Christmas Child: an absolutely heartbreaking and emotional Victorian romance by Carol Rivers (i wanna iguana read aloud .txt) 📗

‘Ettie love,’ said Terence, as he moved her to one side, ‘go and take a seat over there. See, where them people are sitting, waiting. I’ll have a word with this young whippersnapper.’

Ettie glanced back at the clerk. He was scribbling furiously and rudely ignored them, as though they were nothing but time-wasters.

Terence gave her a little push towards what appeared to be the waiting area. ‘Leave it to Terence.’

Ettie reluctantly obeyed, crossing the room to settle herself on a chair that looked very uncomfortable with a hard seat and back, but she supposed the bank did not want people to stay for very long. At least, that was what the clerk had inferred by his rude manner. And what could Terence do that she couldn’t? Although he meant well, he had no connection with Lucas.

Sighing to herself, Ettie decided to take off her bonnet. The big room was stuffy; hot air she guessed, was generated from the discreet conversations held between the clerks and their wealthy looking customers. Placing her bonnet in her lap, she lifted her fingers to nervously touch the coppery coil of hair at the back of her hot neck. Her large brown eyes, so close to tears a moment ago, were now filled by a flicker of anger. On behalf of Lucas they had brought a great deal of money to be stored at the bank. This famous bank did not deserve its noble reputation if it treated the public in such a dismissive way.

What would she do if they refused to take Lucas’s money? She could not possibly write back to Lucas and tell him she had failed to do such a simple thing. And yet, without this Pass Book, her mission seemed impossible.

Just then, Ettie saw Terence making a sign with his hands as if to argue with the clerk. Her heart raced and thudded. What if Terence got them thrown out? The clerk who was now very red-faced, had removed his spectacles and stood up.

Terence made the gesture again. The clerk hurried from his desk and almost ran over to another clerk. The second clerk looked just as agitated, and jumped to his feet.

In the confusion another man strode over. He was tall, slightly stooped and lean as a rake, wearing trousers with a faint grey pin-stripe and a sombre black jacket. After a lengthy discussion with Terence he sped across the floor and disappeared out of sight.

Ettie feared that her suspicions about being ejected from The Old Lady might prove true. Had the man gone to call the porters?

She looked anxiously back at Terence, who was giving the evil eye to the two clerks. It was rarely that he became annoyed but, on this occasion, there was no doubt of his intention to engage in a fight as he squared his shoulders and glowered in anger.

Chapter 35

‘Good day, Miss O’Reilly, I am the under-manager,’ said the man with the striped trousers, who approached after rejoining Terence. The under-manager seemed of middle age with sucked-in cheeks and a severe side parting to his hair that Ettie thought made him definitely in the category of a stuffed shirt. ‘Please accept my apologies,’ he began. ‘The clerk did not realize …’

‘Your clerk needs a lesson in civility,’ interrupted Terence, sharply. ‘Now, forget giving us all the frills and fancies! Can we please get on with the job, so me and Miss Reilly can return to our businesses where we make the money to keep your great institution going?’

‘Yes, yes, of course,’ the under-manager agreed in a humbled tone. ‘I shall have the credit made immediately. Would you care to wait in my private office?’

‘No thank you,’ said Terence, sniffing haughtily. ‘We’ll sit right here and watch all your goings-on.’

‘As you wish,’ said the man and turning to Ettie, he made a little bow. ‘My apologies again, Miss O’Reilly. Er, the chest I presume is locked?’

Ettie searched in her purse and drew out the key.

‘Thank you. We shall not keep you waiting.’

Ettie was open-mouthed as Terence sat beside her, puffing out his breath causing curious glances to be cast, both at the departing figure and the cross-looking butcher.

‘Terence, what happened?’ Ettie whispered.

‘Told ‘em a few home truths about their service, that’s what,’ growled Terence. ‘Said they was missing out on well over three hundred pounds and if they checked their records, they would find a letter from Lucas Benjamin, a client of their bank and British citizen abroad in Switzerland, who had notified them by letter well in advance of our visit. And, I says, that if that letter wasn’t turned up, I would take my complaint to the under-manager’s manager and then his manager.’ Terence took a moment to catch his breath. ‘So, the under-manager scuttled off to the manager’s office and returned shame-faced. I ask you, what a palaver!’

‘But the missing Pass Book!’

‘They are making out a temporary one. You will be asked to sign it as your employer’s courier.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘The Pass Book is just a glorified diary of today's transaction. Your tobacconist will have to produce the original on his return.’

‘Perhaps it’s at home in a drawer.’

‘Perhaps it is, young beauty.’

‘Terence you saved the day!’

The butcher at last, gave a rueful smile. ‘Very nearly did that miserable clerk a serious injury.’

‘Terence, you wouldn’t!’

He chuckled. ‘At my age?’

Ettie put her hand on his sleeve. ‘I don’t know what I would have done without you.’

He gave a shy shrug. ‘Not at all dear girl. Done me good to tell ‘em what for. Made me feel like a young man again.’

Ettie gave a little giggle. ‘You certainly set the cat among the pigeons.’ She nodded to the two clerks who were working rapidly to count and weigh the contents of the chest.

Just as the under-manager had promised, the business was concluded promptly, a temporary Pass Book appeared and Ettie gave her signature. With more apologies they were escorted out by the two porters who carried