Read the complete text and answer questions 1–6. For each question, choose the answer supported by the text. Suggested practice time: 15 minutes; this is a practice target, not a separate official exam time limit.
The person at the end of the line
A writer reconsiders how to assess a festival’s information service. An original fictional account.
Paragraph R1When I was asked to write about the information service at our town's weekend festival, I expected to celebrate the people who made themselves endlessly available. In previous years, visitors had been given the private mobile numbers of two experienced organisers. Someone always seemed to know whom to call, even after the official desk had closed. This year the service had a duty phone and a rota instead. I imagined that such arrangements would be useful but rather bloodless, and that the real story would still be the generous person willing to answer beyond the agreed hours.
Paragraph R2My first enquiry did little to challenge that picture. I sent a message to the duty phone about a programme correction one evening and received a reply the next morning. Nothing depended on getting an answer that night, but I found the delay irritating. The organiser, Lidia, told me that enquiries went to whoever was on duty, rather than following her home. Her private phone was no longer the festival's unofficial second desk. I had treated an unanswered phone as a gap in the service, although the published hours promised no service then. The phone could tell me no such thing on its own.
Paragraph R3Nora, one of the organisers whose number people remembered, understood my reaction. She had enjoyed being the familiar voice who could untangle a visitor's problem. She did not describe every evening call as an intrusion, and I would have misrepresented her by doing so. But remembering her helpfulness was different from knowing whether the festival had arranged for anybody to be available. A caller might find her free, or catch her on the way to something she could not miss. 'People knew me,' she said, 'which wasn't quite the same as knowing what they could count on.'
Paragraph R4On Saturday I spent an hour beside the desk. For a time there were no enquiries, and I noted that a volunteer was being kept there unnecessarily. Then a visitor explained that she had checked the opening-hours board earlier and returned when she knew someone would be there to clarify an altered walking route. The quiet period no longer seemed evidence of a pointless role. Staffing the desk created a dependable place to ask; its value did not begin only at the instant a queue appeared. I crossed out the word 'unnecessarily', without deciding that every quiet hour would justify any level of staffing.
Paragraph R5Later, a performer rang to say that the entrance to her venue had become inaccessible. The volunteer on duty contacted the site coordinator, recorded the temporary entrance and passed it to the next desk volunteer. Nobody needed to reach Nora at home to reconstruct what had happened. The incident did not show that interruptions had disappeared. It showed that a real interruption could reach someone whose current role included responding, and that information could survive the end of that person's shift. The response rested on an arrangement, rather than on luck about a particular organiser's free time.
Paragraph R6There were weaknesses. The last desk hour on Sunday still had no confirmed volunteer, and I asked whether Lidia would simply cover it herself. She said that her own willingness was not a staffing plan. Reducing the advertised hours or funding cover were options the committee still had to decide between. That unresolved choice deserved space in my article. It prevented the new rota from becoming a tidy story in which writing a boundary solved the work of providing a service. Someone had to cover the hours that were promised, and repeated goodwill could conceal the fact that no such provision had been made.
Paragraph R7I left with a different article from the one I had intended. I still wanted to mention the warmth of Nora's conversations; organisation need not make that warmth irrelevant. But I could no longer use her willingness to answer at any time as the test of the festival's reliability. The better question was whether a visitor could reach a responsible person when contact had been promised, without that promise quietly expanding into somebody's whole life. The rota was an improvement worth examining, not a complete answer worth applauding and leaving alone. Its limits made the story less convenient to write and more useful to tell.