Storm and Silence(63)

On the contrary - they spoke of distance, danger, mystery.

Resisting my mighty urge to go and investigate, I turned towards the file boxes and examined their numbers, one by one. There was an S39XX299 and an S39XX301 - but no S39XX300. What was he playing at? Did he do that on purpose?

I marched back to my desk and composed a fitting message. I even managed not to put any swear words in.

Dear Mr Ambrose,

There is no box S39XX300.

Yours Sincerely

Miss Lilly Linton

The message container returned. Pulling it open, I read:

Mr Linton,

I told you to look in the safe.

Rikkard Ambrose

This was getting to be a bit too much!

Dear Mr Ambrose,

I did look in the safe. It is not there. If you cannot understand my written messages, I would offer you to read my lips. But unfortunately that is not possible since the door to your office is still locked. So let me say it in plain English once again: There is no box S39XX300 in the safe.

Yours Sincerely

Lilly Linton

When his reply came, the letters were a bit different. Not a hasty scrawl, no - they were as clear and legible as always. But one could be led to think that he had pressed the pen slightly harder on the paper as he scratched those words. Wait… He had the gall to be getting angry? He?

Mr Linton,

If by this subterfuge you think you can make me open my door so you can air your grievances, you are very much mistaken. Bring me file box S39XX300 or you can consider yourself dismissed.

Rikkard Ambrose

The thunderclouds of my temper began to gather, reading those words. But simultaneously I felt a tingling sensation run down my spine. This box seemed to be pretty important - and it wasn’t where it was supposed to be. What was going on?

Led by this strange feeling, my reply to Mr Ambrose was considerably more conciliatory than it ordinarily would have been.

Dear Mr Ambrose,

Whatever you may think of my intelligence, it is not so slight as to risk my future merely to get a look at your profile. You are not that nice-looking. The box in question is really not here.

Miss Lilly Linton

My heart rate picked up as I pushed the message container into the tube. Would he believe me or just fire me? Did the box he wanted even exist, or was it just an excuse to get rid of me?

I looked around the bare room and felt a lump rising in my throat. Although I didn’t want to admit it, I had already become accustomed to the stark surroundings, accustomed to the idea that this place was mine, my own way to freedom. What would I do if I lost it?

Slowly I pulled the lever, and my message disappeared into the tube.

The answer came not long after. I opened and unrolled it - and my eyes widened. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, the reply would have made me laugh!

Mr Linton,

Do you give me your word of honour as a gentlema- as a lad- as an honourable person that you are speaking the truth?

Rikkard Ambrose.

Somehow I couldn’t keep a slight grin from my face as I wrote the reply.

Dear Mr Ambrose,

I give you my word of honour as a lady who wears trousers that there is indeed no box of the aforementioned number/name in your safe.

Miss Lilly Linton

There was no reply. Nothing. For two entire minutes I sat there and waited, but nothing came. I had almost given up waiting and was chastising myself for my silly fancies. The box probably wasn’t important at all. It was probably some old box he had mistakenly thrown away. That had to be all.

I had almost convinced myself of that explanation.

Then I heard the rustle of keys from the other side of the room. My head snapped up just in time to see the connecting door to Mr Ambrose’s office swing open.

*~*~**~*~*

The moment I saw him I knew I had been wrong. Wrong about two things, to be exact:

Firstly, the missing file box was important.

And secondly, seeing his profile might actually be worth losing your job over.

There he stood: a lean figure, his arms crossed tightly in front of his chest, revealing taut muscles in his upper arms. In his black tailcoat, trousers and shirt he looked like some menacing manifestation of the night, come to banish the day before it was time. The fact that he had a face that seemed to have been cut from a mountain by some ancient master didn’t hurt either. I was paralysed in my chair - not with fear exactly. No, certainly not! I would never be afraid! Rather with… oh, I didn’t know! Whatever it was, I had to get a grip, and fast!

‘Mr Linton.’ His voice was just as I remembered it. Cold and clipped. He nodded at me, but before I could even open my mouth or think of a reply, he had marched past me. I stared after him until he vanished between the shelves at the other end of my office.

Mister Linton? Mister Linton? So he was still going to keep that up, even now that he was forced to talk to me again?

My paralysis suddenly lifted, and I jumped to my feet. I’d show him! I’d show that son of a bachelor!