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‘I won’t tell a soul,’ I said. ‘I promise!’
‘No!’ He shot a glare at me. ‘I don't have to make any deals with you. You work for me. You will tell me how you did it. Now!’
I hesitated. ‘Well…’
I told him. I told him everything, with probably a bit more embellishment and gloating than necessary, but accurately enough. It had worked after all, hadn’t it? There was no harm in taking pride in my work.
When I was finished, his stony face was even stonier than before - but his eyes were slightly wider as he gazed at me, and his mouth stood open a fraction.
‘Still sure you don't want a female secretary?’ I asked.
Then, before he could answer, I curtsied and hurried away.
I had decided to change back into men’s clothes in my office. It would mean that I would have to change again when I came home, but under no circumstances could I go home in the dress Mr Ambrose had bought for me. None of my family had ever clapped eyes on it before, and besides, it wasn’t in very great shape. I was a bit concerned about changing in my office - after all, I couldn’t lock the doors, so what if anybody came in? - but there really wasn’t anywhere else to go.
As it turned out, my concern was totally unnecessary. On the desk in my office I found a small package. A note was pinned to it, saying:
Dear Mr Linton,
Mr Ambrose instructed me to leave these for you. A friendly word of caution: It is very unusual for his secretary to be entrusted with these around the clock. Take good care of them.
Yours Sincerely,
Edgar Stone
My curiosity spiked. What was in there? Well, there was only one way to find out. I ripped open the paper around the package, and in a little cardboard box I found a ring of keys, not as large as the one Mr Ambrose had been carrying but still substantial. On it hung a key labelled Secretary’s Office and another labelled Head Office.
Slowly, a smile spread over my face. He trusted nobody, hm? Well, maybe he was making an exception to the rule.
Then I noticed that there was no key labelled Safe on the ring. Well, it seemed as though he was starting to trust me, at least.
But then, why was he still refusing to reveal the contents of the file…?
I stood there, clutching the set of keys to my chest, feeling oddly emotional. Why, though? Why should it matter to me whether or not my master trusted me? He was just the man I was working for. A man who had yet to pay me my first wages at the end of the month. Whether or not he trusted me was immaterial, as long as I got the money, right?
Yet still, the fact that he was opening up to me touched something deep within me. I felt that maybe, just maybe, he might be starting to respect me. If not as a woman, then at least as an intelligent human being with a head on its shoulders, provided I wore trousers.
Taking the ring of keys, I locked both doors to my office and started the mind-numbing process of changing.
You don't think there’s anything more difficult than getting out of a corset and crinoline? Try getting out of a corset and crinoline which are broken and bent in strange angles in at least a dozen places. I felt like a cat trying to squeeze myself through a labyrinth of rat holes.
When I finally stood only in my underwear, it was a relief. I was just about to reach for Uncle Bufford’s trousers when a knock came from the door, and the door rattled as someone pushed against it.
I almost jumped out of my skin.
‘Y-yes?’ I asked, not sounding very manly at all. I cleared my throat and tried again. ‘Yes?’
‘Mr Linton? It’s me, Mr Stone. May I come in?’
‘Err… not as such, no.’
‘Why? Are you busy?’
No, I’m standing around in women’s underwear, which, apart from being pretty indecent, makes it more or less obvious that I’m a girl!
‘Um… yes, that’s it. Very busy. Very, very, very busy in fact.’
‘I see. Well then, I won’t disturb you any further. I just wanted to ask if you found the keys all right?’
‘Yes, I did.’
Yes I did, thank God, or else my office door wouldn’t be locked right now, and you’d be staring at me in my drawers!
‘Very well. I understand you’re leaving now, Mr Linton?’
‘Yes.’
‘And Mr Ambrose?’
‘He’s very, very busy, too, Mr Stone.’
‘I see. Well, I’ll leave you alone then. Till tomorrow.’
‘Yes, goodbye, Mr Stone.’
I heard him moving away and let out the breath I had been holding. I’m not sure what Mr Ambrose’s reaction would be to someone discovering my true gender, but he wouldn’t be jumping up and down with joy, that much I could tell. Maybe he would be jumping up and down on me instead, wearing iron-shod boots.
Though he probably would shrink from such a display of emotion. He would get Karim to do it. The big fellow would be excellently suited for the task and all too happy to oblige. For some reason, the thought brought a smile to my face.
Grabbing Uncle Bufford’s trousers, I dressed in my unusually usual outfit again and left the office, locking the door behind me. Not that I thought somebody might steal my fountain pen, it just was a good feeling. My space. My door. My key. Stuffing the keys securely into my deepest pocket, I began the long descent down to street level.
I didn’t call a cab. Luxuries like that would have to wait until I actually received my first pay cheque. Instead I walked home slowly, enjoying for the first time in my life the feeling I had done something useful. No sitting around trying to knit or sew, no silly whirling around in a ballroom full of overdressed nitwits. I had been out there in the real, rough world. And I would return there soon.
My exultation lasted all the way home. As I went in through the garden door and into the shed to change, slowly my feelings of joy waned and I suppressed a yawn. God, my legs hurt from all that running over roofs. The real world was pretty tiring.
As I approached the front door, another concentrated wave of tiredness hit me. Mr Ambrose had been right, today had been exhausting. I needed some rest, and I needed it quick. Fortunately, nothing was likely to get in the way of that. My aunt was sure to be too busy with my other sisters to care if I was lazy and slept through the afternoon.
That was when I first heard the excited chatter from inside the house. Strange… It sounded like we had a visitor. But who would come to visit us? I had to be mistaken.