The Toff and the Fallen Angels

“It seems a nice self-contained unit with the inevitable flaw,” Rollison remarked.

“Flaw?”

“Yes. No all-one-sex community can really be fully effective, can it!”

“No-one attempts to stop them from having boy-friends in,” said Naomi Smith. “It really is a very modern establishment, Mr. Rollison.” She ate for a few moments and then went on: “I suppose it isn’t easy to explain attitudes. You see, my sponsors and I believe in the same fundamentals. The personal life of all individuals is theit own, providing only they aren’t a burden on, or a charge to, the community.” She looked at Rollison very straightly. “Would you agree with that, Mr. Rollison?”

“I can see problems in living like it, but the theory attracts me,” answered Rollison. “In this case, however, they are being a burden and a charge—if not on the community, then to a band of generous people. Naomi— answer me another question, please.”

“Of course,” she said.

“You aren’t asking me to sponsor or go along with what you’re doing, are you? You’re simply saying that you need help because you’re under some kind of threat which you can’t handle yourself, and are nervous that if this threat gets out of hand it might lead to publicity of a kind you don’t want.”

“That is the situation precisely,” she agreed.

“Good. What, also precisely, is the trouble?”

She finished eating and put her knife and fork down : he had already noticed how she gave herself time to think before answering any questions of importance; she was a most capable woman. Jolly appeared, as if by magic, cleared away and then produced a strawberry flan and cream as well as cheese and biscuits, and left coffee on the hot-plate. Rollison cut the flan into generous portions, as Naomi gave her answers.

“Two of the girls have really been frightened away.”

“Frightened away,” echoed Rollison. “Help yourself to cream. Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m positive.”

Sid they tell you so?”

“No, but they were obviously frightened, and until about two months ago, were thoroughly happy. They began to change. The whole atmosphere changed, there were quarrels and tensions which had never taken place before. I put it down to the influence of one or two of our new residents, but I couldn’t really trace it to them. What was a happy community—and I mean that—has become tense and edgy. Good friends have become suspicious of each other. The trust that once existed has almost completely gone. It—it’s not really easy to explain in a short time, but I do assure you that it’s happened.”

“You aren’t doing so badly,” said Rollison drily. “Have there been any thefts?”

“No, not so far as I know.”

“Then where does the lack of trust come in?”

“A creeping fear is a tenuous thing not easy to pin down. Each example of it, when reported, seems trivial. The young mothers appear now to be frightened of leaving their babies unwatched.”

“Do you mean the babies are hurt?”

“The mothers are afraid they might be.”

“But why?”

“That’s exactly what I want you to find out,” said Naomi simply. She finished the strawberry flan on her plate, and looked at him again with that frank, penetrating expression he was becoming used to. “In one way that’s what most hurts and worries me. At one time they trusted me implicitly. They don’t now. They don’t come and confide or ask my help as they used to. They are as suspicious of me as they are of one another. I believe most of them would leave if they had anywhere to go, but they haven’t.”

“Naomi,” said Rollison. “Answer me another question. Do you really think that Smith Hall is in danger of being ruined—or are you afraid that you, personally, might be forced to leave and be replaced?”

She did not avert her gaze.

“I don’t think it would be continued without me. I don’t mean that I am indispensable in the actual work, but I don’t think the sponsors would go on paying the cost if I were to leave. I can’t be sure, of course, but Professor Nimmo assures me he would withdraw his support—and if he were to withdraw I’m sure the others would, too.”

“So you’ve discussed this with them?”

“Of course,” answered Naomi.

“Who are they, apart from Professor Nimmo?”

“There are four others,” she said, looking about her. “Did you notice where I put my handbag? Ah, there—” she moved to get up, seeing the bag on the table by her chair in the big room, but Rollison, moving with almost startling speed, fetched it for her. “Thank you.” She opened it, and took out a small, printed brochure. “All the details are in there. We use that to show the girls whom we think could benefit.” She watched him glance down the list. “Do you recognise any of. them?”

He read :

Professor George Brown              — Chair of Philosophy.

Dr. William C. Carfax              — Chair of English Literature.

Professor Keith Webberson — Chair of European Languages.

Dr. O. J. Offenberger              — Chair of Advanced Mathematics.

“I know Keith Webberson,” Rollison remarked, and reflected that he could get a completely objective report from a man with whom he had been both at school and at Oxford. “And I’ve heard of Brown and Carfax by reputation—Offenberger