Free Bums on Seats by Tom Davies Page A

sockets. Her dress had ridden up to a point where it showed lots of smooth black stocking and sheer temptation. She sat a few seconds; it seemed like half an hour, raised her bottom from the seat and pulled the dress back to respectability. Her expression remained absolutely neutral. He turned the key, engaged first gear and roared off to the down ramp. He clenched the wheel tightly, not so much to ensure the line of direction as to stop his hands shaking.
    Fifteen minutes later they turned into the VC’s drive and rolled up to the front door. He wondered if anyone was at home. He needn’t have bothered. The parting was brief.
    â€œDon’t get out Simon, I can manage. I enjoyed our encounter very much. Thanks for lunch and for your help afterwards.”
    â€œTh-thanks for your company,” he stammered inanely.
    She leaned across, brushed her lips across his and stepped smartly out. She managed all the bags and baggage surprisingly easily, climbed the steps and passed out of sight. Simon turned back down the drive and prepared to give the old MGB absolute hell. Behind him at an upper window the curtain gave the briefest of twitches.

CHAPTER 8
    1997
    He was five minutes late. Even so, Simon stopped at the door, took three deep breaths and psyched himself up before he would enter briskly. He’d picked up these tips at a positive image seminar, chaired by an ex-Cabinet Minister. He grasped the door handle firmly, cleared his throat, set a warm smile and strode confidently into the room. No one else had arrived! Chloe followed soon after and then three other members of the focus group soon after that. He only knew Chloe. They all exchanged formal handshakes, announcing names and functions.
    â€œChloe Hodgekiss – Principal Lecturer – Economics Faculty.”
    â€œHugh Jamieson – Accountant – University Finance Directorate.”
    â€œHarold Bellamy – Dean of Mathematics.”
    â€œNatalie Gold – Principal Lecturer – Social Sciences Faculty.”
    â€œSimon McGuire – Principal Lecturer – Business School.”
    As befitted his seniority and years, Bellamy took the lead. “Well, the Senior Management Executive Committee has asked us to think of ways of rescuing Pucklebridge from financial penury.” He chuckled at his own exaggeration.
    Jamieson, a dour Scotsman who had probably been a dour boy and before that a dour baby, re-joined, “We have an excellent reputation for financial probity. We shall never be destitute or insolvent. It’s just that we need a significant, positive cashflow, which is outside the control of the Government. I know you’re joking but we need to be careful not to start rumours!”
    Bellamy jumped back in. “There, there, Hugh. Let’s get down to business. We’d better have a formal structure. Since this is all about economics, I propose we appoint Chloe to be Chairperson.”
    Simon was surprised, thinking the Dean would want to control committee politics himself, but said nothing. Natalie seconded the proposal, nobody dissented and Chloe accepted.
    She did well: established a spirit of pooled resources, kept order and stopped them digressing or revisiting spent topics. It became clear that extra funds could come from only four sources. Either more students (possible), major endowments from industry or individuals (unlikely), funded research from Government or industry (likely but limited), increases in operating efficiency (likely to result in an equivalent financial snatchback by the Government).
    The weight of thinking turned towards solutions that combined those sources. A possibility was funded research, with an eye towards follow-up endowments related to research success. As a variation, Chloe wondered, “Could Pucklebridge buy significant numbers of shares in companies if combined research was pointing towards a money-spinning idea?”
    The accountant thought, “Probably not.