Lost and Found: A Novel - Chapter Four

 Lost and Found: A Novel - Chapter four.

London/Paris 2018.

Tom had never thought of himself as an impulsive person, but once the idea of Madeleine was planted in his mind, he felt he had to visit Paris at once. Of course he had no real hope of finding Madeleine. It was now 2018, forty years since his encounter with Madeleine in the autumn of 1978 on his first visit to Paris. The girl had not even come from that city and now no doubt lived somewhere else. Yet Tom felt that if he could at least revisit the places in Paris he had shared with Madeleine, perhaps he would rekindle some joy, some hope, in himself.

Kate had not been impressed with Tom's sudden decision to rush off to France.

'Why on earth do you want to go to Paris? And why now?', she had asked, not hiding her exasperation.

'You remember I was doing research for that article comparing British and French colonial policies in West Africa?', said Tom. 'Well, this is the perfect opportunity to look at the French source materials.'

'What article? You've never mentioned such an article to me', Kate replied. 'You know Susan and Kevin are going on that trip to Italy arranged by his company and we are supposed to look after little John. You can't go away and lay all that responsibility on me!'

Kate was failing to curb her growing anger.

'It will only be for a few days', Tom said in a quiet and even tone.

Kate was not to be appeased.

'This whole idea is ridiculous. Why Paris? Why now?'

'It just seems the perfect opportunity', Tom repeated.

'Why can't you wait until after Susan and Kevin have been on their trip? Then we could both go to Paris for a short break', Kate said in a more measured tone of voice.

Tom pretended to think about this proposal.

'It would be like that Paris trip we had just before the millennium', Kate went on.

That had been Tom's last visit to Paris, almost twenty years ago. He had been invited to attend a multi-disciplinary international conference about Western imperialism and the Third World. It was held at Nanterre University in the western suburbs of Paris. Day after day Tom sat listening to dreary papers given by sociologists, political scientists, development economists, and historians from around the globe until it was his turn to speak. All these years later, Tom could not even remember the subject of his paper. There was the usual pointless discussion afterwards, with his critics less interested in his paper than in showing how clever they were. Tom had been so glad to rejoin Kate at their hotel afterwards and go out to dinner with her.

Yes, Tom had to admit that being with Kate in Paris that time was a real pleasure. However, she could not go with him this time. This was a trip he must make alone. He was returning to a point in his life before Mary, before Kate, before the children. The feelings he wanted to recover were his alone and not to be shared with even his nearest and dearest.

For almost an hour Tom and Kate argued about his trip, but in the end Kate gave in. He could go to Paris, but only for a few days. Next day Tom threw some things into an overnight bag and made his way to St Pancras Station to catch the Eurostar train to Paris.

Now the train had exited the Channel Tunnel, leaving England, London, and Kate behind. As he gazed out across the French fields beside the track, Tom felt free and looked forward to his adventure. He was sorry to have lied to Kate. Most French colonial records were not even in Paris. They were in a special archives centre at Aix-en-Provence, hundreds of miles south of the French capital. But Tom could forgive himself, he felt, as he would be back home soon. A few days of nostalgia in Paris, then back to London and whatever challenges his new life as a retiree would pose.

Tom took out his cell phone. His children always told him that everything was on the Internet. He wondered if he could find any trace of Madeleine there. Then, for the first time, Tom realised he was not sure of her full name. Madeleine something. He was sure her surname began with a Q. He searched his mind for some memory of it, but came up blank.

Then he thought: was it Quercy? No, that was a region in southern France. But he had no better idea. Tom searched for Madeleine Quercy. To his amazement Tom found a Madeleine Quercy. However, she was a doctor in Bordeaux and even from the sparse information given on the Internet, Tom could tell she was a young doctor. Clearly not his Madeleine.

Again Tom tried to conjure up Madeleine's surname, but nothing came. Tom did a search for just Madeleine Q, and was told there were 73 million results. There was no way he could work his way through that amount of data.

Anyway, Madeleine Q had probably married at some point in the last forty years and Tom could not know her married surname. He put his phone away. Perhaps once he visited the places in Paris he had shared with Madeleine, her surname would come back into his mind. Even then Tom doubted he could track her down, even with all the wonders of the Internet.

Eventually the Eurostar train reached the Gare du Nord in Paris, arriving on time after a journey of only two and a quarter hours. Tom was impressed. Four decades ago it would have taken him much longer to get from London to Paris whatever means of transport he took. Tom ventured down into the metro and made his way to the Cardinal Lemoine station on the Left Bank. He had a vague idea that the hotel in which he stayed back in 1978 was somewhere near that metro station. Once he came back up to street level, Tom headed north towards the River Seine. He was sure the hotel was in that direction. After wandering the streets for a while, Tom had to admit that none of the buildings looked even vaguely familiar. In four decades hotels could be closed down or just change their names, not that Tom could remember his hotel's name. 

