Harry shakes her head and motions me to stay where I am. “Don’t you worry, hun. Dr Radcliffe is a gem. It’s that other woman in there. She’s stirring up all the trouble.”
The heavy inner office door slams open, a broad-shouldered and thick-waisted woman in a stained chef’s coat comes barrelling out of it straight into the reception. I spy a familiar pair of black clogs on her feet. So much for my efforts to avoid her.
She doesn’t spare a glance at me, glaring at Harry before turning back around and continuing with her angry rant. “How dare you tell me what I have to do! The kitchen and dining hall are my domain and I must have complete and total freedom.”
A voice calls out from the inner office, “Of course, you are in control, but surely you can see how your decisions can affect others?”
The chef is undeterred, her face glowing red with fury. “What happened to them is no fault of mine! If you want me to remain here as Head Chef, I’ll thank you to remember that. Now if you’ve no other false complaints to hold against me, I have to finish preparing dinner.”
When the chef stomps out of the room, slamming the reception door behind herself, both Harry and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“The glass paperweight?” asks Harry as a middle-aged woman in pressed trousers and a silk blouse appears in the doorway.
“Got it in one. I’m lucky she smashed it onto my desk instead of my head.” The woman spots me smiling in my chair. “You must be Ms Payne. Do come in. I’m so sorry about the delay… and that you had to witness that.”
I murmur polite reassurances as I gather my bag. Harry winks at me, offering reassurance with her expression that I’m not walking into the proverbial lion’s den.
Fixing my smile back in place, I straighten my shoulders and follow. I soak in more of the detail as I trail behind her into the next room. My last job locked me in the unforgiving modern glass and clean lines of London’s exhibition halls. The college Principal’s office is the exact opposite, located in the east wing of a sprawling mansion. The Edwardian architecture echoes in the decor, the space filled by an antique hardwood desk, claw-footed chairs and velvet sofas that scream to be stroked. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves line the walls, embossed leather covers mixing in with well-worn paperbacks and a few popular self-help novels. The room strikes a balance between well-respected and welcoming.
A life-size portrait of a man in an old-fashioned white wig dominates the space above the walnut fireplace mantle. His dour expression is so piercing that it almost feels as if he’s glaring at me. I choose the chair that faces in the opposite direction. Better to have Mr MacCreepy at my back than staring me in the face throughout my first meeting.
“I’m Scarlett Radcliffe, the Principal here at St. Margaret College at the University of Oxford. I’m really pleased to welcome you to our team.”
“This is an incredible opportunity, particularly for someone my age. I’m thrilled to be here.” My eyes are bright with genuine enthusiasm.
Dr Radcliffe settles into her padded leather chair. “When your predecessor, Lillian, announced her retirement, we didn’t know how we’d ever find someone who could work her magic in planning our ceremonies and events. Before she left, Lillian assured us you are more than competent for the job.” Pausing, she leans in my direction, “Did you know that Lillian was only 30 when she took on the role? I imagine you reminded her of herself.”
Dr Radcliffe digs around on her desk before coming up with a familiar looking document. “I’m ashamed to say I’ve had little time to review your CV, despite Harry continually moving it to the top of my pile. Would you mind talking me through it? It will help me learn more about you, which will be useful later when Harry quizzes me on our catch-up.”
I clear my throat and drive into my career highlights. “Although my CV covers my professional experience, my passion for events started much earlier. I’ve been planning my birthday parties since I was out of nappies. My mother let me help with her charity events in my teens, and by the time I headed off to uni, I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up.”
I pause for a breath before continuing. “I stayed near home, attending City, University of London where I studied Business and Marketing. From there, they offered me an internship at Disneyland Paris. It was a dream come true to work behind the scenes at the park. No one in the world is better at event planning. I learned so much from seeing first hand the tricks they used to make it look like things happen by magic.”
Dr Radcliffe leans over her desk, her head resting on her hand, engrossed in my story. “I’ve experienced the magic of Disney myself. I can imagine a lot of work goes into planning their events. When did you come back to the UK?”
“I stayed at Disney for a year and a half. I had the chance of taking a full-time role in Orlando, but I wasn’t up for moving that far away. Paris was adventure enough. I found a job with a corporate events agency in London and spent the last few years there.”
“And now Oxford.” Dr Radcliffe eyes me before nodding. “You’ll fit right in, plenty of former London diehards here in the area. Everyone moves up here to raise their families, trying to escape the London house prices. Not much of a discount anymore, I’m afraid. But nothing for you to worry about now, you’re welcome to stay here in
