Leonora - Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

Mrs Bainbridge arrived just before 10am, it was enough time to boil the kettle for a nice cup of tea. Afterwards, she would begin her daily tasks. Emily came downstairs and wished her a “good morning”. Pulling her boots on, she said, “I'll be going out today, so I shall leave you in peace. I have a few errands to run.”

Mrs Bainbridge asked, “Have you time for a cuppa?”

Emily gave a warm smile and replied, “Oh yes please Jenny. Erik will be driving me around today, so I've got until half past.” She stared into the mirror and carefully applied her lipstick, giving her reflection a wink, she remarked, “You're gorgeous Emily Banovski.” Mrs Bainbridge laughed at her self confidence and went to prepare the tea.

The dark green Daimler pulled up outside number eighteen and Erik sounded his horn, it was 10:30 on the dot. He had been Emily's chauffeur for almost two years, his previous employment was with an elderly widow who had panic attacks whenever he drove over twelve miles per hour. Emily's requirements were quite the opposite, reckless speeding thrilled her completely and that suited Erik down to the ground. He was originally from Sweden and his Nordic appearance made him popular with the ladies, Emily loved to parade him around in his tight uniform, she had chose it especially. But Nancy wasn't so keen. Who was she? She was his girlfriend. They both resided around the corner at the mews.

Emily made herself comfortable in the back seat, after morning greetings, Erik asked, “Where to Mrs Banovski?”

Upon lighting a cigarette, she replied, “Our first stop is the art gallery. It's been left in Luigi's hands since the new year, I want to see if he's burnt it down.”

Of course, she was exaggerating, Luigi was her trusted shop assistant. A short, plump Italian gentleman with a love for classical art, especially those of the male nude variety, his specific tastes in paintings may have hinted at his sexual preferences, but seeing as homosexuality was a crime in England, the least said, the better. To play it safe, he lived with his elderly mother whom he doted upon and invited young men to quite respectable dinner parties. What happened afterwards, was nobody's business. By that time, his mother would be fast asleep, she always ended the day with a glass of Merlot laced with morphine, and at her age, who could blame her.

Bringing the crisp, cold air in with her, Emily burst through the main door of the gallery. Her arms were stretched wide apart, and on giving a delighted girlish scream, Luigi ran into them. They both hugged tightly and kissed each other's cheeks. Whilst holding him at arms length, she asked, “How's business?”

To which, he replied, “It is to perfection Mrs Banovski. We have sold three oil paintings and a number of reproductive prints” He continued, “But my happiness is mixed with drops of sadness.” Emily looked concerned, until he added, “The painting of the strong naked man with the large doo-dah has been sold. I am missing him already.”

Emily laughed and ruffled his hair. Delighted at the news, she said, “I'll make sure that you get a hefty bonus for your good work.” Luigi excitedly jumped on the spot and frantically waved his hands in the air. In his rapture, he exclaimed, “Mama will be so proud of me! I can't wait to tell her!”

Together, they rearranged the paintings in the shop, they had to make room for new stock, plus Henri's promised masterpiece. They made casual conversation as they worked, and Luigi asked, “And what shall the beautiful Mrs Banovski be doing tonight?”

Somewhat pleased with herself, she replied, “Vlad and I will be attending a séance. I hope the spirits speak to me.”

Luigi sighed and remarked, “If I were a spirit, I would definitely talk to you. You have been so good to me.”

Emily was touched by his warm sentiments and she was about to reply when the telephone rang. Together, they said, “More business!”

Emily went over to the main desk and answered the call, “The Banovski Art Gallery. How may I help?” She could hear soft breathing emit from the receiver. A feeling of dread washed over her, she felt her legs weaken and she had to steady her balance. Overly concerned, Luigi rushed to her side to support her. She was about to end the call when a woman's voice softly said, “Hello, I'm looking for a particular painting. Perhaps you can help me.”

Emily gave a sigh of relief and asked, “Do you have the name of the painting or even the artist?”

The other woman was evidently looking through her notes and she replied, “Here it is. It's called Whispering Widow and it's signed by a female artist called Sophia. I don't have her surname.”

Emily remarked, “I don't know it offhand, but I have a colleague who has an extensive catalogue of artwork. If you give me your number, I'll get back to you, probably on Monday.”

The woman simply said, “Oh I see.” Moments later, she went on to say, “I'll be travelling on the continent from tomorrow, I have some business to attend to. I will be back in mid March, hopefully you shall have some news for me by then. Emily went to ask the lady's name, but as she did, the line went dead. The other person had cleared.