A cold, autumnal evening was beginning to close in, and Tom knew he had to find accommodation soon. Then Tom came to a hotel on a street corner which seemed to resemble the faded memory in his mind. Could this be the place? He went inside.

In 1978 Tom could read and speak French quite well, but now while he could still read it with some facility, his spoken French was at a low level, just enough to order a meal or, as now, book into a hotel. A young black woman was at the front desk. A name badge told him she was called Hortense. In his basic French, Tom asked for a room. Yes, there should be one available, said the girl, but she would check with the manager. The girl opened the door into a nearby office. There was a woman seated at a desk. Was she the manager? She could not be more than thirty years old, thought Tom. She had blonde hair, blue eyes, and a rather grave expression on her face. She could see Tom from where she was sitting. She did not seem impressed by the elderly man she saw. However, she nodded to Hortense, who then closed the office door and returned to the front desk.

She looked at her computer screen and began to check Tom in.

Among the many Paris tourist brochures on the desk was a brochure for Martinique, the French island in the Caribbean. Tom idly opened it. Hortense looked up from her computer screen.

'That's where I come from', she said.

'I am sure it is warmer than here', said Tom.

The girl just smiled and handed over Tom's key. His room was on the second floor. There was no lift. Tom had to struggle up the stairs with his overnight bag, which now seemed much heavier than when he had packed it back in London.

If this was the same hotel as in 1978, it had improved vastly from what he remembered. The old hotel was run down, with tatty furniture in its small, dingy rooms, and with only one bathroom and one toilet on each floor. But it was cheap; a big consideration for a poor student. Today the hotel was up to modern standards. The rooms were still small, but nicely furnished. Tom's room had two beds that almost filled the space, but an en suite bathroom, or rather shower room, had somehow been attached to the room.

Tom unpacked and then went downstairs. The hotel was too small to offer food. As Tom went out to find a cafe or a restaurant, he passed Hortense, who was talking to the woman manager. The latter was quite tall, slim, not unattractive - if only she would smile, thought Tom. But she did not smile. Instead she gave Tom another suspicious look.  

Lost and Found: A Novel - Chapter Three

 Lost and Found: A Novel - Chapter Three.

London 2018.

Fred, one of the oldest college porters, was directing his young assistant Willie as they packed Tom's belongings into boxes.

'Put the books in the small boxes', said Fred. 'If you overload the big boxes with books you'll do your back an injury when you try to lift them.'

Willie nodded his understanding, but still tried to put too many books into the small boxes. The porters loaded the boxes onto trolleys, then took them down to the lodge at the college main entrance. There a man and his van that Tom had hired loaded them and took them to his home in Wood Green.

Tom was not going to admit it, but Cora Shelton had been right. Once he threw out all the non-essential items that he had accumulated in twenty years residence in his room, the significant items could be removed in two days.

It was the second day and the room was much less cluttered. Just a desk and chairs, filing cabinets, bookcases, and some last piles of books remained. Willie was still trying to put too many books in each box. One book fell out and landed on the floor almost at Tom's feet.

He picked it up. The substantial volume was old and worn. The book was about the Portuguese seaborne empire. It was regarded as a classic work in its day and Tom still found it useful as a source. He opened the book and looked at the title page. There was an inscription across the top: 'To Tom, with all my love, from Kate.'

Tom realised it was the first book Kate had ever given him, all those years ago. He already had a copy when she gave it to him, but he had not told her. That was in the days when their love was new and passions were strong. Kate had promised Tom a new beginning.

Mary. Tom's first wife, had been another academic. Friends said they were perfect for each other as they had so much in common, but that was the problem. With similar academic interests, they were soon applying for the same university jobs. Before long they became rivals and their relationship began to suffer.

They both applied for a good job at Manchester University and Mary was successful in getting it. As a Lancashire girl it would be like coming home. Tom, however, wanted to stay in London. He was already doing part time teaching at the college of London University that would eventually give him a permanent post. For some months they travelled back and forth. Tom to Manchester, then Mary to London, but both knew this could not go on for long. Eventually Mary came down from Manchester and told Tom the bad news face to face. She had found a new lover up north and wanted a divorce. Tom did not resist. Looking back, Tom almost admired her for meeting him to break the bad news. Today she would probably have sent a text message to his phone ending their marriage.

