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Authors: Melissa Nathan
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* * * *
‘First you persuade me this place is worth going to, then you don’t turn up,’ Cass shouted to Annie, as Annie ran, somewhat unsteadily, towards her.
‘I have the best excuse in the world,’ started Annie.
‘I don’t want your excuses,’ said Cass. ‘I want your soul.’
‘I left it in the lift,’ replied Annie, her voice vice-tight.
‘Pardon?’
‘Nothing. Let’s go and look at lots of paintings children of three could have done.’
Annie didn’t have the energy to explain. Her body seemed to have run out of blood.
They wandered round the exhibition slowly, Annie taking in little, marvelling that her world map could so suddenly be wacked out of kilter.
It was a rather tiring afternoon.
* * * * *
Ten minutes later than expected, due to bad traffic, Jake Mead stepped out of his cab and looked up at the imposing building above him.
He straightened his Boss tie, brushed a hand over his close-cropped hair, gripped his leather computer bag even tighter and stepped purposefully into the London office of Markhams’ PR.
He was ready to kick ass.
6
THE GENTLE RAT-A-TAT-TAT on the door was the same as it had always been, humble yet dignified.
‘Come!’ called George, trying to ignore the catch in his voice and the two pricks of sweat under his arms.
His valet stood before him.
‘Ah …’ boomed George, before stopping.
Never could remember the bugger’s name.
His valet – obstinately ugly as ever – coughed quietly.
‘Alfred, sir.’
‘Yes, quite so, quite so,’ allowed George.
Alfred didn’t move a muscle.
George grimaced. Why couldn’t Susannah have dealt with this? It was her idea, after all.
‘The thing is, you see,’ he started, and then finished. What was the thing again? He forced his brain to remember. It had all made perfect sense when Susannah had said it and the wretched fellow wasn’t standing right in front of him. Luxury, expense they couldn’t afford, tightening the purse strings and all that. Have to dress himself in future. It’s the latest thing – some royalty even doing it now.
Ah yes. Now. How could he put that eloquently?
‘All a bit of a luxury, you see,’ he started. ‘An expense we can’t afford, tightening the old purse strings and all that. Have to dress like royalty now. Some of them. Hope you understand, old chap.’
Alfred understood perfectly.
‘Of course,’ said Alfred gently.
George winked at him. Splendid fellow. Sorry to see him go.
‘Sir is sacking me,’ said Alfred.
George started.
‘Oh! Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that.’
Alfred gave a short smile and a curt little bow of the head. That was more like it.
‘How would sir like me to put it?’
George looked at him in stunned amazement. He had no idea the man was as rude as he was ugly. Amazing how duplicitous people could be.
Alfred continued.
‘Obviously, I’ll have to talk to my union—’
‘Your what ?’
‘My union – you wouldn’t expect me to accept—’
‘I would expect nothing less,’ shouted George. ‘An utter disgrace! After thirty years’ loyal service, to stab me in the back like that …’
‘Exactly my point, sir.’
‘What?’
‘I knew you’d understand.’
George swallowed hard.
‘Don’t force me to do something I don’t want to do,’ he threatened darkly.
‘What did sir have in mind?’ answered Alfred calmly. ‘Wearing taupe at me?’
What? George gasped with disgust. He’d never been so insulted in all his life! Taupe? In mid-winter? The man was quite clearly raving. He had to get him out of his home, God only knew what he could do. He was unsafe.
What the buggering hell had happened to the buggering class system? Country was going to rot.
George furrowed his brow menacingly at his evil, double-crossing, ugly ex-valet. Alfred stood his ground.
There was nothing for it. With as much dignity as he could muster, George fumbled in his bureau drawer, eventually took out his cheque book and Mont Blanc
‘First you persuade me this place is worth going to, then you don’t turn up,’ Cass shouted to Annie, as Annie ran, somewhat unsteadily, towards her.
‘I have the best excuse in the world,’ started Annie.
‘I don’t want your excuses,’ said Cass. ‘I want your soul.’
‘I left it in the lift,’ replied Annie, her voice vice-tight.
‘Pardon?’
‘Nothing. Let’s go and look at lots of paintings children of three could have done.’
Annie didn’t have the energy to explain. Her body seemed to have run out of blood.
They wandered round the exhibition slowly, Annie taking in little, marvelling that her world map could so suddenly be wacked out of kilter.
It was a rather tiring afternoon.
* * * * *
Ten minutes later than expected, due to bad traffic, Jake Mead stepped out of his cab and looked up at the imposing building above him.
He straightened his Boss tie, brushed a hand over his close-cropped hair, gripped his leather computer bag even tighter and stepped purposefully into the London office of Markhams’ PR.
He was ready to kick ass.
6
THE GENTLE RAT-A-TAT-TAT on the door was the same as it had always been, humble yet dignified.
‘Come!’ called George, trying to ignore the catch in his voice and the two pricks of sweat under his arms.
His valet stood before him.
‘Ah …’ boomed George, before stopping.
Never could remember the bugger’s name.
His valet – obstinately ugly as ever – coughed quietly.
‘Alfred, sir.’
‘Yes, quite so, quite so,’ allowed George.
Alfred didn’t move a muscle.
George grimaced. Why couldn’t Susannah have dealt with this? It was her idea, after all.
‘The thing is, you see,’ he started, and then finished. What was the thing again? He forced his brain to remember. It had all made perfect sense when Susannah had said it and the wretched fellow wasn’t standing right in front of him. Luxury, expense they couldn’t afford, tightening the purse strings and all that. Have to dress himself in future. It’s the latest thing – some royalty even doing it now.
Ah yes. Now. How could he put that eloquently?
‘All a bit of a luxury, you see,’ he started. ‘An expense we can’t afford, tightening the old purse strings and all that. Have to dress like royalty now. Some of them. Hope you understand, old chap.’
Alfred understood perfectly.
‘Of course,’ said Alfred gently.
George winked at him. Splendid fellow. Sorry to see him go.
‘Sir is sacking me,’ said Alfred.
George started.
‘Oh! Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that.’
Alfred gave a short smile and a curt little bow of the head. That was more like it.
‘How would sir like me to put it?’
George looked at him in stunned amazement. He had no idea the man was as rude as he was ugly. Amazing how duplicitous people could be.
Alfred continued.
‘Obviously, I’ll have to talk to my union—’
‘Your what ?’
‘My union – you wouldn’t expect me to accept—’
‘I would expect nothing less,’ shouted George. ‘An utter disgrace! After thirty years’ loyal service, to stab me in the back like that …’
‘Exactly my point, sir.’
‘What?’
‘I knew you’d understand.’
George swallowed hard.
‘Don’t force me to do something I don’t want to do,’ he threatened darkly.
‘What did sir have in mind?’ answered Alfred calmly. ‘Wearing taupe at me?’
What? George gasped with disgust. He’d never been so insulted in all his life! Taupe? In mid-winter? The man was quite clearly raving. He had to get him out of his home, God only knew what he could do. He was unsafe.
What the buggering hell had happened to the buggering class system? Country was going to rot.
George furrowed his brow menacingly at his evil, double-crossing, ugly ex-valet. Alfred stood his ground.
There was nothing for it. With as much dignity as he could muster, George fumbled in his bureau drawer, eventually took out his cheque book and Mont Blanc
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