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Sequel to Low Expectations. Chardonnay moves to Cambridge, and her life gets interesting. |
Chapter 1 Chardonnay Brogan paused outside the massive entranceway into the department of Archaeology and Anthropology feeling rather overwhelmed. She gazed up at the ‘Alma Mater’ sculpture over the central arched entranceway and admired the tall windows and ornate carvings of the grand building. It was only three stories high, but each floor looked more than twice the height of a modern building’s. Stepping through into the courtyard beyond, she turned in a circle to take in the view. It was like something from Downton Abbey. How could she possibly think she was good enough to work here? She sighed and plucked the invitation letter out of her handbag. The instructions said to report to the reception desk at the Museum of Archaeology and Evolution, which could be accessed through a doorway in the northwest corner of the courtyard. She wasn’t sure which way was north, but a quick scan of her surroundings revealed a tall doorway a short distance away at the base of an octagonal tower. She moved closer and was relieved to see ‘ARCHAEOLOGY AND EVOLUTION’ carved into the sandstone lintel. Before she could approach, a flock of schoolchildren entered the courtyard. They were wearing the smart blue uniform blazers of a posh private school. Judging by their height and confident swagger, they were all sixth formers. The teachers among the group were looking in the direction of the museum, and she guessed they were on a school trip connected with their history A-Level. With dismay, she realised that the business suit she’d decided to wear for her interview here today was a near clone of the uniform worn by the young ladies in this group, minus the school badge. Great! She hurried towards the museum entrance, hoping to get there before the horde descended. One of the teachers stepped away from the school group and moved to block her path, a tired looking woman with greying hair in a bun. ‘Where do you think you’re going, young lady? Get back in line.’ Most people would consider that looking like you’re a teenager when you’re nearer to thirty would be a blessing. Chardonnay counted it as a curse. Unlike her friends, she couldn’t buy wine or enter a pub without getting carded, and when people believed you were so young, they could be condescending. She put her hands on her hips and faced the teacher. ‘Excuse me?’ The teacher focused on Chardonnay’s face, and then her gaze slipped down to her chest where the school badge should be. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. You’re not with my group.’ She smiled. ‘You should hurry on and catch up with your classmates. You wouldn’t want to be left behind.’ Chardonnay closed her eyes and mentally counted to ten. She knew she should have worn something more casual, but her best friend Sara had insisted that a suit was essential wear for an interview for a post at the University of Cambridge. She had pulled her long blonde hair up into a tight bun, hoping it would make her look older. Apparently, that hadn’t been enough. When she opened her eyes again, the teacher had returned to her charges, and they were all about to march into the museum. Worried that she’d be late if she got caught behind such a large number of people, Chardonnay jogged ahead of them, wishing her Mary Janes didn’t have such large heels. When you were only five-foot tall, heels were one of the essentials in life. Thankfully, she was able to enter through the double-doorway ahead of the school group. Immediately inside the museum was a modern and minimalistic reception counter. A young man in glasses peered over at her. ‘Can I help you, miss?’ She flourished the invitation letter in front of his face. His eyes widened, and then he looked her up and down. ‘You’re here for the librarian post interviews?’ She nodded. He frowned. ‘All right.’ He fumbled in a drawer behind the counter and produced a badge labelled ‘VISITOR’. He turned towards his right and pointed deeper into the building. ‘You have to go through the museum to access the administrative levels. Just follow the aisle on Palaeolithic flint knapping evolution to the end, turn into the Neolithic ceramics display, and look for the door labelled “STAFF ONLY” against the wall. Behind the door you’ll find steps that take you all the way up to the mezzanine floor where the interviews are being held. Just look for the door labelled “CONFERENCE ROOM”.’ Chardonnay shook her head in confusion. He’d spoken so rapidly that she wasn’t able to fix the directions in her head. She opened her mouth to question him further, but his head snapped to the side, and he groaned. The doorway behind her had filled with the school group, and they were demanding his whole attention. She took a deep breath. She could do this. Follow the flint display, he said. She remembered from school that flints were the stones people used to use to make tools in prehistoric times. She entered through the next set of doors into the museum proper and looked at the selection of displays. To her left was a display about early hominid cranial development, whatever that was. To her right was a section devoted to Palaeolithic technology. However, straight ahead was a series of display cabinets apparently dedicated to the flourishing stone tool developments of the Mesolithic, whatever that was. Stone tools. Straight ahead, then. *** Charles Thorpe-Hamilton sat behind his desk peering hopelessly at the huge pile of book requests cluttering his in tray. Scratching his wiry beard, he turned to glance at the floor, where three stacked boxes filled with similar requests awaited his attention. And those were just the ones submitted last week. He had asked the administrative assistant to hold onto the next batch until he dealt with these. When he agreed to chair the library committee three years ago, he never expected he would have to deal with the day-to-day running of the Stukeley Library. He lacked both the training and the motivation for such work. A knock at his door drew his attention. ‘Enter.’ Stacey Jones, the elderly administrative assistant popped her head in. ‘Sorry to bother you, Doctor Thorpe-Hamilton. You asked me to remind you when it was nearly time for the interviews to begin.’ He gestured at the paperwork overflowing across his desk. ‘Fabulous. Let’s hope we find somebody competent enough to deal with this mess.’ Mrs Jones offered him a sympathetic smile. ‘If I wasn’t so busy preparing all the tripos papers for printing…’ He waved away her concern. ‘You already shoulder the burden of two people now that Kimberley is on maternity leave.’ He stood and donned his tweed jacket like armour, ready to face the world. Before setting out, he looked back once more at his desk and focused on the photograph there. He kissed two fingers and then rested them atop the frame. ‘Ah, Anna. Look how crinkled and tired your old hubby has become.’ Exiting into the corridor across the mezzanine level, he spied a blonde schoolgirl peering through the glass panel of the door into the palaeobotany laboratory. What was she doing up here? He hurried over and grabbed her by the elbow. ‘This area is off-limits to museum visitors.’ ‘Ow,’ said the girl. ‘Let go. Where are you taking me?’ ‘I’m directing you back to the public area where I shall instruct a custodian to reunite you with your party.’ ‘Wait.’ She pulled her arm out of his grip and halted to face him. She pointed to a badge on her school blazer, only it was not a school crest as he expected. It was an official museum visitor’s badge. Now he was face-to-face with the child, he realised she was not as young as he initially thought. She must be in the upper sixth form, perhaps here as an intern with a view to applying to study at Cambridge next year. She had an interesting face, reminiscent of a young Kate Moss but prettier. He instantly regretted making that comparison. He should not be thinking about how attractive an adolescent was; that was inappropriate. ‘Who are you shadowing?’ he asked. ‘They shouldn’t have allowed you to wander off and become lost.’ She straightened her blazer. ‘I’m not shadowing anyone. I’m here about the librarian job.’ He blinked. ‘I think there must be some confusion here. We’re looking for somebody to run the library, not a trainee assistant.’ She straightened, her eyes narrowing. ‘I’ll have you know, I am a fully qualified and experienced librarian.’ ‘Wait a moment.’ He dragged through recent memories of a conversation with his best friend Rupert. ‘You’re not Chardonnay Brogan by any chance?’ She nodded. ‘In the flesh.’ ‘Ah.’ He stepped back and gestured toward the conference room on the opposite end of the corridor where the interviews were to be held. ‘You’re the first applicant on our list, so it looks as though you’re running late.’ Her cheeks reddened. ‘I got a bit lost.’ ‘You’ve applied for one of the most prestigious posts in this department, and you “got a bit lost”.’ He shook his head. ‘I sincerely hope you’re better with books than you are with directions.’ Charles had only added Miss Brogan to the list of applicants at the last moment as a favour to his friend — a favour he was now starting to regret. There was no way this child could sort out all the problems currently besetting the Stukeley Library.’  |
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