the sound of typing next door restarted. Then he pulled the tissue from his pocket and turned his attention to Patricia's handbag hung over the back of her leather chair. The top zip was open and Eric could immediately see her keys nestled next to a purse and small make-up bag.

With his long forefinger and thumb he teased them out from between the other items. As soon as they were clear he gripped them tightly to stop them clinking, then wrapped them in a muffling layer of tissue. Then he pushed the lump to the very bottom of his pocket.

Turning round, he grabbed the nearest three Green Papers off Patricia's shelf and walked back out. 'Here they are,' he said cheerfully, holding them up and heading straight for the door. 'I'll just photocopy the bits I need. Back in half an hour or so.'

He walked quickly to his office, dropped the publications on his desk and went straight back out. Not wanting to wait for the lift's slow arrival, he ran down the stairs, unchained his bike from the railings outside and cycled as fast as he could to the small key cutter's shop by the train station. At the booth he took Patricia's keys out of his pocket and scrutinised the collection.

He'd been to Otter's Pool Lodge a few times when she had first taken her post at the University. But, when a return invitation to his house for drinks and dinner never arrived, she had stopped asking him. It didn't really bother him - he had decided the size of her country home was obscene. After that, the professional coolness had settled between them, growing stronger as the months passed and their different approaches to both lecturing and politics gradually became apparent.

Now he decided the key to her back door could only be one. Otter's Pool Lodge was a converted barn in the exclusive countryside south of the city. He remembered the back door was an aged oak one, with a huge black handle and hinges.

The key he held up to the man looked like an antique, something from a Dickensian novel. Inside the booth the man raised his eyebrows and wiped his hands on the thick apron around his waist.

'Not your standard cut,' he observed, taking the key from Eric's outstretched fingers. 'It'll be six pounds.'

'That's fine - I'm in an awful hurry. My wife's about to catch the train home, and she's lost hers. Can you do it for me now?'

'Course,' said the man, turning to the machinery behind him. He set Patricia's key in some clamps and then picked a blank key from a selection hanging from the wall at his side. He placed it in the machine and began moving the handles to trace an outline around Patricia's. As he did so the cutting bit lined up against the blank key below mirrored his actions. A piercing, grating whine started up and Eric could smell metal in the air. A few minutes later the man turned back round. He placed a brand new key on the counter and took a cloth from his pocket. 'I'll just clean this old one up for you mate.'

'No!' Eric said sharply. 'It's fine. I haven't time. Please.' He held out his hand.

The man in the booth looked at him. 'Six quid then.'

'Sorry to be abrupt. Here.' Eric scrabbled in his pocket and found the necessary money. The man handed the key over.

'Thank you,' said Eric, slipping Patricia's key back onto its ring and the spare one into his jacket pocket. Then he swung a spindly leg over his bike and raced back to the department, knees pumping up and down.

After jogging back up the stairs he returned to his office and grabbed the Green Papers off his desk. Making an effort to breathe normally, he walked back through to Patricia's side of the department, noting with relief that her tutorial hadn't ended early. He knocked on her office door and went in. 'All done,' he smiled. 'I'll pop them back in their proper place.'

Without waiting for Lisa to answer, he entered Patricia's room and returned the Green Papers to her collection. With teeth clenched, he unwrapped the keys from their tissue wrapping and carefully reinserted them back into her handbag.

'Thanks ever so much,' he said casually. He walked past Lisa's desk and swung the door shut, leaving a faint smell of sweat behind him.

Chapter 35

Another champagne cork popped and several people whooped with delight. Bubbles welled up out of its neck and Michel held the bottle well clear of his suit, allowing the froth to drip into the plastic cup Pat was holding out below.

Crowded into her office was her entire departmental staff. In the corner Clare, there on the pretext of asking Patricia's advice about MA courses - and feeling slightly embarrassed to be part of the proceedings - chatted to Patricia's secretary, Lisa.

‘So Pat,' said Julian, his cupped palm full of peanuts. 'Does this mean we'll all be upgrading our computers? I've had my eye on one of those wafer thin monitors they've had in all the banks for ages.' Several staff members indulged Julian's remark with polite laughs but, with the same thought having occurred to them, they all watched Patricia for her reaction.

With the hand holding her cup, Patricia began drunkenly wagging a finger at Julian, oblivious to the champagne spilling down the back of her hand and dripping onto the carpet.

'Now, now,' she light-heartedly admonished. 'We'll have to see how the budget stretches after I've had my brand new I-Mac.'

They all guffawed, taking her answer as a positive sign.

Michel had finished topping up everyone's cups and placed the empty bottle of Piper-Heidsieck alongside all the others lined up on the filing cabinet. 'Well everyone, I've thought of another toast! Here's to the ESPRC for their wise decision and another three happy years in the pursuit of research and,' he paused dramatically, 'recreation!'

The room cheered in agreement and plastic cups were raised to glistening lips. Once everyone had taken a gulp Patricia said, 'And I'll just like to raise a toast to Michel for kindly supplying us with all this delicious champagne.' She turned unsteadily to address her husband directly, 'Us poor academics, we're only used to celebrating with cheap stuff.'

