Anthony Strallan lives in a stylish, contemporary townhouse right in the centre of Cambridge. As one would expect, the property is beautifully appointed with high end finishes throughout and not an ounce of clutter anywhere. His Library, alphabetized by subject and author; his vinyl collection, the same. Stainless steel, clean lines, polished marble. A place for everything and everything in its place.

His mornings start early and this clear, bright Friday morning is no exception. The alarm wakes Anthony at 4:30am, whereupon he eats a bowl of organic oatmeal, drinks a cup of green tea, runs 5 miles on his treadmill, showers and dresses before leaving for work at 6am.

Driving in to work, he begins to think about the day ahead.

"Today is the deadline for submissions for the Graduate Trainee programme. I hope this year's submissions are of a higher quality than last year. Some of last year's applicants could barely string a coherent sentence together! Cambridge's best and brightest? I don't think so….! The Mackintosh project is one of our most prestigious in years so this person will need to be absolutely top flight." He muses.

He begins to cast his mind back to when he graduated from Cambridge. He was so young, so carefree and LIVED to paint. He could literally lose days if he was engrossed in a piece, not sleeping and barely eating; such was the need to transfer the idea from his brain to canvas.

Unbidden, his mind drifts further to when he secured his first job at the Musée National d'Art Moderne in Paris. To where he met her. To where it all went spectacularly wrong.

He willed himself back to the present. Maybe one day he would allow himself to think about that or talk about that, but today was not that day.

Pulling up outside the Fitz, he takes a deep breath and opens the car door.

Across town, Edith Crawley is also starting her day.

Edith lives in a delightfully bohemian studio apartment outside of the city centre; city centre properties being somewhat out with her price bracket these days.
Her kitchen was her living room which was her bedroom. It had uneven floorboards, mysterious ancient stains on the walls and Edith had decorated it in her own inimitable style. It was truly 'hers' and she loved every square inch of it.

Unfortunately, her day was not starting in quite the same orderly manner as Anthony's. Today was the day of her Viva, her thesis defence, so of course, she overslept!

"Oh bugger! I've slept through my alarm! Today of all days! Ruddy Typical!"

Edith dived out of bed and into the shower. She had 90 minutes until her appointment; in a building 30 mins away.

After taking the world's quickest shower, throwing a coffee down her neck and attempting to tame her unruly locks; she dressed in a charcoal grey trouser suit, white blouse and black pumps - an uncharacteristically conservative look for Edith but even she was willing to make some concessions to the Viva panel. She pulls her hair back in as close an approximation to a chignon as she can manage and places a copy of her precious thesis into her briefcase.

She looks at her reflection in the mirror, "Come on old girl, you know your subject, you can do this". She takes a deep breath, and walks out of her flat.

"Miss Crawley? The panel will see you now."

XXXX

While Edith was defending her academic research, across town Anthony was wading his way through the pile of applications for the Graduate Traineeship.

As he had previously alluded to Dr Walker, the person that secured the position would be working on an extremely prestigious project for the museum, under his direct supervision.

The Fitz was undertaking a joint exhibit with the Hunterian Museum and Art Gallery at Glasgow University, commemorating the 150th Anniversary of the birth of the Architect and Designer, Charles Rennie Mackintosh. This exhibit would garner worldwide attention and every last detail would have to be perfect.

The ideal candidate should have a mix of art and architecture in their background with ideally some museum experience. Anthony was despairing of ever finding that person when he remembered Dr Walker's recommendation. He pulled Edith Crawley's submission to the top of the pile.

As he began to read, he felt his pulse quicken.
"My word. Dr Walker was correct. Ms Crawley has exactly the mix of skills and experience required for this post. I think we've found her."

XXX

By noon, the ordeal of the Viva was over. Edith would become Dr Edith Margaret Crawley after she made a few minor corrections.

"Well done Edith!" Exclaimed Anna, moving in to give Edith a hug. "We are all so incredibly proud of you!"

"Thank you so much! You have been wonderful. I honestly don't think I could have done this with anyone else supervising me. I'm more than a little worried about what I'm going to do without you now." Confessed Edith.

"You will be just fine, Edith. I have absolute faith in you!" said Anna. "Now, are you going to join your fellow graduates in an evening of drunken debauchery?" she laughed.

"Anna! I thought you knew me! No, I'm going home to get out of this suit although I may permit myself a small glass of bubbly to celebrate!" said Edith.

"I think you should, you definitely deserve it. Give me a ring later on if you want to get together." said Anna.

"I will. Thanks again, Anna" said Edith, floating back to her apartment on a cloud of euphoria and if she was honest, sheer relief.

As she watched Edith walk away, Anna placed another call to Anthony Strallan.

"Hello Dr Strallan, its Anna Walker again. I do hope I'm not disturbing you?"
"Oh hello Dr Walker, no not at all. What can I do for you?"
"I know that you are probably knee deep in the application review process but I wanted you to know that Edith Crawley passed her Viva this morning. Subject to a few minor corrections, she will be awarded the PhD."
"Ah, that is very good news. Truthfully, that settles it. I've spent the last few hours going through each application and there is no one else who comes close to fitting the bill.
Thank you very much for making the recommendation, Dr Walker.
You know that we are keen to get moving on this one as soon as possible so I will call Ms Crawley this afternoon to arrange a meeting."
"Excellent. I know she'll be thrilled. Thank you Dr Strallan, good day."
"Good day to you, Dr Walker."

Anthony ended the call from Dr Walker and sat back in his chair.

He knew the importance of the project, he knew the calibre of the candidate that was required and he knew with crystalline clarity, that the only person for the job was Edith Crawley.