#Ist Story: An Interesting Summer [anon2002] | #WIP

[anon2002]

Hi,

Having just rediscovered this site I thought I'd post the start of a story I began back in 2003 but haven't touched for years. Maybe you folks will give me impetus to get my writing hat back on!

I'm pretty sure what I've got here is a bit more fleshed out than I've posted before. It looks like I arranged it into fairly small episodes, so I suppose I'll keep to that, but I can always extend them if you folks prefer.

Let me know what you think.

An Interesting Summer
by anon2002
___________________________

1: Who Needs the Jobcentre?

It was supposed to be a summer job; doing general maintenance at Brookefield Manor. Dave heard about the vacancy via a friend who thought it would be perfect to ease his pal back into normal life again after thirty months of traveling. Always one to grab opportunities by the scruff of the neck, he decided to bypass the local job-centre and phone the manor-house directly. This took a little more doing than he expected. After discovering that the number wasn't in either the phone book or directory enquiries, Dave resorted to some pointed searching on the web. It took an hour an a half and quite a few groans of frustration before he tracked down anything remotely promising,
   "At last, Random Technologies, owned by BrookeTech. That might have something to it." he sighed at his laptop. "Based in Ramsip, Somerset? That's about ten miles from the Manor. Well, no prize for the timid."

He rang the number on the site with a plan forming for getting the number he wanted.
   "Good morning, Random Technologies. Christine speaking, how may I be of service to you?" a plumy voice announced with far more cheer than Dave thought possible at ten o'clock on a very rainy Monday morning.
   "Oh, um, hello. I thought this was the number for Brookefield Manor." Dave exclaimed, not needing to try to sound surprised after listening to Christine's greeting.
   "Oh no, dearie. Lord Brookefield just owns us. His house isn't far from here, so I can see where you may have got muddled. Perhaps I could assist?" she chirped merrily.
   "I see," replied Dave, "it looks like I was given the wrong number. You see, I was phoning about the Handyman job at the manor. You wouldn't be able to give me the right one would you?"
   "Oh, I don't think..."
   "It's just that the lady who gave me this number was terrible and I don't think I can face trying to convince her that she gave me a wrong number."
   "Well, I can't do that, but since you tell your fibs so sweetly and you do know about the job, I suppose I could transfer you over. Would that do?"
   "Yes, thank you. Um, ta" Dave replied sheepishly, wondering how she guessed.
The phone was ringing.
   "Hello? Yes? What is it?" answered a very loud and incredibly deep voice after exactly two rings.
Dave took a guess, "Good morning your Lordship. l..."
   "What?" the voice bellowed, "Nobody I know calls me that. Who are you and how did you get this number?"
   "My name's David Miller," he replied, cringing from the noise still echoing inside his cranium, "I was phoning about the handyman job."
   "Really?" the voice was surprised but, sadly, louder than ever. "Well I suppose you must be fairly resourceful to have managed to get this far. You'll have your own tools?"
   "Yes, sir."
   "Good, bring them and be here in two hours. The guards will be expecting you."
The other end crashed down, leaving Dave staring aghast at his mobile phone. Two hours to get his tools back off his pal Colin, get ready, and drive to Somerset?
   "Christ! It's a miracle worker he wants, not a handyman" he muttered as he rushed off to find his tools and beg for a loan of Colin's car.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Just noticed that the name of the site i originally posted this to get wiped. It was Lingster's © Saradas site

[anon2002]

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[anon2002]

