HAPPENINGS
IN A MUSEUM

     Towards the end of January the weather turned bitterly cold. The snow, which had held off for days, finally gave in and began falling in thin, intermittent layers. A harsh painful light, the sort that accompanies snow, crept into the museum and wrapped itself around those cases closest to the windows. It fell on pots and vases and other objects but had no warmth to it and, despite the heat of the building, the galleries in Antiquities looked cold and abandoned. Except for Griffith. The Griffith Gallery, where the excavation was taking place, was the exception. Windowless and sealed in on all sides by other rooms, its sandstone exhibits remained undisturbed and aloof to external events.

Meanwhile the excavation itself and Charlotte Charpentier in particular had caught the public imagination. As a result of her extraordinary story, reported in last month's newsletter, e-mail messages and letters poured in to the A.I.R website. It appeared that several gallery staff remembered the 'frail, beautiful woman 'hovering distractedly in the Cypriot Corridor where the photographs of Ashmole House are displayed. People asked the same questions. What had happened to her? Had the box, with evidence of her heritage been found yet? Had John Ash of the now demolished Ashmole House been told of her? Such was the persistent demand for information that the Director, helpless in the face of Ashmole fever, felt no option but to be drawn into playing cupid. Charlotte Charpentier's cri de coeur did not fall on deaf ears. Within days her letter was forwarded to the Ash family who were wintering in the Marseilles area. For John Ash, receiving the letter was a bolt from the blue. Later when he recalled that moment he remembered only the scent of the mimosa growing around him. He did indeed know the 'river by the mill in the region of Falaise'. How could he not? For he was that young man who swam in the 'moonless waters of the Orne'. The memory of that summer and the dark-haired girl he left behind would stay with him forever. He too, wanted nothing more than to meet her again.