“Gosh, how bizarre,” Iona said, “they haven’t mentioned the disturbance at all. Why act like it didn’t happen?” Finally, she thought, someone to talk to about this.

“Oh—I don’t know,” said Carter. “Actually that’s not why I brought it to you.” He opened the newspaper and showed her the king’s column, which took up the entire third page. This week it was all about Weston and his contribution to the city.

“Right,” said Iona, embarrassed to have raised the matter of the disturbance. It seemed Carter wanted to act like it didn’t happen too. “How nice.”

“Yes, but look.” Carter pointed to the fourth paragraph.

Iona peered at it and saw her own name amidst a block quote from the eulogy she’d given at Weston’s funeral. “Oh.” She picked up the paper, sat back, and read the text. Rather embarrassing that she’d thought these words wouldn’t be recorded at all, and here they were in the king’s column. She wondered who’d passed this on to him, since he hadn’t been there himself.

When she was dead, who would speak at her funeral? Would the king write a column about her too? It felt terribly vain to think of it but then she’d designed more buildings than Weston. She’d designed more buildings than anyone.

Iona held up the newspaper. “Thank you for bringing this—may I borrow it?”

“Keep it,” said Carter, heading back to the door. “I’ve finished with it.”

* * *

During her midday break Iona locked her office while she ate lunch and read the newspaper. In the column the king admitted he had only met Weston a couple of times at opening ceremonies, but had been struck by the outpouring of public feeling upon his death. After some quotes from tributes, the king went on to praise Weston’s contribution to the city and called him a model for his fellow citizens.

It occurred to Iona that it was odd she had never met the king. Yes, he was an important man and the demands on his time must be considerable, but Iona’s work was closely linked with government and she could certainly consider herself a public figure, if only a minor one. It was surprising their paths had never crossed. All her designs were signed off by the king—she had a meeting at planning later today to receive his feedback on her latest—so he must at least be familiar with who she was, surely? Or maybe he didn’t pay attention to such things.

Well, if the king didn’t know her name before, he certainly knew it now.

Iona wondered how long people would remember her for. While her buildings still stood? How long would they stand? What would replace them?

She put the brakes on this self-indulgent train of thought. She leafed through the rest of the newspaper, which was mostly filled with building reports and consultation debates as usual. Usually she would recycle the newspaper at this point but instead she put it in her desk drawer. It was something nice to remember Weston by.