‘Afternoon, Linda.’
‘Good afternoon, Edgar.’
‘Anything I can help you with?’ He was staring at her fixedly. His eyes were wide open, unblinking.
‘No, I’m fine thanks.’ As always, she felt uncomfortable in his presence. She nodded towards the pile of letters. ‘Sorry I can’t stop and talk. I’m afraid I’m busy.’ She turned her back on him, hoping he would take the hint.
All was quiet for a minute or two. Then, behind her, she heard steps. There was a movement and, to her horror, she felt a touch on her bottom. She squeaked with indignation and spun round.
But Edgar Lean had left. In his place, she was confronted with the tall figure of Roger Dalby, an expression of embarrassment on his face. Now, he was a very different kettle of fish. Her indignation left her and she gave him a warm smile.
‘Hi, Linda, sorry if I startled you.’ He was carrying a large cardboard box. The dog-eared label read, 12th-century records. The dust-covered box looked little younger than the contents. The corner that had bumped into her gaped open. Ancient sticky tape looked to be the only thing holding it together.
‘Sorry about that. I wasn’t really paying attention.’
Nothing new there. He rarely left the twelfth century. She leant forward to give him a hand. Just at that very moment, the box finally gave way.
‘Oh, blast.’
Papers cascaded onto the floor. He dropped to his knees and started collecting them up again.
‘Here, let me help you.’
She knelt down beside him and started picking up grubby old files, marked variously Knights Templar, Bernard of Clairvaux and Cistercians. He raised his eyes towards her. Her face was little more than a foot from his. So close, he could smell her perfume. For one crazy moment he wondered what would happen if he were to throw his arms around her and kiss her.
But that was not his way, either.
The papers all collected, she stood up again.
‘Roger.’
He looked up sheepishly from the floor.
‘This letter has just come in. It looks important. Maybe you should open it straightaway.’ She held it out to him as he pulled himself to his feet. He carefully placed his papers on the table before taking the letter from her, relishing the slight physical contact as their fingers touched.
The long, stiff envelope was marked Private and Confidential. To be opened by the recipient in person.
‘Very formal. Who on earth can that be from?’ He was puzzled.
‘It seems to be a firm of solicitors, if you look on the back of the envelope.’ She suddenly blushed. ‘Not that I’ve been…I mean I wouldn’t…’ Her voice tailed off, but he was quick to reassure her.
‘Of course not, Linda. Now let’s see…um… Henderson Brothers and Healy. A local firm. Definitely legal by the looks of it. Here’s hoping it’s not a summons.’
He took the proffered paper knife and carefully made an incision. Inside were a number of folded sheets. He opened the covering letter and read it. As he did so, his eyes widened. He broke into reading out loud.
‘Acting in accordance with the wishes of Mr Eustace McKinnon (deceased), as expressed in his last will and testament… My word, I don’t believe it…Toplingham Manor…all the land and appurtenances… Good lord, Linda, Uncle Eustace has died and he’s…he’s…’ His voice faltered. She leapt towards him protectively.
He slumped into his chair and took a big gulp of air before continuing in shocked tones, ‘I do believe Uncle Eustace has left me a fortune.’
Linda stood beside the chair and debated whether a peck on the cheek would be appropriate, given the circumstances. All her instincts were crying out to throw her arms around his neck and smother him in kisses, but, as ever, she controlled herself. In the end, she contented herself with a few words of encouragement.
The news went round the university like wildfire. Within a very few days, everybody had heard of Roger’s good fortune and the way this would affect his plans for the future. And theirs. Not everybody was pleased.
‘You’ve heard the news?’ Amanda could see she had.
‘Mmh.’ Rosie was staring miserably into the remains of her cappuccino. Term had officially finished and the all the undergraduates had fled. Along with a few other postgrads, the two girls were just about the only people in the coffee bar. ‘I heard yesterday. Linda told me. It won’t be the same place without him.’
‘Yes, and she’s going too.’
‘Linda? Leaving the uni?’ This was news to Rosie. ‘What’s she going to do?’
‘What do you think? She’s going with the prof. He needs somebody to look after him. He’d probably starve to death if she wasn’t there to remind him to eat. We all know that.’ Roger Dalby’s all-consuming obsession with his medieval saint was common knowledge around the campus. People still recounted the story of him walking into the fountain while trying to decipher a medieval parchment. He splashed straight across and out the other side, but he managed it without getting the parchment wet.
‘You make him sound like an old codger. He’s only thirty-eight.’ There was a slight pause. ‘And he’s an Aries.’
‘How on earth do you know that? Have you been stalking the poor man?’
Rosie nodded, unrepentant. ‘University records are open to the public, you know. Anyway, I’d take that job any day.’ Her face assumed a dreamy expression. ‘I’d like to look after all his needs.’ She sighed. ‘And a few of my own.’
‘Well, it looks like Linda’s beaten you to it. Well, maybe not all his needs, mind you. I still don’t think there’s anything going on between those two. But you’ve only got a few weeks left to make your move, and then he’s off.’
‘Doesn’t give me a lot of time. There must be some way to attract his attention.’
‘You could strip naked and sprawl across his desk with a copy of Vitae Sancti Bernardi Abbatis covering your modesty.’
‘Two problems there, Mandy. First, his desk is so covered with piles of paper, he wouldn’t see me. Second, there’s only one copy in the university and Ed’s had it for months.’
‘I’m not so sure I would want any book Edgar’s touched lying on my naked body.’ Amanda shuddered at the thought.
‘Oh, he’s not so bad, really. Underneath that geeky exterior, there lurks a geeky interior.’ Both girls laughed.
‘Talk of the devil.’ Amanda saw him first. Edgar Lean was shambling towards them, dead to the world. His headphones blotted out the noise of the coffee bar and his eyes, as usual, rarely lifted from his toes. ‘Why don’t you ask him for the book back? If you like, I’ll tell him what you want it for.’
‘Don’t you dare… Hi, Ed, how’s it going?’
‘Er, yes, hi, Rosie, Amanda. Um, I’m fine, thanks.’ He shrugged the heavy bag off his shoulder and stood it on the floor at his feet. Reaching up, he pulled out his earphones. He was looking even more lugubrious than normal. ‘To be honest, I’m not really fine. I’ve just heard that Roger Dalby is leaving.’ He ran the back of his hand across his nose and wiped it absently against his jeans.
Amanda made a mental note to avoid shaking his hand. ‘They’ll find you another supervisor, Ed. Don’t you worry.’
‘Yes, but there’s nobody who knows the twelfth century like him. I’ll be lost without him.’