Leonora - Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

Emily slammed the journal shut in a rather petulant manner. Her bureau was situated by the bedroom window and she stared down at the activity in Montpelier Square. The coalman had arrived and was delivering his heavy sacks to a number of addresses. With each full sack weighing in at about 20 stone, it was thirsty work and Mrs Bainbridge always made sure that he was rewarded with a cool glass of beer, the thoughtful gesture was always gratefully received. She paid the gentleman and they had a short natter on the steps.

Mrs Bainbridge was the Banovski's housekeeper, she made sure that all the daily errands ran according to plan. Many domestic staff were paid £25 per year, but Vladimir valued her service greatly and her salary often exceeded that of the national average. Emily didn't always agree with the arrangement. According to her, domestic staff should be discreet, she grew up in Coleridge Manor for that was her family name and the servants knew their place.

Vlad's childhood was a lot more casual, and his relationship with Mrs Bainbridge was a continuation of his upbringing. He viewed the housekeeper as a friend and they would often sit over coffee and discuss the daily affairs. Naturally, Emily was free to participate, especially when it came to sampling the freshly baked scones.

The conversation with the coalman was cut short by the ringing of the telephone and Mrs Bainbridge rushed from the front step to answer it. Emily ran out of the bedroom like a shot, her boots clumped down the staircase at double speed and she made it into the hall just as Mrs Bainbridge picked up the receiver.

“Hello, this is the Banovski residence. Can I help you?” Emily bounced on the spot with excitement, her wide eyes were filled with anticipation.. A soft voice replied, “Hello, may I speak with Mrs Banovski?”

Mrs Bainbridge asked, “And who's calling please?”

Impatiently, Emily snatched the receiver and declared, “This is Mrs Banovski. Who is this please?”

The caller breathed into Emily's ear and softly replied, “Guess who?”

With a nervous giggle, Emily responded, “Is that you Mrs Hargrove?”

The mystery person hung up and ended the call.

In pure frustration, Emily dropped the receiver and it swung in mid air, stamping her foot on the parquet flooring, she gave a loud grunt and went into the study. Somewhat vexed by her attitude, Mrs Bainbridge said, “I'll put the receiver on the hook where it belongs, shall I?

Emily responded, “You can stick it up your arse for all I care!”

Quite used to her outbursts, the housekeeper replied, “Now now dear, act your age, not your shoe size.”

In a childish sulk, Emily tapped aimlessly on the typewriter, she was paying no attention to what keys she was hitting, but she considered it a form of anger management. In a friendly manner, Mrs Bainbridge shouted through, “Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?” Slightly calmer, Emily replied, “A coffee would be nice, thank you.” She continued slamming the keys haphazardly.

On Mrs Bainbridge's entrance into the study, Emily left the typewriter and settled down on the couch. Together, they had coffee and cake.

Vladimir was at his office in Tavistock Square, he had on his desk a manuscript that needed proof reading, his secretary, Polly Jenkins had already given it the once over, but a second check was always advisable. Especially in Polly's case. Five pages in and Vlad had already found three spelling mistakes and six grammatical errors, he was not impressed.

With the manuscript under his arm, Mr Banovski left his office and walked down the corridor towards the main reception. A strong familiar odour greeted him on the way, it somehow reminded him of Emily. On reaching his destination, he could see why. Polly had her feet up on the main desk and she was applying bright red nail varnish to her fingernails.

Amazed at the audacity Vlad asked, “Are you busy Miss Jenkins? God forbid that I should interrupt your important business.”

To add to her crass behaviour, she replied, “Hold on a sec Mr B, I've nearly finished.”

In quick response, Vladimir said, I've told you before Miss Jenkins, please refer to me as Mr Banovski. Mr B is hardly professional.”

On applying the last stroke of nail varnish, she looked up and remarked, “If you wish, but I'd prefer to be called Polly. Miss Jenkins reminds me of school, and I weren't keen of school. I never did like it.”

With a sense of empathy, Vladimir softly said, “Take your feet from the table Polly and we shall say no more about it.”

Through a warm smile, Polly replied, “Thank you Mr Banovski. You're very kind.” She did as requested. And repositioned herself in the chair.

Totally forgetting his reason for being there, Vlad turned around and walked back to his office.

Back at his desk, he stared at the manuscript in his hand and said, “I must be getting dementia. Pretty young secretaries hardly help matters. Next time, I'll hire a 99 year old spinster with broken teeth and a crooked walk.” Once again, he made the journey to the main reception.

On his arrival, he asked, “Polly, are you sure that you proof read this document?”

The secretary span round in her chair and chewed the top of her pen. With a concerned expression, she queried, “What document is that Mr B?”

After a hopeless sigh, Vlad replied, “Ye Olde Book of English Folklore. It was submitted to us by Wilfred Bramwell.” Once again, he asked, “Did you proof read it?”

Polly waved the pen in the air and remarked, “Sort of, but then it gave me the willies. I had terrible nightmares. All that talk about horned spirits, haunted houses and ghostly apparitions, I had to sleep with the blankets over my head.” As an afterthought, she comically added, “You should have seen my hair the next morning.” With ridiculous hand gestures, she emphasised the state of her golden locks.

Vlad couldn't help but watch in amusement. Even so, work needed to be completed, deadlines had to be met, and schedules had to be adhered to. After checking his pocket watch, he said, “Polly, come into my office for a while. I think we need to have a little talk.”

Looking up, the secretary asked, “Do I need my notebook?”

Vlad replied, “No dear, just bring yourself.”