“They must be very fond of you to have done that – move home, I mean.”Susan wonders how Dave Ramsey could have disrupted so many lives in his obsession with her.
Brenda is about to say something when a tall, grey haired gentleman wearing a dog collar comes through the swing doors. Susan reckons that he must be somewhere in his early sixties. He comes straight over towards Brenda.
“Hello, Reverend Graham. He’s still sleeping,” she says, nodding at the bed. “Reverend Graham, this is Miss Blakely. Susan, Reverend Graham is Dave’s boss at the Cathedral. He has been talking to Dave when he’s awake.”
“Miss Blakely? Miss Susan Blakely?” The Reverend Graham scrutinises her closely, to the point where she is quickly uncomfortable. She resents the assumed authority of ministers at the best of times. Just now, she feels judgement heaping onto her shoulders.
“Yes. I did not know that ministers had bosses, Reverend. Are you the main minister at the Cathedral?”
“No. No, there are several of us. And we have only the loosest of managerial arrangements.” The minister is still looking very closely at Susan. He has a kindly face though, even if it looks worried at the moment.
Brenda comes in, glancing into the room to make sure that the parents are out of earshot.
“Has he said why? Was it my fault?”
Susan feels something like compassion for the plaintive tone in Brenda’s voice as she asks the question.
The minister looks first at Susan and then at Brenda. Again, Susan feels that sense of discomfort that has been with her over the days since all this started.
“He has said why, my Dear, yes. But he has asked me to keep our conversation in confidence. I am sure you understand. What I can say to you is that it most certainly is not your fault. You have absolutely nothing to reproach yourself for. It is important that you believe this.” He looks, not at Brenda as he says this, but straight at Susan, as if to emphasise a different point. “I will be back later to see Dave, again. Would you like me to say a prayer for him whilst we are together?”
Susan has not a religious bone in her body and stands, silent and seething at the presumption of this prayer for Dave’s life happening over her head. But she can hardly say no; she sees that. It feels awkward though, standing there outside the little room, heads bowed and listening to the quiet tones of the minister. After the ‘amen’, Brenda says “thank you” as if some favour has been bestowed on them.
Despite the forewarning, Susan is not prepared for the long look that the minister gives her or the implicit invitation in his parting words.
“I hope that I may see you again, Miss Blakely. If there is anything that I can do to help, please contact me.”
She stares at him, silently blanking his invitation until he turns around and heads quietly into Dave’s room, shutting the door softly behind him. Rankled, and catching the vaguest of puzzled looks on Brenda’s face, she dismisses the minister’s parting remarks with a quip,
“Looking for another sheep, is he?”
This makes Brenda titter at the irreverence of the comment and she looks at Susan with almost embarrassing awe. But Susan takes the moment of laughter to take her leave, ushering Brenda off towards her family.
Back in her car, she would have a cigarette except that she does not smoke. But she knows that her nerves are badly jangled. It certainly looks as if Ramsey has spilled the beans to this minister. That was one invitation that she will certainly not be picking up. Ramsey’s revelations will stay well within the confines of confession. She is not about to corroborate anything.
She tries to ring Linda in the evening, just for the comfort of having someone to talk to. But Linda is at a lecture and Tina does not know when she will be back. Restless in her own company, she rings Bill on impulse and invites herself round for supper, a supper that they both knew will end with her staying the night and her going into the studio tomorrow morning from there.
As she lies much later in Bill’s sleeping arms, she feels safe somehow. Dave Ramsey might well be alive, but he is talking only to his minister, who must not say anything to anyone. Bill believes her that she never had sex with Ramsey. She has reason to let herself relax into a deep, relieved sleep.
The TV programme on neo-Nazism is not the fireworks display that she and the team all hoped for. But it is very passable entertainment, none the less, and she is in gratified mood as she sits through the debrief.
By six o’clock, she is ready for a drink and suggests one for the road to the team. They wander off to collect coats, and she is donning her own jacket, when Jonathon Whitley comes into the conference room. Can he see her in his office?
She smiles at Jonathon. At fifty something, bald headed and shirt sleeved, he is everyone’s firm, no-nonsense uncle of a boss.
“Could it wait till morning, Jonathon? We were all just going out for a drink. Want to come?”
“No,” Jonathon said. “It’s urgent; something I’ve been sitting on till after today’s programme.”
Susan looks at him and follows him to his office. He closes the door behind them and goes round to his side of the desk, gesturing to her to sit as he eases himself into his chair. He pulls out a file from a drawer and simply pushes it over to Susan.
She takes it and opens it. Inside is a letter in the same handwriting as the one that Bill received.
She hardly needs to open it. But she does, already preparing to feign surprise at the contents – drawings of stick people and another account of her sexual activities on Mull.
CHAPTER 9
Linda hates all the preparations for the Department’s annual series of public lectures but always enjoys the event when it finally comes along. They take place over four consecutive weeks and it falls to her to host all but the last event, giving the final paper as the leader of the host institution.
