Maybe fetching the doctor might not be such abad idea after all. It would certainly be the easier option,considering one rather salient fact: I had no clue whatsoever howto make tea. It was one of the many social skills that ladies weresupposed to master, and which I had most ardently resisted when myaunt had tried to hammer it into my head.
Rushing back to the pneumatic tube, Iscribbled a quick note.
Dear Mr Ambrose,
Are you quite sure you mean ‘tea’, Sir? Areyou sure you wouldn’t prefer a nice glass of tap water?
Yours Sincerely
Miss Lillian Linton
It waited for the reply.
And waited.
And waited a bit more.
Finally…
Plink!
Instantly, I snatched the container up andripped it open.
Darling,
No, a nice cup of tea will do fine. It’ll bejust the right thing to relax me a little.
XOXO,[18]
Rikkard Ambrose
XO…!
Hugs and kisses?
Had the whole world gone mad?
I raced out of the room. I needed an excuseto get into that office, and I needed it right now!
‘Mr Stone? I need tea!’
With athud, a certain book landed onthe floor. Flustered, Mr Stone tried to shift his chair to hide itand hurriedly sat up straight.
‘Err…now?’
‘Yes, now!’
Marching forward, I shoved the note under hisnose. He read for a moment—then his eyes went wide.
‘Hugs and…’
‘Yes.’
‘And this came fromMr Ambrose?’
‘Yes.’
‘Perhaps we really should get a doctor. Imight be able to arrange a free consultation at a charity hospitalfor the insa—’