The radio crackles as Odea plays with the knobs.
"This is London calling anyone free to talk?"
Silence.
Again.
Odea was hoping to hear from anyone, about anything. She was even prepared to listen to April and Kay about crops. Odea laughed to herself as she is now curious concerning any new tantrums from the Tebay Witch.
Odea sighs and begins her day.
"Good Morning Mr. Warrilow."
He points to the telephone headpiece on his head, "I am glad. If you are pleased are you prepared to set up another contract?"
Mr. Warrilow smiles, "When would you like to meet? I can send someone over there immediately. The sooner we begin the sooner you will have the work completed."
Mr. Warrilow writes more information down, "Nine? Today? We can accommodate. Someone from Saint Clair Tailor Shop is heading out now."
Mr. Warrilow flips switches, pushes down the lever, write down information into his log books and looks up to Odea, "It seems they are quite pleased with the delivery. They would like to offer a new contract."
"I hope not more uniforms made from wool serge." Olga comes in to join the conversation. "It is terrible difficult to sew and it broke machines if they went too fast."
"I am sorry," Mr. Warrilow face becomes as if his hand was caught in the bank vault stealing coins. "I didn't ask."
"Mr. Warrilow you did not know nor should have asked." Olga blushes, "I was merely verbalizing my thoughts."
Mr. Warrilow nods in understanding, "Shall I call you a cab? They want to see you at nine." He looks at his watch, "Taxi shall get you there in less than fifteen minutes, walking shall take a bit over twenty minutes and if you dare to pedal it will be a under ten minutes as it is all downhill. Downside is returning as it will take just as long as a taxi."
"I shall walk." Olga smiles, "It is not terribly cold and the war office is blocks off the Thames, therefore I shall not have a frostbitten nose."
"Very good." Mr. Warrilow hands her the information, "You shall be meeting with a Mr. Sneyd. He is charge of military contracts and requisitions."
Olga goes into Julia's office to gather the usual paperwork and place them all in her satchel. She returns to the front entrance to put on her outerwear.
"Mr. Sneyd is a very important man, at least to himself." Mr. Warrilow shares, "If you make him look good then we shall receive first opportunity for future contracts." He gets up, pulls out his wallet and hands Olga a petrol ration card. "Give this to Mr. Sneyd."
Olga places it in a folder and locks the satchel, "Why?"
"Mr. Sneyd is from a small town called Buxton located in Staffordshire. His mother is alone, active but alone. This will ease his travel. Tell him this is from M3 Warrilow."
Olga and Odea freeze. They wait patiently as they expect an explanation.
The small light flickers and reflects off Mr. Warrilow vest buttons, "Greetings. How can I be of service today?" He sits back down and goes about his day hoping the ladies forget his slip of personal gossip.
Olga heads to the war office to see a Mr. Sneyd who personally knows Mr. Warrilow. 'Maybe Mr. Sneyd volunteers information concerning nickname M3 of their Mr. Warrilow.'
Odea takes the stack of mail and heads to Julia's office. She notices a personal letter from Jennifer and rips it open as if it was a breath of life. She didn't know how desperate she was for her family until this letter.
She reads it carefully repeatedly. She has never looked forward to Wednesday night before. She has begun to plan her food, drink and like a lightning bolt she remembers. Wednesday night she goes with Olga to the cinema.
She sits back on chair and lets out a long disappointed puff of air from her nostrils.
A knock on the wood door frame.
She turns around to see Mr. Warrilow who is holding messages in hand and words exiting his mouth.
She is not listening.
She is hatching a plan.
She interrupts him, "Pardon me. I have a personal question to ask."
Mr. Warrilow smiles. He is prepared to not disclose the meaning behind his military nickname. Holding a key to a mystery is enjoyable. "Please ask, however you might not like my response."
"What do you think of our Mrs. Yunevich?"
"My mother finds her acceptable as a boss and she likes working here. Mrs. Holt like how ..."
"Mr. Warrilow, what do you think of Mrs. Yunevich."
He blushes and look down at his one arm still holding the messages.
"Mr. Warrilow I simply request that you be brave. Please."
He stands there befuddled.
"I believe the feeling is mutual."
He instantly smiles.
"Mrs. Yunevich goes to tea and the cinema every Wednesday."
