‘And take questions,’ said Raphael, in a reasonable tone. He had fetched an extra chair and placed it beside the armchair, and put the little table in front of both. ‘Time to set up.’ He went to a corner cupboard that Jemma hadn’t noticed, opened it, and brought out a laptop. A slim, impressive-looking laptop.
‘You are full of surprises, Raphael Burns,’ said Jemma, as he opened it and began clicking on icons.
‘Here we go.’ A window opened, and in the middle was a countdown clock captioned Time to Meeting. ‘Webcam on.’ He clicked and their faces filled the screen.
‘Do I really look that pale?’ said Jemma, eyeing herself with distaste.
‘Yes,’ said Raphael. ‘You need to get out more. Now, I’ll keep the sound off until people start joining. I’ve had a few apologies, but I’m expecting around a hundred and fifty people to show up.’
‘A hundred and fifty?’ Jemma blurted. ‘You didn’t mention that.’
‘Oh, and I’m recording it,’ said Raphael. ‘That way I can send the meeting to everyone who missed it.’
‘Ugh.’ Jemma slumped in her chair.
‘They can see you, you know,’ said Raphael, waving a hand at the screen. Jemma saw two impassive faces sharing the screen with them, sat up straight, and stuck a smile on her face. ‘I’m so going to get you back for this, Raphael,’ she said, out of the side of her mouth.
More and more faces popped up. ‘Interesting,’ commented Raphael. ‘Most of the people here so far are pretty moderate. I was expecting the rabble-rousers to turn up early, to psych me out. If and when they join, I’ll point them out to you.’
‘Thank you so much,’ said Jemma.
‘One minute,’ said Raphael. ‘Sound on.’ He waved at the camera, and a few hands waved back.
Jemma crossed her fingers. ‘Good luck,’ she whispered. The clock ticked down.
‘Right, good morning everyone,’ said Raphael. ‘I expect you’re wondering why I’ve called this meeting today, although those of you who were present at our last update will no doubt have a good idea.’
Two more faces appeared on the screen. ‘Ah, good morning,’ said Raphael. ‘We’ve just started, so you haven’t missed anything.’ He glanced at Jemma, then pointed at the faces in the two new windows.
Jemma gasped. It’s them! She nudged Raphael, who ignored her. ‘So if we’re all quite ready,’ he said, pointedly not looking at the two latecomers, ‘let’s begin.’
Chapter 17
Jemma did her best to keep a smile on her face as her brain worked furiously. It is them, isn’t it? She leaned forward slightly to examine their two windows. She remembered those blonde highlights, the tailored designer outfit, the icy demeanour. And she recognised both De Vere’s tweed jacket and his superciliousness. I’m absolutely sure of it. But what can I do?
She tuned into what Raphael was saying. ‘Some of you may be surprised to hear that I received a letter from Armand Dupont, the European Head of the Guild. It was not a pleasant letter, and he indicated that he had received complaints about me. No one has contacted me to discuss the proposed recruitment changes. I was not so foolish as to assume that meant you were all happy, but I hoped that you would seek a meeting rather than go over my head.’
Even in the tiny window, Jemma saw the posh woman’s nostrils flare, while Mr De Vere appeared to be looking down his nose from a great height.
‘At the last meeting there was an – atmosphere, and a few people dominated the discussion,’ said Raphael. ‘Indeed, some of you tried to talk over me. I explained that my change of heart regarding our recruitment process was based on feedback from a potential candidate. However, I’m not sure many of you heard.’
Angry buzzing came from the screen, like a colony of wasps about to strike.
‘So I have invited my contact to speak to you herself.’ Raphael turned to Jemma.
‘And what credentials does she have?’ demanded an exceedingly well-bred voice.
‘The same as all of us, Drusilla,’ Raphael replied. ‘Experience and knowledge, though in a somewhat different field. I’ll mute everybody so that Jemma can speak.’
Jemma picked up her index cards. She felt as if she ought to stand, but that was impossible. She also felt desperate for a glass of water. She swallowed, looked at the tessellation of faces, and tried to smile. ‘Hello everyone,’ she said. Don’t wave. Whatever you do, don’t wave. She could actually feel her hand lifting. She grabbed her wrist with the other hand, and forced it down.
‘My name is Jemma James, and until a few months ago I had no idea such a thing as the Keepers’ Guild existed.’ I can imagine what they’re thinking.
‘While working at Burns Books, and managing The Friendly Bookshop, I have gained experience. However, before joining the bookshop I worked as an analyst, and I have a keen interest in management theory and business strategy. Your current recruitment model encourages you to attack your colleagues to gain promotion, or defend your own position against attack. At any moment your job and your home could be in jeopardy; that isn’t a healthy way to live. I’m sure some of you don’t want change. But talented people who don’t want to take such an unstable job will either leave the Guild, or never join it.’
She glanced at Raphael. ‘Go on, Jemma,’ he said.
‘Raphael invited me to apply for the position of Assistant Keeper; however, I could not consider it. For people with families and caring responsibilities, the risk of having either to leave them, or move everyone to a new area without a job to fund it, isn’t worth taking.’ Jemma paused, saw no obvious hostility on the faces before her, and ploughed on.
‘If no new people come into your organisation, eventually no new thoughts will enter the organisation either, and it will grow stale. Then how will you perform your great task of preserving, managing, and protecting knowledge? The threats out there may change, but what if you can’t?’
She considered stopping there, but it seemed a very negative way to leave things.
‘I don’t want to sound negative,’ she said hastily. ‘But what a way to spend your working life; either plotting to overthrow your colleagues, or watching your juniors for signs of aggression. Wouldn’t it be better if you could concentrate on your work, instead of having that constant distraction? And wouldn’t you rather enjoy your home life without worrying that it could be taken away from you in an instant?’
She gathered herself for a conclusion. ‘I hope that what I have said makes sense, and I urge you to consider it, both for yourselves and for the future of the Guild. Thank you.’
Raphael smiled at her. ‘Well said, Jemma. Does anyone have a question? If so, please raise your hand, either by pushing the button or by the antiquated method of actually moving your arm, and I’ll unmute you one at a time.’
Please don’t unmute those two, Jemma thought. At least, not yet.
‘Percy, I see your hand is up,’ said Raphael, and reached towards the trackpad. Jemma crossed her fingers.
One of the squares filled the screen, and she recognised the elderly man with a monocle who had bought Jane Eyre.