A Small Favour

“Excuse me.”

Ignore it.

“Excuse me!” she said a little louder and a little more sternly.

Emerson cursed under his breath. It wasn’t that her voice was shrill, just grating for the frequency with which he heard it. Perhaps if he just focused in on the crossword and pretended she wasn’t there she would get exasperated and return to the hastily cleared space at the counter in the bakery where she was calling her office.

“Mr. Lighthouse!”

He could feign distraction no longer. “Yes, Ms. Buxombottom?” Emerson took a puff off his cigarette, then remembered what it was he was smoking and hastily waved his hand, trying to clear the air of purple smoke.

“Mr. Underby will be here shortly,” announced Mr. Underby’s administrative assistant. “He will want tea. Be sure to have a pot steeped for when he arrives. And for the sake of the Builder smoke that…stuff outside. This is a government office after all.”

“Temporary government office,” said Emerson, stressing the word ‘temporary’.

“Never-the-less, out you go,” she said waving her hand. “It’s been quiet at that power station next door recently, you can seek shelter there while you indulge in your vice.”

“Perhaps you’d care to join me, Fanny—you don’t mind if I call you Fanny?” Emerson winked.

“Yes I do. You may continue to use Ms. Buxombottom —and I never indulge. Period.”

“Fine,” Emerson sighed then stood and made his way for the door.

“Mr. Lighthouse, while you are out do you mind running me a small favour,” it wasn’t really a question.

“I’m busy,” said Emerson, pausing by the door.

“I need something at the post office.“

“Send a runner,” Emerson buttoned his coat tight in preparation against the wind.

“The blueprints for the new City Hall,” said Ms. Buxombottom. “The proposals are coming in. Someone needs to pick them up.”

“I’ll get them,” Emerson smiled.