Mary said they would remain friends. The old lie. Instead they quickly slipped out of each other's lives. Now Tom only knew her through her academic publications and the occasional awkward encounters at academic conferences. He found new love in the arms of Kate, whose passion warmed his cold isolation in 'Siberia'.

During the Blitz German bombs had destroyed several buildings at the rear of the college. The site was cleared and some prefabricated huts were constructed. They were intended purely as temporary accommodation, and a promise was made that new permanent buildings would be put up after the war. The promise was eventually fulfilled - almost half a century after the end of the Second World War. In the meantime various college departments were allocated rooms in the huts. The history department received one room, which came to be known as 'Siberia'.

New staff in the history department would be placed in this room on first arrival. If they were lucky, after a year or two, they would be moved to a better room in the history department in the main building. Cool even in summer, the room lived up to its nickname in winter. The concrete walls and metal-framed windows did not keep out the cold. The ancient portable electric heater provided by the college only warmed you if you stood directly in front of it. To add to the joy, the flat roof of the hut often leaked during heavy rain. Many times Tom had to use his metal waste paper bin to collect the water dripping down in one corner of the room.

There was a desk, three chairs, a table, a filing cabinet, and a bookcase in the room. The only attractive feature of the room was its elegant wooden parquet flooring, a remnant of its destroyed predecessor, but even this was partly covered by a cheap carpet. A grim setting in many ways, the room sometimes witnessed passionate love-making on its floor if Tom and Kate could not wait to get to Tom's flat in Camden Town. It was either in the room or in the flat that the young couple got careless. Soon Kate announced that she was pregnant. The news soon spread around the college and Tom was summoned to a meeting with the head of the history department.

Professor Leonard Grimshaw was in his fifties, tall and heavily built. Few of his colleagues had much respect for his abilities as a historian, but he was a good money man. His success in getting grants from research foundations and private donors made him popular with both the department and the college. A Catholic with five children, he liked to project himself as a good family man, a defender of firm moral values. Yet he was also a ladies man, ready to pursue any attractive female at an academic conference, and especially at conferences held abroad.

Grimshaw's interview with Tom was short and not sweet. Tom was a fool to seduce a student and a complete idiot to get her pregnant, said the professor. Tom's choice now was simple: marry the girl or be dismissed from the college. Grimshaw added that should Tom choose the latter option, the professor would personally make sure he never got another job at a British university. Tom had no choice but to take the first option, but he and Kate had always intended to marry anyway. They did not invite Professor Grimshaw to their wedding. The old hypocrite also made it clear to Tom that he would not be escaping from 'Siberia' while Grimshaw remained head of the history department.

Tom was almost ready to accept that punishment for his sins, but then fate intervened. It was discovered that Professor Grimshaw had been receiving special payments from rich donors in return for getting student places for their children at the college. Tom looked forward to seeing the professor destroyed by the scandal, but then Grimshaw suddenly died of a heart attack and the college hushed up his financial misconduct. Jerry O'Brien took over as department head, and since he disliked Grimshaw almost as much as Tom did, the new boss was happy to liberate Tom from 'Siberia'. Tom was given a small room in the main building, and after a few years he moved on to a larger one, the room he was now vacating.

The porters removed the last boxes from the room and Tom went to the departmental office to tie up a few bureaucratic loose ends now that his academic career was effectively over. As ever, Valerie was helpful and efficient. Her predecessor had been a real dragon lady, inspiring fear among the academic staff. Some of the younger ones would only dare to go into the office to check their mailboxes at lunchtime when they knew the dragon lady would not be there. Valerie, in contrast, was well liked by everybody and the soul of discretion. It was only after some years that Tom had learned she lived with someone called Terry and more years passed before Valerie admitted that Terry was not a man but another woman. Tom was not the sort of person to make moral judgements about other people's private lives, especially given the problems with his own.

However, Tom did relish the memory of one incident involving Valerie. There was once a temporary lecturer in the department called Joe Williams and he was flamboyantly gay. Once he learned of Valerie's domestic setup, he enthusiastically invited Valerie and Terry to join a Gay Pride march he was organising. Tom still smiled at the memory of the look of horror that came to Valerie's face when contemplating this suggestion.

'No', she said emphatically. 'We keep ourselves to ourselves, and that's the way we like it.'

Joe went off to a university in Australia and Valerie remained the soul of discretion.

Tom knew that Valerie was only a few years younger than himself and that she would be retiring soon. He asked her what she and Terry were going to do then.

'Oh, Terry wanted to get a house in Spain, but I said no. It's just too hot down there. We're going to move to the south coast instead.'

