‘Pay attention! We were at Wednesday.’
‘Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir.’
‘At five pm on Wednesday, I have an appointment with Mr Schenkelbräuer from Rothschild & Sons. Then I have to pay a visit to the Bank of England to talk with Mr Carson.’
‘Yes, Sir. Just as you say, Sir.’
It is such a lovely evening outside. Even if you might not want to risk cycling in Green Park again so soon after being dragged in front of the magistrate, you could take a nice little walk, feed bread to the ducks and solid chocolate to yourself. There’s no such thing as a bad time for solid chocolate.
‘On Wednesday, I have to visit my factory in Whitechapel. Production there has fallen under the maximum, and I have to fire a few people.’
‘Um…surely you mean “under the minimum”, Sir?’
‘Do I usually say things I don’t mean, Mr Linton?’
‘No Sir! How long will that take, Sir?’
Or you could be sitting at home, fantasising with your little sister Ella about what it would be like to attend a real royal wedding. For once, there would actually be a subject about which you and your favourite sibling could both get excited. Or you could just sit and dream about what it would be like to be queen, and to be able to command men to do anything you like.
‘Two to three hours, depending on how many fools I have to sack. Then, after that, we return to the office and work on the balance sheets.’
‘How wonderful, Sir. I really look forward to it. But why not do it on Monday?’
Or you could simply spend this evening in front of the mirror, imagining what you would wear to the Royal Wedding if you ever had the opportunity to go…
‘Because for Monday I already have an appointment which will last all day.’
‘Yes, Sir.’
Hm…maybe blue silk…or perhaps…
‘And I will need you, Mr Linton, to come in an hour early that day, and come in your very best attire. As a personal guest of the Queen, I do not need my secretary to embarrass me at her Majesty’s wedding.’
‘Yes, Si- Wait, what did you say?’
Big Day
‘No, not here, and not here either, damn and blast it! Where…ah - No! That’s not it either! Damn it all to hell!’
Trousers, shoes and shawls were flying through the air in a confusing cacofashiony of clothes. And yes, blast, I knew that wasn’t a real word! Right now, I didn’t care!
My sister Ella stood beside me, watching, mouth agape, as I disembowelled my wardrobe. I ignored her. Right now, I didn’t have time for her.
‘Blast, blast, blast! Where is it? I know I have it here somewhere!’
‘Um…Lill?’ Ella asked, cautiously.
‘Is it…No! Damn! That’s too dark! That can’t be it!’
‘Er…Lill? I was just wondering…Why do you have that many clothes in your wardrobe?’
‘Where did I put it? I know I put it somewhere, only where?’
‘It’s just, Lill, Uncle Buford only ever bought us two dresses each, and now you open your wardrobe and it’s full of clothes and, um, well, I don’t know how to put this delicately, but most of them look an awful lot like men’s clothes.’
‘Damn and blast! It isn’t in the wash, is it?’ I pulled my head out of the wardrobe, strode past Ella and was just about to pull open the door of the room we had shared ever since we were little, when a realisation struck me. ‘No, it can’t be in the wash. Aunt Brank would have found it, and then Hell would have broken loose. It has to be here somewhere!’
‘Lill? Did you hear what I said? There are men’s clothes in your wardrobe!’