by Heide Goody
“Oh?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I said. “It was time.”
I caught the flicker of delight in his eye, and I smiled to myself.
Chapter 34
On the day of the actual open day, I’d swapped my shift at the museum from morning until evening, so I could be there while it was busy. I had expected to be making tea behind the scenes or something, but James insisted that I’d be a great friendly face to welcome visitors. I wasn’t so sure that I was equipped to cope with an influx of young brainiacs and their difficult questions about ancient Greece and Rome, but James teamed me up with Theo, which made me feel better.
I had a clipboard with spare maps, so that I could draw on them and direct people to the correct place. I made sure that I stood in the same direction as the top of the map, so that my lefts and rights would point the correct way.
“Why are you standing like that?” asked Theo.
“I’m facing north,” I said. “It’s my lucky direction.”
He seemed to accept that, and he positioned himself to face east, which was where people were actually coming from.
It turned out that most people who stopped to talk had very simple questions. After an hour, Theo produced some statistics on his tablet about what we’d done:
Pointed out the way to the admin building when people asked for the accommodation tour – 45
Answered questions about local amenities (supermarkets, bus routes etc.) – 27
Answered questions about ancient Greece or Rome – 1
The last one was an easy question too: someone had heard about the reassembled mosaic and wanted to know where it could be viewed. I showed them how to get there on a map (even though it was just across from where we were standing) and told them that it had taken seven weeks to assemble from fifteen thousand pieces that had been found in a midden heap.
“What’s a midden heap?” asked a gangly teenager who’d stopped. His father stood next to him and frowned.
“Well, Jordan? If you don’t know, perhaps the young lady will tell you?”
I looked at Jordan and saw the same panic in his eyes as was surely showing in mine.
“Think of today as your opportunity to ask the experts, Jordan,” I said. “Save your history questions until you see the display. The staff in there are very knowledgeable. There’s a buffet in there too. I’m here for any practical questions you might have.”
I dodged a bullet there, and Theo was polite enough not to mention it until a few minutes later.
“A midden heap’s an old-fashioned word for a rubbish dump,” he said.
“You just looked that up,” I said.
He turned his tablet to me to show me that he’d done no such thing. He was apparently watching YouTube clips, all with dull titles like “Travels in the Sub-Sahara”, “Living with Druids in 21st Century Cornwall” and “Exploring the Giant’s Causeway”.
“Archaeologists love midden heaps,” he said.
“Because...?”
“Because if you look at the things that people throw away, you can tell a lot about them.”
I thought for a moment about what a future archaeologist might discover from the things that I threw out. They would have a tough job fathoming the system imposed by Bernadette, so they’d probably deduce (and this wouldn’t necessarily be inaccurate) that much of what I spent my time doing was drinking wine.
Gangly Jordan and his dad strolled up again a little later.
“Did you discover what a midden heap was?” I asked.
Jordan was about to answer but the father cut in. “Actually, we want to ask you about how you manage your budget as a student.”
Another family had stopped by at that moment. “I’d like to know about that as well,” said the mom, a lady with bright red hair.
“Getting a degree seems so expensive these days,” said another woman.
“I think you’ve got to ask yourself whether it’s worth them studying a subject like history when it’s never going to help you get a job that makes any money,” said Jordan’s dad to the red-haired mom. “Same as art and all of those impractical subjects.”
“I studied art,” I said.
Jordan’s dad looked me up and down, as though I was evidence of poor academic choices.
“And I’m working as an artist now,” I said proudly.
“How unusual to make a living wage from art,” said the red-haired mom, looking at me as though I was in a cage at Crufts.
“Oh, I don’t,” I said. “I work as a cleaner, and I live in my brother’s flat.”
Jordan gave me an amiable shrug, like he thought that was cool but his dad just rolled his eyes.
“A waste of resources then,” he said.
Another mother nodded in agreement. “Education has to serve a purpose.”
“Educating people who just fritter their lives away,” said Jordan’s dad. “That’s the problem with this generation.”
“You’re certainly going to struggle to get your foot on the property ladder,” agreed the red-haired mom.
“I don’t suppose you’ve even given that any thought, have you, young lady?”
I looked at him and felt so sorry for Jordan. If Jordan had been in to see James he’d be all fired up about studying history. His dad probably wanted him to be an investment banker or something.
“I think,” I said carefully. I had paused for a second or two, thinking of the advice that James had given me, “that it’s all about priorities.”
“What? That you don’t have any?”
“Oh, I do. It’s just my priorities in life are not the same as your priorities in life.”
I smiled at him. I often find that smiling brightly at people will disarm them when they’re getting angry with me, and it seemed to work with Jordan’s dad. He looked confused and pulled Jordan away. Jordan caught my eye as he went and I winked at him.
The red-haired woman remained, and she propelled her daughter forwards. “Tell me – be honest – do you regret doing that, if you’re forced to work as a cleaner and rely on relatives?”
“Gosh, no. I love art. I loved studying my art degree. True, it’s left me with a mountain of debt and hasn’t helped me get a single job but –”
“It sounds dreadful. Don’t you wish that you’d made better use of your time? Maybe tried a little bit harder at the academic subjects?”