2: The View

One perplexed friend, a very close shave with a herd of cows, and just under two hours later, Dave Miller pulled up to the gilt iron gates of Brookefield Manor. There was no sign of the guards Lord Brookfield had mentioned but the grand gates opened and, with a strange feeling of apprehension, Dave drove in. He could not see the stately home from the driveway for some time. A thick wood of oak, beech, and ash pressed in at the sides of the smooth tarmac and crowded out the light from above. The road was ramrod straight for about a mile before twisting off to the left and moving down a slight slope. Dave saw that the woodland around him began to open up and become lighter and quite pretty. The woods came to an abrupt end and, on the slope of a shallow green valley, Brookefield Manor sat. It was almost mid-day and the sun shone golden on the walls of the huge mansion. Dave decided to reevaluate how much he reckoned he would ask for in wages when he got over the beauty and grandeur of the sight.
   "Lord Brookfield must be loaded!" he gasped as he parked in front of the columned entrance.
He half expected an Addams Family style loud clang when he pulled the button for the bell, but there wasn't a sound. Turning, he stared at the extraordinary view in front of the house, it was breathtaking; formal gardens and a small lake, beautifully situated at the bottom of the valley.
   "Impressive, isn't it?" he heard. "Where?" Spinning on the spot, his voice caught. Simply the most incredible looking woman he had ever seen had appeared beside him. "I'm" he tried to start again but found himself unable to continue. Her creamy skin was lightly freckled and her deep, hazel eyes twinkled with amusement.
   "Mr. Miller, please follow me. Lord Terrance is waiting." she smiled and turned to the oak doors of the mansion that had opened so quietly. Dave remembered to shut his mouth and followed her in. Once inside he tried to look at the remarkable interior of one of the finest stately homes in England, but it was no use, he could barely tear his eye off the apparition in front of him. She was stunning; her rich auburn hair hung, bouncing gently with her silent tread, in gentle curls to just past her shoulders. She wore plain, but perfectly tailored, white blouse that clung, silky around her slim waist, and a knee length, classically cut, skirt of silvery grey. Even so, the plainness of her clothes did not hide the fact that she was in remarkable shape. Dave stared, rapt, as her calves bunched above her slim ankles with each step. This was definitely a woman who liked to run or cycle or something, he thought, for her legs were smooth and clearly defined. It was then that he realized that she was only wearing simple white pumps. "If only those were heels." he found himself murmering in awe.
   "Sorry, did you say something, Mr. Miller?" she glanced back, her eyes, still twinkling, an almost physical force. Dave could only shake his head mutely. "A voice like a horny angel" suddenly sprang into his head and he wondered irreverently what song that was from. If her calves were good, her backside was stratospheric; full, rounded, and clearly very firm. Her buttocks seemed to be dancing before his eyes, it was hypnotic and swallowing was getting difficult. He realized she had stopped and was waiting for him to come to his senses as he was momentarily transfixed by her high, pert bosom as it filled out the fabric of the blouse. How had he missed those?

He remembered himself with a click and flushed deeply as he realized how obvious he had been. The beauty before him gave a wry grin and sparkled her eyes at him some more before gesturing at a large door saying, "Lord Brookefield's study".

[anon2002]

3: The interview

She opened the door for him and whispered, "Good luck", before dazzling him with a warm smile as she ushered him in.

The study was very large and bright, with fitted shelving filled with identically bound books covering all the walls. A tall, silver haired, and very distinguished looking gentleman stood in front of the biggest desk Dave had ever seen. He glanced up from a large file he had been studying.
   "Ah, Mr. Miller. Do take a seat. Thank you Miriam that will be all" he said in a surprisingly quiet tone. The Lord gestured to a chair of obvious age and value. Miriam winked cheekily at Dave as she turned and left the room. David sat gingerly on the antique and tried to calm down. The walk through the house had left him breathless and sweating. What a woman! When in Germany he had dated a dancer and learned to love the look and feel of a lady with a toned, fit body, but Miriam, well she made Anke look lumpen by comparison.

