Chapter Four #3
embroidery and bookbinding, then she must have at least suspected that her piece of fabric had something to do with the fragment
in the British Museum. It was too much of a coincidence otherwise.
Lillian had believed they were related, too.
Goose bumps. For the third time.
Anya
Sid was sleeping peacefully beside me when I woke up early to the sound of the ocean. I drank my coffee in a cozy spot on
the window seat. It was my first day at work, and I was a bag of nervous energy.
I was counting on this place to take the doubts that had plagued me and disperse them over that cold North Sea, leaving them
adrift, unable to find their way back to me. I was excited about the manuscripts, about where they might lead me.
The walk to the Institute took no more than five minutes, just the right amount of time to get soaked and cold. I was early and the place felt empty, office doors shut.
The secretary, a gentle, soft-spoken older woman with a Scottish accent, let me in and showed me up to my office.
It was a good room with a view of the courtyard and a large desk where I could spread out books and papers. There was also
a comfortable office chair, a generous wall of shelving, and a sofa and easy chair where I imagined myself running tutorials.
I unpacked the few books I’d carried in with me and heard voices drifting up from the courtyard, so I peeked out the window.
Students, passing through, were exchanging a few words with Giulia Orlando, who was standing on the steps. It was time to
go downstairs and say hello, find out what plans my colleagues had for me today. I took a deep breath, hoping it would gift
me some courage, and heard Professor Trevelyan’s words: You have a gift, but you’re an exceptional scholar, too.
Downstairs, in the beautiful back room, Diana Cornish was with Sarabeth Schilders and Karen Lynch. A pot of coffee and some
pastries were laid out and the fire was already lit. We exchanged pleasantries and news about our summers until Giulia joined
us.
“So good to see you, Anya,” she said.
“We feel very lucky,” Diana said. “Okay, to business. We meet together once a week, generally on Friday mornings, depending
on everyone’s schedule.”
She handed me a sheet of paper. “These are the teaching hours we currently have scheduled for you.”
There was almost nothing on it. Just one lecture on Folio 9 and two seminars weekly. I looked at her in surprise.
“It’s not a lot, because we want to give you as much time as possible with the manuscripts,” she said. “And on that note,
I hope you won’t mind accompanying me to London tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Our benefactor would like to meet you in person.” Diana caught my expression. “Ah. You assumed Tracy was the benefactor, which is understandable, but no, she’s not. He’s looking forward to meeting you, though.”
I tried not to show it, but I felt blindsided. The benefactor’s identity mattered, because signing up to work on their collection
meant signing up to some kind of relationship with them and whatever that entailed, good, bad, or ugly. It wasn’t a relationship
I was comfortable in committing to without meeting them first, or at least knowing who they were, but it seemed that was exactly
what had happened. I wondered why they hadn’t been clearer with me about this and kicked myself for making the assumption
about Tracy.
“Who is he?” I asked.
Diana didn’t answer the question. Instead, she told me they’d booked me a flight and a hotel, that the secretary would have
details for me later. “I’m busy all day today,” she said. “But I’ll meet you tomorrow morning, in London, and I can’t wait!
In the meantime, Sarabeth and Giulia will make sure you feel at home.”
“Who is the benefactor?” I repeated the question. She was on her feet already, exuding an air of busyness and importance.
“Don’t sound so worried!” she said. “I’ll introduce you in person tomorrow.” I felt gently chided, as if I’d been silly to
ask, and I was too embarrassed to ask again in front of everyone.
I spent the morning settling in. I organized my office and met the students who would be in my seminar groups. The secretary
ran me through a bunch of admin and their security systems. She gave me a pass, a card with my new email address and a temporary
password on it, and my itinerary for London.
Sarabeth suggested I go home at lunchtime to pack. Back at the cottage I found Sid in his office, setting up his tech.
“I think they should have asked if I wanted to go before booking everything,” I shouted up to him, as I threw things into
a bag I’d only just unpacked.
“It’s only twenty-four hours. It might be fun.” He was coming down the stairs. “Where are you staying?”
I checked. “Mayfair.”
“And you’re complaining?” he asked.
I googled the hotel. It was fancy. “I guess I’m spoiled already,” I said.
When it was time to go, he hugged me tight. “See you tomorrow.” I felt silly for making a fuss. This was my new life. This
was work now.
As I arrived at the airport, I got a message from Mum hoping I’d had a good first day. Once I was through a long security
line I called her back.
Viv answered. “She’s gone to bed, I’m afraid. Do you want me to wake her?”
“No,” I said, feeling a little twinge of guilt. “How has she been?”
“Average, I’d say. We managed a walk to the post office, which was good, and she got a letter with the date of the next scan.
It’s in November.”
“That’s good about the scan,” I said, though I felt deeply anxious about what it might show.
“How was your day? She was dying to know.”
“It was great,” I said. “Tell her I’m sorry I missed her.”
I felt bad. Until I’d started the new job, we’d spoken every day since she was diagnosed.