It was the last few days of Hilary Term, with all the end of term activities enlivening Oriel College. Students wandered in and out to say goodbye, or include him in various farewell activities. Owen Bracegirdle from the history faculty held a Sunday lunch buffet in his rooms, which had been intended to go on until a decorous mid-afternoon, but ended up lasting until six o’clock. Michael returned to his rooms to learn that Wilberforce had spent his own afternoon in pitched battle with the ginger tomcat belonging to Oriel’s chaplain, with whom he was currently conducting a territorial war. It was unfortunate that this latest battle had taken place in Oriel’s chapel, which, as the porter said, could not have been much more public, and it a Sunday, to boot. ‘And the yowls Wilberforce let out when we hauled him out, Dr Flint – well, you’d have thought he was being gutted for violin strings.’ ‘I will gut him for violin strings if he does it again,’ said Michael wrathfully, and bundled the unrepentant Wilberforce into his rooms before seeking out the chaplain to apologize, during which he found himself agreeing to pay the vet’s bill for the ginger tom’s bitten ear.