Brookefield startled Dave out of his reverie by snapping the file shut. After looking shrewdly at the seated applicant, the Lord placed the file behind him and leaned back on the desk.
   "Wonderful girl, Miriam." he started, "Don't know what I would do without her. My sister's daughter, great head on her shoulders, very dependable." He stared as Dave nodded and tried not to look stupid while he collected his wits.
"David Phillip Miller, age twenty-seven, born in Glasgow to a plumber and a housewife." He began, to Dave's abject amazement. "Left school with excellent qualifications but trained as a mechanic and machinist. Just returned to Britain after two and a half years working and traveling around Europe. No criminal record, but," he paused, fixing Dave with a piercing look, "not afraid to break a few laws when you have to. You must have driven very fast indeed to have made it here in time." He smiled, "I like your style Miller. I will not ask how you got my direct line number; I suspect I would have to fire someone if I did. However, I would like to know why you think you would make me a good maintenance engineer."
Dave cleared his throat and tried to organize his thoughts. How had this guy found out everything about him in less than two hours? He looked at Brookefield, who wore the kind of smile that suggested that he knew exactly what was rushing though Dave's somewhat distracted mind.
   "Well, Sir." Dave began. "You know my Dad was a plumber, I learned a lot of his trade as a boy. I'm a good mechanic and I spent a lot of time on building sites, labouring, to pay my way through college. I learned a lot from all the different tradesmen I met over those four years; electrics, joinery, decorating, and the like." he paused, his mouth dry.
   "A glass of water, Mr. Miller?" Brookefield enquired, gesturing at a silver tray on the table beside Dave's chair.
   "Thanks" croaked Dave as he poured himself some iced water.
Refreshed, he continued. "When I was traveling I paid my way by doing maintenance in hotels, clubs, and restaurants, so I reckon I'm just the man you're looking for." Dave reckoned that it actually sounded quite good out loud.
   "Good, good" replied the Peer, "Then perhaps you could fix something for me? Well, it's for one of my chefs rather." He reached across the desk and pressed a button and bellowed, "Miriam, Chef's gadget, please." Dave's heart leapt at the thought of Miriam's wiggling bum and, seconds later, he turned to see her walk in carrying a large professional food mixer. It must be lighter than it looks, he thought, seeing how easily she placed it on a trolley at the side of the room. Dave was about to speak when a valet came in, towing Dave's own toolbox, only, it didn't look right as it had been cleaned thoroughly and was positively sparkling. Dave was so taken aback that he managed not to stare at Miriam at all before she left the room again.

The mixer was a standard heavy duty mechanical mixer you would find in any large commercial kitchen, so was made of stainless steel and quite heavy. Dave found his mind wandering back to Brookefield's niece as he dismantled it, wondering just how good shape she must be in to have carried it with such apparent ease. As it happened, it was a simple, if awkward to reach, electrical fault so, even in his addled state, Dave had the mixer running sweetly in a matter of minutes. Lord Brookefield was most impressed,
   "Yes, I think you will do." He said. "I will pay you six hundred and eighty-five pounds per week with full board included, for the duration of the summer. When can you start?"
   "Any time, sir" replied Dave, hardly believing his ears, "I'll just need to pick up my clothes and the rest of my tools. I'll also need to give the car back to my friend."
   "Excellent, I will arrange for your belongings to be collected and your friend's car will be driven back," said the Peer, "perhaps you would like to look at your room. Miriam will explain the staff regulations and bring you your contract. Might I suggest you read it thoroughly before signing?" He paused to roar at the intercom once again, and the next thing Dave knew he had had his hand briskly shaken and was outside following Miriam's bottom along a staff corridor.

[anon2002]

4: An Uncomfortable Journey

She led him briskly through a door and towards a whitewashed spiral staircase.
   "The staff corridors aren't as pretty as the official spaces, but they're far better for getting around" she called back as she started up the stairs. Dave didn't answer, he was awed at the sight of Miriam's legs as she climbed; her calves bunching to hard, heart shaped ridges, her spectacular behind swaying and twitching within her skirt.
   "Control yourself, boy" he thought to himself. He had never been so affected by anyone. To add to his misery, he could smell her subtle perfume in the enclosed space of the staircase, it was sweet and light, with smooth, sexy undertones. He bathed in it, it permeated him and he began to worry that it would show. They left the stairs and Dave found himself walking beside her along a tiled corridor. Coughing, he tried to ask how Brookefield had found out all his details so quickly. It was garbled, but the point seemed to get across.
   "Oh, don't worry about that," she purred, "Uncle's got contacts coming out his ears. He just does that to intimidate people. What did you make of Terry?"
Dave blinked and surprised himself by finding his voice,
   "I'm sorry. Who?" he asked.
She giggled, causing Dave's knees to almost give way.
   "Lord Terrance Albert Urquart Brookefield: Terry." she explained, "But for goodness sake, don't call him that to his face" she added, ernestly.
   "He's quite intimidating" he agreed, trying desperately to look her in the eyes and not at her very respectable breasts as they jiggled perkily in the tight blouse. However, her eyes were a trap themselves, they were encapsulating, knowing, and very, very intelligent. He knew he could swim in them for hours so, blushing yet again, he looked forward as she replied.
   "You're talking about when he's on the phone, aren't you? Don't let that fool you; he doesn't even know he does it. One of the cleverest men on the planet and he thinks that if he can't see you he has to shout. It's hilarious!" she laughed out loud at the thought of it. Dave was sure he would have done too if he hadn't been transfixed by the sight of her. She was almost too perfect; high cheekbones and a creamy and radiant complexion, full red lips parted over white teeth as she laughed. Her body moved with her mirth and Dave was forced to resorting to trying to imagine drowning kittens in a desperate effort to control the mounting pressure in his trousers. They carried on a little way before Miriam came to a halt next to an open door.
   "Your room for the duration of your contract," she explained, "there's a staff toilet and shower down the corridor. Why don't you make yourself at home while you read this?" She handed him a fairly thick bundle of papers. He had not even noticed she had been carrying anything. "It's your contract and list of duties. I'll come back in a couple of hours and give you a tour."
   "Um, thanks." he said, looking at the sheaf in his hands. After giving him one last smile, she twirled round and left the room.

