A Dozen Second Chances. Field Kate

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СКАЧАТЬ through the details she had sent, I couldn’t deny it: it was perfect. The dig was taking place over two weeks on a site south of Cirencester, carrying on the excavation of a Roman villa. The photographs of what had been discovered so far were tantalising: tiles from a hypocaust system that would have been used to heat the villa, numerous coins and pottery pieces, and an amazing mosaic floor that I longed to see for myself. It was an area I knew relatively well, as I had been brought up in Warwickshire and had volunteered at another dig in the Cotswolds in the summer holiday before I started university.

      And as my gaze roved over the details, soaking it all in, trying to keep a check on my growing excitement, I saw who was in charge of the dig: Christopher Porter, my former university tutor, the man who had taken my raw enthusiasm and polished it. I had learnt so much from him, and my heart fizzed at the prospect of working with him again, even as a humble volunteer. Some might call it a sign, but not me: I was no longer romantic enough to be superstitious or to set any store by fate. Even so, I moved the details to the top of the pile and left it on the kitchen table. I was curious, that was all. I already had a job, one that kept me quite busy enough. I wasn’t going to do anything about it – was I?

       Chapter 7

      It was normally one of the most boring parts of my day – sorting through the post, allocating it into piles for each department, and filling the recycling bin with the junk mail the school inevitably received. I did it on autopilot. The last thing I expected to find was an envelope addressed to me, in the barely legible handwriting that I had once known so well, when I had eagerly pored over every loop and dot and cross of the letters that Paddy had sent me during those never-ending days of university holidays when we had been apart.

      Now I looked at his scruffy scrawl and felt nothing but resentment that he had bothered me here, in a place where there ought to be no reminders of Paddy. Wasn’t it bad enough that he was giving a talk at school tonight, against my wishes? Had I not made it perfectly clear that I wasn’t interested in renewing our acquaintance?

      The envelope sat on the edge of my desk throughout the morning, as I dithered over whether to open it or throw it straight in the recycling bin. In the end, and despite my better judgement, curiosity won. I opened the envelope and pulled out a postcard. The picture side showed Lindisfarne and my heart gave a few uncomfortable thumps, because we had visited there together during the glorious summer we had spent working at Vindolanda in Northumberland. He must remember, surely – so what was the significance of him choosing that card? I turned it over and read the message.

       Dear Eve

       Remember that summer? Happy times, weren’t they?

       I know I screwed up. I’m the biggest idiot going. But can we meet after the talk on Wednesday? There’s something I need to explain – something I should have explained years ago.

       Give me a chance.

       Paddy

      I read it three times, and it still made no sense. What good were explanations now? The moment was long gone, gone seventeen years ago, gone the moment Paddy had chosen not to attend my dad’s funeral. A stubborn streak of love had lingered, to my shame, even after he had walked out on me and Caitlyn, but it couldn’t survive a second rejection. And he really didn’t need to explain his behaviour. I’d figured it out for myself. He cared about no one but Paddy Friel. What more was there to say?

      ‘Personal mail again, Eve?’

      Jo Blair lurked in the doorway of her office, staring pointedly at the postcard in my hand. My hand was trembling; I hoped she couldn’t see that from where she stood.

      ‘Junk mail,’ I replied, and without a second’s hesitation I crossed to the recycling bin and dropped in the postcard. ‘Nothing important.’

      ‘About the event tonight,’ she said, with an unexpected degree of awkwardness. ‘It would be helpful if you could be on hand for the Year 10 presentation, to set up the screen and the PowerPoint slides. I haven’t had a chance to familiarise myself with the system yet.’

      ‘Why me?’ I asked, my head still too full of Paddy’s message to make a show of good grace. ‘Can’t one of the IT technicians do it?’

      ‘They both have other plans. And I’m told that you are the expert on such things.’

      That was true, but I wasn’t going to be won over by a titbit of flattery, especially when she hadn’t scrupled to let me know that I was her last choice.

      ‘I have plans too,’ I said.

      ‘Really?’

      Of course I didn’t. That sceptical inflection in Jo’s question was infuriatingly justified. Rich was working away, Tina would be at school drooling over Paddy … My plans consisted of nothing more than a run and a night in front of the TV – an identical night to every other. Jo sniffed my weakness.

      ‘It will all be over by seven o’clock. It will hardly eat into your night at all. I’m sure you will be keen to support school events. It’s exactly the sort of thing I’ll be looking at in the annual Performance Management at the end of the year. And I wouldn’t be surprised to find that it’s in your job description to help out.’

      She smiled and retreated to her office, no doubt pleased with herself for that parting shot – because wasn’t I the one who had relied on my job description when she had suggested I spy for her? How could I refuse now? Especially if our annual reviews were coming up. Reviews with Mrs Armstrong had been an opportunity to ignore the phone and have a natter for half an hour. I suspected Jo Blair would take it more seriously. And what if she appraised me and found me wanting? Did she have the power to sack me, as an interim head? What would I do without my job?

      Determined to show my commitment, however much it pained me, I behaved as the model assistant at the Year 10 talk that evening, keeping my face neutral as Jo baffled the parents with talk of SPaG and cohorts as she tried to explain the exam system. Everything went so well that she even managed a ‘thank you’ as she wandered off to prepare for the next event of the night – Paddy’s talk – leaving me to tidy up and make sure the hall was ready. I didn’t mind. I glanced at my watch. One good thing about Jo’s love of efficiency was that she had finished bang on time. I had forty-five minutes to make my escape before Paddy’s arrival. He had never wasted time in the past by turning up a minute before he needed to, and I didn’t expect he had changed. There was no danger of seeing him.

      With thirty minutes to spare, I was about to grab my bag and leave when running footsteps echoed through the hall. I looked up, expecting to see a Paddy fan dashing for a seat on the front row – she or he would be disappointed to find they were already reserved for governors and members of staff. I was half right – it was Tina, and she was dashing my way wearing an anxious expression that immediately worried me.

      ‘Have you finished?’ she asked, grabbing the back of the nearest chair as she gasped for breath.

      ‘Yes. He’s not here already, is he? He’s never usually early.’ I pulled my bag from under my chair, assuming she had come to give me a warning, and touched by this evidence of Tina’s friendship. I hadn’t thought she understood my aversion to Paddy. ‘Where have you put him? Is it safe to use the main doors?’

      ‘Put who? Oh, Paddy. СКАЧАТЬ