brown beard, wearing a black anorak, sitting next to an attractive dark-haired woman in a blue coat. Both of them had reacted to the newcomers’ arrival … but then, so had everybody else in the crowded bar, if only to glance up and see who had let in that blast of freezing air and made the Christmas decorations dance.
“Who is he?” Kneller muttered. “He looks vaguely familiar.”
“Name of Fry,” Hector answered. “Came to our casualty department the other day with a friend who’d been beaten up by a godhead gang. Funny to find him this far north. I recall he said he lives in Kentish Town.”
“Lured by this place’s sudden notoriety?” Randolph suggested sourly. “I bet they haven’t done this much business for ages … Did you say he was beaten up by godheads?”
“Not him. His friend. The same morning my office was vandalised–I mean, the same morning I found it had been.”
“Aren’t they bastards?” Randolph shuddered. “You’ve seen the evening papers?” One lay on the seat of a nearby chair which was temporarily vacant; he pointed at it. “Two of them have been charged with setting fire to a Hindu temple in Willesden. Synagogues next, I suppose.”
“What do you mean, next?” Kneller countered. “More like already! Ask my Jewish friends about it … Well, what’s it to be, assuming I can fight my way through and get served?”
“Just a minute,” Hector said. “Fry’s coming this way.”
Pushing towards them with a crooked smile, the brown-bearded man said quietly, “Good evening, Dr Campbell. I didn’t expect to meet you here.”
“I–ah …” Hector hesitated, unwilling to get involved in conversation owing to the reason which had brought them. As though divining his thoughts, Malcolm turned his smile into a grin.
“But I did expect Professor Kneller and Dr Randolph.”
There was a dead pause between them, while the rest of the pub chatter continued unabated.
“You?” Kneller forced out at last.
“Forgive the cloak-and-dagger approach, but it was a shot in the dark anyway, and even if I suggested this place for our meeting I couldn’t be sure you’d take me seriously. I’m glad you did so, though.” Lowering his voice, Malcolm added, “You see, Maurice Post not only talked to me in here the night he died, but gave me some VC.”
“You mean you took it?” Randolph clenched his fists.
“Yes.”
“And–?” Kneller demanded.
“And here I am.”
“Side-effects?”
“Yes, but … Look, get some drinks and join us in the corner. The friend I’m with knows all about it. You can talk freely in front of her.”
When, by a combination of pushing and arrogance, they had contrived to group chairs for them all around the table where Malcolm and Ruth were sitting, Kneller took a gulp of his beer and said, “Fry! I thought I recognised you. Weren’t you the teacher who got hounded out of his job about a year ago?”
“That’s right.”
“Of all the incredible coincidences! Maurice mentioned you to me only a couple of weeks back.”
“And to me,” Hector said. “Last time I saw him he cited your case as an example of what’s wrong with our society. He said–let me get this right–he said that among the chief reasons why we can’t cope with the consequences of our own ingenuity is that whenever a genuinely open-minded teacher tries to pass that attitude on to his pupils, the entrenched authorities grow frightened and shut his mouth.”
“Which is true,” Malcolm said with a nod. “He said roughly the same to me, instancing those opponents of Darwin who would rather have lost a limb than abandon Special Creation. But I can see Professor Kneller wants to question me.”
“So do I!” Randolph snapped. “If you knew how … No, you do the talking. What’s VC done to you?”
“Intensified my sensory perceptions to a degree I wouldn’t have imagined possible. Beginning with the senses we most neglect. I hope Ruth won’t mind my
“Who is he?” Kneller muttered. “He looks vaguely familiar.”
“Name of Fry,” Hector answered. “Came to our casualty department the other day with a friend who’d been beaten up by a godhead gang. Funny to find him this far north. I recall he said he lives in Kentish Town.”
“Lured by this place’s sudden notoriety?” Randolph suggested sourly. “I bet they haven’t done this much business for ages … Did you say he was beaten up by godheads?”
“Not him. His friend. The same morning my office was vandalised–I mean, the same morning I found it had been.”
“Aren’t they bastards?” Randolph shuddered. “You’ve seen the evening papers?” One lay on the seat of a nearby chair which was temporarily vacant; he pointed at it. “Two of them have been charged with setting fire to a Hindu temple in Willesden. Synagogues next, I suppose.”
“What do you mean, next?” Kneller countered. “More like already! Ask my Jewish friends about it … Well, what’s it to be, assuming I can fight my way through and get served?”
“Just a minute,” Hector said. “Fry’s coming this way.”
Pushing towards them with a crooked smile, the brown-bearded man said quietly, “Good evening, Dr Campbell. I didn’t expect to meet you here.”
“I–ah …” Hector hesitated, unwilling to get involved in conversation owing to the reason which had brought them. As though divining his thoughts, Malcolm turned his smile into a grin.
“But I did expect Professor Kneller and Dr Randolph.”
There was a dead pause between them, while the rest of the pub chatter continued unabated.
“You?” Kneller forced out at last.
“Forgive the cloak-and-dagger approach, but it was a shot in the dark anyway, and even if I suggested this place for our meeting I couldn’t be sure you’d take me seriously. I’m glad you did so, though.” Lowering his voice, Malcolm added, “You see, Maurice Post not only talked to me in here the night he died, but gave me some VC.”
“You mean you took it?” Randolph clenched his fists.
“Yes.”
“And–?” Kneller demanded.
“And here I am.”
“Side-effects?”
“Yes, but … Look, get some drinks and join us in the corner. The friend I’m with knows all about it. You can talk freely in front of her.”
When, by a combination of pushing and arrogance, they had contrived to group chairs for them all around the table where Malcolm and Ruth were sitting, Kneller took a gulp of his beer and said, “Fry! I thought I recognised you. Weren’t you the teacher who got hounded out of his job about a year ago?”
“That’s right.”
“Of all the incredible coincidences! Maurice mentioned you to me only a couple of weeks back.”
“And to me,” Hector said. “Last time I saw him he cited your case as an example of what’s wrong with our society. He said–let me get this right–he said that among the chief reasons why we can’t cope with the consequences of our own ingenuity is that whenever a genuinely open-minded teacher tries to pass that attitude on to his pupils, the entrenched authorities grow frightened and shut his mouth.”
“Which is true,” Malcolm said with a nod. “He said roughly the same to me, instancing those opponents of Darwin who would rather have lost a limb than abandon Special Creation. But I can see Professor Kneller wants to question me.”
“So do I!” Randolph snapped. “If you knew how … No, you do the talking. What’s VC done to you?”
“Intensified my sensory perceptions to a degree I wouldn’t have imagined possible. Beginning with the senses we most neglect. I hope Ruth won’t mind my
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