—’ She broke off and to my horror, her piebald eyes began to fill with tears. ‘Don’t be
cross, please
.’
And for some reason I wasn’t. Not until I went to tell Potts that we had run out of formalin and found him lost to the world, reading
The Little Flowers of St. Theresa
.
As one would expect from the Ministry’s top scientist, Sir Henry’s schedule was worked out to the last detail. He was to arrive at Torcastle Station at nine-fifteen, inspect the Technical College and the Art School in the morning, lunch with the Lord Mayor and reach us at two o’clock.
Ten minutes to two on the great day saw us, accordingly, dark-suited and – we hoped – scientific-looking, assembled on the steps to greet Sir Henry’s motorcade. Two o’clock struck, two-fifteen, two-thirty…
At ten to three the college secretary came running out of her office and whispered something into Peckham’s ear.
‘Oh no!’ I heard him say. ‘Not today of all days. This really is the end!’
‘That was Torcastle police,’ he said, coming over to me. ‘They’ve arrested one of our students for kicking a policeman. Get over there quickly, and for God’s sake,
hush it up
!’
I was in my car, turning out of the drive, before I realised that I hadn’t even bothered to ask who the student was.
‘That’s marvellous,’ I said, storming into the police station an hour later. ‘You can’t chloroform a worm and you go round kicking innocent policemen.’
‘I didn’t kick him, Dr Marshall, honestly,’ said Kirstie. There was a black smut on her nose and between her green and yellow eyes a purple bruise gleamed fitfully. ‘He was stepping on a pigeon.’
‘Pigeons,’ I said, speaking with care, ‘are birds. They don’t get stepped on. They can fly, remember?’
‘This one couldn’t, he had a bad leg. I was sort of keeping an eye on him. There were a whole lot of us guarding this lime tree by the station, you see, stopping it from being cut down, and then the police started making a cordon and one of them stepped back on to this pigeon and I just gave him a little shove…’
There was a pause while I wondered just where the breaking point of the average Mother Superior might be expected to lie. ‘Well,’ I said at last, ‘I suppose we should try to get you out of here.’
‘Dr Marshall, you’ve been marvellous and I’m terribly grateful, but I don’t feel I should leave here till I find out what’s happened to that dear old man they arrested along with me.’
‘Look, Kirstie, you’re already in trouble enough —’
‘But he
helped
me. He jumped out of his car when they started carrying me off in this van. We had such a
marvellous
talk! You’ve no idea how wise he was, and how
good
. There was nothing he didn’t know about. Albert Schweitzer, Lao Tse, the lot!’ Suddenly her face crumpled. ‘You don’t think they’re beating him up?’
‘For heaven’s sake, Kirstie, will you stop drivelling about this old man? Why don’t you worry about yourself for a change? You don’t seem to realise you’re a case of student violence, the kind that has to be nipped in the bud. I’m horribly afraid they’re going to chuck you out.’
I was right. By the time we got back, delayed by a blocked petrol pump, Sir Henry’s visit was over. Peckham thought it had gone well. Though the unexplained delay at the beginning had made the whole inspection somewhat hurried, he felt that Sir Henry had been pleased. Indeed Sir Henry’s secretary had confided to Peckham that he had never seen the great man look so relaxed and peaceful.
For Kirstie, however, there was no reprieve. Peckham sent for her straight away and the look on her face as she came out of his study made me long to go and knock his smug and disciplinarian head against the wall.
‘All right,’ I said when I found her at last, sitting hunched and wretched under a clump of birch trees beside the ornamental lake. ‘Now explain. Why does it matter so
cross, please
.’
And for some reason I wasn’t. Not until I went to tell Potts that we had run out of formalin and found him lost to the world, reading
The Little Flowers of St. Theresa
.
As one would expect from the Ministry’s top scientist, Sir Henry’s schedule was worked out to the last detail. He was to arrive at Torcastle Station at nine-fifteen, inspect the Technical College and the Art School in the morning, lunch with the Lord Mayor and reach us at two o’clock.
Ten minutes to two on the great day saw us, accordingly, dark-suited and – we hoped – scientific-looking, assembled on the steps to greet Sir Henry’s motorcade. Two o’clock struck, two-fifteen, two-thirty…
At ten to three the college secretary came running out of her office and whispered something into Peckham’s ear.
‘Oh no!’ I heard him say. ‘Not today of all days. This really is the end!’
‘That was Torcastle police,’ he said, coming over to me. ‘They’ve arrested one of our students for kicking a policeman. Get over there quickly, and for God’s sake,
hush it up
!’
I was in my car, turning out of the drive, before I realised that I hadn’t even bothered to ask who the student was.
‘That’s marvellous,’ I said, storming into the police station an hour later. ‘You can’t chloroform a worm and you go round kicking innocent policemen.’
‘I didn’t kick him, Dr Marshall, honestly,’ said Kirstie. There was a black smut on her nose and between her green and yellow eyes a purple bruise gleamed fitfully. ‘He was stepping on a pigeon.’
‘Pigeons,’ I said, speaking with care, ‘are birds. They don’t get stepped on. They can fly, remember?’
‘This one couldn’t, he had a bad leg. I was sort of keeping an eye on him. There were a whole lot of us guarding this lime tree by the station, you see, stopping it from being cut down, and then the police started making a cordon and one of them stepped back on to this pigeon and I just gave him a little shove…’
There was a pause while I wondered just where the breaking point of the average Mother Superior might be expected to lie. ‘Well,’ I said at last, ‘I suppose we should try to get you out of here.’
‘Dr Marshall, you’ve been marvellous and I’m terribly grateful, but I don’t feel I should leave here till I find out what’s happened to that dear old man they arrested along with me.’
‘Look, Kirstie, you’re already in trouble enough —’
‘But he
helped
me. He jumped out of his car when they started carrying me off in this van. We had such a
marvellous
talk! You’ve no idea how wise he was, and how
good
. There was nothing he didn’t know about. Albert Schweitzer, Lao Tse, the lot!’ Suddenly her face crumpled. ‘You don’t think they’re beating him up?’
‘For heaven’s sake, Kirstie, will you stop drivelling about this old man? Why don’t you worry about yourself for a change? You don’t seem to realise you’re a case of student violence, the kind that has to be nipped in the bud. I’m horribly afraid they’re going to chuck you out.’
I was right. By the time we got back, delayed by a blocked petrol pump, Sir Henry’s visit was over. Peckham thought it had gone well. Though the unexplained delay at the beginning had made the whole inspection somewhat hurried, he felt that Sir Henry had been pleased. Indeed Sir Henry’s secretary had confided to Peckham that he had never seen the great man look so relaxed and peaceful.
For Kirstie, however, there was no reprieve. Peckham sent for her straight away and the look on her face as she came out of his study made me long to go and knock his smug and disciplinarian head against the wall.
‘All right,’ I said when I found her at last, sitting hunched and wretched under a clump of birch trees beside the ornamental lake. ‘Now explain. Why does it matter so
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