Dave stood staring stupidly at the door for some time after it closed. He couldn't believe how hot Miriam was and, more importantly, how much of a numpty he'd acted around her. He reckoned that he wouldn't be surprised if someone told him that his tongue had been hanging out the whole time. He shuddered at the thought of it. The worst thing was that he was usually pretty smooth with the ladies. He wasn't a total Casanova, but he had an honesty and air of mischief about him that women seemed attracted to. He knew all this but didn't really understand or appreciate it. What he did appreciate was that he wasn't bad looking, and he did keep in pretty good shape. So, why did he turn into a tongue tied teenaged loser around this girl? Besides, who was he kidding anyway? Out of your league didn't even close with this lady. Sighing loudly, he looked about his room.

It was bare walled but comfortable, with a single bed, a sink, and a large wardrobe on one side, and a desk and chair on the other. A small fridge sat next to the door. There was a complicated looking phone on the desk and a fire evacuation plan on the wall above the fridge. He chucked the papers on the desk and looked out the window. Even the view here was good, there were stables below, fields to the right, and the rest of the manor to the left. Yes, he could definitely stay here for the summer, especially at the princely sum of six hundred and eighty-five pounds a week, even after tax it was a huge amount of money considering he wouldn't have to pay for food or rent.
   "Well, let's see what you want of me to be worth that kind of dosh" he murmered as he turned from the scenery and sat at the desk.

[anon2002]

5: Brookefield Manor

The contract was surprisingly clear and readable, the only confusing part being a couple of pages on the Official Secrets Act and its penalties. Dave wondered what on earth he would be fixing that the government would want him to keep quiet about. He then read through the list of duties and responsibilities and, finding them reasonable enough, dug out the sheets he had to sign. He was just fishing a pen out his pocket when there was a brisk tap-tap on the door. Glancing at his watch and seeing that it was almost three o'clock, he ran his hand through his brown hair, took a deep, calming breath, and called, "Yeah?"

It was the valet who had brought Dave's tools into Lord Brookefield's study. Dave wasn't sure he wanted to be disappointed or relieved.
   "Good afternoon, Mr. Miller." said the valet in crisp but strangely condescending tones, "I am Phillips, his Lordship's under-butler. Miss de Lacey sends her apologies for not coming personally, but has requested that you follow me to the Grand Gallery where she will rendezvous with you directly." and, without waiting for a moment, he stalked out the room, leaving Dave to frantically grab his bundles of papers before running to catch up with the speeding under-butler.

Phillips was silent as he led Dave through a bewildering maze of narrow corridors and tightly twisting spiral staircases. Suddenly, the came through a door in the mahogany paneled wall of a hugely long and high room.
   "Wait here." ordered the under-butler before disappearing back through the door which closed so neatly that Dave had to look carefully to see it wasn't just part of the wall. Letting out a low grunt of annoyance at the abruptness of the servant, Dave shook his head and investigated what assumed what was the Grand Gallery. Vast windows, tastefully curtained, dominated one wall of the gallery. The other side had countless portraits and landscapes above the wooden paneling he had entered through. Set regularly along both sides were classical looking chairs, some sideboards, and on either side of a very grand fireplace, stood two full suits of medieval armour. Dave wandered up to the fireplace and looked above it at what appeared to be a portrait of the Lord himself.

