Issue 42, Winter-Spring 1968
Joyce phoned him at the office. Before she could get a word out, he said, “If you ask me, almost all of Doug’s problems can be traced to that bloody school
“Would you rather that he was educated as you were?”
Mortimer had been to Upper Canada College. “I don’t see why not.”
“Full of repressions and establishment lies.”
Establishment. Camp. WASP. She had all the bloody modish words.
“We’ll discuss it later. Just please please don’t be late for the rehearsal.”
Mortimer had only been invited to the rehearsal for the Christmas play because he was in publishing and Dr. Booker,the founder, wanted Oriole to do a book about Beatrice Webb House. Drama was taught at the school by a Miss Lilian Tanner, who had formerly been with Joan Little wood’s bouncy group. A tall, willowy young lady. Miss Tanner wore her long black hair loose, a CND button riding her scrappy bosom. She assured Mortimer he was a most welcome visitor to her modest little workshop. Mortimer curled into a seat in the rear of the auditorium, trying to appear as unobtrusive as possible. He was only half-attentive to begin with, reconciled to an afternoon of tedium larded with cuteness.