Chronicles of St. Mary's - 01 - Just One Damned Thing After Another by Jodi Taylor

Chronicles of St. Mary's - 01 - Just One Damned Thing After Another by Jodi Taylor

Author:Jodi Taylor
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Historical Fiction
ISBN: 1783751789
Published: 2013-01-01T00:00:00+00:00


It took hours to get out of the shower. We'd probably be there still if the tank hadn't emptied. Slowly, we got ourselves ready for the here and now and finally, suited and booted, we returned, no more than half an hour after we left and made our way to the Boss's office.

He congratulated me on my presentation. Thirsk had obviously contacted him, telling him all about it and singing our praises. 'Satisfactory,' was the exact word used, so he was obviously pleased. He didn't mention the car.

'Saved your bacon there,' I said as we left. 'Fancy a drink?'

'So much. Give me a minute. I'll see you in the bar.'

Pushing open the heavy vestibule door I could hear the racket immediately. Either they were re-enacting the battle at Marathon or there was another massive punch up in the bar.

This happens occasionally.

Every section, rightly or wrongly, regards itself as the most important at St Mary's. I don't know why, since it's obviously the History Department that runs the show, but techies and security and occasionally R & D always fail to recognise this and someone says something unfortunate, sometimes accidentally, but usually not and away we all go.

From the doorway I could see this was no ordinary bar fight. This was a riot. Orange, black, green and occasionally blue bodies struggled, locked together, rolling on the floor, cursing, shouting and flailing wildly at each other. Glasses shattered and furniture overturned. The bar staff were yelling for order.

I pushed my way through the watchers and eggers-on and looked for an opening. Dieter and Markham rolled free, struggled to their feet and squared up to each other. Given their respective sizes, it was rather like a chipmunk hurling itself at Mount Everest.

Without thinking, (there's a first!) I tried to get between them and push them apart and Dieter, already swinging a fist the size of a small armchair, caught me just below the eye and knocked me to the ground. He did pull it at the last moment, but even so, it still hurt.

But at least the fighting stopped while everyone waited to see what would happen next. Typical. The least they could have done was carry on trying to kill each other and given me the time to get myself together again.

I wobbled to my feet and tried to pull my skirt down.

'You're not supposed to hit girls,' said Markham provocatively. 'It's not polite.'

'Oh, my God, Max,' said Dieter, horrified (as well he might be). 'I'm sorry.'

My instinct was to deck him and blacken at least one of his eyes so we could have a matching set. His and Hers. I used the anger.

'What the fuck do you fuckwits think you're playing at?'

No-one answered but no-one looked particularly contrite either. This was going to re-ignite at any minute and at any minute the Boss could walk in and after Bentley Trauma he wouldn't be in the best of moods. Taking a deep breath, I moved between the opposing groups; a buffer zone with a black eye.



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