‘Yes,’ nodded Dermot in reply. ‘I thought you’d have worked it out. It’s just that French is the only language we teach here that I don’t really have a working know-ledge of, and I was worried I wouldn’t be able to follow the class without interrupting you and being a bit of an octopus in a garage.’

‘An octopus in a garage?’ asked Shona, looking at him for clarification. She was a bit annoyed that the only one who still seemed sensitive to the awkward situation of being passed over for the job was her; at least his odd choice of phrase gave her an easy way to hide her discomfiture.

‘Yes, it’s a Spanish phrase, como un pulpo en un garaje. It means, like a fish out of water,’ explained Dermot.

Shona frowned just for a second. What a silly language Spanish seemed to be. Whoever heard of a phrase like ‘an octopus in a garage’? She looked at Dermot, who had broken into a laugh. She breathed with comprehension. ‘Oh, I get it, you’re taking the mickey. I should have known.’

‘No, I swear, it’s a real phrase!’ said Dermot, still laughing. ‘It’s just your look of utter disdain, it was priceless.’

Shona pursed her lips and said sweetly, ‘Well, you’ll get on fine in the French lit class. We read the work in French, but mainly discuss it in English. We’re doing Andromaque, by Racine. Do you know it?’

’Vaguely, do you have a copy?’ asked Dermot.

‘Sure, it’s in French, though,5 Shona said, enjoying the look of exasperation on Dermot’s face, before adding, ‘But there’s a very useful foreword and critique in English. I’ll pop it in your pigeonhole before I head out today.’ The five-minute warning bell signalling the end of lunch rang, and Shona shifted herself off the window seat. ‘I’ll see you later, then,’ she said affably. She popped her bookmark into her slim volume of Candide and, dusting her skirt, started to walk off.

‘So, Voltaire’s not on the syllabus?’ Dermot called after her.

‘No, Voltaire is just for fun,’ Shona replied, over her shoulder.