‘Hello, young man? Are you listening to me?’
‘Err… yes. Yes, I am.’ The young man shook himself. ‘You just surprised me, Sir. I must admit, that it's not every day I get an offer like that.’
‘See that that you're not “surprised” too often when you are in my employ. I have no use for baffled fools standing around gawking for no good reason.’
Still, the youngster hadn’t taken the card I was holding out to him. What was the matter? Was he mentally retarded?
‘My card!’ I said, waving the thing impatiently. He finally took it, and studied it as if it were a particularly peculiar bug. Maybe I’d better rethink hiring him… But no. I needed a secretary, and fast. If I had to deal with one more charity request for helpless little orphans, I was going to shoot someone. Probably the orphans.
Bah! What was I waiting for? I had wasted enough time on this little worm!
‘Don't be late.’ I sent him another significant look. ‘I don't tolerate tardiness.’ With that, I turned and marched away down the street. If he showed up, good. If not, he wouldn’t have been tough enough for the job, anyway. Soon, the young man disappeared in the mist somewhere behind me.
‘Where to now, Sahib?’ Karim asked from beside me, keeping pace.
Wordlessly, I nodded at the bank down the street.
‘Very well, Sahib.’
There were quite a few customers in Bradley & Bullard’s Bank, waiting at tables, writing documents, busily chatting. At least they chatted until Karim, his sabre, his turban and his beard stepped into the main hall. All voices died, and all eyes were drawn to the huge Mohammedan. Then I followed him inside, and Karim was forgotten. There are things with which even a sabre and a turban cannot compete.
Ignoring the line of people in front of the counter, I marched up to the closest bank clerk and fixed him with my gaze.
‘You there! How much does this bank cost?’
‘Um… we offer very affordable bank accounts, and our fees for stock management are also-’
I cut him off with an impatient gesture. ‘That’s not what I asked! How much does this bank cost?’
The man blinked at me, the confusion in his eyes slowly changing to disdain. His eyes wandered over my simple black tailcoat, my lack of silk, satin and gold embroidery, and I knew he was busy judging by appearance. Bad mistake.
The bank clerk’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have the pleasure of understanding you, Sir.’
‘Rest assured, understanding me is no pleasure.’
‘I can readily believe it, Sir.’ He sniffed, derisively. ‘Will you please remove yourself? You are holding up the line.’
Reaching into my pocket, I took out one of my business cards and slammed it onto the counter. The bank clerk’s eyes focused on my name and widened in shock.
If I hadn’t lost the ability years ago, I might have smiled. Sometimes, a business card says more than a thousand words.
The man’s frightened eyes rose from my name to meet my gaze.
‘Get me the manager,’ I ordered.
When we left the bank five minutes later, Karim was carrying the documents detailing the sale in a suitcase that the manager had, in his generosity, gifted to me. People tend to be generous like that when they are scared of losing their jobs.
‘Is our business here concluded to your satisfaction, Sahib?’
Taking a deep breath of filthy London air, I glanced back at the bank.
‘Well… It’s not the bank of England, but it’ll do for a week or so.’
‘Quite so, Sahib.’
‘Where to next…?’ I hesitated on the sidewalk, thinking. Bloody hell, I really needed a secretary to keep track of my appointments, and fast! Hopefully, that youngster would live up to my expectations. He seemed like a bright young man. Where to now… where to-
‘Chauvinists!’ a shout rudely interrupted my thoughts. Or, to be exact, it was more of a shriek. ‘Oppressors of womanhood!’
I turned, just in time to see… What the hell?
Farther down the street, a figure was being dragged down the front steps of a polling station by two police officers. A figure I knew. I stared. Was it really…? Yes. My future secretary.
No. Oh no, this would not do. Not at all. If the police had caught that foolish youth breaking the law, they would just have to forget about it, until I had found someone cheaper and more law-abiding.
‘Officer!’ In three long strides I was in front of them. I was damn well going to get to the bottom of this! ‘Officer, what are you doing with this young man, may I ask?’
The sergeant turned and, when he caught sight of me, paled. Unlike the bank clerk, he clearly knew with whom he was dealing. If his facial expression wasn’t enough proof, his hurried salute definitely was.
‘Good morning, Mr Ambrose, Sir!’ he mumbled, trying his best to keep hold of my prospective secretary, who was wriggling like a rattlesnake in an attempt to get free. ‘Um… Sir, if I may ask, what young man are you speaking of?’
My eyes slid from the policeman to the young man in his clutches and back again. Was he daft? Who else would I be talking about?
‘That one, of course. Are you blind? What are you doing with him?’
‘Not him, Sir.’ Reaching up, the sergeant gripped the young man’s top hat and pulled. It was like that silly trick magicians did when they pulled a rabbit out of the hat - only in this case, I would have actually preferred it if a curious bunny poked its nose out of the hat. Instead, masses of wild chestnut hair tumbled out. I felt a cold hand clench hard around my vital organs. ‘Her. That's a girl, Mr Ambrose, Sir.’
Impossible.
Silence.
I stared.
More silence. And for the first time in my life, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to say something. It was because I did absolutely not know what to say. Or to yell. Or to bellow.
No. No, this is impossible.
‘Something wrong, Sir?’ the sergeant inquired dutifully. He got no answer from me. I didn’t have one. After a long moment of waiting, he cleared his throat. ‘Well, if you'd excuse us, Sir, we have to take this one away to where she belongs. Maybe a night in the cells will teach her not to do what's only for men.’
‘Aye,’ one of the constables chuckled. ‘Women voting? Who ever heard of something like that? Next thing we know they'll want decent jobs!’