His smilie disappears.
"What have I said wrong."
With a meek voice, "No woman of her stature would be seen in public like myself."
"Mrs. Yunevich doesn't see class. She was born and raised in Russia." Odea stands to be eye to eye. "I assure you Mr. Warrilow you should not hesitate. Mrs. Yunevich is worried that the age different will ruin your reputation."
His smile returns, "Thank you Mrs. Mosin. Thank you." He swings around and heads back to his desk. Quickly he returns to Julia's Office, "You have a message from Mr. Isidore Salmon of J. Lyons. There are issues of child delinquency and he would like to set up an Appointment with V&S Security."
"Thank you."
He hands here another message, "This is from Scotland Yard for Paternoster Agency."
"Anymore?" She asks almost annoyed.
"One more." He hands her the envelope, "This just came for you." He goes back to the front desk allowing her privacy, he knows that telegrams sent are more personal than not.
Odea sees the thin cheap paper of the Post Office and she can faintly hear the motorcycle's fleeting Doppler affect exiting Saville Row. She closes the door and opens it with shaking hands.
DANISH STEAMER KINA
ATLANTIC OCEAN
0912 1900 MOSINS A
STOP
Odea folds it gently and tapes it on the door jamb. She laughs to herself, 'Mr. Morgan Warrilow would never guess that there is a naked Silurian under the illusion of rayon French-finish crepe blouse with velvety corduroy slacks. That would be scandalous.'
She sits down and call Scotland Yard.
"Paternoster Agency reporting."
She listens.
"I will be there shortly; I am leaving now."
Odea grabs her large leather satchel, pulls the telegram off the wood and heads to the door. "Mr. Warrilow I must head to the Morgue."
He stands, "What of Mr. Salmon?"
Odea grunts, "Sorry Mr. Warrilow. There is no excuse for my poor attitude."
"You are understaffed by ninety percent."
She ponders that ninety percent and allows herself a moment of being overwhelmed. She looks at the binders in Julia's office and grabs all binders associated with security.
She returns to Mr. Warrilow and plops everything on the top. "I am sorry." Odea places her hands on the binders, "These are everything on V&S Security. Look it over and see if you can find out what Mr. Salmon needs and make accommodations to fulfill those needs within a range of profit. Do you best. Cheers!"
Odea opens the front door and is slapped by cold wind. It reminders her being taken by a wave on the private beach in Ullapool. She smiles, grabs her coat and heads out the door.
Mr. Warrilow is left alone. He stands with his light blinking, binders taking over his counter and wondering if Mrs. Mrs. Yunevich is warm enough. Thinking of Mrs. Yunevich snaps his mind back. He flips the phone lever, "Hello. How may I be of service?"
"The staff is currently in a meeting; may I take a message?"
"Thank you. Someone will contact you as soon as they are free."
He grabs one binder at a time and begins to read.
The front door opens.
He looks up.
"Greetings Mrs. Holt and Mother."
Miss Warrilow whispers, "I am Miss Warrilow at work. It is not proper to be personal in business."
He whispers back, "It is just us three."
There is noise down in the sewing room.
"Not anymore." Mrs. Holt stands determined to have someone hear her complaints. "I came in early ..."
"We." Miss Warrilow reminds Mrs. Holt.
"Yes." Mrs. Holt begins again. "Miss Warrilow and myself came in early to see about getting raise for the Saint Clair Tailor Shop employees.
Mr. Warrilow is writing all of Mrs. Holts words exactly in his log book.
"Morton, what are you writing?"
He teases his mother, "Mr. Warrilow as it is not business-like to refer me in the familiar."
"Look at his fantasy words now that he is behind the desk."
He stops writing, "How much of a raise do you expect for an hour's work?"
"That is just it," Mrs. Holt almost whispers, "We work harder in an hour to make deadlines than anyone else we know. We want to negotiate and I was hoping they would openly make an offer."
"I see." Mr. Warrilow begins to write again.
"Mr. Warrilow what did you just write?" Asks Miss Warrilow in a jokey way accented on using a formal salutation.
He stands, "I wrote that you would like to negotiate wages."
Mrs. Holt and Miss Warrilow smiles largely.
"Is there anything else?"
"No, Sir." Mrs. Holt and Miss Warrilow cutesy to punctuate their sarcasm. The turn to the front door.