There was a click at one end of the gallery and Dave saw a door almost the height of the room open and the silhouette of Miriam de Lacey pass though the threshold. "This has got to be what heaven is like" he thought as he watched her slink towards him.

Her long walk to the centre of the gallery stopped him from focusing on single aspects of her form. Instead, he could now see her physique as one glorious whole: the way she gracefully carried herself, how her narrow waist flared out to her rounded hips. As he watched her full breasts bounce with her step, he began to really appreciate how well proportioned she was; her wide hips were well balanced by long legs and surprisingly broad shoulders, which were themselves softened by her stunning dark curls. She had the perfect hourglass figure; almost cartoon-like in its flawlessness. Once she got closer, he managed to smile and look into her eyes.
   "Hello there", she said, "sorry about the wait. Uncle had me running some errands for him."
   "That's okay" he replied, trying once again not to stare at her chest. "I was enjoying looking at the paintings. They're very impressive."
   "Yes, they are, aren't they?" She turned to look at the portrait of her uncle, "You will be responsible for they're upkeep in a way; by maintaining our heating and humidity systems." She gestured to a small box on the wall, "There's a sensor up there for the high-tech humidifiers that have to work with our Victorian heating. You're going to have a love-hate relationship with that stuff. We can't upgrade the heating because it's historically rare and important, so you will be continually tweaking it. Your other main task will be making sure all the lights work properly, especially in the areas we allow the public into over the summer." Miriam looked back to him, "Other jobs you will be made aware of when they come up. Okay so far?"
   "Definitely, I'm looking forward to getting my hands on the heating, it sounds interesting", Dave replied, glad of something to distract his racing mind.
   "So, shall I give you the full tour?" she asked.
   "Please, that would be good, Miss de Lacey", he replied as she led him to the end of the gallery.

Brookefield Manor was simply spectacular. Dave was continually amazed as Miriam led him around the stately home's public and private areas. There were drawing rooms, tea rooms, day rooms, dining rooms, several libraries, a vast ball room, state bedrooms, a music room, and a couple of games rooms. Every room was exquisitely decorated with centuries old silk on the walls, ornate plaster work or frescos on the ceilings, and more antique furniture than Dave could count. Everywhere he looked there was some new work of art to take his breath away. All the while, Miriam's silken voice told him the history of this bureau or that painting or the use of each room.

They passed into a modern-looking wing,
   "This wing is quite new to the manor", Miriam said, "It was built primarily for Uncle's business so you are unlikely to see much above the first floor", she pointed to a large door with some sort of electronic keypad next to it. "Uncle's staff deal with most things and anything they need you to work on will be brought to your workshop".
   "My workshop?", Dave exclaimed, amazed.
   "Of course, you didn't expect us to let you make a mess of Uncle's study every time you have a food mixer to repair?", she grinned mischievously as Dave started to try to explain himself. He stopped, seeing she was joking, and even managed to laugh at himself before deciding to try to join in.
   "So will you be bringing all my repairs down to me? I wouldn't want you to trip over my mess"
   "Oh, you won't need to worry about that, fifteen years of ballet has left me quite light on my feet". She nodded down the hallway, "That brings us to the ground floor of this wing. Uncle is a very keen sportsman so when he was building the wing he dedicated a large section of it to physical activities.
"There's a new swimming pool, a gymnasium hall for several sports, a squash court, a fitness suite, and a spa. The spa is great; jacuzzi, sauna, steam room, and, best of all, a couple of therapy rooms for massage and physiotherapy." She led him through each of these areas, explaining all the maintenance issues he would be responsible for. Dave was highly impressed with all the facilities; they were all light, spectacularly equipped, and very inviting, especially the spa.
   "Uncle made it policy", she continued as they left the poolside, "that there are set times the staff can use these facilities too. Though, if a member of the family or one of their guests comes in you'll have to leave. I don't think those times are in any of the documents I gave you. I'll get them to you tomorrow."
   "Great, ta" he replied, glad at the prospect of getting to have a swim or a workout occasionally.

