Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 2401

The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike, est. 2007)
Part 2401
by Angharad

Copyright© 2014 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
Bike cover.jpg

“I can’t believe these men are so stupid,” said Stella putting down the Guardian in an untidy heap.

“Which men are these, then?” I asked frowning at her indifference to my paper and I hadn’t seen it yet.

“The Israelis and Palestinians—why can’t they talk out their differences?”

“Perhaps their differences are too great to bridge.”

“Oh come off it, nothing can be that great.”

“If you’re dealing with fanatics you can’t talk with them because they run on pure emotion,” perhaps that should have been impure emotion because much of it is based upon hatred and anger.

“Aren’t most decisions based upon emotional things?”

“So they say.”

“Not sure I believe them,” so Stella was a sceptic was she.

“So what would you like for lunch, ladies?” asked David.

“I fancy...”

“See, an emotional decision.”

“Huh, hardly compares to Arabs and Israelis slinging high explosive about.”

“That’s emotional too, they’re both frightened the other will steal a march on each other plus they’re trying to keep even hotter heads on board.”

“It’s all pathetic.”

“I agree, it’s pointless but like the badger cull, done to appear to be offering a solution, even if it seems to be very short term.”

“There’ll never be peace out there,” was David’s opinion.

I was tempted to answer, ‘as long as people think that there won’t be one.’

“What about all these paedos, then?”

I was about to ask what he meant when my mobile rang. “Can ye come into thae university?”

“When?”

“As soon as ye like.”

“What now?”

“I ken noo why we gave ye a doctorate.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Daddy.”

“No? Weel get yer arse doon here noo.”

He rang off and I thought I’d better show willing, he is my boss after all. I left David and Stella squabbling about lunch and the Middle east, neither of which seemed presently soluble. I parked in the staff car park displaying my permit and went in search of Tom.

He was in his office with a newspaper tossed onto the floor, I picked it up and saw the story he’d been reading before he threw it down. I could see a headline about police prosecuting six hundred paedophiles. He saw me squinting at it, “Ye’d better read it.”

“What’s going on, Daddy?”I wasn’t sure I needed any further intrigues at the moment.

“Read yon article.”

I did, apparently the National Crime Agency had arrested over six hundred people who’d been viewing or collecting child pornography, this included doctors, teachers, carers, scout masters and a host of others. One doctor apparently had over a million pictures of children some of whom were being abused.

“Okay, it’s pretty sick but you didn’t drag me in here to tell me about it, did you?”

“Remember those images they planted on yer computer?”

“I didn’t actually see any of them.”

“They were doonloaded on oor computers.”

“What Emma’s computer?”

“No, thae dean’s.”

“What?”

“Ye heard me.”

“How would she get access to his computer?”

“It could happen.”

“So what’s happened?”

“He’s been arrested an’ taken for questionin’.”

“You don’t think he did it?”

“Och, I dinna ken whit tae think ony mair.”

“You don’t actually think he downloaded them, do you?”

He looked very sad and shrugged.

“Surely you can’t believe the dean is into abusing children?”

“I dinna ken whit tae believe.”

“So how long is this going to take, before they realise he’s innocent.”

“He’s been suspended indefinitely.”

“But surely they’ll realise it was a mistake?”

“Hoo wud I ken?”

“Sad this may be, what’s it got to do with me?”

“I’ve a favour tae ask ye.”

Here we go, how do I say no without hurting his feelings? “What?”

“I want ye tae stand in f’ me.”

“Stand in for you—where?”

“Here—I want ye to become actin’ professor o’ biological sciences.”

“What are you going to be doing?”

“Actin’ dean.”

“For how long?”

“Tae keep things tickin’ over until we can sort oorsel’s oot.”

“I—uh...”

“Ye’ll be paid f’ it.”

That was the least of my problems and I told him so. “I’m sure there are others who must be more deserving than I.”

“I want tae keep things as they are.”

“Ah, but I might have ideas of my own.”

“Aye, sae ye micht—but ye’ll sit tight.”

“Will the university council approve it? I mean me acting up?”

“Wha d’think proposed you?”

“You I expect, Daddy.”

“Aye, well think again because it wisnae me,” that surprised me.

“I’m rather inexperienced to be a professor.”

“Aye well this’ll gie ye experience.”

“What about the woodland centre?”

“Whit aboot it?”

“Wasn’t that my priority before all this happened?”

“Ye’ll hae tae let Dan act f’ ye, he kens whit ye want.”

“I’d have preferred to do it myself as director.”

“Ye hae tae learn tae delegate. Yer responsibility is tae protect thae department’s budget and reputation.”

“But I’ve never done that sort of thing before.”

“Time ye learnt then. Ye can run a household, so ye can run a department.”

“What? That’s hardly a real comparison is it?”

“Jest a question o’ scale, principle’s thae same.”

“Scale, you’ve a budget of millions, my budget for housekeeping is hundreds occasionally thousands.”

“Whit’s thae problem?”

“I’m still trying to get my head round all this, it’s all a bit much for one brain cell to deal with. The responsibility to start.”

“Yer a bank director, ye control millions if not billions o’ people’s money, this will be a cakewalk.”

“Some cake,” I muttered and he snorted.

“Richt,” he said glancing at his watch, “ye can tak me tae lunch tae celebrate.”

We agreed we wouldn’t talk about things academic over lunch, which gave me a chance to air my concerns about Neal. “I cannot believe he would either kill or drive Gloria to kill herself, even if he had doubts about the paternity of their daughter.”

“No, but it micht hae played on her mind, especially if there were some groonds f’ question.”

“I couldn’t see Gloria having someone else, can you?”

“Ye’d ken mair o’ that being a lassie, but I’d hae tae agree wi’ ye, it seems oot o’ character.”

“What about Neal then? Surely, you can’t believe what they’re saying about him?”

“He’s a deep ain an’ a man wha feels deceived can get awfy upset.”

“I know he’s got a bit of a temper, but killing or precipitating her suicide is something else and I’d have thought would require some time to plan, not the actions of an angry man.”

“Och, we’ll mak a scientist o’ ye yet,” he grinned but I suspect he was feeling anything but jocular given the potential for two scandals to hit the university at the same time. No wonder he wants me to head the department, he feels he can trust me—goodness, I hope I don’t mess up—oh poo, I feel sick. I ran out to the toilets only just making it in time. I watched the lettuce from my tuna salad floating on top of the water through tear filled eyes. I just hoped I could cope.

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