At that moment there was a knock on the door and Eric stepped round it, a bottle of Cava in his hand. A hush instantly fell over the room, but before the silence could become too obvious Patricia loudly exclaimed, 'Eric - I'm so glad you're here. Please, come in and have some bubbly.' Subtly she nudged her husband as she stepped towards Eric.

The Professor’s eyes flashed behind his glasses as he quickly took in who else was in the room.

'Thanks. Here, I've brought a little something,' he replied, handing Patricia the bottle as Michel appeared with a plastic cup and another bottle of Piper-Heidsieck.

'Your good health Eric,' he said, filling the cup and handing it over.

'And both of yours,' answered Eric, with a meaningful glance into Patricia's eyes. 'I got your email announcement earlier, but I had to get some end of term bits and pieces out of the way first.' He held up his cup, 'Congratulations!'

All three drank again, Patricia and Michel desperately trying to think of something to say as they swallowed. But Eric spared them the effort by continuing, 'So Michel, you've got a few days away from Brussels?'

'Unfortunately not. I just whipped over when I heard the news this afternoon. I'm on the last flight back tonight. There's a lot of work to be done sorting out the legal side of some new fishing quotas.'

'I see,' said Eric. 'And Pat, surely you're going with him for a few well-deserved days off?'

Patricia had never heard Eric being so affable. 'No such luck,' she said, clutching her husband's arm and smiling up at him. 'Not yet anyway.'

Michel said to Eric, 'I don't think she would be allowed on the plane, not in her current state at least.'

'Oh don't,' said Patricia. A little embarrassed, she looked up at Eric. 'I'm awful at handling my drink. For the vertically-challenged amongst us, alcohol gets straight into the blood. It's all to do with body weight.'

'I imagine it is,' said Eric, eyes straying to the inner crook of her elbow. 'Still, some things deserve a celebration.' He raised his glass again, encouraging Patricia to take another sip.

As she did so, she swayed against her husband, and he jokingly said, 'Careful! I think it's a taxi home for you tonight dear.'

At that moment Clare and Lisa squeezed past, 'We're just nipping next door to the coffee room,' said Lisa, holding up a packet of cigarettes by way of an explanation.

'Filthy habit,' said Patricia good-naturedly. 'Not at all like drinking.'

They all smiled as the two younger women carried on past. On the other side of the room Julian noticed as they went out of the door. He patted his trouser pocket to check his cigarettes were inside.

In the coffee room Lisa and Clare slumped on the soft seats. 'Shit. I'm quite pissed,' said Clare, sitting back.

'Not as bad as Pat. Did you see her stagger just now? She's really going for it.' They both grinned as Lisa took out two cigarettes.

'You don't mind me scrounging?' asked Clare. 'I've got some roll-ups in my bag.'

'Don't be silly,' replied Lisa. 'Anyway, you're about to graduate - you've got to give up the rollies soon. Move on to proper fags.' She handed Clare a Marlboro Light and lit their cigarettes. 'When do you get your results? It's soon, isn't it?'

'I was hoping you could tell me that,' said Clare with mock disappointment. 'Early next week according to the last prediction.'

'And then what are you going to do?' asked Lisa, blowing smoke up at the ceiling.

Unsure of what she might know, Clare studied Lisa's profile for a second and then said, 'It depends on my class of degree. I'd like to do an MA somewhere if I can.'

'Like here perhaps?' Lisa smiled, and leaned closer to whisper, 'Pat got me to file your application earlier. I think it will be excellent to have you in the department.'

Clare smiled. 'Cheers, I can't wait to be honest.'

'Oh, hello you two,' said Julian from the doorway, acting surprised at seeing them. 'You've had the same thought as me.'

He sat down opposite them and when Lisa didn't offer him a cigarette from her pack on the table, he lit up one of his own. 'Did I hear mention of an MA just then?' he asked, looking at Clare.

'Yes. I was just saying to Lisa, if I get the grade, I wouldn't mind doing one.'

‘Well,' he said condescendingly. 'With this grant now in the bag, there's likely to be a couple of positions here next year. In fact,' he went on with a sly look, 'you seem to be the only undergraduate invited to this little soiree.'

Clare tried to hide her agitation by taking a drag on her cigarette, 'Nah, I just happened to be in seeing Pat about which universities she recommends.'

‘Mmmmm, really?' said Julian, arching his eyebrows.

Clare had the sudden urge to punch him in the face.

Sensing the tension, Lisa cut in. 'Anyway, it looks like this grant is,' she lowered her voice, 'the last nail in the coffin for poor old Maudsley.'

Julian glanced towards the doorway, 'Yup, I think that's true. Still, it's about time he got more opportunity to do some gardening or whatever it is retired people do.'

The two girls looked at him disapprovingly.

Seeing their expressions he said, 'Oh come, come. He's well past it. I think he secretly knows it too.' He leaned forward, monopolising the conversation. 'Try and get yourself in Pat's department, Clare. I for one would look forward to ...' he got to his feet, crotch level with their eyes, ' ... working with you. See you in there.' He ground out his cigarette and walked back into Patricia's study.

As soon as he was out of the room they turned to each other. Lisa announced, 'I want to ...'