Icthus Relief?’
I shook my head again.
‘No? Never mind. The thing was, Callan’s fingers froze. Tried to thaw them out, all five of us pissed on them. Sorry.’ This was to Isabella with a rueful smile. ‘But nothing for it. Gangrene set in, had to get back to base camp. Missed the summit by 120 feet.’
Father Hugh kicked his sandalled feet out, billowing his cassock dangerously.
‘It was all for Christian Aid, wasn’t it, Eoin? Wonderful cause, I always say.’
‘Oh, yuh,’ said Eoin, through a mouthful of cake. ‘Tremendous thing, sponsored, raised £15,000. Thereabouts.’
Isabella nodded appreciatively. ‘Isn’t that lovely, Marco? All the money for charity.’
Mark muttered something under his breath. I thought I might have heard the words ‘sponsored silence’, but it was too low for me to catch.
‘What was that, Mark?’ boomed Father Hugh.
‘Oh, I was just thinking, Eoin, that you should try other sponsored activities. Maybe an ascent of the Eiger?’
Eoin took another sandwich from the pile on the table in front of him and bit down happily.
‘Yuh,’ he said, ‘this summer, kayaking along the Amazon. For the Glaucoma Trust.’
‘Marvellous,’ murmured Isabella.
‘Still a few places if you want to come,’ Eoin said to me and Mark, wolfing another sandwich. ‘Have to register, get vaccinations. Three weeks in a canoe, Amazon river, chance of a lifetime.’
I shook my head. Mark turned smoothly in his seat.
‘What about you, Rosemary?’ he said. ‘Got any summer plans you can’t cancel?’
Rosemary sniffed away a non-existent drip and spoke so quietly that we all instinctively leaned forward.
‘I’ll be in Rome,’ she whispered.
‘Oh!’ Isabella leaned even further forward, full of excitement. ‘Roma! The most beautiful city in the world! Where do you stay? What do you see?’
Rosemary sniffed again and cleared her throat. If possible, she spoke even more softly.
‘The Sisters of Holy Charity have kindly given me board,’ she said. ‘I am studying manuscripts held in the Vatican.’ She lowered her voice a touch. ‘For my PhD.’
Father Hugh smiled a toothy but engaging smile.
‘Rosemary’s quite a star of the Theology Department. She’s at All Souls, you know.’
Even I could not fail to look at Rosemary with increased respect at this news. All Souls College is one of Oxford’s legends, the kind of anachronism that surely could not have survived until the present day, and yet it stands. It is a college with no students, giving fellowships to those who – having naturally gained a first – are bright enough to impress the other fellows in its examinations, one of which consists of writing for three hours on a single word.
Isabella, confused about the meaning of the words ‘All Souls’, nonetheless registered the admiration on my face and Mark’s.
‘You see, Marco,’ she said, ‘it is not only duddy-fuddies in the Catholic Society, is it, Father?’
‘No indeed,’ he said, ‘and we don’t demand any particular commitment. Although naturally –’ he shifted his legs again in that disturbing way – ‘I always say that the more you put in, the more you get out. Are you a Catholic, James?’
‘I? Oh, er, no,’ I said. I decided to be bold. ‘I’m not a Christian, actually. I’m an agnostic if anything, I suppose.’
Father Hugh laughed three bellowing guffaws.
‘You’re not even sure about that, eh? Well, we’re not prejudiced. Come along to the Catholic Society in any case for wine and my atrocious home-made shepherd’s pie. Bring Mark.’
‘Oh no, I don’t think I –’
‘You should go, Marco,’ chimed in Isabella. ‘It is good for you to have Catholic friends. This is what I want for you. It would keep you from … I …’ She trailed off, looked at me and said, ‘I do not mean to be offence, James, but I would like Marco to have more Catholic friends. Not so many a-nose-stick. A nice group of Catholic friends would
I shook my head again.
‘No? Never mind. The thing was, Callan’s fingers froze. Tried to thaw them out, all five of us pissed on them. Sorry.’ This was to Isabella with a rueful smile. ‘But nothing for it. Gangrene set in, had to get back to base camp. Missed the summit by 120 feet.’
Father Hugh kicked his sandalled feet out, billowing his cassock dangerously.
‘It was all for Christian Aid, wasn’t it, Eoin? Wonderful cause, I always say.’
‘Oh, yuh,’ said Eoin, through a mouthful of cake. ‘Tremendous thing, sponsored, raised £15,000. Thereabouts.’
Isabella nodded appreciatively. ‘Isn’t that lovely, Marco? All the money for charity.’
Mark muttered something under his breath. I thought I might have heard the words ‘sponsored silence’, but it was too low for me to catch.
‘What was that, Mark?’ boomed Father Hugh.
‘Oh, I was just thinking, Eoin, that you should try other sponsored activities. Maybe an ascent of the Eiger?’
Eoin took another sandwich from the pile on the table in front of him and bit down happily.
‘Yuh,’ he said, ‘this summer, kayaking along the Amazon. For the Glaucoma Trust.’
‘Marvellous,’ murmured Isabella.
‘Still a few places if you want to come,’ Eoin said to me and Mark, wolfing another sandwich. ‘Have to register, get vaccinations. Three weeks in a canoe, Amazon river, chance of a lifetime.’
I shook my head. Mark turned smoothly in his seat.
‘What about you, Rosemary?’ he said. ‘Got any summer plans you can’t cancel?’
Rosemary sniffed away a non-existent drip and spoke so quietly that we all instinctively leaned forward.
‘I’ll be in Rome,’ she whispered.
‘Oh!’ Isabella leaned even further forward, full of excitement. ‘Roma! The most beautiful city in the world! Where do you stay? What do you see?’
Rosemary sniffed again and cleared her throat. If possible, she spoke even more softly.
‘The Sisters of Holy Charity have kindly given me board,’ she said. ‘I am studying manuscripts held in the Vatican.’ She lowered her voice a touch. ‘For my PhD.’
Father Hugh smiled a toothy but engaging smile.
‘Rosemary’s quite a star of the Theology Department. She’s at All Souls, you know.’
Even I could not fail to look at Rosemary with increased respect at this news. All Souls College is one of Oxford’s legends, the kind of anachronism that surely could not have survived until the present day, and yet it stands. It is a college with no students, giving fellowships to those who – having naturally gained a first – are bright enough to impress the other fellows in its examinations, one of which consists of writing for three hours on a single word.
Isabella, confused about the meaning of the words ‘All Souls’, nonetheless registered the admiration on my face and Mark’s.
‘You see, Marco,’ she said, ‘it is not only duddy-fuddies in the Catholic Society, is it, Father?’
‘No indeed,’ he said, ‘and we don’t demand any particular commitment. Although naturally –’ he shifted his legs again in that disturbing way – ‘I always say that the more you put in, the more you get out. Are you a Catholic, James?’
‘I? Oh, er, no,’ I said. I decided to be bold. ‘I’m not a Christian, actually. I’m an agnostic if anything, I suppose.’
Father Hugh laughed three bellowing guffaws.
‘You’re not even sure about that, eh? Well, we’re not prejudiced. Come along to the Catholic Society in any case for wine and my atrocious home-made shepherd’s pie. Bring Mark.’
‘Oh no, I don’t think I –’
‘You should go, Marco,’ chimed in Isabella. ‘It is good for you to have Catholic friends. This is what I want for you. It would keep you from … I …’ She trailed off, looked at me and said, ‘I do not mean to be offence, James, but I would like Marco to have more Catholic friends. Not so many a-nose-stick. A nice group of Catholic friends would
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