"Like I said, there isn't anyone here." Mr. Warrilow points to the hallway, "You may use the inside entrance."
As they walk into the hallway they continue to curtsy until Mr. Warrilow lets out a laugh. "Get! Get to work you biddies."
Mrs. Holt and Miss Warrilow giggle like two young girls.
Mr. Warrilow watches the hall, just in case the two reappear.
He sits down and goes through the first binder, making notes only interrupted by phone calls all the way through lunch.
The front door opens and in comes Mrs. Yunevich. She keeps her back to the receptionist's desk while she takes off her coat, hat and gloves.
Mr. Warrilow stands and watches has she lingers.
He smiles.
She turns around and falls prey to his grin.
"Any messages?"
He places the messages on the counter. His hand stays steadfast on top.
"Mr. Warrilow?"
"I can't look to my watch, but it is close enough to lunch. Do you agree?"
Olga looks to her watch, "It is five minutes past twelve."
"Then it is technically my personal time to do as I wish?"
"Of course," Olga looks around, "Where is Mrs. Mosin?"
"Scotland Yard called."
"I see. Oh. Yes. All breaks, including lunch, are your personal time."
"Good. I want to take my lunch, my personal time, to ask you something personal."
Olga blushes, "I will allow you to ask if I am able to reserve my answer."
"Of course Mrs. Yunevich."
"Then ask."
"May I accompany you to the cinemia this Wednesday evening?"
Olga is shocked and quickly takes step back.
Mr. Warrilow dashes around the receptionist's desk and grabs her elbow to steady until she has proper footing.
Olga is shocked how strong he is. She is tempted to grab on his arm to cup a muscle, only tempted.
Once she is sure footed she quickly finds the nearest seat.
He sits next to her, making sure she is on his right.
Looking straight ahead, "I don't want to bring any undue attention. Mr. Warrilow. My age. Your age. Socially it will not be the norm."
"You are my superior. I don't want to bring down your social status."
She turns to see his profile, "I don't care about social status."
He turns to see her face, "I don't care about social expectation nor do I care to be normal. Normal is boring."
Silence.
He is about to open his mouth and the light flashes. He leaps up and lifts the level, "Good Afternoon. How can I be of service?"
"One moment." He turns to Mrs. Yunevich, "It is the morgue."
She gets up and walks to Julia's office. She purposely stops next to Mr. Warrilow, feeling their closeness and says to him, "I do not play with hearts. While we do not care about social status or expectations I do have morals. Do you not agree?"
He nods, "Of course. You will always have my respect."
"Then yes, Mr. Warrilow, you may accompany me to tea and cinema. I leave here exactly at six. Is that acceptable?"
"One condition."
Olga looks up, "Which is?"
"You will always stand to my right."
She smiles, nods and heads back to Julia's office.
Olga closes the door and clasps her chest as it is beating fast. She pours a cup of lukewarm coffee. She takes a deep breath and picks up her phone.
"Odea?"
"I am at the morgue."
"Mr. Warrilow informed directly on my return."
"How did it go with Mr. Sneyd? Did you find out what M3 represents?"
"Mr. Sneyd lips are locked."
"Darn. I wanted to call to tell you that I will not be home until late this evening."
"Understand." Olga pauses, "Odea would you be upset if Mr. Warrilow accompanies me to the cinema tomorrow night."
"Not at all. I have some reading to catch up on."
"You are not surprised?"
"I am just distracted. I have to naked cold bodies in front of me."
"Oh." Olga pauses, "Mr. Sneyd gave us a new contract."
"Is it to make more wool serge uniforms."
"No."
"That is good. There is something bothering you. What is it?"
"Mr. Sneyd gave us a check for the hard work. He said we came under what he expected and we deserved a bonus."
"Is that unusual for a contract that was delivered one day early."
"I am not sure."
"Why not ask Mr. Warrilow? It seems he could give us a better understand of Mr. Sneyd and possibly the situation."
"I will."
Silence.
"Olga, what is wrong."
"I have not had dinner with a man for decades."
"Talking about courtship on the phone while I have the dead surrounding me is not ideal."
"I didn't say courtship, I said cinema."
