Harry’s countenance brightens. “Oh Lillian, I miss her. She and I were dear friends. I trusted her to organise spectacular events, and she always depended on me to help her navigate the executive assistants’ network amongst the Oxford dons. Although the colleges and departments are spread out, we assistants are closely connected. It’s the only way anything gets done here.”
I laugh in understanding. My mom taught me at a young age that the assistants hold the keys to the castle. If I want to be successful, I need to stay on their good side.
“I hope it’s not presumptuous for me to say I’d like us to have a similar relationship.”
Harry beams over her shoulder. “I’d love that, Nat. I really would. It’s good you’ll be staying here; it will give us plenty of opportunities to get to know one another better.”
Harry points towards the back entrance of what appears to be an Edwardian home. “Number 84 Woodstock Road. A lovely old home, I hope you’ll be comfortable living here. This entrance takes you straight into the ground-floor flat. The front door opens onto the common front hall and the stairwell, and you’d need to use your badge to get through the gate over there. If you’re inside the college, this is the easiest way into the flat.”
She leads me up the narrow set of concrete steps to a dark blue painted door. Black paint flakes off the metal handrail, silvery glimpses breaking through here and there. Rather than make the space rundown, they lend an air of authenticity. Harry pulls a bulky keyring from her pocket, sorting through a mix of skeleton keys until she finds the one modern key hidden away in the bunch. She deftly opens the door and steps inside, reaching for hidden light switches to brighten up the shadowed space.
She steps inside of the kitchen and beckons me to follow. “Come in, come in. Let’s get you settled.” She crosses the room, dusting off countertops and straightening the salt shaker. “I had everything scrubbed clean before you arrived. This was one of the original college buildings. It was used for both lodging and lessons.”
As I look around, I’m already envisioning Edwardian flat decor on a budget. The crown moulding is begging for some period artwork to fill the bare walls. “This building has great bones,” I gush and mean it.
Harry continues through the house, keeping up the informal tour. “This was a large family home, before the college bought it. Down here was the living room, study and kitchen of the original house. The upper floor flat suffers from lower ceilings and smaller rooms since it was designed as bedrooms. This particular unit is the jewel.”
As we walk into the living room, I spot my suitcase and boxes waiting inside the front door. The open curtains in the bay windows allow light to flood the room. The house is set back from the road with a gravelled drive for several cars to park in the front. Looming evergreen trees block out the sounds of passing traffic. The velvet-lined window seat cries out for long afternoons with a book and mugs of tea.
The rest of the furniture is comfortable and inviting with an eclectic mix of college cast-offs recovered to look new. A deep sofa, an armchair with a footstool and a dinged-up coffee table round out the furnishings. There is a TV tucked away inside the remains of the old fireplace.
Harry looks around the room. “I can see the porter has been here and dropped off your things. Always helpful to know that someone nearby has a spare key.” She plumps up the sofa cushions before pointing back in the direction of the garden.
“The bedroom and bath are off the kitchen. There are clean linens on the bed and in the cupboard, and a washer/dryer in the kitchen. We can’t have our professors airing their unmentionables in the college garden.” We both snicker at the thought.
She opens a kitchen drawer and pulls out a set of keys. “I’ll let you make yourself at home. You’re unlikely to see your neighbour unless you run into one another at the front entrance. There are offices down in the basement, but they have a separate entry from the garden-side.”
“Is there a student living upstairs?” I’m already worrying about the potential for late night noise.
“No, Edward Thomas lives up there, one of our professors. He’s been living up there alone since he arrived a few years ago, the poor dear. I keep hoping he’ll fall for a young lady, move out and start a family, but he seems to have wed his work instead.”
My shoulders drop in relief. “Married to work I can understand. I’m sure we won’t bother one another at all.”
She passes the keys over, each one tagged in identification. “I stocked a few foodstuffs in the kitchen to tide you over until you can make it to the shops. You’ve got free meals in the dining hall, but I guessed you’d want to unpack and settle in tonight.”
I open the fridge to find it packed with milk, bread, butter, jam, eggs, fresh fruit and vegetables and even a small box of chocolate-covered eclairs. I could get on board with this version of staples.
“Thank you so much, Harry, that’s really thoughtful. I hadn’t even thought about food or shopping. You’ve saved me a ton of hassle. I hope you’ll let me invite you to dinner one night to say thanks properly.”
“I’d love that, but no rush. You’ll soon have enough on your plate. We can get to know each another over lunches in the dining hall.” Harry pats me on the hand before letting herself out the door. “My number is on the pad by the telephone if you need anything, tonight or any other time. You can follow the same pathway tomorrow morning; I’ll have the coffee machine on before you arrive.”
❖
As the door shuts behind Harry, I exhale a breath
