“I’d say it has character. But if you wouldn’t mind, before we go any further I’d like to see your CV. Have you brought it with you?”
“The advert stated that the applicant shouldn’t have any qualifications, so I didn’t think it would be needed.”
“Then I take it you don’t have any higher qualifications. I mean, other than a basic knowledge of librarianship, is that right?”
Miss Prim remained silent. For some reason she couldn’t fathom, the conversation wasn’t taking the course she’d expected.
“Actually, I do have some qualifications,” she said eventually. “A few... quite a few.”
“Quite a few?” The tone of the man in the wing chair hardened slightly. “Miss Prim, I thought the advert was clear.”
“Yes, it was,” she said quickly, “of course it was. But please, let me explain. I’m not a conventional person from an academic point of view. I’ve never made use of my qualifications in my career. I don’t use them, I never mention them, and,” she paused for breath, “you can rest assured that they will not interfere with my work in any way.”
As she finished, the librarian noticed that the children and dogs had been staring at her in silence for some time. Then she recalled what the boy on the porch had said about the man she was now speaking to. Could it really be that of this tribe of children not one of them was his?
“Tell me,” he said, “what qualifications are we talking about? And how many?”
The applicant swallowed, wondering how best to deal with this tricky question.
“If you’d be so kind as to give me a sheet of paper, sir, I could draw you a quick diagram.”
“A quick diagram?” exclaimed the man in astonishment. “Are you insane? Why would a person whose qualifications need a diagram apply for a post that specifically rules out qualifications?”
Miss Prim hesitated for a moment before answering. She wanted to tell the truth, of course, she had to tell the truth, she desperately wanted to; but she knew that if she did, she wouldn’t get the job. She couldn’t say that she’d had a hunch as she read the advert. She couldn’t explain that her heart had beaten faster, her eyes had clouded over, that in the ad’s few lines she’d glimpsed a new dawn. Lying, however, was out of the question. Even if she’d wanted to—and she definitely did not—there was the regrettable matter of the reddening of her nose. Miss Prim’s nose was endowed with great moral sensitivity. It didn’t redden when she was complimented, or when she was shouted at; she had never flinched at a rude remark, or even an insult. But at the prospect of a lie, then there was nothing to be done. An involuntary inaccuracy, a single exaggeration, an innocent deception and her nose lit up like a magnificent beacon.
“Well?” asked the man in the wing chair.
“I was seeking a refuge,” she said suddenly.
“A refuge? You mean, somewhere to live?” The man stared at his shoes anxiously. “Miss Prim, I apologize in advance for what I’m about to say. The question I’m going to ask is rather delicate, and it’s difficult for me to ask it, but it’s my duty to do so. Are you in trouble? The victim of a misunderstanding? An unfortunate incident? Some legal irregularity, perhaps?”
The librarian, who came from a family strictly trained in the nobility of civic virtue, reacted strongly and heatedly to this accusation.
“Of course not, sir, definitely not! I’m an honorable person. I pay my taxes, I pay my parking fines, I make small donations to charity. I’ve never committed a criminal act or offence. There’s not a single blot on my CV, or my family’s. If you’d like to check...”
“There’s no need, Miss Prim,” he replied, disconcerted. “Please forgive me; I obviously misinterpreted your words.”
The applicant, perfectly composed a few minutes earlier, now looked very upset. The children meanwhile continued to watch her wordlessly.
“I don’t know how you could have thought such a thing,” she lamented.
“Please, forgive me,” urged the man again. “How can I make up for my rudeness?”
“Wecouldhire her.” The voice of the tousled boy on the porch came suddenly from somewhere on the rug. “You’realwayssaying that one should do the right thing. You’realwayssaying that.”
For a moment the man in the wing chair seemed put out. Then he smiled at the boy, gave a little nod, and approached the applicant with a look of contrition.
“Miss Prim, a woman who puts up with rudeness such as I’ve just inflicted without turning and leaving has my total confidence, whatever job she’s to be entrusted with. Would you be so kind as to accept the position?”
The applicant was just opening her mouth to say no when she had a fleeting vision. She pictured the long, dark days at her office, heard the tedious chitchat about sport, recalled mocking smiles and malicious glances, remembered half-whispered rude remarks. Then she came to and made a decision. After all, hewasa gentleman. And who wouldn’t want to work for a gentleman?
“When do I start, sir?”
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and went out through the French windows to fetch her suitcases.
2
Once inside the room that would be hers for the coming months, Prudencia sat down on the bed and stared out of the large window that stood open onto the terrace. There wasn’t much furniture, but what there was was exactly as it should be: an ottoman covered in faded blue damask, a huge Venetian mirror, a Georgian cast-iron fireplace, a wardrobe painted aquamarine, and two ancient Wilton rugs. “Rather too luxurious for a librarian,” she thought. Althoughluxuriouswasn’t exactly the right word. It all looked extremely well used. It had all been lived with, mended, worn out. It exuded experience. “This would have been considered the height of comfort—a century ago,” sighed Miss Prim, as she started to unpack.
