Autumn Leaves at Mill Grange by Jenny Kane (the little red hen ebook .txt) 📗
- Author: Jenny Kane
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A desk stood in the centre, with three chairs placed around it. A second woman turned from where she’d been looking out of the window, and held out her hand in greeting.
‘Good to meet you, Mr Harris. I’m Thea Thomas. Please, do sit down.’
*
Tina was pleased with how it was going. They’d done the opening pleasantries and confirmed that this was only a short-term post, but that there was a possibility of an extension subject to sponsorship funding, although they couldn’t make any promises at this time.
‘It says on your CV that you were in the army, before taking a series of short-term jobs.’ Tina lifted the piece of paper up before her and read, ‘A newsagent’s assistant, a night shelf stacker for a supermarket, and so on. Then you retrained as an archaeologist via the Wiltshire Archaeological Trust. Can you tell us a little about your post-forces employment record?’
Tom, who’d been expecting such a question, was relieved at how calmly it had been asked. In the past, the number of small-time, low-paid jobs he’d taken had been flung at him like an accusation; this felt like a genuine enquiry. ‘After the army I wasn’t sure which direction I wanted to take workwise. While I adjusted to civilian life, I wanted a position that demanded no more of me than to be there and get the job done.’
‘A break from responsibility perhaps?’ Tina smiled.
‘Just that. I had to earn money, but didn’t want to have anyone relying on me, or for me to have to rely on anyone else.’
‘I can see the attraction in that.’ Tina gave him another smile, as Thea nudged the conversation forwards.
‘How did the archaeological training come about?’
‘Pure luck.’ Tom clasped his hands together on the desk. ‘I’ve always been fascinated by the past. When I was abroad, I saw some incredible sites. The pyramids in Egypt, semi-hidden cities in the deserts of old Persia, the remains of Roman cities in Africa. Each new treasure I found, I never wanted to move away from. They spoke to me somehow.’ Tom smiled. ‘I’m aware that sounds fanciful, but I couldn’t stop imagining the builders working without the technology we take for granted. All they had was their skill and the local natural materials. Once I got home, I started to research such places and soon realised that our distant ancestors had a greater understanding of maths and engineering than I will ever have.’
Nodding in understanding, Thea asked, ‘I imagine it was in Current Archaeology magazine that you saw the advert to work for the Wiltshire Trust?’
‘It was, although only after I’d been told about it.’ Tom ran a hand through his army-short, brown hair. ‘I was living with my former partner in Swindon about five years ago. The local library was a regular haunt for me, especially after our little boy, Dylan, was born. I used to read him Spot the Dog books until he fell asleep, then carry him to the history section and read him Leakey, Cunliffe and Aston.’
‘Classic archaeological stuff.’
‘It was the librarian who showed me the article in Current Archaeology. The Wiltshire Archaeology Trust was looking for untrained people who wanted a career in archaeology. They were basically offering something not unlike what you’re proposing here, but rather than for recovering ex-services personnel, it was for anyone who hadn’t had the benefit of a degree education.’
Tina took a sip from the nearest glass of water Thea had placed on the table before the interview began. ‘I know that Sam, Mr Philips, will be interested to hear about that, so we’ll delve more into how the Trust set up their training when we show you the excavation we have underway here. For now, can you tell us how you progressed from trainee archaeologist to one of the tutors on the scheme?’
‘Another fortunate stroke of good timing.’ Tom relaxed back in his chair a fraction, relieved not to have been quizzed on his unsettled home life. He’d mentioned Dylan without thinking, but they hadn’t followed it up. ‘I was in the office in Swindon when my employer told me they were intending to increase the number of tutors, and that I should apply.’
‘That’s kudos to you. They wouldn’t have suggested you apply if they didn’t think you could do the job.’
‘Thank you.’ Tom dared another smile. ‘Dr Andrews made it clear that I wasn’t the only candidate, but that I had as much chance as those who had an academic background.’
‘What would you say the favourite part of your job with Wilts Archaeology was?’
‘The people. The interaction, watching folk with no training at all, often unsure of themselves but keen to learn, slowly grow in confidence – not just with the archaeology, but with each other. Many of those who come along see themselves as failures at best, or stupid at worst.’
Helen’s theory on failure echoed in the back of Tina’s mind as she said, ‘It must be rewarding to watch people blossom with your help.’
‘Very much so.’
‘The situation here is similar, but you’d have to deal with ex-military personnel – like yourself – but with a legacy of trauma hanging over them. Sometimes the issues will be mental, sometimes physical. No one coming here will be fresh from the front. We do not have the professional staff to help them at that stage of their recovery. It’s a halfway house. A place to take stock and think between therapy and going back to life as a civilian.’
‘And a much-needed facility.’ Tom tensed again. ‘I know many who would have benefitted from his place when I left the army seven years ago.’
Thea noted a few points on her pad that she wanted to discuss with Sam, before saying, ‘You were happy at Wiltshire Archaeology Trust, you said. So may I ask why you wish to leave there for a post that can’t offer you a long-term contract?’
‘My
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