The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2725 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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I sent a text to Delia to explain I was running late due to a wardrobe malfunction—I fell through the door knocking it of the runners—a job for Maureen when she had five minutes. I asked Jacquie to call her.

I knew nothing about the candidates to take over from Delia, except there were five of them, each of who would have to do a typing test using one of my dictated letters as the audio test. I wonder how many of them can spell Muscardinus avellanarius because it’s mentioned several times. The letter was about dormice and about three hundred words long.

Margot ran the typing test, she’s a secretary to the professor of chemistry; Pippa, Delia and I then interviewed each of the candidates. I need someone who can think on their feet, so my part was to ask them to deal with a problem. It was unlikely to be one that they’d dealt with before, so I wasn’t necessarily interested in the feasibility of their answer, though if it was possible, it would give them extra points.

The first four were technically fine but I didn’t feel they were the sort of person I’d want as my secretary. Part of me was beginning to wish I hadn’t encouraged Delia to enrol—nah, that was nasty of me, but she was head and shoulders above the others.

The last one was Diane who was a few months older than I was. Her typing test was fine and she could spell the Latin of the common or hazel dormouse. Pippa asked about her past and she originated from Bristol—well it’s a big place—her husband was in the civil service—MOD to be exact and they’d moved to Portsmouth a few months ago. She’d had to give up her job at the University of the West of England, where she worked in the biology department.

It explained her ability to spell Latin names. Delia asked her about what she’d done at Bristol and she’d been secretary to the department in general rather than to the professor, although she covered his secretary when she was off. Things were looking better.

It was my turn to ask a question. I explained that I would present her with a hypothetical question and accept her hypothetical answer. She nodded her understanding. “We have a very expensive, computer controlled, set of cages and tanks for the captive breeding programme for dormice. We release so many into the wild each year and then try to record how they’re coping. The control system is intended to keep them safe during the winter and simulates the same sort of temperature they could expect to have in the winter. It even simulates rainfall to keep everything moist—dehydration is a real risk to hibernating dormice. It’s six o’clock and you’ve stayed on to finish some typing you knew was urgent. You hear a noise, an alarm of some sort coming from my office. On entering you realise it’s the alarm from the computerised system for the captive breeding programme. Everyone else has gone home, me, the other teaching staff and the technicians—what d’you do?”

“Might I ask you some questions, Professor?”

“You may.”

“Does your secretary normally have any involvement with the breeding programme?”

“She might.”

“Would she have access to the laboratories?”

“She could, and would be told how to access them.”

“Are the names of staff and contact numbers kept in your office?”

“Yes, and you would have access to them.”

“Finally, would she have access to the people who run the computer system?”

“It would all be in the filing system.”

“What time of year is it?”

“Say December or January.”

“Thank you,” she sat and thought for a moment. “I think I’d go and check that there was a malfunction or if something else was causing the alarm to sound. If it was the dormouse alarm, then I’d call the technicians first to see if they could come and sort it, if they weren’t available, I’d call you.”

“Why me, why not another member of staff?”

“I saw your film on dormice, so I suspect you know everything about the programme and could come and sort it.”

“I’m not there.”

“Okay, I’d try other staff members presumably by then I would know who would be next most useful to sort it.”

“You can’t get hold of anyone else.”

“Is it getting colder or hotter, the system?”

“It’s warming up.”

“So the dormice could wake up too early?”

“Indeed.”

“I’d try and get the company who run the backup to come and see it asap.”

“They want five hundred pounds to come on a call out.”

“I’d check the contract, it might be they’re obliged to do so anyway and the fee might just be an obstacle to try and stop us insisting they come. If they could advise me over the phone how to sort it, that would be fine, if not then I’d insist they came and wait until they got there. I presume your dormice are beyond cost?”

“Thank you.” She impressed me but then she was from Bristol. I hadn’t read their application forms, I left that to the girls to do. We thanked her and told her if she was successful she would hear in the next week. She left and after some tea was brewed we set to discuss our impressions. While the tea was being made I looked through the forms and saw that Diane had attended Bristol Grammar School for Girls. Could that be a problem?

I adjourned outside for a few minutes and called Siân. Did she know a Diane King? “What from school?” she paused. “There was a brunette called Diane, she seemed all right, don’t remember her surname, could have been King.”

“Is she likely to remember me?”

“What as Charlotte?”

“Y—yeah,” I stuttered and blushed.

“She might have met you, so she could remember you, but probably won’t, why?”

“I’ve just interviewed her as a secretary.”

“You going to give her the job?”

“Probably.”

“Cathy, you can’t go on living in the past or fearing it. If she wants the job, she’s hardly going to make trouble is she?”

“I just think about the children and what adverse publicity might do to them.”

“You sure about that? Sounds more like you don’t want reminders of your past; but why does it matter anyway, it’s all in the public domain and no story anymore, is it?”

“I don’t know—okay thanks.”

“Yeah, see you—oh we must get together again.”

“I’d like that, how’s Kirsten?”

“Much bigger but doing okay apart from swollen ankles.”

“Give her my love, when’s the baby due?”

“About two weeks.”

“Hope all goes well.”

“Thanks, byeee.”

I returned to my office and the other two who were now joined by Margot. “Problems, Cathy?”

“Not really. Only one impressed me, that was Diane and I might have known her at school, but I’m not sure.”

“Oh,” said Pippa.