'Brighton?', asked Tom.

Valerie gave him a knowing smile and replied: 'No, Tom, we're buying a house in Eastbourne.'

Tom nodded, and they lapsed into silence for a moment. Then Valerie said: 'I was sorry the way Cora dismissed you.'

'Me too', said Tom, trying to smile. 'Now I have no job and trouble on the home front as well.'

'Really?', said Valerie, hoping to hear more, but Tom would not elaborate.

'Yes, it's all rather depressing', said Tom.

'Whenever I feel really down', said Valerie, 'I like to think back to those times in my life when I have been truly happy, and such memories always cheer me up.'

'Maybe I'll try that', Tom said, smiling at Valerie as he left her office.

Tom returned to his own now largely empty room and slumped in the chair behind his desk.

When was I most happy?, he thought. Early days with Mary? Most of his years with Kate? When the children were born? So many memories. But then something lit a fire in his mind. Paris. Madeleine. Her blue eyes. Her wicked sense of humour. Her yellow umbrella. In those few weeks with her so long ago Tom could say he had been totally happy. If only he could somehow reconnect with that girl and the feelings he had for her.  

 

Lost and Found: A Novel - Chapter Two

 Lost and Found: A Novel - Chapter Two.

London 2018

'Why should I loan money to Richard?' Tom Bain  almost spat out the question he was so angry. 'He's the banker for God's sake. He should be loaning money to me!'

Tom's wife Kate sighed, then remained silent for a moment to allow Tom's anger to subside.

'It would only be a short-term loan', Kate said quietly. 'Until Richard gets his big bonus at the end of the year.'

'Why does he need to put an extension on his house?', Tom went on. 'It's not as if he and Vanessa have children and need more room.'

When Tom had come home from the college he had intended to tell Kate immediately about his interview with Professor Cora Shelton and its consequences. However, no sooner had he come through the door than Kate confronted him with Richard's latest request for money. Richard was his eldest son and Kate's favourite child. He had gone to Oxford University like Tom and had done very well. Tom had hoped Richard might follow him into the academic world, but the attraction of big money in the City of London had proved too great. He had earned rapid promotion as a banker and enjoyed the sort of salary which Tom, a poor academic historian, could only dream about. Richard had met Vanessa at the bank and they had married. Their joint salaries were enough to allow them to buy a big house in Maidenhead. Then Vanessa decided to leave the bank and open an art gallery in the West End of London. It was not a success and their financial problems soon began. Richard supported Vanessa in her determination to keep the art gallery going, but several times he had been forced to get loans from his father.

'You still have all the money your father left you', Kate said to Tom.

'That's for us. For our retirement, so we can live comfortably', said Tom, but he still did not reveal that his retirement would come sooner than expected.

'You will help Richard, won't you?' Kate was almost pleading.

Tom was silent, but they both knew he would in the end loan Richard the money he wanted.

Why could Richard not be more like his sister Susan?, thought Tom. She was their only daughter and Tom's favourite child. Susan had turned down the chance to go to Oxford and instead went to the Other Place. Still, after visiting her there many times, Tom had to admit a grudging respect for the University of Cambridge. After university, Susan qualified as a lawyer at a big firm in the City, but then moved out of London to Reading with her husband Kevin, who was a computer systems consultant. They had one child, John, and Susan still worked for a local law firm. Even as a child Susan was always careful with money, and even though she and her husband had good salaries, she was never extravagant in her spending. She would never ask her father for money.

As for Kate and Tom's youngest child and second son, Andrew, he had always been totally different from his two siblings. No famous universities for him. He was more interested in outdoor pursuits and the countryside. Tom thought he might become a farmer. Instead Andrew had met Josie, a girl with similar interests, and they had set up a business in the Lake District taking tourists on hiking and climbing expeditions. Sometimes they went to Wales and Scotland as well. Tom had been ready to give them some money for the business and it seemed to be prospering.

Of course Tom knew that Josie was the business manager in the partnership. Andrew had been a placid child, always happy and cheerful. At first Tom and Kate had feared he might be retarded, but that proved not to be the case. What a comment that was on the world, thought Tom. If you were always happy and cheerful you must be mentally retarded!

And what of Kate? His wife was still looking at Tom, assuming his silence implied consent to a loan to Richard, but still not entirely sure. Kate was five years younger than Tom, the student he had seduced after his first marriage ended. Or was it the other way round? He chased her until she caught him? It was a minor scandal in the college all those years ago, but marriage had saved Tom's career.

