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Dear Mr Ambrose,
Forgive my unforgivable dawdling. There were a lot of letters to sort through.
Yours always,
Miss Lilly Linton
It didn’t take him long to send a reply through the tube.
Mr Linton,
Please correct your address of me to coincide with the truth. I am not ‘dear’ to anyone, least of all, I am sure, to you. Also, it is my ink you are wasting by writing unnecessary words. A bottle of ink costs 3 pence apiece. Therefore, I order you to refrain from all endearments in the future.
Rikkard Ambrose
I cocked my head.
Oh, particularly grouchy this morning, are we? I wonder why…
I quickly scribbled a reply.
Dearest most honoured and beloved Mr Ambrose,
Courtesy hasn't killed anybody yet. By the way, has Simmons given any information?
Your ink-wasting
Miss Lilly Linton
He couldn’t have been very absorbed in his letters yet because his reply didn’t take long.
Mr Linton,
Courtesy might not have killed anybody yet, but it has ruined quite a few people who didn’t realize how much money it costs. Mr Simmons has not yet divulged anything. I am displeased, to say the least. We will talk about this more later. Now bring me file 28V214. And be quick about it.
Rikkard Ambrose
For some reason a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.
Here we go again. Another normal day with Mr Ambrose.
Getting up from my desk, I made my way towards the shelves in a leisurely stroll.
I should have known better, I guess. I should have realized by now that no day with Mr Ambrose ever would turn out to be normal.
Problems? What Problems?
Remember how I said life with Mr Ambrose would never be normal?
Don’t get your hopes up. Nothing particularly exciting happened.
There wasn’t another theft. No two villains staged a sword-fight in the middle of my office or anything like that. Oh no. What happened was far more mundane and far nastier:
For the very first time, Mr Ambrose did not get rid of me early. For the very first time, I ended up having to working the entire day. The entire day, do you hear me?
Now, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not lazy or anything. It was simply that staying at the office the whole day meant that, for the first time, I had to deal with some basic needs that I hadn’t been concerned about before. The half hour Mr Ambrose allowed us for lunch took care of one of those needs: I ran out of the building and purchased something to stuff myself with. With what money, you may ask, since I hadn’t received my first pay cheque yet?
All right, I admit it. I was a bad girl. I had pawned Uncle Bufford’s walking cane. Since he hadn’t gone out walking for years, I figured he wouldn’t miss it. And I’d get it back as soon as I had my first wages. I had promised myself that.
