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Drusilla studied the Job Description, with its list of Key Responsibilities.  It had

twenty bullet points outlining duties and skills.  The person specification was

superhuman and its requirement of good time management skills was an

essential, but no single human being could have fulfilled its roles.  This was a

vampire-like predatory beast of a post which would be like the horse leech’s

daughter in Proverbs chapter 30-ie/ perpetually crying, Give, give!  It lent a

whole new blood-sucking dimension to the concept of the tick box.  It was

enough to give you the symptoms of Lyme Disease.

She had heard on the radio that women were inclined to lack confidence

about applying for jobs if they judged that they only possessed about 95% of

the desired skills.  Men, on the other hand, ignored all the hype and, even if

they only had 65% of the skill set, they would apply anyway.  So much for

Equal Opportunities and Investment in People!

Dru thought, Cojones!  She was grateful to Nick Clegg’s spouse for giving her a

useful expletive which had an educated ring about it.  She could imagine the

sultry spouse dispensing it with Latin fervour when Nick came back late, or

hadn’t remembered to take out the rubbish.  It had the harsh initial consonant

that would complement a castanet flick and a stamp of Flamenco heel on a

kitchen floor.

Dru had crossed her Rubicon now and was only slightly perturbed as she had

wondered about changing her surname.  Granted, she had dispensed with the

hyphenated addendum of ‘Syylk‘ and was happy to bear her mother’s surname:

‘Fotheringay’.  But should she be a ‘Snodbury’?  No, should she be a ‘Revelly’?

A laboratory accredited by The Ministry of Justice might provide a parentage

test.

She could have launched a court action to claim an interest in the Wyvern

Estate, but what was the point in filing a caveat in the Probate Registry?  No,

she would have to discuss it with her step-father, Murgatroyd Syylk.  He

needed to know that he was not her biological father.  Heavens to

Murgatroyd!  He might want a DNA test too.

Miss Fotheringay sounded as though the bearer had some gravitas and would

look good on the school prospectus.  Miss Revelly sounded a little flippant,

perhaps a shade decadent.  She would not want any connotations of St

Trinian’s high jinks.

The interview was in two weeks.  After that she would go up to the pele

tower for Whitsun.  But at least she had been shortlisted.

She fingered the gold harp on its chain which she wore next to her skin.

There might be no time for romance now.  And, would it be inappropriate

to start a relationship with one’s employee?  Surely one had a duty of

care?  She was practising the use of the impersonal and first person

plural pronouns already.  Better ensure that she did not become mad

through power, as Maggie Thatcher had, when she issued her

announcement of  grandparental status.

Nigel was fading into the background and for Geoffrey, frankly, she didn’t

give a-whatever the singular was for ‘cojones’.  She lifted her Spanish

dictionary off the shelf.  Life was all about educational opportunities.

But she could see why her father wanted to retain his Inkling status.

Maybe he had an inkling that there was no such thing as a free lunch,

even a school one.

Collins Pocket Spanish Dictionary (Collins Pocket): Spanish - English / English

As for personal strengths, she may have been accused in the past of

nagging in the Boarding House.  That could be transmuted into

powerful, motivational speaker.’

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