   "Shall we get some fresh air?" Miriam inquired. She had stopped next to a door that appeared to lead into a courtyard. "We can cut straight from the new wing to your workshop in the old service wing."
Shit, he thought, what do I call her?
   "Um, okay ma'am." ah, that'll do, "It would be nice to see some of the outside of the house."
Miriam led him across the courtyard to his workshop which was, like everything else at the manor, wonderfully appointed with every piece of equipment Dave could wish for.

The tour finished by Miriam leading Dave, by now almost entirely speechless, to the servants' common room to meet some of the other staff.
   "You will work under Phillips whom you have already met. Phillips will organize a timetable for your work and make sure you learn the layout and rules of the house."
Dave nodded to the under-butler who appraised him coolly before giving the slightest twitch in return. Dave's fluttering heart slowly fell as he realized that he would have to work under this cold fish and not, as he hoped, with Miriam herself. Clearing his throat and being as friendly as possible, he replied,
   "Great, it'll be a pleasure."
Miriam then introduced Dave to about twenty maids and man-servants who all seemed far friendlier than the cold Phillips. They all seemed to be fond of Miss de Lacey and Dave was impressed that she knew all their names; he thought that servants would be just faces to a rich family. She finished by introducing Martin Simpkins, the Butler.
Simpkins shook Dave's hand very formally and rumbled a low "How do you do? You may call me Simpkins." before saying to the assembled staff "You may fall out ladies and gentlemen; you know your jobs for the afternoon. Ma'am, if I can take your leave? I believe the Master will be wanting his afternoon tea." The Butler bowed low to de Lacey and followed his staff from the room.

[anon2002]

6: The Under-Butler

Phillips cleared his throat and said, "Thank-you, Ma'am. I will make Mr. Miller aware of his duties." Phillips said and yet again set off at a fair rate calling, "If you would follow me, Miller,"
Dave said rushed thanks to Miriam before rushing off to catch up with the under-butler.
Philips led Dave through several tiled corridors to what appeared to be an office for the senior man-servants, though the three desks were empty at the moment. Phillips went to a desk and picked up a sheaf of papers and held them out to Dave.
   "Here is a floor-plan for the manor, a list of staff rules, and a list of repairs you will carry out over the next few days." He said. "You will be on duty from eight a.m. until half-past-five in the evening. You may have one fifteen minute break in the morning, one in the afternoon, and half an hour at one p.m. for lunch. Lunch will be served in the common room and if you are late you may not take extra time." He stared at Dave, apparently expecting some sort of response.
   "Um, okay then. Thanks" replied Dave, somewhat irritated by this man's brusque manners. "Will I get all my jobs from you in the mornings, or will there be a board some where for me to check?"
   "If you would wait for me to finish?" the under-butler smiled thinly, "I was about to say that there will be a clip board hung outside the common room door which the staff can write repair request on for you. This will be your primary source of work outside your general maintenance duties." He waited for Dave to open his mouth to reply before continuing, "At the end of each day you will fill out a list of work done and show it to me before finishing. You will meet me in this office at exactly quarter past five."
Dave decided to bite his tongue and play coy; this little Hitler obviously wanted to get a reaction.
   "Certainly, I..." Started Dave,
   "You will be expected to respond to all emergency calls; the phone in your room is there solely for this reason. If you want to make personal calls there is a pay phone in the common room."
   "When..."
   "You will carry a walky-talky tuned to channel 15 at all times except when off duty. Make sure you collect a freshly charged radio every morning, and put your radio back on the charger at the end of a shift."
   "Where..."
Phillips smirked as he interrupted yet again,
   "Radios are stored and charged in the cupboard at the back of the common room"
By now Dave was red faced from trying to control his mounting temper, but managed to keep his voice level to ask about days off.
   "You will have every Sunday and Monday off. However, you will make yourself available for evening work when I or any of the Family requires it. You will get time off in lieu of these circumstances."
Dave saw that the thin smile was back and thought, "here we go, this wee bastard is going to give me a shitey job to do. Stay cool Davie-boy".
   "You will spend the rest of the day memorizing the layout of the manor. I will test you tomorrow morning. I do not look upon failure favourably. That will be all" To prove the point, he sat down and turned his back on the now furious Dave to look at some paperwork.
   "What is that guy's problem? Jesus, I hope he gets better with time. I don't think I'll hold on to my job if I deck the wee shite for cheeking me up." thought Dave as he left the room and looked at the map to work out where his room was from there.

