Page 28 of What's the time, Mr. Wolfe
“Yes, I do know. I lived on it myself.”
He had briefly told me about his childhood, but not in any great detail.
I came up to him. “So, what do you want?” I asked.
He raised his eyebrows at me. “That’s a polite greeting, considering I’m just about to authorise a total redecoration of your house.”
“Then let me rephrase. Hello, Mr. Landlord, oh Gracious One. I bow down in full appreciation of you doing what the law says he should.” I bowed theatrically, but then slipped. I landed on my knees and reached out to grab his trousers for support.
He looked down at me. I looked up at him while I knelt at his feet.
He smirked.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, I slipped. Help me up,” I said, scrambling on his clothes for assistance.
“Oh, I don’t know. I kinda like you at my feet,” he replied, but he did reach down so I could take his hands.
“I’m sure you do, but it won’t happen again.”
“Want to put a wager on that?”
I looked sharply at him.
“Fifty pounds,” I said.
“You sell yourself way too cheap. Five thousand pounds.”
“You’re on,” I said, shaking his hand. I knew I’d never have to pay. He laughed. “Coffee?”
Hefollowed me into the house, and I emptied my bag on the kitchen table. While I made coffee, he held up each item.
“I love the coat, but the rest is shit,” he said.
“It might be shit to you, but it will do me until I get paid and then I can get some nicer clothes,” I said. I refrained from reminding him what it was like not to have any money.
“I’m going to take you shopping. Come on,” he said.
“Err, no you’re not. I’ve been, that’s it. I want a drink, and I’m hungry. And Grandma needs her lunch sorting.”
I could have reeled off any number of things, and I knew it would make no difference whatsoever. As soon as he pulled out his phone, I was done for. I tried to snatch it from him, but he held it aloft, and I was too short to grab it.
Monica came into the kitchen. “What’s going on?” she asked, laughing.
“He’s trying to call someone, and I don’t want him to. I don’t want to go shopping.”
Monica laughed more and looked at Sebastian. “You really think you’re going to get her to do a clothes shop?”
“See, I told you. I don’t do shopping,” I added, pouting.
Sebastian made a call. “Tim is sending someone. Thank you, Monica, for the heads up, but she isn’tworking in my office in those. You have five minutes. Put on some decent underwear.”
He turned and walked from the kitchen, taking his coffee with him. I heard him greet Grandma as he sat with her. Monica and I just looked at each other.
“Put on decent underwear?” I asked.
“You can’t try on clothes in shabby knickers,” she replied.
“Who the fuck is going to see what knickers I have on? Can you believe that arsehole?”