“No. No regrets. I love being an artist. Why wouldn’t you do what you love if you possibly can?”
The woman made a small noise of dismissal and walked away. I heard her addressing her daughter as she went.
“You can’t afford to be a dreamer, Georgia. Honestly, I really don’t think that young people know what hard work is!”
I held my head high and tried really hard to look like a role model, but Theo was tugging my arm.
“What’s that?” he asked.
I turned to look where he was pointing. I knew straightaway what I was looking at, but the words wouldn’t come. I’m not sure whether I didn’t trust myself to explain to Theo without a hefty dose of age-inappropriate swearing, or whether the sheer horror of the spectacle had robbed me of speech. If I had been capable of speaking, I might have said something like this:
“That, Theo, is my ex-boyfriend Ashbert, who I stupidly mentioned the phrase ‘knight in shining armour’ to recently. So obviously, he has taken it into his numbskull brain to pinch a suit of armour from somewhere and get onto a noble steed. Except maybe he had trouble finding an actual horse, because that looks like a big fat donkey to me. Oh, and those people? Yeah, he’s herding a crowd of pensioners in front of him. I don’t know why.”
I didn’t say any of that. I made a squeaking sound that represented my indecision.
I defy anyone to do better when their ideal man (brought to life through the power of an ancient Minoan pendant) turns up unexpectedly in shiny plate armour riding a scruffy grey donkey wit
h the probable intention of re-winning their heart. I bet it’s the kind of thing that agony aunts have to deal with all the time.
Should I run away and pretend not to have seen Ashbert? Should I yell at him and try to make him go away? The decision was taken out of my hands when Ashbert spotted me and came over with a wave. Theo looked on in astonishment as the donkey trudged over, Ashbert’s armour clanking as it moved. I dread to think where he got that armour from. I don’t think it came from a fancy dress shop. It looked worryingly… authentic.
The pensioner army milled around, not quite sure where it was supposed to go. There must have been thirty or forty of them! Had he hijacked a coach?
“Lori!” he shouted in a bold and knightly voice.
“Oh, God,” I warbled, stunned.
“I am your knight in shining armour!”
“A knight in shining armour,” I said quickly for the benefit of any prospective students and their parents who might be passing. “Not mine. Not mine. Nothing to do with me.”
“And I’ve brought some people who might be your parents!” he said and slid off the donkey. The weight of the armour made him over-balance and he toppled to the floor with a noise like the John Lewis saucepan department falling down the stairs. The noise spooked the donkey, which ran off with an excited braying sound.
Now I was really torn. So many things demanded my attention. Should I send Theo to warn his dad about the pensioner invasion? Should I explain to Ashbert how wrong this entire thing really was? I decided that the one thing that I couldn’t ignore was the donkey running up the steps into the Fondant Fancy-shaped Arts building.
“Come on Theo, we need to catch that donkey!” I yelled, and gave chase. I should have realised that Theo would be able to run a lot faster than me. What I didn’t necessarily expect was that Theo would find the whole donkey-chasing thing enormous fun. He whooped with excitement and yelled “Dad, Dad! Lori’s chasing a donkey and it’s heading your way!”
I wasn’t as speedy as Theo, but I wasted no time getting into the entrance hall. It was crowded, probably because of the buffet, and I think that might have excited the donkey even more. It charged over to the buffet table and knocked it straight over. Maybe that was deliberate, because it carefully sought out the doughnuts and started to eat them from the floor. There were so many people yelling by now that it flicked its ears in annoyance and backed away. It clattered over to the roped-off area.
“No, donkey, not that!” I whispered to myself, but it seemed inevitable. It knocked two of the Roman pots off their stands, and they made such a loud noise as they broke on the floor that the donkey did two things at one. It released copious amounts of poo onto the floor and it backed into the glass case that held the reassembled mosaic. As the entire thing was tipped over in an avalanche of broken glass and tiles, the donkey decided that it had had enough and left the hall.
I was about to give chase but James was in front of me. His face was ashen as he looked at the wreckage. He tore his eyes away to look at me.
“What did you do?” he said.
“Well, I saw the donkey run in here. You see, it’s a funny story.” His face was stony. “Not a funny story,” I corrected myself. “You see, I told Ashbert I thought I needed a knight in shining armour and he took it literally and –”
“Ex-boyfriend Ashbert?”
“Yes. Except he couldn’t find a magnificent white stallion or whatever. So, he went and got himself the next best thing. I mean, I’ve not even got any idea where you’d get a donkey from in a city like this.”
“You did this.”
“What?” I blinked. “I didn’t.”
“Ashbert did it to impress you.”
“Yes.”
He shook his head. He looked like he was going to be sick. “Lori, it’s always you at the centre of the wreckage, isn’t it?”
I couldn’t argue with that. “I – I’m sorry James. I need to go and sort things out.”
I ran outside. James would never forgive me for this.
