[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.)