[anon2002]

Looks like this bit dates from 2006. So this story has been festering untouched on my hard-drive for over 10 years...

Reading over it all, I think there's plenty of room for improvement so this and previous chapters are likely to change (if I can work out how to edit posts).

Anyways, here's the next bit:

7: A Fax from Special Branch

   "Well, do you think Mr. Miller will match up to Old Robertson?" Lord Brookefield asked his niece.
   "He did have that mixer repaired in less time than it took for Albert to break it, didn't he" she replied.
Albert Grant, who was Brooketech's chief technician, looked glumly at the beautiful young lady,
   "He certainly did. Perhaps I could use him if the need arose. He certainly seems to have his predecessor's magic touch; God knows how he found that fault so quickly."
   "That settles it then, we would appear to have chosen the right man for the job. Albert, if you would like to set up that experiment for me, I'll join you in the lab in half an hour."
   The Peer waited for the technician to leave before handing a sheet of paper over to his niece.
   "This fax came in from Special Branch on my secure line. What do you think?" He asked.

   From      Chief Superintendent Davies,
         Metropolitan Police, Special Branch
   To      Lord Brookfield
   Time      17-03-06, 0715 hours
   
   Highest Priority – Eyes Only

   Please note. We have intercepted intelligence which points to a possible mole in your organization. We shall brief the Services and Martin Johnstone will liaise with you by mid week.

   Regards

   "Why are they telling us this now and then leaving us to sit about for days while they tell MI5 all about it is the first question that pops into my mind." growled Miriam.
   "You well know that Special Branch resent the successes we've had with organized crime over the years. They want us to stew in our own juices while they gloat and try to get a foothold in our business, though we are lucky we were told at all." Brookefield replied calmly, "I'm sure the good colonel will fill us in on all the details when he is finally allowed to see us. He knows what the priorities are."
   "I know Uncle, but it's all very vexing. Why can't they just say 'Thank-you for the help' and give us a little respect?"
Brookefield tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.
   "I know, I know. People don't work that way and bureaucracies really don't."
She sighed, "Well, It's probably not Mr. Miller anyway; that fax predates his contacting us and there's no way he could have known we've been after him these last few months, could he?"
   "I doubt it" replied the Peer.
   "I was surprised that he was here today, Uncle. I thought the plan was for his friend to be told yesterday."
   "It was. Ah, I think it went very well. The advert ended up in his friend's hand yesterday as planned, but he just phoned here direct; quite impressive considering I'm not listed. I think he will do quite nicely. Especially as we can rule him out of being a mole. Make sure Phillips doesn't get him down too much; Old Robertson knew how to handle him, but Mr. Miller is a fiery Glaswegian; we don't want any fights, do we!"
   Miriam smiled broadly, "Oh, I think I'd like to see that. David would mince him. Can't they have a little fight? I'll make sure we don't have to fire either of them."
   The Lord laughed out loud, "I know you don't like him but you know full well that Phillips' father was a good man, and a superb butler. I'm sure in the roundness of time Phillips will be just as good. He just needs more experience and maturity, and Simpkins is just the man to give him it."
   "Okay, Uncle. I'll make sure there are no fights. Not even little ones."

[anon2002]

The next part doesn't have much in it, so I'll hold off posting it for the moment. I'll try to flesh it out later this week. Looking at the end of the file, I had a few ideas jotted down, so hopefully I'll be able to add to this again reasonably regularly.

As I said before, any feedback will be greatly appreciated.

[JerusalemTulip]

Its not bad.  I don't actually have a whole lot to say about the story at this point, beenlosing my enthusiasm for doing this sort of thing in general, but the story is intriguing indeed and I hope it continues.  Too often I see stories in this vein (takes its time, told mostly from male perspective but not a first person view, goes deep into environmental details as much as physical ones etc.) fail to take root here, and I suspect the paucity of feedback for those stories plays a part.  As to the relevant content, I like your style so far.  The mysterious, teasing approach to Miriam's physique, fueling speculation as to what it is capable of and why, is appreciated. 

[Circes_cup]

Very well written!  Looking forward to seeing where this goes....

[QBikk]

That's very nice, great start. You have a start of a great story unfolding. Can't wait to read whats next.