When Emily replaced the receiver, Luigi gave her a puzzled look and asked, “What was that about?” With a similar expression, she replied, “I'm not really sure. Have you heard of a painting called the Whispering Widow?” The Italian shook his head and with a shrug, Emily remarked, “Oh well! Back to work!” Together, they continued to move the paintings around the gallery.

Erik wasn't due back until 2pm, so that left an hour to kill. There was a quaint little cafe across the road called “The little yellow teapot”, the food was delicious and despite it's name, they made a wonderful cappuccino. Without any further debate, Emily and Luigi locked up the gallery and went for their lunch.

Still rather excited by the prospect of the séance, Emily asked Luigi about his evening. Did he have anything planned? After all it was Friday. He watched Emily tuck into a giant chicken, prawn and coleslaw sandwich. Somehow, she missed her mouth and ended up wearing half of the sloppy filling on her clothes. With a glum face, Luigi said, “Mama needs extra care at the moment, she is not very well. My sister is on holiday, so that leaves me to play nurse. There will be no dinner parties for me.”

He gazed at Emily's face and she asked, “What's wrong?” He pointed out that she had some food clinging to her left cheek, she wiped it with her finger and placed it into her mouth. Once done, she asked, “Is that better?” Luigi replied, “Slightly, but now there's some in your hair.” Without battering an eyelid, she remarked, “Oh, I'll save that bit for later.” Luigi shrugged and finished his coffee.

As the clock struck two, Erik parked the Daimler outside and sounded his horn. With a brisk kiss, Emily said goodbye to the Italian fellow and she climbed into the back seat of the car. In an instant, they were roaring down Kensington High Street and moments later, they were gone.

With a contented sigh, Luigi crossed the road and fiddling with the keys, he reopened the art gallery for business.

At the publishing house, Vlad had spent the morning proof reading Wilfred Bramwell's manuscript on English folklore. Despite the many spelling and grammatical errors, he found the treatise most interesting, especially the chapter on Matthew Hopkins, the self proclaimed “Witchfinder General” and his ruthless crusade against women who were suspected of witchcraft.

With a gentle tap at the door, Polly entered carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. On entering, she said, “I've opened a new packet of Jammy Dodgers, they're my favourites. She sat opposite and asked, “How's the manuscript going?” Looking over his reading glasses, Vlad replied, “I've almost finished marking the corrections. Can I trust you to make the necessary changes?”

Polly stopped licking out the jam from one of the biscuits and nodded, she looked like a child at a birthday party.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he continued, “I want it finished by Monday evening. Do you think you can manage that?”

With large green eyes, she stared back and said, “You can count on me Mr B. Your wish is my command.” On that, she rammed the remainder of the biscuit in her mouth and crunched it mercilessly. When tea break was over and she had left a pile of crumbs on Vlad's desk, Polly went back to the main reception. There was still a few working hours left before the weekend began.

As Polly was filing, documents not nails, the main door flew open and a woman made her grand entrance. The secretary turned around and asked, “May I help you madam?”

The woman eyed her from head to foot and replied, “Probably not.”

Feeling slightly uncomfortable, Polly simply said, “Oh, I see.”

In a teasing manner, the woman asked, “Is your mother around? I wish to speak with her.”

Somewhat confused, Polly remarked, My ma's at home baking cakes. I'm Mr Banovski's secretary. Can I help?”

Continuing to tease, the woman said, “Are you really? You don't look old enough to tie your shoelaces.”

Rather insulted, Polly retorted, “Actually, I'm 19 years old and I laced up my boots all by myself.” Her fair complexion turned beetroot red with anger.

Not able to keep her stern composure any longer, the woman laughed aloud and said, “I'm Mrs Banovski, Mr Banovski's wife. Please excuse my playful nature. You must be Miss Jenkins. I'm very pleased to meet you.” She moved forward to greet the young secretary, and politely held out her hand.

Polly gave a tremendous sigh of relief and warmly welcomed Mrs Banovski.

Emily sat upon the desk and paid no regards to the documents she was sitting on. Whilst reading through official letters, she asked Polly for a cup of tea and the secretary said, “I'll see if Mr B wants one too.” But she was told not to bother. In fact, Mrs Banovski revealed that she hadn't come to see him. Instead, she wanted to meet the new secretary she had heard so much about. Polly was unsure how to take such an admission. Nevertheless, she made the tea as requested.

Emily watched the young lady cross the room and quietly said, “I see Vlad has a lovely view. I'm sure that he appreciates it.”

Polly turned round and asked, “What did you say? I didn't quite hear. you”

Emily returned with, “Nothing dear, I was just admiring your youthful figure.