"Cinema and courtship are the same thing. Ask Mr. Warrilow about Mr. Sneyd and take appropriate action. We don't want to have a reputation. Bye Olga. We will talk tonight."
Olga hangs up the phone, takes a deep breath, opens the door and beelines to Mr. Warrilow.
"Yes, I see." Mr. Warrilow writes as the person on the other end monopolizes his ear.
Olga looks at his handwriting in action for the first time and sees better penmanship than her classmates. She looks at the desk closely and notices all the binders.
"How can I help you Mrs. Yunevich?"
"Ah yes." She snaps back her attention to the receptionist, "I went to see Mr. Sneyd. I thought it was a very successful meeting, as we now have a better contract." She pulls out from the satchel a check, "Mr. Sneyd gave us a check for the hard work. He said we came under what he expected and we deserved a bonus."
Mr. Warrilow quickly goes through his personal binders, pushes a level and flips a switch. "I will find out." He holds up a finger, a sign to wait.
"Yes may I please be connected to Mr. Sneyd in contracts and procurement?"
"Yes, tell him M3 is on the line."
"Hello!"
"How is your mother."
"I walk."
"My mother and I share a loft."
"Yes, cozy."
"No, I don't have a problem with the ladies."
He looks up and smiles at Mrs. Yunevich.
Olga catches him blushing.
"Yes I am. It is brand new."
Mr. Warrilow lowers his head.
Olga leans over and pulls his chin upward. She giggles.
Mr. Warrilow's face is so red that anyone would think they were permanent gin blossoms.
"You gave her a check?"
"Are you sure?"
"We did have three sewing machines break down."
"I see. Next time we will."
"What do we do with the check."
"No."
"No."
"Yes."
"How about Friday?"
"See you then."
Mr. Warrilow pushes down the level, flips the switch and stands, "It is good news. He said that what was allocated to the contract prepares for five to ten percent overage costs. Which you didn't invoice as an option. So, he is giving five percent back. You saved them money."
"What did he advise to do with the check."
"Buy new sewing machines."
"We already fixed them."
"I might have a suggestion."
"Oh?"
Olga, Mr. Warrilow and Mrs. Higgs all walk down to the tailoring area ten minutes before the end of the work day."
Mrs. Holt stops sewing bolts up to greet the three, "How can I help you?"
"We need to speak to everyone."
Mrs. Holt turns around and raises her hand high.
Silence.
Mrs. Holt goes back to her station, sits and pays attention.
"We have another contract to a make uniforms for the military." Olga waits to see if there is a moan among them, but there is none. "We shall be making uniforms using denim."
Olga pulls out a sample and hands it to Mrs. Holt who tugs and pulls at the material.
Mrs. Holt nods in approval while hand it off to Mrs. Warrilow who does the same with the material and passing it down the line.
"As you can tell the material is more forgiving and I hope won't break our precious machines."
Olga watches the sample of denim being passes and each one gives an approving nod. Even the two young boys assigned to move stock are pleased. The denim samples move back into Mrs. Holt's hand.
"Thank you." Olga takes the denim sample and places it into an accordion folder. "As you know I was at the war office to acquire another contract. We have been rewarded monetarily for our speed and quality. It looks like we saved the crown money and in return we split the amount."
Mrs. Holt because anxious and stands, "What are you plans for the money?"
"That is entirely up to you and your staff."
"What do you mean?"
"Do you want us to take the money spread it out into your yearly wages or shall we give it to in one lump sum?"
Mrs. Holt looks to the workers. She can tell the younger they are the more likely to take the lump sum ,while the older ones know that a raise goes a long way.
"How about a third option?"
"Which is?"
"We would like a partial added to our Holiday Bonus and the rest a weekly allotment."
Olga turns to Mrs. Higgs who offers an approving nod.
"That can be arranged. We shall place the Holiday bonus next Friday's income check. You will not all receive the same amount as it will be according to status. But you all should be please."
"Any questions."
From the corner of her eyes she can see Mrs. Holt holding her hands together with one hand moving ever so slightly to warn no one to speak up.
The entire staff remains quiet.
"Very well, thank you for your hard work."
Mrs. Holt responds, "Thank you for your generosity."
The staff respond, "Thank you Mrs. Yunevich."
Odea and her associates return to the first floor while quiet cheer of congratulations is heard behind them.