Kate had let her own hopes of an academic career wither while she brought up the three children and managed her sometimes difficult husband. She did some part-time tutoring for the Open University, but household tasks still dominated her life.

Lately Tom had noticed that Kate seemed tired and irritable. Her once lustrous black hair seemed dull and streaks of grey had begun to show. Was she tired of her life, or just tired of him, Tom wondered anxiously.

Kate was moving towards the kitchen.

'Oh, I have some big news', Tom said, trying to sound casual.

Kate turned towards him.

'Cora gave me the boot today, and she enjoyed doing it', Tom went on.

Kate gasped.

'Why?', she asked. 'Was it because of that silly girl Jessica Jones?'

'Partly', said Tom. 'But there were other reasons too. Apparently the world has moved on and I haven't kept pace.'

'Can't you challenge her decision?', Kate demanded.

'No. I'm already over the official retirement age. Cora made it sound as though they had been keeping me on as some act of charity. Now they - she - are not feeling charitable any more.'

Kate came over to Tom and hugged him.

'My poor darling', she whispered in his ear.

'Perhaps you can get me some tutoring work with the Open University', Tom said to Kate. He tried to laugh, but failed.

Kate stood back and stared into Tom's face.

'What are we going to do?', she asked.

'Oh, don't worry about money', Tom replied. 'I'm on paid leave this term. Then there's the money my father left me.'

'Yes, you already mentioned that.'

'Perhaps we should go on a world cruise or something', said Tom.

Kate looked doubtful.

'But you hate the sea', she said to Tom. 'You can even get seasick on the ferry to the Isle of Wight.'

'They say those giant modern cruise ships are so stable they can sail through any storm and the passengers hardly notice.'

'I think that's unlikely', said Kate, no doubt picturing Tom throwing up regularly as the cruise ship crossed the oceans of the world.

'It was only a thought'. Tom said absently.

'Well, let's have something to eat, then we can discuss things further', said Kate, heading for the kitchen.

They spent the evening talking about possible futures, but Tom and Kate came to no definite conclusions.

Next day Tom realised that in his haste to flee college the previous day he had left some books he needed in his office. He was sure he could slip into the college and retrieve them without being noticed. He was wrong.

Tom collected the books from his room, but as he walked along the corridor outside he saw Professor Cora Shelton approaching. The door to the office of departmental secretary Valerie was open and Tom thought of going in there until Cora had passed by. However, he then suspected Valerie's office was probably Cora's intended destination. Cora was looking at some papers she was holding in her right hand. Perhaps Tom could slip past without her noticing him, but Cora then looked up from the papers.

'Tom, what are you doing here? I thought I sent you on leave', said Cora, blocking Tom's path.

'Oh, I was just getting some books from my room', Tom replied, trying to edge past the professor. She moved to obstruct his passage.

'Books from your room? Oh, thank you for reminding me, Tom', said Cora with an insincere smile. 'I think it would be best if you cleared all your books and other belongings out of your room now. You know how short we are of accommodation in this department. I can probably squeeze three postgraduate students into your room.'

Tom knew he would have to vacate his room eventually, but he had not wanted to be rushed.

'Yes, I'll be happy to do that', Tom said reluctantly. 'Give me two or three weeks.'

'Nonsense', said Cora. 'With the help of the college porters I'm sure you can clear the room in a day or two.'

'I'm not sure about that', Tom began to say, but Cora cut him off.

'I think you should be out by the end of this week', she said firmly.

Both Tom and Cora had raised their voices as they argued. Departmental secretary Valerie was now looking out of the doorway to her room, concerned at the commotion in the corridor.

Tom stepped away from Cora.

'Perhaps that is possible', he said weakly.

'Of course it is', said Cora as she swept past Tom and entered Valerie's office.

(TBC)    

Lost and Found: A Novel - Chapter One

 [Copyright - Alan G. Jamieson. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.]

Lost and Found: A Novel.

Alan G. Jamieson.

'The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there' - L.P. Hartley, The Go-Between (1953).

Chapter One.

London 2018.

'But I love you', wailed Jessica.

Tom Bain got up from the seat behind his desk and walked over to the window. He looked out across the quadrangle. It was largely empty. The autumn term had not yet begun and few students were in college.

One student who was in college was sitting on a chair in front of Tom's desk. Tom turned round and gazed at the girl.

'I really do love you', repeated Jessica Jones in a low but firm voice.

Still silent, Tom slumped back into his chair. The girl before him was slim, blonde haired, dressed in trainers, blue jeans, and a brown hoodie top. A small silver ring was in one of her nostrils, while what appeared to be a tattoo of orange and black flames reached up her neck above the collar of her hoodie. Even with these concessions to contemporary fashion, Jessica was a pretty girl. Her pale blue eyes looked intently at Tom, almost willing him to say something in reply to her desperate declarations of love.