This year, she has chosen ‘Preservation’ as the theme of the series. All the papers so far have been erudite, ranging from the preservation of sites in modern day cities to the latest applications of laser technology in the exploration of sites, without opening these sites up to air and so to corrosion. Her own paper, due tonight, looks at preservation issues in rural areas where conflicting interests of land owners and historians often threaten existing sites or deny the excavation of newly discovered locations. Her thesis is that some significant popularisation of interest in ancient civilisations is going to be necessary if the wealth of available knowledge is to be protected for future generations. The future of archaeology is no longer the preserve of archaeologists – it is now a matter for public and political debate and hopefully for increased funding through grants for research, tourist income and government grants to historic bodies.
Her address is to be something of a rallying call to the vested interests represented in the audience. It will bring the lecture series to its formal end, and will be followed by a supper in the conference hotel that they have used for the occasion over the last six years. This last evening is always popular and it is only after the business proper is over that Linda will allow herself some degree of relaxation.
No matter how often she speaks in lectures and seminars, giving this particular paper is different. So many of her peers from other institutions will be present, not to mention the general wise and the good, there to promote some body or business concern.
Ken never comes with her to these events. By and large, they do not like to have each other in their audiences and they both acknowledge that they are freer to mingle and to do the social niceties that are expected of them if they are on their own.
It is a dignified audience of just over two hundred, many in evening attire, who drift into the lecture hall, most with a first gin or whisky inside them. Linda checks the lectern, the lighting and the presentation programme on her computer. She has long since learned that, even with the best technician’s assistance, things can and do go wrong and that it is safest to prepare the presentation oneself.
Robert Thane, the Prin
cipal of the University, comes to join her on the platform – he will chair the evening and his unspoken role for now is to put Linda at her ease and to fill the minutes for her till the meeting opens.
The room fills slowly. Linda and the Principal take their seats, talking inconsequential matters about the University until he starts the evening with a quick check to Linda that she is ready. He brings the room to an expectant hush as he rises and speaks into the microphone.
With all due gravitas and just a smattering of humour, he opens this final session, introduces Linda Pilar, Professor of Archaeology, and gives the title of the lecture –‘Preservation: The Way Forward’.
It always seems like a long walk to the lectern but Linda is well known and respected in these circles and the applause eases her way across the platform. After the obligatory words of introduction and the equally necessary joke, this one at the expense of her profession, she is underway and she settles into her talk within three well-calculated minutes.
Right away, it is clear to all that she is on top of her subject and her audience is with her. It goes so well that she brings her intended forty-five minute lecture to a perfectly timed end. She and the Principal have to sit for several minutes till the applause dies down. Then it is time for a few questions, some of them searching, none of them out of Linda’s ability to handle them. Then the Principal brings the meeting to its end, thanking the various speakers for their contributions and Linda and her Department for the series as a whole.
Now the evening is open for drinks, a further word of welcome and thanks to the guests, and for the buffet supper. Linda mingles among the guests, talking archaeology with those who are interested, University business with others; asking about the different professional worlds of other people there.
By the time coffee is being served, the numbers are beginning to thin. Most of her Departmental colleagues have come over and had a word with her, and most are in a group now, enjoying the rare opportunity to get together in a semi-social setting. She is conscious that Jane has not been over, though she has noticed her looking in Linda’s direction several times. Just now, she is talking with a group of men, coffee cup in one hand. There is a lot of laughter coming from this group, Jane holding forth about something to the evident intrigue of her listeners. She is nothing if not gregarious, Linda thinks, and she seems to have a charismatic personality way beyond the usual in this country.
A tall man whom Linda does not recognise appears to be her escort for the evening – her partner, Linda wonders. Linda has still to thank Jane for last evening’s supper party and determines that if Jane does not come and say hello she will make a point of talking with her.
Another half hour or so passes before she has the opportunity – a half hour at the end of which she is pinned in a corner by a local authority councillor, puffed with his own importance and keen to share his full knowledge of matters archaeological in the city. This does not take too long, but by the time he has embellished his stories of mediaeval city life, Linda is struggling to maintain her politeness.
Off behind the good councillor’s shoulders, she sees Jane and her escort approaching, both in evening dress and, Linda thinks, making a handsome couple. Jane’s eyes twinkle with amusement and she is obviously on her way over to rescue Linda. Her escort, several inches taller than Jane, is a handsome fellow, broad shouldered and fair-haired like Jane herself. He must be in his early forties, Linda guesses, casting a relaxed and friendly smile in their direction.
“Excuse us. Good evening. That was an excellent address and supper, Linda. Congratulations.” Jane says it pleasantly but with enough force to ensure that the councillor has to stop in mid sentence.
Linda introduces them.
“Jane. Thank you. Can I introduce Councillor Robertson. Councillor, This is Doctor Jane Grey.” The councillor ogles Jane with barely concealed interest.
Linda waits to be introduced to the man by Jane’s side.
“Linda, this is my brother, Harry. Harry, Linda.”
