it, Mr Brock? You and I are talking in a very different way than we would be if Iâd arrived as Elizabeth J. Hoffmann.â Good God, he wouldnât have agreed to see her at all if heâd known she was a woman, she thought, but she didnât say so, aware that he found her quite confronting enough as it was.
Damn her hide, Lionel thought, but he couldnât argue the fact. She was, after all, right.
Over the next hour, as Lionel Brock continued to relax, he found it progressively easier to talk to Elizabeth J. Hoffmann. Perhaps it was the pinstriped suit and the fedora, or perhaps it was Elizabeth J. Hoffmann herself, but he talked to her the way heâd never talked to a woman before. Indeed, it was rather like talking to a man.
Â
Elizabeth didnât telephone Daniel until the following Monday, aware that he was on duty over the entire weekend, and when she did speak to him, she refused to say one word about her business in London.
âNot over the phone,â she said, âitâs far too exciting. Iâll see you in the teashop, usual time, and Iâll tell you absolutely everything.â She laughed. âOh, Danny, you wonât believe what I did!â
Come Saturday, true to her word, she not only told him everything that had happened, she acted it out from her first entrance in the doorway of Lionel Brockâs office to the final man-to-man handshake upon her departure. And Daniel, watching in silence, aware that the several other customers in the teashop were enjoying the show, wondered how she could have thought he wouldnât believe what sheâd done. To his mind, it was so very Elizabeth.
âAnd you know what Iâm most proud of?â she said in triumphant conclusion.
He shook his head.
âI smoked every inch of that hideous cigar!â
Daniel joined in her laughter. He had mixed feelings about the possible outcome of her trip to the city, but for now he wasnât thinking of where he fitted in. He was happy because Elizabeth was happy. He was excited for her and proud of her and so in love with her that he wanted to shout it out.
âGod, I wish Iâd seen you,â he said.
âYou will. Iâve kept the suit and the fedora, and I shall present E. J. Hoffmann to you in person.â
âComplete with cigar?â
âOh yes, definitely with cigar. Youâre entitled to the full performance â it was your idea, after all.â
He was mystified.
âDonât you remember, Danny? When The Times turned me down sight unseen? I read you the letter, we were sitting right over there.â She pointed to thetable tucked in the far corner. âAnd you said if they hadnât known I was a woman, they might well have offered me a job.â
He remembered the day clearly â heâd been trying to cheer her up. How ironic, he thought, if this should prove to be all his own doing. But he smiled jokingly. âAre you really telling me that the whole ludicrous idea of your going to an interview in London dressed as a man and smoking a cigar was mine ?â
âNo,â she admitted, âthe cigar was Henry Wilmotâs. But as for the rest of it, yes, youâre entirely to blame, and I canât tell you how grateful I am.â
She was radiant in her excitement, and he thought that sheâd never looked more beautiful.
âIsnât it strange, Danny,â she said, suddenly thoughtful, âthat until you gave me the idea, it never once occurred to me to keep my identity a secret?â
âNo, I donât find that strange at all,â he replied. âYouâre not accustomed to lying.â
âBut I didnât lie. Not once.â
His look was sceptical.
âI didnât, I swear. Admittedly, I didnât say I was a woman when I sent the Aldershot article to The Guardian , but then I didnât say I was a man either. And when they replied telling me to phone for an
Damn her hide, Lionel thought, but he couldnât argue the fact. She was, after all, right.
Over the next hour, as Lionel Brock continued to relax, he found it progressively easier to talk to Elizabeth J. Hoffmann. Perhaps it was the pinstriped suit and the fedora, or perhaps it was Elizabeth J. Hoffmann herself, but he talked to her the way heâd never talked to a woman before. Indeed, it was rather like talking to a man.
Â
Elizabeth didnât telephone Daniel until the following Monday, aware that he was on duty over the entire weekend, and when she did speak to him, she refused to say one word about her business in London.
âNot over the phone,â she said, âitâs far too exciting. Iâll see you in the teashop, usual time, and Iâll tell you absolutely everything.â She laughed. âOh, Danny, you wonât believe what I did!â
Come Saturday, true to her word, she not only told him everything that had happened, she acted it out from her first entrance in the doorway of Lionel Brockâs office to the final man-to-man handshake upon her departure. And Daniel, watching in silence, aware that the several other customers in the teashop were enjoying the show, wondered how she could have thought he wouldnât believe what sheâd done. To his mind, it was so very Elizabeth.
âAnd you know what Iâm most proud of?â she said in triumphant conclusion.
He shook his head.
âI smoked every inch of that hideous cigar!â
Daniel joined in her laughter. He had mixed feelings about the possible outcome of her trip to the city, but for now he wasnât thinking of where he fitted in. He was happy because Elizabeth was happy. He was excited for her and proud of her and so in love with her that he wanted to shout it out.
âGod, I wish Iâd seen you,â he said.
âYou will. Iâve kept the suit and the fedora, and I shall present E. J. Hoffmann to you in person.â
âComplete with cigar?â
âOh yes, definitely with cigar. Youâre entitled to the full performance â it was your idea, after all.â
He was mystified.
âDonât you remember, Danny? When The Times turned me down sight unseen? I read you the letter, we were sitting right over there.â She pointed to thetable tucked in the far corner. âAnd you said if they hadnât known I was a woman, they might well have offered me a job.â
He remembered the day clearly â heâd been trying to cheer her up. How ironic, he thought, if this should prove to be all his own doing. But he smiled jokingly. âAre you really telling me that the whole ludicrous idea of your going to an interview in London dressed as a man and smoking a cigar was mine ?â
âNo,â she admitted, âthe cigar was Henry Wilmotâs. But as for the rest of it, yes, youâre entirely to blame, and I canât tell you how grateful I am.â
She was radiant in her excitement, and he thought that sheâd never looked more beautiful.
âIsnât it strange, Danny,â she said, suddenly thoughtful, âthat until you gave me the idea, it never once occurred to me to keep my identity a secret?â
âNo, I donât find that strange at all,â he replied. âYouâre not accustomed to lying.â
âBut I didnât lie. Not once.â
His look was sceptical.
âI didnât, I swear. Admittedly, I didnât say I was a woman when I sent the Aldershot article to The Guardian , but then I didnât say I was a man either. And when they replied telling me to phone for an
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