Tom sighed, then spoke: 'Jessica, I appreciate your feelings, but this really is an impossible situation.' 

The girl shifted her body on her chair and looked down at her feet.

Tom continued: 'I only gave you private tutorials over the summer vacation because you asked me to. There were no ulterior motives. You must know that.'

Jessica was an outstanding student, one of the best undergraduates in the history department, but after a break up with her boyfriend her grades had plummeted. She would lose her scholarship if her grades did not improve. Tom had been ready to give her extra tuition during the summer vacation in the hope of raising her grades.

Jessica looked up and spoke: 'But you invited me to your house. I went there lots of times.'

'Five times', Tom said. Perhaps holding tutorials at his home in north London had not been a good idea, but the college had been overrun by film crews for much of the summer vacation, shooting scenes for a movie Tom would probably never watch.

'And my wife was in the house on each occasion', Tom continued. 'She even brought us tea a couple of times.'

The girl began to snivel, rubbing a pink-nailed hand across her nose. Could tears be far away?

Tom got to his feet and walked over to Jessica. He moved to put his hand on her shoulder to comfort the girl. Then a warning bell went off in his mind. Don't touch her! He withdrew his extended arm as quickly as if he had suffered an electric shock.

This whole situation was getting ridiculous. Tom knew that Valerie, the departmental secretary, was in her office just down the corridor. Perhaps he should call her to his room and she could act as a chaperone. Being alone with a distressed teenage girl put Tom in a difficult position.

Tom returned to his desk and sat down in his chair once again.

'Jessica, I appreciate the feelings you think you have for me', he began, trying to sound firm but friendly. 'However, you must see that this is all in your mind. I have given you no encouragement. It is just some sort of emotional reaction to breaking up with your boyfriend. Anyway, I am far too old to be the object of youthful desires.'

Tom tried to make the last sentence sound humorous, but Jessica was not laughing.

'I know, you're a hundred years old and I'm just a silly little girl', Jessica muttered, more to herself than to Tom. 

Tom was desperate to bring this interview to an end, but could not think how to do it.

Suddenly Jessica gave a sort of cry and the tears came. Tom remained seated at his desk, determined to appear unmoved.

'I really do love you', the girl said, turning her tear-stained face towards Tom. He struggled to remain calm.

'Jessica, you must stop saying that.'

'If you love somebody you are in love and just can't hide it', said Jessica flatly.

Tom was considering his response to this statement when Jessica suddenly got to her feet, retrieving her shoulder bag from the floor as she did so. The sobbing girl quickly moved to the door, opened it, and rushed out into the corridor. She left the door open.

Tom got up from his desk and went to close the door. As he did so, he had the definite feeling that there was more trouble to come.

It duly arrived at almost the end of the working day. Someone opened the door to Tom's room without knocking. Tom looked up from the screen of his laptop computer.

The smiling face of young Jake Goodman appeared around the edge of the door. He was the department head's loyal lapdog, always ready to do her bidding in the hope of winning academic promotion.

'The boss lady wants to see you, Tom', Jake said cheerily. 'Immediately', he emphasised as his head disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared.

Tom got wearily to his feet. He knew his meeting with Professor Cora Shelton would have some connection with Jessica Jones and that prospect was not reassuring.

The professor had become head of the history department a year earlier. She was barely fifty years old and had made clear her intention to remove the dead wood from the department, and Tom had known from the beginning that he was one of the old trees to be felled. It seemed he had now given the wood cutter the perfect excuse to wield her axe.

Tom knocked at the door of the professor's office and took a muffled sound from inside as an invitation to enter. Cora Shelton was seated at her desk, gazing intently at a computer screen while scribbling in a notebook at the same time. She did not look up.

Tom advanced to her desk. There was an empty chair in front of it, but Tom decided to remain standing until the professor noticed his presence and invited him to sit. The minutes passed slowly. Cora Shelton seemed in no hurry to greet Tom. Finally she turned away from the computer screen, stopped writing in her notebook, and looked up.

'Ah, Tom', she said, as if surprised at his presence. She motioned for him to sit down in the vacant chair. Cora then took her notebook and put it in a draw of her desk. Then she looked directly at Tom.

'Tom, Jessica Jones has been to see me', the professor said, 'and I have to tell you that the story she told me is rather troubling.'

Cora paused for a moment, then continued.

'How could you be so foolish as to invite a young female student to your house so you could be alone with her?'

