Hi, the response so far has been overwhelming. Thank you very much for all your great comments. Please do remember that there is a “like” button at the end of the page that I’d “like” you to click and to send me your comments on the site. Here is another peek into the world of Ambrose and the mysterious girl.
PS – the book title is revealed here, try and see if you can guess what it is.
Ambrose sauntered into the office just after eleven with his laptop under his arm. He backed up at the number board and realised that he was on his way to losing his biggest client. Continuing on he realised that he was being avoided by the mini skirt gang and that his assistant was typing furiously whilst cocking his head in the direction of the director, ‘Noade the toads’’ office. He could only start to make out the sound of raised voices. He stood in front of Noade’s door and looked back over his shoulder. The office immediately sat back as if they weren’t on the edge of their seats. This was going to be monumental. He’d bite the bullet.
He wasn’t sitting in his usual seat. He was sitting on the other side of his red oak desk while his oversized leather chair was swivelled towards the floor length window.
“I can see this isn’t a good time. I’ll just come back next week sometime.” Ambrose said biting the inside of his cheek. Something about the way Noade just sat there made him uneasy.
“Are you fucking kidding? What time does your working day start? Did you see how deep in shit we are? Let me tell you something you …”
“Ah. Of course, I should have known you’d have your five cents worth and I know what you’re going to say so I’ll stop you right there.”
The chair swivelled back to the desk and he was face to face with the CEO of the company.
“It’s my duty to let you know that this relationship between us isn’t working out. I can’t work in these uncreative, dreary conditions. I’ve decided that this environment is slowly choking the life out of me and that it’s time to find some greener pastures where my talents will be far better suited.”
“You reckon? Ambrose you’re fired.”
“No, because I just quit.”
She sat with the warm winter sun on her back and put the old English book to one side and picked up the aromatic cup of coffee. Occasionally she looked out over the bay and let her gaze run over Thomas and his funny way with woman. He was milling around the shop and had his customers in stitches because of the silly French accented stories he was always telling. She flipped through the French Vogue magazine that Thomas has specially kept for her. He called it inspiration for a beautiful mademoiselle that needed to know she was gorgeous. That certainly made me howl with laughter for a while.
“More coffee?” he asked in his still romantically thick French accent.
She looked up at him smiling and shook her head. “No.” She mocked him.
He padded down the loft stairs and came to take a seat next to her with an arm around her neck. He was just so comfortable. “Come, put down your magazine for a minute and I’ll show you something that will truly exercise your mind. Sitting like this will give you … how do they say? Porridge brain?”
“Yes.” She laughed.” Porridge brain indeed.”
“This will change your life.” He said softly looking into her eyes.
They got up and she reluctantly left the warmth of the sun and followed him through the other side of the shop to a dark corner with a small fire place and two deep chairs nestled across a dark low table laden with one of the most ancient and yet beautiful chess boards.”
“Wow.” She gasped. “Exactly how old is this? It should be in a museum.”
“It’s estimated to be about 150 years old. It’s been in my family for generations.”
“This is lovely Tom but I still don’t get it.