a radio documentary. She hopes the BBC will take it up eventually. I speak for us all, Juliet, when I say we’re happy to have you. We’ll be only too pleased to answer any questions you may put to us.”
Juliet squeezed her hands together under the table. From the lack of reaction to this preamble, she didn’t feel at all confident that her presence met with one hundred percent approval. But all she could do was courteously accept his words.
“Thank you.” She faced everyone. “I’m delighted I have your consent to make these recordings.” She might as well play her professional role for all it was worth. “There’ll be nothing underhand about it. You’ll know what I’m doing, because you’ll see this.” She lifted her recorder and microphone, which she’d brought with her. “Also, may I set your minds at rest; I aim to be as fair and accurate as possible. And if any of you are worried in any way, I can show you my guidelines on consent.”
She sat back in her chair. To her right, she glimpsed an ironic expression on Don’s face. He was clearly amused at her performance.
After a mixed chorus of murmurs which couldn’t be interpreted as agreement or otherwise, Craig said, “I’ve a suggestion so Juliet feels welcome. Why don’t those of us she hasn’t yet met, introduce ourselves in turn?”
A current of approval rippled up and down the table. Over the other side of the Beaujolais, next to Zoe, a smartly-turned-out man in his forties banged on the table with his spoon. “Well said, Craig.”
“Thank you, James. Why don’t you start the introductions?”
James! Juliet could barely believe it. He was so different from the vagrant at the lunch table, she would never have identified him as one and the same.
From his neatly combed hair, distinguished features and elegant bearing, to the shiny brass buttons of his navy blazer, he looked like the sort of person who might command respect anywhere.
She quickly recovered from this slightly troubling reflection. “I met your alter ego at lunch, didn’t I, James?”
“Indeed you did, Juliet.”
She glanced at the dark smear from his collar up to his cheekbone. He evidently hadn’t washed all traces of his disguise off.
She wondered when he got his Equity card. Presumably he’d fitted his drama training in prior to acting as Craig’s PhD supervisor.
Craig began again in a smooth, urbane manner. “Zoe, of course, needs no introduction,” he said, smiling. Then he inclined his head toward his left-hand neighbour. “Sam you’ll remember from lunchtime.”
Sam failed to make eye contact with her. She could see his lips were shaking. Poor boy, she thought.
The diner on Sam’s other side hastened to his rescue. “Fear not, Sam,” he said in a strong Irish accent. “You’re not obliged to speak. I’ll introduce myself, shall I? Patrick O’Shaughnessy. From Limerick. Delighted to meet you, Juliet, I’m sure.”
Craig spoke. “Thanks, Patrick. Why not tell Juliet a little more about yourself?”
“Willingly. I’m the coordinator here. I order new supplies. In house or garden, if you have any practical problems, you come to me. I keep track of the toilet rolls, change blown light bulbs, you name it. The only thing I don’t do is guarantee the destiny of your immortal soul.”
Without giving Patrick the chance to qualify this, Craig went on, “And Al?”
“Had the pleasure of meeting the lady earlier,” said Al heartily. He motioned to the seat at his left-hand side. “Sorry, this happy-smiley Buddha here gives me the creeps. And I’ve been here… how long?” he appealed to Laura.
Craig turned to Juliet and spoke before Laura could supply the information. “I thought it would be an amusing touch for the Buddha to join us tonight and over this weekend. At the beginning of next week he’ll be superseded. I’ll explain later.”
He lifted his gaze above the candles and wine bottles to the two seats at the opposite end of
Juliet squeezed her hands together under the table. From the lack of reaction to this preamble, she didn’t feel at all confident that her presence met with one hundred percent approval. But all she could do was courteously accept his words.
“Thank you.” She faced everyone. “I’m delighted I have your consent to make these recordings.” She might as well play her professional role for all it was worth. “There’ll be nothing underhand about it. You’ll know what I’m doing, because you’ll see this.” She lifted her recorder and microphone, which she’d brought with her. “Also, may I set your minds at rest; I aim to be as fair and accurate as possible. And if any of you are worried in any way, I can show you my guidelines on consent.”
She sat back in her chair. To her right, she glimpsed an ironic expression on Don’s face. He was clearly amused at her performance.
After a mixed chorus of murmurs which couldn’t be interpreted as agreement or otherwise, Craig said, “I’ve a suggestion so Juliet feels welcome. Why don’t those of us she hasn’t yet met, introduce ourselves in turn?”
A current of approval rippled up and down the table. Over the other side of the Beaujolais, next to Zoe, a smartly-turned-out man in his forties banged on the table with his spoon. “Well said, Craig.”
“Thank you, James. Why don’t you start the introductions?”
James! Juliet could barely believe it. He was so different from the vagrant at the lunch table, she would never have identified him as one and the same.
From his neatly combed hair, distinguished features and elegant bearing, to the shiny brass buttons of his navy blazer, he looked like the sort of person who might command respect anywhere.
She quickly recovered from this slightly troubling reflection. “I met your alter ego at lunch, didn’t I, James?”
“Indeed you did, Juliet.”
She glanced at the dark smear from his collar up to his cheekbone. He evidently hadn’t washed all traces of his disguise off.
She wondered when he got his Equity card. Presumably he’d fitted his drama training in prior to acting as Craig’s PhD supervisor.
Craig began again in a smooth, urbane manner. “Zoe, of course, needs no introduction,” he said, smiling. Then he inclined his head toward his left-hand neighbour. “Sam you’ll remember from lunchtime.”
Sam failed to make eye contact with her. She could see his lips were shaking. Poor boy, she thought.
The diner on Sam’s other side hastened to his rescue. “Fear not, Sam,” he said in a strong Irish accent. “You’re not obliged to speak. I’ll introduce myself, shall I? Patrick O’Shaughnessy. From Limerick. Delighted to meet you, Juliet, I’m sure.”
Craig spoke. “Thanks, Patrick. Why not tell Juliet a little more about yourself?”
“Willingly. I’m the coordinator here. I order new supplies. In house or garden, if you have any practical problems, you come to me. I keep track of the toilet rolls, change blown light bulbs, you name it. The only thing I don’t do is guarantee the destiny of your immortal soul.”
Without giving Patrick the chance to qualify this, Craig went on, “And Al?”
“Had the pleasure of meeting the lady earlier,” said Al heartily. He motioned to the seat at his left-hand side. “Sorry, this happy-smiley Buddha here gives me the creeps. And I’ve been here… how long?” he appealed to Laura.
Craig turned to Juliet and spoke before Laura could supply the information. “I thought it would be an amusing touch for the Buddha to join us tonight and over this weekend. At the beginning of next week he’ll be superseded. I’ll explain later.”
He lifted his gaze above the candles and wine bottles to the two seats at the opposite end of
Similar Books