Chapter 35
The donkey had calmed down when it got back outside and was being fussed over by several of the pensioners. One of the women was wearing a hat made out of something that looked like woven grass. The donkey must have thought that it looked tasty because it nibbled the edge while she stood talking to someone, oblivious to the damage. I’d grabbed a section of the rope that had kept crowds away from the display inside. It was clearly not going to be needed any time soon in there, and maybe I could lead the donkey with it. I had no idea of how to use it though. Should I try and make a lasso?
I found Ashbert struggling with the armour, which looked as though it had been made for someone a few sizes smaller. His fall from the donkey had apparently crimped one of the thigh pieces tight onto his leg, so he walked with a very exaggerated limp.
“Ashbert, I want to make something very clear,” I said. “This was a terrible idea and I am very angry. I don’t want to see you again. Seriously.”
He looked at me with the sorrowful eyes, but I wasn’t going to be drawn in. “Did you see your parents amongst these people?” he asked, waving an arm across the lawn full of old people.
“No Ashbert! You’ve brought a whole load of old people over here for no good reason. Why would you even do that?”
“He mentioned a free buffet and a nice cup of tea, dear,” said a voice to my side. I turned to look at an old guy with a walking stick who smiled benevolently at me. “He didn’t mention the entertainment, though. That was a bonus!”
I scrabbled in my pocket for some money. “Listen Ashbert, I want you to take these people, buy them all a cup of tea and send them home. I’ll find something to do with the donkey.”
I handed him the money and he went off to speak with some of the oldies. The guy with the walking stick made a thoughtful noise and I looked at him.
“If I might make a suggestion?” he said.
“Go on.”
“Well, you can get onto the canal up by the railway station. I’d imagine that you could lead a donkey out of the city to somewhere nice and quiet along the towpath. There were lots of fields there, back in my day. You certainly don’t want to expose this poor fellow to traffic, do you?”
He had a point. I sighed and nodded.
Theo appeared at that moment.
“Hi Theo,” I said. “Is your dad really cross?”
He nodded. “There are lots of people shouting in there. He sent me outside. Said I’m to keep out of the way while he sorts the mess out.”
“Well, do you want to help me with the donkey?” I asked.
“Yeah!” he said, brightening.
“Any idea how to make a lasso?” I asked.
Theo came up with a much better idea than a lasso. He asked the lady with the enticingly grassy hat if we could borrow it, and then, using that, he led the donkey over to me. It stood munching patiently while I tied the rope to its leather-nose-bracelet thing.
“So, the plan is to take a little walk up to the canal and find a field to put it in, somewhere along the towpath,” I said.
The owner of the hat had disappeared, along with the other pensioners, so Theo put the hat on the donkey’s head. It gave it a rather rakish look, as if it might break into a tap-dancing routine at any moment.
We walked towards the station, and the donkey behaved itself beautifully. Theo walked alongside, making low noises of encouragement, and the donkey really seemed to be listening to him. Up ahead was Jordan and his dad. Jordan smiled at me, but his dad scowled, presumably because I was the face of the useless, sponging layabout that he feared his son might become.
“Is this another attempt to make ends meet?” he asked. “Donkey rides for children?”
I turned to face him. “No, I’m doing a favour for a friend. Listen, why are you so determined that Jordan should be a high earner? Have you even asked him what he wants from his life?”
The father laughed at me. “What an absurd non-sequitur! Jordan and I
have had many a conversation about his career, but of course it’s a given that he needs a certain level of salary. Only an idiot would think otherwise. How else will he pay back his student loan and afford to buy a house?”
A glance at Jordan told me all I needed to know about the dynamic here. I pushed a little further. “What if Jordan doesn’t want to buy a house? Plenty of people don’t.”
The father rolled his eyes and made an exasperated gasp. “Of course, plenty of people don’t. They’re called poor people and I want something better for my son than that.”
“Well technically I’m a poor person,” I said, “but I’m very happy, and I’ve got my life together rather well, I’d say.”
My moment of smug contemplation was cut short as I glanced to my side and saw Theo struggling with the donkey some distance away. It had gone up the ramp of a lorry and didn’t seem to want to turn around.
“Must go,” I said to Jordan and his father, and ran to help but I was too slow. At that moment, a man appeared behind the lorry. He pushed the ramp back into its slot and slammed the doors shut, somehow failing to notice the boy and the donkey that he’d trapped inside.
I ran as quickly as I could and yelled loudly, but the vehicle pulled away before I could get to it. I looked around. Was there something I could do, something I could throw? Anything to get the attention of the driver? A car pulled into the kerb and a woman got out to greet Jordan and his dad. I didn’t hesitate. Theo needed my help. I nipped into the driver’s door and slammed it shut. I got the car into gear, checked my mirror and pulled out smoothly. Driving instructor Terence would have been so impressed at my speed as I managed to ignore the distracting shouting as well. I followed the lorry and tooted the horn. As soon as I found out how to operate the lights, I flashed the lights as well, but the driver was completely oblivious, or maybe it happened to him all the time and he was just ignoring me. My initial thought that I would just borrow this car to catch up with the lorry and then return it promptly to Jordan’s family went out of the window. It looked as though I’d have to follow the van to wherever it was going.
