Jeffrey Archer - Paths Of Glory

After he’d kissed her and said good-bye to the children, he marched out of the front door and began to stride down the path toward the main road. Beridge asked, “Is Daddy going away again?”

George checked his watch, interested to see how long it would now take him to reach the school gates. Ruth had made certain that he left well in time for his appointment with the headmaster.

The Times had been particularly generous that morning, giving extensive coverage to the “triumphant homecoming” of the Everest team. It didn’t seem to concern their correspondent that no one had reached the summit, although he reported Finch as saying that he had every intention of going back next year to do just that. Toward the end of the article there was a guarded quote from Mr. Hinks, hinting that George would be the Everest Committee’s first choice as climbing leader for the second expedition, which was no doubt what Hinks wanted to speak to him about so urgently. But George intended to tell Hinks exactly what he would be telling the headmaster in a few minutes’ time: His climbing days were over. He was looking forward to a life of domesticity, while at the same time continuing to teach the lower fifth about the exploits of Elizabeth, Raleigh, Essex, and…

A smile crossed George’s face when he thought about the dilemma Hinks would face when it came to selecting who would take his place as climbing leader. The obvious choice was Finch-he was unquestionably the most skilled and experienced climber, and was the man who had reached the highest point on the last expedition. But George was in no doubt that Hinks would come up with some utterly compelling reason to resist any such suggestion, and that the committee would end up by appointing either Norton or Somervell as climbing leader. Even Hinks, however, wouldn’t be able to stop Finch reaching the summit well ahead of both of them, particularly if he was assisted by his faithful oxygen cylinders.

When the school chapel came into view, George checked his watch again. He might be thirty-six years old, but he’d lost none of his speed. As he marched through the school gates, he might not have set a new record, but he was damned close.

George strolled across the main quad in the direction of the headmaster’s study, smiling at a couple of boys he didn’t recognize. It was clear from their response that they had no idea who he was, which brought back memories of his first days at Charterhouse, and of how nervous he had felt whenever he came face to face with a pupil, let alone the headmaster.

Mr. Fletcher was a stickler for punctuality, and would no doubt be pleased, and possibly even surprised, that George was five minutes early. George straightened his gown and took off his mortar board before knocking on the door of the outer office.

“Come in,” said a voice. George entered the room to find Fletcher’s secretary, Miss Sharpe, seated at her desk. Nothing changes, he thought. “Welcome back, Mr. Mallory,” she said. “May I say,” she added, “how much we’ve all been looking forward to seeing you again following your triumph on Everest.” On Everest, thought George, but not on top of it. “I’ll let the headmaster know you’re here.”

“Thank you, Miss Sharpe,” said George as she went into the adjoining room. A moment later the door opened. “The headmaster will see you now,” she said.

“Thank you,” George repeated, and marched into Mr. Fletcher’s study. Miss Sharpe closed the door behind him.

“Good morning, Mallory,” said the headmaster as he rose from behind his desk. “Good of you to be so punctual.”

“Not at all, headmaster,” said George. “Can I say how nice it is to be back,” he added as he sat down.

“Allow me to begin,” said the headmaster, “by congratulating you on your achievements during the past six months. Even allowing for the press’s tendency to exaggerate, we all feel that given a little more luck, you would undoubtedly have made it to the top.”

“Thank you, headmaster.”

“And I’m sure I speak for everyone at the school when I say that I’m in no doubt that you’ll fulfill your ambition next time.”

“There won’t be a next time,” George replied. “I can assure you that my climbing days are over.”

“However, as I’m sure you’ll appreciate, Mallory,” continued the headmaster as if he hadn’t heard him, “running a school like Charterhouse necessitates being able to rely on all members of staff at all times.”

“Yes, of course, headmaster, but-”

“Your decision to join the armed forces despite the fact that you were exempt, although commendable in itself, severely disrupted the school timetable, as I made clear at the time.”

“You did indeed, headmaster, but-”

“And then your decision, rightly taken in my view, to accept the invitation from the Everest Committee caused even more disruption to the running of the school, especially as you had recently been appointed senior history master.”

“I do apologize, headmaster, but-”

“As you know, I had to appoint Mr. Atkins to take over from you in your absence, and I’m bound to say that he has carried out his duties with commendable diligence and authority, and has shown unswerving commitment to the school.”

“I’m glad to hear that, headmaster. However-”

“I’m also bound to say, Mallory, that when you failed to report for the first day of term, no doubt through no fault of your own, I was left with little choice but to offer Atkins a permanent appointment as a full member of staff, which ipso facto means, regrettably, that there is no position for you at Charterhouse at the present time.”

“But-” spluttered George, trying not to sound desperate.

“I have no doubt that many of our leading schools will jump at the opportunity of adding Mallory of Everest to their numbers. Indeed, were I to lose a member of the history staff, you would be among the first candidates I would consider interviewing.”

George no longer bothered to interrupt. He felt as if Everest’s relentless east wind was hitting him in the face again.

“Do let me assure you, Mallory, that you leave Charterhouse with the respect and affection of both the staff and the pupils. It goes without saying that I will be delighted to supply you with a reference confirming that you were a valued member of staff.”

George remained silent.

“I’m sorry it had to end this way, Mallory, but allow me to add on behalf of myself, the governing body, and all of us at Charterhouse, that we wish you good fortune in whatever it is you decide to do in the future. Should that turn out to be one more stab at Everest, our thoughts and prayers will be with you.”

Mr. Fletcher rose from behind his desk. George stood up, dutifully shook hands, doffed his mortar board, and left the study without another word.

Ruth was reading about her husband in The Times when the phone rang. Only her father ever called at that time of the day.

“Hello,” she said cheerfully as she picked up the phone. “Is that you, Daddy?”

“No, it isn’t, Mrs. Mallory. It’s Hinks of the RGS.”

“Good morning, Mr. Hinks,” she said, her tone of voice immediately changing. “I’m afraid my husband isn’t here at the moment, and I’m not expecting him back until this evening.”

“I’m pleased to hear that, Mrs. Mallory, because I was hoping to have a private word with you.”

Ruth listened carefully to what Mr. Hinks had to say, and assured him that she would think it over and let him know her decision. She had just returned to reading the paper when she heard the front door open. She feigned surprise when George marched into the drawing room and slumped down on the sofa opposite her.