Chapter 1

Reginald, known as Reg to his friends, joined his new wives – for that was how they saw themselves - on a visit to the university’s Student Services counter. The plan was for the girls to get new student ID cards with the surname Robertson. That was the start of a paperwork nightmare. Asking for a replacement ID card with a new surname involved interrogation. Reason for surname change? “I have become Mrs Frances Robertson.” Marriage certificate, please? “I am not married.” Then why do you wish to be known as Mrs Robertson?

“Because Reg is now my husband.” So when did you marry him?

“It was not a wedding ceremony; it was a Commitment.” Commitment? SO you didn’t actually get legally married? “No, we went through a Commitment Ceremony.” What is a Commitment Ceremony?

“It is the equivalent of a marriage ceremony where marriage is not possible, but just as valid as far as we are concerned.” Why did you go through such a ceremony?

“Because the English legal system does not allow us to marry.” Why is that?

“Because there are four of us.” Four of you? Four of what?

“Four of us wives.” But that would be polygamy, and that is illegal.

“That is why we cannot get married, legally, and had to utilise a Commitment Ceremony.” But we cannot issue an ID card with the name Mrs Robertson without you getting married.

“That is circular reasoning,” Reg pointed out. “She just wants a new ID card recognising her new status as Mrs Robertson.” I am sorry, but using the title Mrs means you need a marriage certificate.

“We will be happy to do that, as soon as the legal system changes; meantime, let’s pre-empt the very slow legal process,” said Reg. Sorry, sir, but the only way of changing a name is either producing a marriage or civil partnership certificate; or a change of name document from the UK Deed Poll Service. That is what the rules say, and we have to abide by them. I am sorry.

“Deed Poll? The way some people change a name they don’t like; such as Bracegirdle, or Smellie?” Yes, sir.

“So, if she turns up with a Deed Poll document saying her name is now Mrs Frances Robertson, you could issue a student ID card with that name?” Um ... Um ... I suppose that is so, sir.

“Frances, we are at the wrong place. We need to get you girls to the Deed Poll service and change your names legally, then the little bureaucrats will be happy.”

“I agree, darling. Girls, time to leave. The university is bogged down in bureaucracy, so we have to use a different tack to get our new ID cards.” Reg asked Frances if he could use her computer to search the Deed Poll Service, and she said, “Leave it until we are home, dear, so we can all look over your shoulder, in case there are any points that need clarification.” She knew he was thinking of the financial implications, and she didn’t want him to panic. He agreed, so it was evening before they were ready. He soon discovered that the Deed Poll could include a change of title as well as change of surname, so they could get documentation exactly as they desired. However, the fee was thirty-three pounds per deed poll, a total of £132 for the four girls.

“Damn. I don’t have the cash to pay that.” Reg was annoyed. Frances shushed him. “Reg, we keep telling you, money is not the problem, except for you. We can pay these fees, no bother at all.”

“But Frances, I feel it is my responsibility, as your husband, to pay for such acknowledgment of your change of name and status. I can save it up over a period of a couple of months, I think, and pay you back.”

“Reginald Robertson, this is no longer Victorian England, where the husband was totally responsible for his wife. In fact, back then the husband had total control over his wife’s finances, so he could pay for such things out of her assets if he wanted. So, forget it, my man. We are a family, and will pay as a family for what we need.”

“Oh, yes, I now remember reading that. You are right, Frances. I apologise.” Erika added, “Just remember, darling, that as a family we act together as a unit. We have a responsibility to look after each other, and that includes sharing financial obligations. You do your bit by helping us academically, plus loving us to bits, and we do our bit financially. We may not be pretty girls, but we ARE solvent, luckily, through our parents. You were just unlucky in your choice of parents, dear heart. It is not a fault.”

“I accept that, Erika my darling. It doesn’t stop me being uncomfortable with the situation.”

“Reg, my love, we will keep kicking you every time you act stupid like that, until you behave the way you should behave, as the man we love and cherish.” Reg ceased worrying aloud, once he saw that mentioning it was going to get him into trouble. Returning to their classes the next day, each of them was faced with the question of surname.

“Frances, do we put you down now as Robertson?” the lecturer asked her. She hesitated, than said clearly, “Please put me down as Robertson, sir, although it will take some time before I get a new ID card with that surname. The university bureaucracy demanded a marriage certificate, when it was a commitment ceremony. We have found a solution, though.”

“That’s interesting. What is your solution?”

“We use the Deed Poll service, and get an official name change to Mrs Frances Robertson. It turns out that the university rules find that acceptable as proof of identity, so I will then be able to get an ID card in that identity.”

“Neatly done, young lady. I like it when students find clever solutions to problems; particularly bureaucratic hurdles. It encourages your brains to work more efficiently. I do hope it was your own solution, and not devised by your husband.”

