Scandalous. Тилли Бэгшоу

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believe she’s gone public already. Has she no shame? I mean it’s not just me she’s hurting. It’s you, and St Michael’s. The whole physics community gets tainted with this shit. How could she?’

      ‘It’s all right, darling.’ Theresa touched his arm consolingly. ‘We’ll get through it together.’

      Half an hour later, Theo called Ed Gilliam from the car.

      ‘Nice piece.’

      ‘Yeah. It should do the job. Remember, say nothing to the press, not till I get you that statement. If they doorstep you, keep your cool and look remorseful.’

      ‘Remorseful. Got it.’

      ‘This is only the opening salvo, you know. The war hasn’t begun. Now we have to get the university on side.’

      ‘Leave that to me,’ said Theo.

      When Sasha read the Daily Mail article she was nearly sick.

      ‘Where do they get this stuff? And who the hell are these “insiders” I’m supposed to have confided in? They make it sound like I leaked the story’

      It was only two days since she’d watched Theo on the evening news. She hadn’t even worded her formal complaint to the physics faculty yet, never mind talked to the press.

      ‘He’s playing hardball, isn’t he, the creep,’ said Don Miller contemptuously. ‘We need to get you a lawyer, pronto.’

      Theresa sat at Jenny and Jean Paul’s kitchen table, sobbing. Jenny put her arms around her. ‘It’s all right, lovie. You can cry. Theo’s put you through hell.’

      Theresa looked up, wiping her nose on her sleeve like a child. ‘Oh no. You mustn’t blame Theo. It’s this vicious girl. I mean, yes, Theo made a mistake…’

      Jenny raised an eyebrow. ‘A bit more than a mistake, T’

      ‘If you could see how sorry he was, Jen. He hates himself for it. And now he stands to lose everything, everything he’s ever worked for. It’s much harder for him than it is for me.’

      Jenny’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline.

      ‘I know I’ve got to be strong, to hold it all together for him. But I…I…’ Theresa broke down again. T started bleeding this morning. I haven’t been to the doctor yet, but I just know. I really thought this time we might be lucky’

      Jenny put her arms around her friend. She knew how hopeful Theresa had been about this new round of IVF. ‘Oh, darling, I’m so sorry.’

      ‘It’s the stress. Reading all this stuff in the newspapers. This little cow Sasha just doesn’t care. She doesn’t give a damn.’

      Jenny was silent. There was so much to say, but she knew Theresa didn’t want to hear any of it.

      Theo Dexter had a lot to answer for.

      ‘So you’ve made a formal complaint to the college authorities and to the physics faculty?’

      ‘Yes.’ Sasha’s eyes wandered over the lawyer’s office. It looked more like a five-star hotel suite than a place of work, all antique armoires and cashmere-covered cushions. No wonder with the fees he charged. All around the room, silver-framed photographs of his ridiculously photogenic family beamed perfect smiles at her. They looked like a toothpaste advertisement.

      ‘And their response was…?’

      ‘They’ve taken it under advisement.’

      Don Miller lost his temper. ‘Look, Mr Farley. We’ve been through all this. You know what happened. You’ve seen Sasha’s evidence, her research files. The university’s doing nothing. What we want to know is, can you help us?’

      The lawyer sighed. Td like to, Mr Miller, ft does appear that Sasha has been very poorly treated by this chap. But the problem is, from what I’ve seen so far, it’s going to come down to a case of Sasha’s word against his.’

       I told you so.

      What you really need are witnesses.’ He turned to Sasha. ‘Was there anyone other than Dexter who observed you developing this theory? Anyone who could prove that you came up with it first? We’d need dates.’

      Sasha immediately thought of Harold Grier. ‘There was one person. But I don’t know if he’d want to get involved.’

      ‘Convince him,’ said the lawyer. ‘That’s the best advice f can give you.’

      Fat chance, thought Sasha.

      ‘This is very bad for the college, Dexter. Very bad.’ Anthony Greville, St Michael’s Master, stated the obvious, ‘In a few weeks the girl’s going to be here, beginning her second year. We’ll be overrun with reporters and cameramen. The Porters’ Lodge is already overwhelmed with calls from the gutter press.’

      ‘I know, Master. And I’m truly sorry, believe me. But Sasha’s the one stirring this up in the media, not me. I think we need to keep sight of the bigger picture here. My theory could change the very nature of our understanding of the universe. It’s huge. Huge. If we don’t let this scandal overshadow it, it could bring immense cachet to the college. Just think what an incredible fundraising tool that could be.’

      Anthony Greville thought about it. St Michael’s, as ever, was in dire need of new funds. The chapel was not going to reroof itself. Trinity and St John’s were both swimming in money, but the smaller St Michael’s had always had to make-do and mend. Perhaps Dexter’s theory could change all that? If one tiresome, sex-mad undergraduate didn ‘t ruin it for all of them.

      ‘What would you have me do, Theo? I can’t send her down and keep you here. How would that look? Especially since she’s still claiming you stole her work.’

      ‘Call an emergency session of the Regent House. You can chair it. Let the university decide whose theory this is.’

      ‘What good will that do?’

      ‘It will put an end to all this once and for all. But on your terms. If, God forbid, the congregation rule against me, I’ll resign and go back to America. If they don’t, then you’re free to send Sasha down. She’ll be out of St Michael’s, out of Cambridge, out of all our lives.’

      ‘I’d just like her out of The News of the bloody World,’ grumbled the Master.

      ‘Once the case is closed the press will lose interest,’ Theo assured him. ‘Especially when they start to realize just how seismic this theory is. If the college and the faculty back me, we can kill this thing. We want the same things, Master.’

      ‘Absolutely not.’ Margaret Haines was livid. ‘Why the hell should I lie for that arsehole?’

      ‘My dear Margaret. Is such fragrant language really necessary?’ The Master sat at his desk, radiating pomposity. ‘No one is asking you to lie. Merely to focus on the matter in hand and not encourage the Regent House to be distracted by shall we say the more salacious elements of this whole sorry affair.’

      ‘You

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