'But...', Tom began, only for Cora to raise a hand to silence him. She went on.

'You know that the college now has very strict rules about members of staff meeting students outside the college environment.'

'But I was only trying to help the girl, to save her scholarship', protested Tom.

Cora snorted with derision.

'Oh Tom, helping her by arranging one on one meetings at your house during the summer vacation', she said, scarcely concealing her scepticism about his motives.

'They were genuine tutorials. In any case my wife was in the house every time Jessica visited. She even brought us tea...'

Cora again raised her hand to stop Tom's vain protestations.

'You will be glad to hear that I have been able to persuade Jessica not to make a formal complaint about sexual harassment', said Cora, clearly expecting Tom's gratitude.

'That's ridiculous', Tom replied. 'Sexual harassment? If anything she has been harassing me, not the other way around.'

Cora leaned forward in her chair. Her steel-rimmed spectacles slipped down her nose so that her blue eyes looked over the top. She directed an intense stare at Tom.

'I am sure a tribunal would take a different view', she said.

'A tribunal? I thought you said Jessica had not made a formal complaint.'

'I am merely pointing out that if she does make such a complaint - and she can change her mind at any time - the tribunal would be likely to accept her view of events rather than yours. After all, you are much older than her and in a position of authority over her.'

'This is crazy', Tom gasped, aware that his feelings of anger were beginning to grow. 'I was only doing what was best for the girl. I was trying to help her.'

Cora sat back in her chair and looked away from Tom. She had nothing more to say on the matter. She moved on.

'There have been other complaints about you from the students as well.'

'About sexual harassment?'

'No, about the content of your history of empires course.'

'But I've been teaching that course for years. It's popular with students. Nobody has ever complained before.'

'Maybe not', said Cora, 'but times have changed. Particular concern has been expressed about your treatment of the history of the British empire.'

'I believe my treatment is factual and fair, covering both the bad and good aspects of the British empire.'

Again Cora leaned forward in her seat. Again the spectacles slipped down her nose, and her blue eyes stared directly into Tom's face.

'Do you really believe there was anything good about the British empire?', she asked in a low voice.

Tom opened his mouth to reply, but Cora turned away from him and opened a draw in her desk. She took out a thick folder. Tom saw his name was written on the front. It was obviously his file sent over from the personnel department of the college.

'How old are you, Tom?', the professor asked.

'I'll be sixty-three next birthday', replied Tom, knowing that she was probably already aware of that if she had read his file.

Cora flipped open the folder and flicked through the first few pages, as if reading them.

'You could have retired - should have retired - at sixty, but we kept you on', said Cora, still looking at the pages rather than Tom.

Now Tom was starting to feel anger growing inside him once again. Cora made it sound as though the college was doing him a favour by keeping him on. In fact her predecessor as head of the history department had almost begged Tom to keep teaching as the college could not afford to fund a replacement.

Cora closed Tom's file and looked directly at him once more.

'I think the college has been generous towards you, Tom, and I think the best solution to your present problems is for me to put you on paid leave for this coming term and then you can retire at the end of the year.'

'But...', Tom began. although he knew there was no point in arguing. Cora had made her decision. Tom was out. The professor got up from her chair and wandered over to the window. She gazed outside for a few minutes, then turned round and seemed surprised to find Tom was still in her room.

'That's all, Tom', she said. He was dismissed. Tom got up from his chair and left the room. He felt a little light-headed with shock at the way events had suddenly turned against him.

Tom did not return to his room. He needed fresh air. Outside in the quadrangle he breathed deeply and his head felt better. He looked back at the main building. Professor Cora Shelton was at her window, looking down on him. There was a slight smile on her lips. Satisfaction at a job well done? She turned away from the window and Tom moved towards the lodge at the main college gates. As he passed out into the street, he turned right and hurried along towards the nearby tube station. He just wanted to go home. 

Then Tom heard somebody shouting. He turned and looked back along the street. There was a young girl, half-hidden among the crowd of pedestrians, and she was waving her arms and shouting something. 

Oh God, thought Tom, could it be Jessica Jones still pursuing him?

Panic suddenly gripped Tom. Forget the tube. He flagged down a black cab and jumped into the back, almost shouting his address to the bemused driver. As the taxi drew away from the curb, Tom looked out through the rear window. He saw the shouting girl more clearly now. It was not Jessica Jones. It was just some girl shouting to attract the attention of her friends on the other side of the street.

Tom lay back in his seat. What a day! His academic career was over. What was he going to tell his wife?

(To be continued.)

 

Shipwrecks and Pirates

 Shipwrecks and Pirates.

