it happened, been the subject of any suspicion at all.
‘I can see why this might have unsettled you,’ said Paul. ‘But it’s scarcely a reason for turning fugitive, is it?
‘That was two days ago,’ said Lawrence. ‘Something happened yesterday which was even worse. I got back to my room on campus and went into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. Then my next-door neighbour comes in and tells me that a policeman has been round asking for me. Asking for me by name. He hadn’t said what for, but I think I can guess.’
Once again, however, Lawrence had jumped to a too hasty conclusion, for yesterday’s visitor had not been a policeman at all, but a third-year biology student, Kevin Cronin, dressed up as a policeman for the purposes of a Drama Society production of Joe Orton’s Loot , which was in its last day of rehearsal. Now the part of the policeman in Loot, as the drama students among you will know, is very small, and Kevin had taken advantage of one of his long absences from the stage in order to visit Lawrence, for the perfectly innocent reason that, being a keen amateur photographer, he wanted to borrow the key to the students’ dark-room, which Lawrence, who was secretary of the Camera Club, kept in his possession.
‘So there you are,’ said Lawrence. ‘Perhaps nothing will come of all this, but it alarms me to hear that this Amanda woman, whoever she is, knows something about it and has been in touch with the police. Perhaps it was her who tipped them off. Perhaps she’s conducting some kind of personal crusade against people like me.’
‘You have my sympathy,’ said Paul. ‘We live in a society where even liberal values, hardly the most challenging in the world, are being gradually stifled. However, if I were to make a small observation, it would be that you have invalidated your own theory. It seems to me that you are being persecuted, wrongly, for your sexuality. Now, surely, this is not a question of luck. How are these things determined? Genetically, mainly. And there’s also an element of personal choice involved.’
‘One’s sexuality,’ said Lawrence, smiling, ‘does indeed exert a massive influence over one’s actions. This is as true of the young woman who finds herself pregnant and has to marry, as it is of the Cabinet minister who channels his sadomasochistic impulses into the making of government policy. But I must say that in my own case I had very little choice in the matter. I attribute my homosexuality to the fact that Chelsea were relegated during the season of 1978–9.’
Paul laughed and said, ‘That I cannot believe. But I’m sure you intend to explain.’
‘Of course,’ said Lawrence. ‘Puberty, you see, is the crucial period. Many young men have homosexual fantasies and even experiences at this point, especially if they are at a single-sex school; which, incidentally, I was not. Anyway, it was at this sensitive stage that I received my first and only love letter. It was deposited anonymously in this bag which I used to carry my books in. I was very excited and spent some days wondering which of the girls in my class could have sent it. Then one lunchtime I went to a talk given by one of the chaps in the sixth form about this trip he’d made to Africa in the holidays, and when he started writing on the blackboard I was amazed to see it was the same handwriting. The note was from him! I was taken aback at first but then when I thought about all the things he’d said about me in the letter I was still quite flattered. I developed an enormous crush on him and eventually I plucked up the nerve to talk to him about it.’
‘And?’
‘Well, you see, it turned out that the note wasn’t intended for me at all. It was meant for my sister, who was at the same school, only three years above me. She had this very distinctive Chelsea supporter’s bag but, like many people who aren’t really that interested in football, her allegiance was rather fickle,
‘I can see why this might have unsettled you,’ said Paul. ‘But it’s scarcely a reason for turning fugitive, is it?
‘That was two days ago,’ said Lawrence. ‘Something happened yesterday which was even worse. I got back to my room on campus and went into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. Then my next-door neighbour comes in and tells me that a policeman has been round asking for me. Asking for me by name. He hadn’t said what for, but I think I can guess.’
Once again, however, Lawrence had jumped to a too hasty conclusion, for yesterday’s visitor had not been a policeman at all, but a third-year biology student, Kevin Cronin, dressed up as a policeman for the purposes of a Drama Society production of Joe Orton’s Loot , which was in its last day of rehearsal. Now the part of the policeman in Loot, as the drama students among you will know, is very small, and Kevin had taken advantage of one of his long absences from the stage in order to visit Lawrence, for the perfectly innocent reason that, being a keen amateur photographer, he wanted to borrow the key to the students’ dark-room, which Lawrence, who was secretary of the Camera Club, kept in his possession.
‘So there you are,’ said Lawrence. ‘Perhaps nothing will come of all this, but it alarms me to hear that this Amanda woman, whoever she is, knows something about it and has been in touch with the police. Perhaps it was her who tipped them off. Perhaps she’s conducting some kind of personal crusade against people like me.’
‘You have my sympathy,’ said Paul. ‘We live in a society where even liberal values, hardly the most challenging in the world, are being gradually stifled. However, if I were to make a small observation, it would be that you have invalidated your own theory. It seems to me that you are being persecuted, wrongly, for your sexuality. Now, surely, this is not a question of luck. How are these things determined? Genetically, mainly. And there’s also an element of personal choice involved.’
‘One’s sexuality,’ said Lawrence, smiling, ‘does indeed exert a massive influence over one’s actions. This is as true of the young woman who finds herself pregnant and has to marry, as it is of the Cabinet minister who channels his sadomasochistic impulses into the making of government policy. But I must say that in my own case I had very little choice in the matter. I attribute my homosexuality to the fact that Chelsea were relegated during the season of 1978–9.’
Paul laughed and said, ‘That I cannot believe. But I’m sure you intend to explain.’
‘Of course,’ said Lawrence. ‘Puberty, you see, is the crucial period. Many young men have homosexual fantasies and even experiences at this point, especially if they are at a single-sex school; which, incidentally, I was not. Anyway, it was at this sensitive stage that I received my first and only love letter. It was deposited anonymously in this bag which I used to carry my books in. I was very excited and spent some days wondering which of the girls in my class could have sent it. Then one lunchtime I went to a talk given by one of the chaps in the sixth form about this trip he’d made to Africa in the holidays, and when he started writing on the blackboard I was amazed to see it was the same handwriting. The note was from him! I was taken aback at first but then when I thought about all the things he’d said about me in the letter I was still quite flattered. I developed an enormous crush on him and eventually I plucked up the nerve to talk to him about it.’
‘And?’
‘Well, you see, it turned out that the note wasn’t intended for me at all. It was meant for my sister, who was at the same school, only three years above me. She had this very distinctive Chelsea supporter’s bag but, like many people who aren’t really that interested in football, her allegiance was rather fickle,
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