“Actually, neither of us directly, sir. The Student Services guy admitted that the only documentation he could regard as a valid identity document for a changed ID card was a marriage certificate; civil marriage certificate, or deed poll certificate. That slip was what we jumped on, and we have applied for Deed Poll Certificates for us girls. If we have to go by the rules, then we make use of the rules to give us what we want. They should be with us in a few days, then we can get new ID cards. I am assuming we don’t have to wait for that formality before using my new name, as Mrs Frances Robertson?” Her lecturer smiled encouragingly. “I think we can work with that, Frances. Now, if we can move on with the class attendance, so we can get to the lecture...” The other three ladies had similar discussions with their lecturers, none of whom had an issue with the change. This was expected, as universities expect their students to be independent, self-directed, and not mollycoddled. Reginald had no need for a change, but his social cachet had suddenly increased somewhat. Other students were astounded at his ‘marriage’ to four other students, but just as much astounded that he had gone for girls who were not at all pretty faces, and the best looker – if you could call her that - was a very tall and thin girl who would not normally get far in the romance stakes at university. Some less friendly students took it as him getting his jollies wherever he could find them, and assumed that he had been forced into this unlikely liaison in order to get sex at all. Anyone who suggested this to his face was just laughed at. It didn’t bother Reg, if some idiot didn’t understand. Reginald knew what he was doing, and was happy with it. He had no qualms about the wives he now had. It was amazing what his new-found self-confidence did for him. He and they had a long discussion about what to do if any of their parents invited Reginald to visit. Should all of them go along, or just the daughter of the parents, and Reg? They all had been present at the Commitment Ceremony, so they knew the family was Reg and the four girls. There were pluses and minus for both choices as regards visits, but the consensus they arrived at was that the parents should be consulted as to which was more suited to the situation that might arise on a visit. Some might be uncomfortable with Reg’s other wives being present, especially if they had organised a dinner party or other social event. Simply having their daughter and her husband would be more appropriate in such cases. At other times, they might all be welcome for a family get-together, at which their daughter could help them get to know her sister-wives, and be happy for them all as a family group, in the family home. A week or two after their commitment ceremony, a news reporter turned up at the university press office, asking to speak with Reginald Robertson. The staff of the press office were aware of Reg and his activities, and explained that an interview with a student was not normal procedure, unless requested by the student to promote his work. Had the reporter been asked to visit?

“Well, not exactly. Someone contacted the editor with a news tip, and I am here to speak to Mr Robertson as a result of that. I just go where I am told, you know.”

“We understand. We also understand that you must have been given some rationale for being here. What have you been told to ask him?”

“I have been advised that he is an interesting chap, and he might make a good story.” The press office staffer laughed at this. “You are good at circumlocution, aren’t you? EVERYONE is interesting, in one way or another. Instead of offering obfuscation, why don’t you tell us what you REALLY want to know, and we can advise on what is possible?”

“You guys don’t make things easy, do you?”

“It is our job to make things easy for you sometimes, but only when the university wants publicity, News opportunities in the opposite direction has limitations, I am afraid. Spill it.”

“Okay. We understand he has four wives, but is not a Muslim or a Mormon.”

“That may or may not be the case, but is a personal question, not a university matter, if it does not impinge on his studies. I can tell you that he is not married to four women. There is no record of him marrying anyone. Does that help?”

“Hmm. What was it you said about obfuscation?”

“I merely stated the facts. It is not our position to expand on them, unless it is a university matter.”

“I see. Is it a university matter if a wedding ceremony takes place on university property?”

“Of course, but I do not recall any recent wedding ceremony taking place here, that involved Mr. Robertson. We often have weddings in the chapel for our alumni who desire it.”

“Carefully worded, I note. How about a wedding ceremony in another university property?”

“Again, no wedding ceremony such as you describe at all.”

“You must be a good chess-player. You certainly are adept at verbal fencing, avoiding meaningful answers, just like a politician. How about, ANY ceremony?”

“Well, naturally there are ceremonies. Every official award of degrees is a ceremony; and there are other ceremonies involving senior academics, such as retirals, and so on.”

“I can see I am not getting anywhere with you. Is there any circumstance in which I can speak with Mr Robertson?”

“There is. If you approach him on the public street – outwith the university grounds – he may or may not be willing to talk with you. I don’t know if he has a Facebook page or uses Twitter, but I suspect not. Neither does he have email, apart from the facility to use the university’s email facilities if he so desires, but he does not have an email addy, as far as I am aware.”

“Does he have a mobile phone, at least?”

“On that, I am unaware of the answer, but as according to our records he is on a limited budget, he may not have a mobile either. Life can be a bum, sometimes, can’t it?”

“According to our records, eh? That tells me that you have briefed yourself in advance. So there is something to the story, after all?”

“Stop clutching at straws, dear fellow. You know where the door is.” Giving up for the present, the reporter went back to his office to report stonewalling by the university. He told his news editor, “There is something there, but they are not telling.” The editor tapped his pencil on his teeth as he thought. “Tell you what, Simpkins: other students may be willing to talk. Take a trip back there and wander around, asking other students about Reginald Robertson. See what they have to say about him. Don’t put leading questions, just say you wanted to chat to him and where might he be found? Students usually like to talk; after all, it was our Chairman’s son that suggested this story. He may have got some details wrong, but there is a story to be found, I agree.” Much later, Simpkins was back on the university grounds, ambling along the paths to see which students looked like they might like to talk. One was gesticulating to his friends, then shrugged his shoulders and turned away from them. Simpkins angled overt to intercept him.

“Hi. Looks like you were getting nowhere with your friends.”

“Yeah. So what’s it to you?” He grimaced at the stranger.

“Nothing. I just like knowing what is going on.”

“None of them has any weed, or at least, none that they are admitting to. Have you got any? I can pay for it.”

“Sorry. I never thought to bring some. I was just looking for Reginald Robertson.”

“Oh? Lonesome Reg? But he is not lonesome now, having his own harem around him.”

“Harem? I was told he had married them?”

“Effectively, yes, but not literally. That guy has his head screwed on right: goes from a loner to having four birds, in just a few weeks.”