that big companies would want to sponsor research, the results of which could damage their own profitability.’
There was a pause at the other end before Bonning replied, ‘It may seem like a contradiction, but I suppose you’d call it enlightened self-interest. The companies sponsoring GlobeWatch really are committed to environmental protection – it’s not just window dressing for them.’
Dr Kennedy pursed her lips in thought. Far be it from her to begin an argument with a man she both liked and respected – and one who could prove to be a research benefactor – but she couldn’t help remaining sceptical about the motives of big business.
At the other end, Claude Bonning came to the point. ‘I realise if you’ve just got back from holiday, you probably haven’t had much time to think about it,’ he said, ‘but I’m keen to find out your initial response.’
‘Yes, I’m afraid it’s been hectic since I got back,’ Dr Kennedy told him truthfully. Then, for the sake of her negotiating position, ‘At the moment I’m inundated with requests.’
Just because she was an academic didn’t mean Dr Kennedy lived in an ivory tower. Having studied the world of commerce most of her life, she well understood the benefit of creating an impression of scarcity – in this case, of her time. Although, behind her unpromising words, she was far less hard to get than she pretended. Last night, as she was preparing for bed and, for the first time that day, had had time to think about Claude Bonning’s letter again, she’d allowed herself the giddy pleasure of speculating on how much the ‘sizeable’ research budget he’d mentioned might be. Eight to ten thousand pounds was about the minimum amount required to embark on research of any substance. Fifteen-thousand-pound annual grants were fairly common, although she hadn’t yet managed to attract any sustained funding at that level for her own child labour studies. But if she could secure fifteen thousand a year for at least two years, that would enable her to hire a top-rate, part-time researcher, do the travelling she’d hitherto been prevented from carrying out, and put into action some of the ideas she’d had while walking in the Lake District. Fifteen thousand would be good, very good. And of course, if ‘sizeable’ meant more than fifteen, and went up to, say, twenty thousand, well that would be exceedingly good. Why, on twenty thousand pounds she could hire a full-time researcher and …
Dr Kennedy had checked herself there. No point getting her hopes up. Speculating about what the budget may or may not be wasn’t going to help matters.
Now Claude Bonning told her, ‘I would never have thought to bother you with GlobeWatch if there hadn’t been a decent research budget.’
So, she thought, ‘decent’ was now added to ‘sizeable’. She could contain her curiosity no longer. ‘Has a research budget been finalised?’ she asked.
‘It’ll depend, to a large degree, on the programmes you propose to carry out. A figure of fifty thousand has been pencilled in, but it could go much higher than that if you were able to present a compelling case.’
The conversation had now left the realms of Dr Kennedy’s dearest wishes and had broken into the stratosphere of wild fantasy. But she didn’t miss a beat.
‘Compelling case?’
‘If you were to assemble proposals that were endorsed by the GlobeWatch Executive Council, which I don’t think would be a problem given your stature in this area, we might be able to improve that figure by a further twenty or thirty thousand pounds.’
‘Yes, research costs are rising all the time.’ Dr Kennedy was, by now, on autopilot.
‘All the same, the GlobeWatch’s budget is much higher than average.’
‘Of course it is Claude, and I’m most grateful to you for thinking of me. I’m certainly very interested and I’d like to reflect on the idea in a little more detail. I’m sorry to delay things further but would you mind if I call you back with a firm decision in a day or two?’ She didn’t want to seem too keen.
‘That would be fine.’
He repeated his telephone number. ‘Look forward to hearing from you.’
Dr Kennedy replaced the receiver, her head spinning. Fifty thousand. Possibly eighty. It was more than the total she’d spent in the past ten years. This would be a boost to the child labour issue such as it had never had before. As she thought of all the programmes she’d be able to carry out, she felt emotion welling up inside her, a powerful mix of joy and gratitude which tugged at her lips and threatened her composure; it was the best news of her career since she’d been appointed a Fellow of St John’s.
In a celebratory mood, she glanced up at the clock on her study wall. Eleven-fifteen a.m. She had a strict rule that she only ever allowed herself a small glass of Bristol cream sherry after twelve noon. But today she decided to throw caution to the wind. Making her way over to her drinks cabinet with a veritable skip, she seized the sherry bottle, poured herself an immodest quantity of her favourite tipple and, about to take her first sip, caught her own reflection in the glass of a favourite watercolour. She raised her sherry glass in a toast. ‘To Claude Bonning,’ she said aloud, ‘you dear, dear man.’
Bonning put down the telephone receiver and stared at it for a few moments before raising his eyes with a weary expression. Across the table from him, the other removed his headphones.
‘Well?’ asked Bonning.
‘It’s very important to us that she says yes.’
‘She’ll say yes.’
‘She sounded underwhelmed.’
‘She’s like that.’
‘And we can’t afford more than a hundred grand.’
‘I heard you the first time. And the second. And the third.’
‘Doesn’t hurt to be reminded.’ Elliott North hated academics. They were all so damned pompous; so full of intellectual conceit. They thought they were cleverer than everyone else and that somehow they deserved to be admired because of their higher intelligence. Seeing Bonning squirm gave him a decided pleasure.
Bonning rose to leave. ‘I’ll be in touch in a couple of days’ time when I hear back from her. So you can stop calling me at home at eleven at night.’