Once she was done, she ran a brush through her hair before heading out onto the site, ignoring the glare of her boss. She could tell him the truth, that she got lost in her own thoughts staring out her bedroom window for twenty minutes, but it wasn’t exactly a great excuse. Better to just get straight to work.
Two minutes later she was in the warming house, sitting on the stone step, ready to talk to the visitors.
This was the part of the job she loved, getting to share her love of medieval history with the people who came to tour the abbey. She had barely sat down when a family appeared in front of her. “Morning,” she said in character. “Tis a bonny wee day for a tired old wretch such as me.”
“You meant to be a MacGregor or a MacCallister,”the father of the family said, pushing his glasses up with the tip of his finger.
“I’m Nellie MacGregor, servant to the monks of the abbey.”
“So,” the man began, folding his arms and getting ready. Natalie had seen this many times before. She knew what was coming. “You’re scum then? Right?”
“Actually, there’s a lot of conflicting evidence that suggests the MacCallisters were the crueler of the two clans.”
“That’s nonsense. This abbey was founded by the MacCallisters. I read it in the guidebook. They wouldn’t have let a MacGregor work here. You’ve got your history wrong.”
“I’m here aren’t I?” Natalie asked, winking at the kids who grinned sheepishly back. “The monks hired me to clean their cowls. They consider it sinful work better suited for a woman.”
“A woman of sin,” the man said, displaying a superior smile. “From a clan of scum.”
“I promise you, I’m not scum and nor are the MacGregors.”
The man took a step toward her, a cold look on his face. He turned and glanced at his children. “This woman is a liar, you two. Don’t believe a word she says.”
“I’m not a liar,” Natalie replied, refusing to be riled.
“I’m complaining about you,” he spoke over her. “Where’s the manager?”
“Can I help at all?” a voice said behind the group.
Natalie winced. She knew that voice all too well. Appearing in the doorway of the warming house was the rotund figure of the area manager.
“This woman is lying to my children and upsetting them. The guidebook specifically says it was the MacCallisters that founded this abbey and she’s telling me it was the MacGregors. Don’t you train your staff?”
“I’m sure she didn’t mean to confuse you, did you, Natalie?”
“I was just saying I’ve been doing some research and there’s contradictory information about it all.”
Cleo held up a hand. “Natalie, go to the office.”
“But I-”
“Go.” Her voice was icy cold.
Natalie went, not looking back as Cleo began apologizing to the visitors on her behalf.
Should she have kept her mouth shut? Whatwas more important, telling the truth or keeping the peace?
John was waiting for her in the office. “Natalie,” he said, opening his laptop as she entered. “Cleo just radioed. Don’t sit down, this won’t take long.”
“Listen, I know how it looks but-”
“We’re going to have to let you go, Natalie.”
“What? But why?”
“Do I need to list the reasons? Late three times this week, arguing with the visitors, refusing to do what Cleo and I tell you. Are you a historian?”
“What? I don’t see what that has to do about anything.”
