The Company of Fellows Read Online Free PDF Page B

she had forgotten
about her daughter. She wondered how often that happened when
people met the Shaws, and regretted her tone. “We were getting
antsy, waiting for the rain to stop so we could go for a
run.”
    “ Thank you. I
think that’s all for now,” said Emily, wondering how quickly she
could wrap this up. “I really am sorry.” She looked over Haydn’s
shoulder to Becky who smiled back. It was the same smile she had
worn when she answered the door. She’s right on the cusp of
adulthood, Emily thought. A year from now and that coldness will
make you as callous as your mother. A year ago and it would have
made you another rather sad victim. But now, sometimes you’re one,
and sometimes you’re the other, and I’ll bet even you don’t know
which is which.
    Emily sat back
down in the car and looked at Rosie. There was no need to say
anything. They both knew what the other was thinking – what the
hell kind of family were the Shaw women?
    There was one
thing they both knew did need saying. Emily wondered who would say
it first when Rosie spoke. “Drink?”

____
    4
     
    Evening
service at St Saviour’s Chapel was fuller than it had been since
the students went home three months earlier. Members of the Senior
Common Room, who would normally rather smash their port glasses and
chew on the pieces than be seen at anything as irrational as a
religious service, had gathered like pack dogs, ostensibly to pay
their respects to Professor Shaw. In truth they had, of course,
come for the same reason swarms of human beings form in any
workplace: gossip.
    They left
disappointed. Reverend Dr Hedley Sansom, the Warden of the College
himself, had spoken. Then again his name had already been on the
rota. There was absolutely nothing for them other than an
announcement of the forthcoming Memorial Service. An invitation for
that would appear in their pigeonholes tomorrow morning
anyway.
    Standing
amidst the pillars at the chapel door, Dr Sansom shook the hands of
the congregation one by one, annoying them further by slowing down
their exit and cutting short their drinking time before dinner.
This may well have been his intention. He had no reason to curry
their favour any longer. He had already announced that he would be
retiring at the end of the year although he hadn’t yet found
anywhere he particularly wanted to go. This had irritated the
senior academics immensely, especially the ones who had wanted the
job when he was appointed. Many still hoped their names might be
thrown into the ring at some stage in the future. This meant they
couldn’t afford to be seen to be resentful, which irritated them
even more. Being Warden of St Saviour’s should be the pinnacle of
anyone’s career. Coveted for a lifetime, it was a post usually
prised away from the incumbent’s hooked grip only by retirement (at
as late an age as family pressure and the onset of dementia would
permit) or death. But Sansom was leaving aged 53, with at least 15
good years ahead of him, as though it had been just another step on
the ladder. And not even a step on the way to anything. They would
have hated it, but if he was going to Harvard they could at least
have understood it. But he was retiring so that he could look
around for something else, casual as anything. They seethed behind
their rictus grins.
    One of the
last smiles belonged to Barnard Ellison, Professor of Old Testament
History.
    “ Good evening,
Barnard,” said the Warden.
    “ Hedley.”
Ellison took the outstretched hand.
    “ Could I have
a quick word before dinner?” Sansom steered Ellison further into
the shadows. There was palpable relief amongst the remaining
stragglers as the Warden unblocked their way, and they streamed
quickly out into the evening sunlight of Martyr’s Quad.
    “ What is it?”
Ellison asked, shifting from foot to foot like a shopper trapped by
the village busybody.
    “ Look, I know
you and Charles had your disagreements.”
    Ellison smiled
noncommittally.
    “