It still felt odd having Sundays free. Every Sunday for the past five years he had visited his mother at Cartvale care home. He tried but usually failed to fit in a midweek visit too if work allowed. But he would always spend the whole Sunday with her no matter what. If she was having a good day, they’d walk in the local park or perhaps even have lunch somewhere.
In some ways, Ben had started to grieve for his mother years before she actually died. The strong woman who had brought him up alone after his father had died started to disappear long before her diagnosis of early onset Alzheimer’s. Yet even now at odd moments like this, the grief and guilt could creep up on him, its severity taking him by surprise. He took a deep breath, sloshing hot water over the coffee granules in a mug, determined not to go there.
In the dining room – now Ben’s makeshift office – he cleared a space on the table for his plate and ate hungrily. He flicked through a few of the papers and books in front of him, his mound of reading to catch up on. His meeting at the university had gone well on Friday. Meeting up with Professor Drummond had felt like reclaiming something valuable from his old life.
A slightly eccentric Scot, he had guided Ben through his PhD at Oxford University with patience, wisdom, and more than the odd dram of whisky. Ben had respected him so much and always felt he had let him down in some way, turning his back on research and going to work as an analyst in the city.
But the Professor had never passed judgement and had understood Ben’s need to earn the type of money you couldn’t earn in academia. Ben hadn’t been surprised when he discovered his old Professor was now at St Andrews, the oldest university in Scotland. An image of him came to Ben’s mind, sitting by a roaring fire with a tumbler in hand. But Ben knew his Professor’s easy charm was matched by his ferocious intelligence. He was still at the forefront of research into gravitational waves. Ben had read his recently published paper, and knew he wanted to be part of it again.
He had responded to Ben’s email with all the enthusiasm Ben remembered. They both knew it wasn’t an obvious or easy option to return to academia from the world of finance but in typical style Professor Drummond had seen it as a positive, not a negative. ‘Be good to get some fresh blood into the place, a new perspective. Things can get a bit stuffy in academia.’
After several exchanged emails, Ben had a formal interview via Skype with the Professor and two of his colleagues in the department. He had been questioned in detail about his plans for research – and more importantly, what funding he would obtain. He had listed the grants he could apply for, what journals he would publish in. Ben had studied the curriculum and courses on offer for students and expressed his willingness to be flexible, happy to fit in with the department’s teaching requirements but also had some ideas of his own about teaching.
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