Soubrette Chapter 12 Nick was happy playing the system,unemployed and unemployable but it had to end some time.

Gingerly, I disentangled myself from Kirsty, who’d wrapped her body around mine, as we slept. As I began slipping from that warm embrace, the pre-dawn chill of my bedroom, I instantly regretted the necessity of getting up. No one had ever shared my bed in Packney House, ending a dry spell that had started in my second year of university. Still, Janice had said Mrs. Armstrong’s good opinion was vital to the business’s future. I just hoped that Isabel’s fears weren’t realised.

‘Don’t make me go to school today,’ Kirsty murmured, while I picked my way through the discarded underwear that littered my bedroom floor. At least she’d allowed me to hang up our dresses before throwing me on the bed.

‘Shh,’ I whispered, and rearranged the bedding around Kirsty’s sleeping form. My naked little angel seemed a world away from the profane hellion who’d demanded satisfaction a few scant hours ago. ‘I’ll wake you in a little while, Miss,’ I said, and bending low placed a kiss on Kirsty’s lips.

Straightening, I took my robe from its hook behind the door, and wrapped it around my shoulders. My bedroom was always cold at this hour, more so when I was nearly naked.

The race to get undressed, had strewn my stockings and girdle around the room. My knickers I knew were on my city, where Kirsty had removed them. Which left me in my bra alone, its cups flatly vacant. I didn’t remember my bed mate removing my breast forms, but a memory of Kirsty’s activities in the small hours, surely pointed to their fate. Is there such a thing as a jaw sprain, I asked myself.

What little of my make-up remained, I splashed off in the bathroom before shaving, and a brief wash down. I never usually went to bed in make-up, but my guest didn’t seem to think it at all important, and I was in no position to object.

Putting off breakfast until I’d woken my house guest, I swallowed down a scalding cup of Camp coffee, bitter enough to make me bare my teeth. My aunt had had a bottle in the pantry, older than use by dates, which I’d replaced for the sake of my tooth enamel. It wasn’t among my favourite things, but it certainly shook off any sleep.

Kirsty was soundly asleep as I returned to the bedroom, even though first light had begun to leak around my bedroom curtains.

As quietly as I could, I hunted around the bed for my breast forms, and slipped them into a modern crossover bra. Next I stepped into an elasticated open girdle, and sat at my dressing table to pull on a pair of black nylons.

Praying that my knicker drawer wouldn’t squeak as I opened it, I picked out a small white gaff. Ordinarily, tucking my “business” between my legs, when wearing briefs was secure enough. But with the slightly looser, home-made directoire knickers I next selected, and just supposing Mrs. Armstrong really wanted me to clean, I could exert myself with little danger of falling out. If her intentions were more sinister, as Isabel believed, an extra layer of gusset security would be reassuring.

Standing in the pale morning light, I checked to see if Kirsty was awake, but she seemed oblivious to everything. Suitably reassured, I pulled a white full slip over my head, followed by the scratchy black maid’s uniform.

Believing my new employer wouldn’t be impressed by an immodest impression, I applied more restrained cosmetics, than I’d worn in the shop. In Soubrette I could be relatively tartier, but in a stranger’s home I reasoned looking like a good girl, would be safer. I wanted to lock professional, but the correct sort of professional.

After a quick spritz of lily of the valley, to mask any lingering trace of Chanel, I set my black bob in place. Quite smart, I thought, admiring myself in the Chevalier mirror.

Leaving the white lace edged apron for now, I left my flat for the first time that morning.

Collecting my neighbours’ morning newspapers had come so mundane, I practically skipped down the stairs. Barely giving any thought to my clothes, I made small talk with the newsagents as though Verity had done this in Nick’s place for years, not a mere week.

Everyone seemed to be awake this morning, and awaiting my arrival as I stopped at every floor. There wasn’t anything too surprising about this, Lord knows my neighbours were early risers. But every door opened before I could push a newspaper through the letterbox, and each was received by a smiling pensioner. That was unnerving.

Mr. Blum stood similarly in his doorway, and invited me in for a coffee klatch, as he called our morning meetings. Flipping up the silver fob watch pinned to my breast, I saw that I had time for a gossip, and allowed myself to be guided into his kitchen.

‘That’s a pretty watch,’ he said, pouring a cup of proper coffee, ‘is it new?’

I’ve waited a few moments to answer, relishing a beverage instantly superior to the chicory concoction I’d earlier imbibed.

‘I’ve had it for months,’ I said, flicking the watch idly. ‘It was tarnished nearly black when I found it in a car boot. I don’t think the vendor would have let me have it for 50p had he seen the hallmark - 1910!’

‘A bargain!’ Mr. Blum always appreciated a good deal. ‘And it still works?’

‘First-time I wound it,’ I said, nodding vigourously. But I could see he had something on his mind.

‘Your new girl,’ he said, swilling the dregs of his coffee around the cup, ‘she’s quite enthusiastic, from what I heard last night.’ Had he heard us? Across the corridor?

‘Sorry, we fell out of bed,’ I sputtered, blushing fit to burst.

‘Come now, Verity,’ Mr. Blum said, levelling a jovial punch to my upper arm, ‘I know an appreciative young woman when I hear one.’

‘You heard?’ Kirsty had seemed a little louder than my previous partners, but I’d put that down to fading memory. ‘You think anyone else heard us?’

‘Indubitably,’ Mr. Blum said, his accent sounding uncommonly thick.

‘I’d best get back,’ I said hurriedly, ‘I left Kirsty sleeping.’

‘Good for you.’ My chuckling neighbour punched my arm again as I stood up.

Had Kirsty really been that loud? She’d been fairly vocal throughout, but there had been times when my ears were covered. I didn’t relish swapping a girl next door reputation for that of a lothario.

*

‘Wake up, miss,’ I said, gently shaking Kirsty’s shoulder.Her sleeping smile was almost beatific, and it seemed a shame to wake the young woman. However, I liked to think that I had contributed to her contented smile, which remained as her eyes blinked awake.

‘Come back to bed,’ Kirsty said huskily, and drew back the covers by way of an invitation. Tempting as that offer was, I pointed out that we both needed to go to work. ‘When did you grow a work ethic?’ Kirsty groaned.

‘I’ve drawn you a bath, Miss,’ I said, ‘and I don’t want to let Janice down.’
‘Well, if you must,’ Kirsty groaned, throwing back the sheets, ‘but let’s see how good a maid you are.’