Chapter 4‘Now, kids,’ Rod Cavanagh told the group of ten-year-olds, ‘this is my favourite part of the museum, the section on plants.’
A couple of the kids groaned, which was normal, but what got Rod’s goat was that one of the teachers, a pretty thing in her early twenties, yawned.
The teacher caught him looking at her and snapped into Miss Prissy mode. ‘Class, turn to your activity sheets. I want you to find ten plants in this section of the natural history museum that Native American people used for medicinal purposes and write them down.’
The teacher probably thought him an ageing no-hoper. At best she might think he was a volunteer, whiling away his retirement after a successful business career, and not the paid curator he was. The truth was that his ambitions and dreams had been sto