Somewhere inside her, Linda recognises something like relief as the American accent of Harry says pleasant things about the University in which his sister now works. But her feeling is fleeting, and not crystallised into thought before it evaporates. She asks what brought Harry to the city. Was it Jane or something else as well? Harry, Jane intervenes, lives near their parents in Colorado but works in Information Technology and is quite often in the city. They shared the purchase of Jane’s flat and Harry stays with her on his business trips. Linda sees now how Jane afforded that flat on her lecturer’s salary.
They make a good double act as brother and sister and, in what is obviously a prearranged pact, Harry is suddenly desperately interested in local politics and rescues Linda from Councillor Robertson, leaving Jane and her free for a word. The councillor is more or less happy – he still has an audience even if he has no opportunity to chat up Jane.
Linda takes her opportunity to say how much she enjoyed the supper and Jane’s friends.
“So refreshing to talk like that. And you were a great hostess, Jane. You made it look so easy to host six people by yourself. I’m one of those women who needs all the help I can get.”
They laugh and Linda suggests a little wine. As Jane agrees, they walk over to the drinks table and stand as a young waiter pours a half glass of reasonable Sauvignan for each of them.
“I hope you felt comfortable with the others?” Jane asks, “We’ve all known each other for most of the time since I came to the city.”
“Yes, I did. They all made me very welcome. And they were all interesting too. Jacky and Nicola make a nice couple.” She looks at Jane with a smile as she says this. Jane smiles back with an unspoken understanding that this is all that needs to be said.
“Yes. Aren’t they?
Linda shifts the focus of their conversation.
“You know, Jane, for all that it was a special evening, I came away not knowing much more about you than when I arrived. Except that you have a fabulous flat and good friends. Tell me a bit more. I’m curious about your family and what you did before you came here. I know the academic stuff from interview of course. I was thinking more about why you would leave the States for here – that sort of thing.
Jane tells her the basics. She grew up, she says, in small town America in the Colorado foothills. She went to local college and lived at home as a newly qualified teacher.
“Then I met this guy called Ricky and we dated for years. I eventually agreed to move into a flat with him but I sure didn’t want to marry him. Harry was ace. He backed me with the parents and said that he didn’t see why I should be destined to 2.4 children and a holiday condo in the mountains.”
Linda listens, imagining Jane’s parents as some kind of ogres. Jane seems to second-guess her thoughts.
“My parents are good guys, you know. They’re the product of their society, that’s all. They are deeply religious, the Methodists in America, maybe more than anywhere else. It almost defeated them that I lived with Ricky in the first place and I guess they just could not understand me not marrying him. Anyway, there was something of a family row and I took off to New York, threw over the teaching job and enlisted to do post graduate studies in archaeology.”
“Why New York? And why chose archaeology, of all things? It seems a strange subject for a young American woman.”
“Well, New York because I wanted to think more freely than I could do in small town Colorado. So I joined a lot of women’s groups and clubs and, I have to say, had a very educational and fun time.”
Jane’s eyes twinkle at the memory. Linda almost envies her that experience, her mind going back to the conducive atmosphere of the supper party.
“I chose archaeology because I was once on a trip to Europe many years ago with my High School. We went to Rome and Paris and we did all the sites. I was taken with the ancient buildings and the idea of people like us, but different from us, living in those places. Anyway, we went over to Naples and
visited Pompeii. That’s where I really got the bug. The whole place was quiet that morning and we could wander pretty freely down the streets and see what life must have been like before the volcano blew. It was awesome, Linda, walking in the same streets where people’s lives just ended like candles snuffed out. I just wanted to know more and more ever since.”
Linda already knows that Jane has taken every opportunity since coming to the University to be in Europe, visiting sites open to the public or linking up through university channels with summer digs, the last one somewhere in the Alps.
“So, is that you in a nutshell, Jane? Running away from conventional expectations? And now you are a women’s issues advocate and an ancient history buff?” Linda is teasing Jane but fishing; she does not know for what.
“Not quite, Linda, but that’s enough for now,” Jane grins, in what Linda imagines is slightly provocative or teasing mode. “Here’s Harry. Now I won’t learn any more about you. Not tonight, anyway.”
She says the last words with a straight look at Linda. There is an unspoken invitation here to which Linda has no opportunity to respond. Instead, Jane asks a pretty neutral question about Linda’s family life. Linda tells her about her parents’ death and about the gap that left in her life. She has a brother too, she explains, but he is in Canada. Danny is the really successful one in the family – both the director of a veterinary practice and head of a school of veterinary medicine. Linda’s tone changes almost imperceptibly as she says this and she knows her age-old touch of jealousy over her brother is raising its ugly head. She feels herself blush slightly.
Jane must have heard the tone in Linda’s voice change as she describes Danny and Linda comes back immediately,
“Don’t misunderstand me – I adore Danny and I don’t see nearly enough of him. He was just always so much more important after a childhood illness to my parents than I ever was. I always wanted to follow in his footsteps, I suppose.”
She changes the subject as Jane watches her without saying anything.
Exposure Page 8