Polly blushed and replied, “Thank you, but I eat far too many biscuits. My dad's always catching my hand in the caddy. The custard creams are out of bounds, they're his favourites.”

On taking a sip of tea, Emily asked, “Is it just the three of you at home?”

With a far away look in her eyes, Polly remarked, “It used to be four, but my brother died young. He was playing silly beggars with his friends, jumping from one tram to another. He slipped and fell beneath one. They say that he died instantly.”

Showing genuine concern, Emily remarked, “Oh, that's so awful. The poor boy.”

Polly continued, “He was only thirteen at the time and I was seventeen. I still miss him terribly.”

Emily clasped the secretary's hand and squeezed it tightly. On doing so, she said, “I'm not sure if I should say this but...”

After a moment's hesitation, she added, “Actually, it doesn't matter.”

In the silent moments that followed, Polly gazed at Mrs Banovski and said, “You're ever so pretty. Mr B must love you very much.”

Emily replied, “Why thank you dear. But looks are not everything, although they can surely help. Especially when you want your own way.” Then she asked, “Do you have a boyfriend?”

Polly gave a nervous giggle and after sipping her tea, she replied, “I used to court Toddy Martin, but that didn't exactly work out. He wanted to go all the way, you know, sex and stuff, but I wasn't ready. I want it to be proper.”

She continued, “When I told him that I wasn't ready, the cheeky bugger even asked for his tuppence back. He had paid for me to go to the picture house and obviously expected more for his money.”

Emily laughed and remarked, “I think you're worth a tad more than tuppence girl. You stick by your standards, you did the right thing.”

Whilst grabbing another Jammy Dodger, Polly asked, “Do you ever go to the music halls? Sometimes I go with my ma and dad. We have a right laugh.”

Emily scrunched up her face and said, “It's not really my scene, I prefer the theatre.”

Looking shocked, Polly exclaimed, “Oh you must come with us one night! We could have a right old sing-along!”

Not wishing to display her snobbery, Emily remained silent. She associated the music halls with the lower classes and shuddered at their rude, brash behaviour. She considered herself far too refined for that kind of entertainment. But in truth, after a few drinks, the lady herself acted like a foul-mouthed tramp. Indeed, she could be a rough diamond.

Polly became more comfortable with Emily as the afternoon went on, and their conversation turned to loud laughter. Vlad's intense concentration was disturbed by the constant noise and he came out of his office to see what all the commotion was about.

As he entered the main reception, he sternly said, “I hope you are able to laugh and work at the same time Polly. The noise is deafening.” On noticing his wife's presence, he added, “I might have known that you were involved somehow.”

After pulling a ridiculous expression, Emily sarcastically replied, “I'm pleased to see you too darling.”

Not wishing to become involved in a domestic altercation, Polly quickly returned to her filing.

Vlad bluntly asked, “What are you doing here?”

Emily responded by saying, “I thought I'd say hello to your new secretary. Is that allowed, or do you want her all to yourself?”

Vlad replied, “What's that supposed to mean?”

Emily stuck her tongue out and said, “Nothing dear.”

He knew exactly what she meant and decided to steer clear of the subject. Polly was young, pretty, and shapely. Quite the contrast to dear old Mrs Pinkerton and her boiled sweets.

Vlad looked at his pocket watch and queried, “It's nearly 4 o'clock. Will you have enough time to get ready?”

Emily looked shocked and asked, “Are you implying that I take hours to make myself beautiful?”

Standing his ground, Vlad remarked, “I'm implying that you soak in the bath for an hour, spend forty five minutes wondering what to wear, and then another forty five minutes applying your make-up. With a sigh, he added, “Not forgetting that we also have to eat, and the séance begins at eight o'clock.”

After filing the last document, Polly asked, “What's a séance?”

Emily replied, “I was going to ask if you wanted to come, but I had second thoughts in the end.”

Vladimir lit a cigarette and said, “Considering that book frightened you, I don't think a séance would be your cup of tea.”

Emily added, “You sit in a circle and talk to dead people. It's great fun.”

Polly looked confused and said, “I didn't know that the dead could talk. I should imagine it gets a little smelly.

Vlad and Emily looked at each other with puzzled expressions.

To explain herself, Polly went on, “The dead bodies must stink. Do you dig them up and sit next to them? It all sounds a bit weird to me.” Vlad and Emily couldn't help but laugh at her naivety.” Polly responded, “What's so funny?”

Emily looked at her husband and asked, “Have we got time darling?

With a smile, he replied, “I think so.”

Emily instructed Polly to make three cups of tea. When she was done, the young blonde secretary was asked to sit down and grab a handful of biscuits. Miss Jenkins was about to be educated.