Chapter Seven
The following morning passes by in a whirlwind of activity, mostly spent getting to know my two assistants.
“Will? And you’re Jill?” I eyeball the two, sure that they must be having one on. They sit side by side, batting their lashes in unison, the very picture of innocence. Despite their similar sounding names and shared mannerisms, I don’t have any worries I’ll get them confused. Jill’s dark copper skin and colourful head wrap stand in sharp contrast to Will’s pallid pink complexion and mousy brown hair.
“Please call me Nat. I’m sorry it's taken me so long to introduce myself. I’d planned to come by on my first day, but…” My voice trails off as I stop myself from going any further down that pathway. I clear my throat before starting again. “Ahem, where was I? Introducing myself, that’s it. I’m assuming you’ve both seen my CV?” I pause, waiting for both heads to nod before continuing.
“Then I’ll skip the boring bits. I love the challenge of creating something new and unexpected. I’m a hard worker, but I make sure we all have a bit of fun while we get the job done.” I smile, making sure both Jill and Will are still with me. “Enough about me, how long have you two been working here?”
“Two years,” starts Will.
“And seven months,” continues Jill.
“We both started on the same day,” Will finishes. As if on cue, both pick up their St Margaret mugs and sip their tea. When they set them back down, I realise that their desks are organised exactly the same, with the phone on the left, laptop in the middle, and pen pot and notepads sitting on the right.
I glance down at H, my questioning gaze asking whether my assistants are part of the Eternal team. His answering chuckle sears the backs of my ankles. I guess that’s a no.
“So, how do you two like to work? Together?”
“Oh no, we prefer to divide and conquer,” says Will.
“We’ve got different work styles,” explains Jill.
I give H a gentle shove with my toes when my ankles heat again. If I have to keep a straight face, so does he. “Right. I’d hoped to spend some time getting to know you each better, but unfortunately, the clock is against us right now. We need to jump straight into gala planning. Perhaps we could start with an overview of last year’s event?”
Three hours pass before we make it back to my office. By then, both H and I are dragging our heels. I glance at my watch, amazed to see it is one in the afternoon. No wonder my stomach is growling. “H, how would you like to go on a little trip to the dining hall?”
H falls to the floor, rolling around while holding his stomach. “Finally! Lor luv, mate. I’m starvin’. I was fading away listening to tha lad wax on about last year’s gala menu. All I ate fer breakfast was a few crumbs.”
“Crumbs?” I shake my head at his poor recollection. “You had four cheese scones for breakfast! I’d hardly call that suffering. But fine, come on. Maybe we can find a bowl of milk to wash those crumbs of yours down.”
H flies up to hover in front of me, wings spread-wide and an angry spurt of flame slipping from his nostrils. “Cream. Not milk. Clotted, ideally. Iffen they’re out of ‘em, a few slices of Cornish cruncher, or Wensleydale. Wookey Hole is pretty good, Lancashire’ll do in a pinch or even that Red Leicester. Iffen none of them are in tha larder, then I’ll take some Boursin or whipping cream… And don’t get me started on tha double cream…”
“Basically, all cheese and milk products?” I interrupt H’s monologue.
“Ain’t nothin’ else worth eating.” His glare leaves me wondering whether his cat-side is more dominant than he wants to admit.
“Never mind, let’s go. At least you’ve given me an excuse to talk to the kitchen staff. My visit to Chef Rousseau yesterday was not ‘magnifique’, I’m sad to say. In fact, he was pretty darn horrible. Hopefully, today goes better.”
The closer we get to those swinging dining hall doors, the more I have to steel myself to enter the room. Thankfully, it’s a few minutes shy of lunch closing. If I have a breakdown, at least the whole student body won’t be on hand to witness it.
My pace slows as my nerves overtake the hunger pains. Do we really need to eat today? My mind flashes back to my first morning. Shuttered serving windows, the blood-stained cleaver, yellow police tape, dark blue uniforms swarming about the space. My brain says to move, but my legs are no longer listening.
Realising he’s lost me, H turns back, flapping his wings until he hovers in front of my face where he can spot the anxiety in my eyes. “Listen up, missie. You gotta go back in tha dinin’ ‘all sometime. Tha longer ya wait, it ain’t gettin’ any easier. Close yer eyes, clear yer mind and think about steamin’ ‘ot Yorkshire puddins. Nod yer loaf when yer wiff me.”
I let the vision of a golden-brown Yorkshire swimming in rich, dark gravy wipe every other thought from my mind. Gradually my stomach unclenched, hunger once again surging to the forefront.
I blink a few times, straighten my back and take the last few steps, sheer determination powering my stride as I push through the double doors. The room inside looks… normal. The clatter of dishes and hum of voices fill the space, t-shirt clad students crowding the benches at the trestle tables. The serving woman smiles at me, nodding towards the stack of trays that mark the start of the serving line. I walk ahead, wanting to replace every picture in my head with a new one before I attempt to eat.
I spot Dr Radcliffe eating at the high table. It’s the first time I’ve seen her since our horrid discovery. With her back to the room she
