Title: Omit: A Reference To
Day/Theme: 28th September/"Lady Madonna"
Series: Maurice
Character/Pairing: Clive, Anne, Mrs Durham
Rating: PG
"And of course, do you remember, Clive? When you were a boy and decided you didn't want to go to church any more – I forget why, now." His mother sipped her tea serenely. "It was terribly droll."
Clive paused in the act of helping himself to a biscuit. "I remember." He picked the biscuit up along with his cup and saucer and settled back. "That was when I was at the university," he explained to Anne. "One always does take up with some rather funny ideas there. Naturally, one puts them away once one has left and has grown up a bit."
"Oh, but surely some keep their theories? I'm sure the ideas can't all be bad." Anne tasted her tea delicately, the mirror image of his mother. Clive watched her for a moment, appreciating the slender figure perched elegantly alongside him on the sofa, before replying.
"Oh! Of course some do," he said, and his mind slipped over a few examples without recalling them fully. "They tend to be rather odd chaps, though."
"Do tell." Anne smiled at him, her bright eyes merry and teasing. "I'm sure there was something that will make you blush."
"No!" Clive chuckled at her eagerness. "Not a thing."
"There must be!" She leant forward, setting her cup down on the tea table and then turned to him. "Let me see…were there any professors who did silly things?"
"Only old Watts; he always forgot our names and flew into tempers because of it. He chased Maurice the length of the building once, when he had another slip of the tongue and called him – Horse." Watts hadn't, not exactly, but he could hardly repeat it in the company of his wife and mother. A shadow fell over his face suddenly, as he realised that he had spoken a name that hadn't crossed his lips in years. Anne seemed to feel the tension, too; though of course she knew nothing of the true circumstances surrounding Hall's disappearance.
"I don't suppose," she said, shifting the topic a little, "that you had any fun when at Cambridge? It seems so dull; they all seem to study such dry subjects. Tell me, what enjoyment could you find in Ancient Greece?" Clive felt a crumb of biscuit lodge itself in his throat; he coughed and hastily gulped a mouthful of thankfully lukewarm tea. "It's all far in the past and can't possibly matter to ordinary people nowadays."
Clive stared at her; he felt that he had not heard such good sense in all his life. "You're quite right, of course," he told her, smiling broadly. "But think what a dreadful world it would be if everyone took a degree in mathematics or economics! Anyone could do it; politics would be overrun by the working-class. However, Latin and Greek require a certain education, don't you think? It's an excellent way to separate the wheat from the chaff."
"Oh, Clive! You are terrible." Anne batted at him lightly, laughing. His mother was hiding a smile behind her cup. He looked at them. They were perfect and wonderful; he could never sully them with the knowledge of certain indiscretions. Besides, as Anne said, it was all far in the past. Maurice was gone and with him, all danger.