My book 'Out of the Depths: A History of Shipwrecks' (Reaktion Books, London) will be published in paperback in the UK in July 2024 and in North America in August 2024. The book is also appearing in Japanese and Chinese editions. My next project will be a global history of piracy at sea.

AGJ, 27 March 2024.

Shipwrecks

 My forthcoming book on shipwrecks - Alan G. Jamieson, 'Out of the Depths: A History of Shipwrecks' (Reaktion Books, London) - will be published in the UK on 12 September 2022 and in the USA & Canada on 24 October 2022. It is a general survey of shipwrecks across the centuries and also looks at developments in the last sixty years that have allowed those arch-enemies maritime archaeologists and treasure hunters to find such wrecks.

It is a measure of how much interest there is in shipwrecks that since the book went to the printers new wrecks have come to light and attracted public attention. The wreck of HMS 'Gloucester', lost in 1682, has been found off Great Yarmouth, England, and some maritime archaeologists claim it is the most important historic shipwreck found in English waters since the 'Mary Rose'.

In my book the USS 'Johnston', lost in battle off Samar in the Philippines in 1944, is noted as the deepest shipwreck ever found. However, the team which found the 'Johnston' has recently announced the discovery of the wreck of the USS 'Samuel B. Roberts', lost in the same battle, at an even greater depth - 4.28 miles beneath the surface of the sea.

AGJ, 27 July 2022. 

Turkey in Libya: A New Front for Neo-Ottomanism?

The recent agreement between Turkey and the United Nations-backed government of Libya based in Tripoli includes a provision for sending Turkish troops to Libya if requested. Should that happen, these would be the first Turkish troops to go to that country in more than one hundred years.

Back in 1911 Libya was still a province of the Ottoman empire, but in that year it was invaded by Italian forces bent on imperial expansion. Outnumbered by Italian troops and warships - and facing the first use of aircraft in warfare - the Ottoman Turkish forces in Libya were soon driven from the coastal cities. With the support of the Arab tribes in the interior, the Ottomans then mounted a guerrilla war against the invaders. Among the Turkish officers advising the tribal forces were Enver Pasha, who would lead the Ottoman empire during the First World War, and Mustafa Kemal, who after that war would create the secular Turkish republic. In 1912 the Ottoman government made peace with the Italians, gave up all claims to Libya, and called its army officers home.

Today, more than a century later, there is the possibility of Turkish troops returning to Libya. Although recognized by the United Nations, the current Libyan government in Tripoli controls little more territory than the capital city itself. It is under threat from the advance of forces loyal to General Khalifa Haftar, who rules eastern Libya. Haftar is supported by Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and the United Arab Emirates (UAE), while Turkey supports the Tripoli government and has now declared its readiness to send troops to defend it. The Italo-Ottoman war of 1911-12 saw the first use of aircraft in combat and the present war in Libya has seen the first use of armed drones by both sides in a conflict. Haftar has Chinese-built drones supplied by the UAE while the Tripoli government uses Turkish-built drones. Should Turkey actually send troops to Libya, this will almost certainly trigger a similar response from the opposing side, with Egyptian military intervention the most likely outcome.

To add to the dangerous mix that is Turkish relations with Libya, the recent agreement between Tripoli and Turkey also deals with offshore energy exploration and development in the eastern Mediterranean Sea. Large offshore gas fields are believed to exist in the region and a co-operation agreement on their development has recently been made by countries including Greece, Egypt and Israel. Turkey was deliberately excluded from this group because it recognizes the Republic of Northern Cyprus, created after the island was invaded by Turkey in 1974, and claims that state has the right to any energy resources found of its coasts. Other countries only recognize the Republic of Cyprus, which claims all rights to energy development in Cypriot waters. Turkey has encouraged the Tripoli government to make extensive claims to an area for offshore energy development which if upheld would considerably limit Greek energy exploration south of Crete.

President Erdogan of Turkey has often been accused of 'neo-Ottomanism', that is, trying to revive Turkish influence in areas that were once part of the Ottoman empire. Turkish government officials have long claimed this is no more than a 'good neighbour' policy restricted to the exercise of economic and cultural 'soft power'. However, Turkey's actions since the outbreak of the Syrian civil war in 2011 have rather undermined this benign picture. Turkish readiness to use military intervention, 'hard power', in Syria has shown that influence can all too easily be converted into control. The possibility that a new front for military 'neo-Ottomanism' is opening up in Libya cannot be ruled out  and if it occurs it will put a serious strain on Turkey's relations with other countries, not least its supposed allies, such as Greece, within NATO.