Tim Connor Hits Trouble Read Free Page B

although the trophy wife phase satisfied neither of them for more than a few years. In the longer term what he wanted and expected from her was a ‘good wife and mother.’ He conceded that when the time was ripe she might develop a career of some kind, but it was not a matter he gave much consideration.
    He was still a dominant figure but she had changed. She was now almost as old as Waqar was when they married and by now she had accumulated her own experiences. She quickly concluded that trophy status offered diminishing returns, but the seismic shift came when she realised that being a wife and mother might not be enough for her either. Yes, crucial to her identity but not the whole of it. And yet it was the experience of motherhood that first jolted Aisha out of her naïve youthful narcissism. They had found having children difficult. The doctors were unable to discover why. Their one child had been born prematurely at seven months and had suffered bleeding from the brain. Now four years old, Ali’s left side weakness showed in a pronounced limp and a limited ability to grip with his left hand. Mercifully his language development had not been affected and his basic cognition seemed to be intact. Aisha had lived every moment of his perilous and often painful existence. The early discovery of the extent of his physical weakness had been an agony but the gradual evidence of his lively brain and personality, her greatest joy. But if she was always to put herself second to Ali, she knew that it would be better for everybody, including Ali, if she also had a life outside the home. Yes, she wanted this job alright.
    Lost in her thoughts, Aisha abruptly realised she had also lost her way. She had wandered well beyond the campus boundary onto a lower stretch of land. Turning round she was unable even to spot the university. Getting back to a higher point, she looked towards the City. The view was unfamiliar, but Wash despite its city status, was no bigger than a medium size town and she could just make out her own neighbourhood. Why not walk the remainder of the way home? As she set off her mobile burred lightly against her thigh. Her hand trembling, she took the phone from her pocket.

Chapter 2
The Interview
    Members of the interview panel were sat on the far side of a long polished wooden table. Tim took the lone chair opposite them. His head was buzzing but he felt slightly more focused now the action was about to begin. He made an effort to remember the names of the panel members as the Dean introduced them. It was unlikely he would forget Swankie’s, but recalling the latter’s reputation for vanity he decided to give both his titles of ‘Professor’ and ‘Dean’ a good airing.
    On the extreme left of the panel sat Henry Jones, Head of the Social Science Department. Sociology was the largest subject but recently a degree in psychology had been set up in response to growing demand. Jones himself was a sociologist. Tim had already talked with him on the phone so remembering his name should not be a problem. He had been mildly concerned that he had never heard of Henry Jones before applying for this job. On asking around it turned out that Jones had published little, despite his relatively senior position. Now in his early sixties, he had been ayouthful high flyer, getting a first class degree at the London School of Economics and going on to do research at the same institution. Although he had completed his doctorate he had never published anything from it. Eventually he had found a job at Wash College of Arts and Technology where he had acquired the reputation of something of a sociological savant and a brilliant if erratic lecturer, very much in the old discursive style. When WCAT amalgamated with a local college of higher education Jones found himself leading a small sociology team within a sprawling Faculty of Social Science and Humanities. Chance, the Buggins principle and a slightly higher salary had trumped his