March 27th '79
New girl,
Don't let it get to you. It's only your first month. You'll soon see it's just his way of dealing with stress. I'll admit it's not the best way, but you get use to it. Mrs Sheffield will be home later, she'll put him in his place. If he starts to get worked up in future, just walk away. Come and find me. I'm always around to pour you a cup of coffee. Chin up and wipe away those tears. It's not worth it.
Niles
March 28th 1979
Putting letters in coat pockets? Some people might consider that a little bit creepy. Lucky for you I'm not one of them. I'm not normally one to accept comfort from a domestic, but I really need to hear that, so thank you.
Does he really deal with this stuff with that booming yelling? I guess that means I better toughen up. Especially if I ever want to climb higher in this business than a simple secretary. And just so you know, I'll definitely take you up on that coffee idea. So keep the pot hot.
C.C Babcock
March 28th '79
Miss Babcock,
Glad you could join me for a cuppa coffee. Hot enough for you? Our chat with nice to, but I do have a question. If you don't mind. Why did you stop with Mrs Sheffield and her guest came in? You just, closed off. Did I offend you with my jest? You were laughing, so I thought you understood the joke, and my humour in general. I apologise if I was wrong. No hurt or offence was ever intended.
Have a good evening,
Niles
March 29th 1979
Niles, no. Please don't apologise. Of course, it was a joke and I was laughing along with you. That was kind of the problem. Since starting the job, I've probably been closer to you than anybody. I can chat and laugh with you so freely. Don't get me wrong. Maxwell is fine, well when calm anyway. And of course, I've known Sara since forever. But she's been focusing on the baby coming soon. Maxwell is my boss, so there's a dynamic. You and I have the time and freedom to just talk. Plus we have a similar twisted sense of humour. I can do easily see you becoming a dear friend to me. And it's hard.
Niles, I am a Babcock. If my mother knew I'd become such fast friends with a domestic, she'd kill me. Make my life a misery. She has very specific views on life. For her l, class distinction is more important than anything else at all. It's strange and almost an obsession. So when Sara came in yesterday, with Marla Costason of all people, I just couldn't show my hand. Marla is the most detestable gossip. And her mother is old friends with my own. If mother learnt we were chummy, my life would go to hell.
None of this sounds good. I know that. I sound like a spoiled socialite. But I'm already on the outs with her for even having a job. She can't stand that I am earning a wage. She thinks it 'debases the Babcock name' to you have a daughter earning a living. She and daddy are divorced. She's not even an Babcock anymore so what's it to her?
Oh dear, this letter has turned into a bit of a therapy session. I apologise. I just need you to understand. I hope we can continue to develop this friendship, even if only behind closed doors. But I understand if I've come over is too much of a bitchy socialite here.
I'll leave the ball in your court my friend.
C.C
March 29th '79
Babs,
First off, will this baby EVER come? I'm starting to think it's a phantom pregnancy and all the tacos in Sheffield been having me make.
Second and more seriously when I first read your letter I was offended. Yes, I'm a butler. A domestic. As was my father and his father before him. It wasn't what I had planned to do with my life, but neither am I ashamed of my profession. So yes, your letter irked me. But then I thought about it and read it again. I tried to truly see what you were saying. Never once did you agree with the views of your mother, you just didn't want to push her further from you. And I do understand how gossip spread or warp.
So yes, I agree. I enjoy our talks, our teasing. I hope you understand when you came for a coffee today. I just wanted to joke around to show you no harm was done.
Thirdly, as these letters seem to have become a thing might I suggest leaving any responding missives in your coat pocket as I leave them for you. I worry that leaving them the way you do under the vase might lead to an unintended finding them. Just an idea.
Your humble Butler.
