Nine Shillings

News Of The Day

London - 1842

Mrs M. H. Horton entered the office looking very proper in her floral day dress and tightly pulled back hair. She frowned at me in my suit with my street dirty boots on the desk as I read through one of her articles in The Lady's Almanac.

'That's my desk,' she said, hand still on the doorknob.

'This is my desk. In my office. In my building.' I sighed and turned the page. 'Turns out this magazine has very low market value. Hardly surprising.' I looked at her. 'I've seen you around.'

Mrs Horton was not a poor woman. She travelled in all the social circles I was on the edge of. Her husband was 'in trade' and had made plenty of money to keep her in 'charitable deeds' and ink but hadn't thought to buy the magazine she wrote her gossipy articles for. I supposed it made her feel very superior when her only claim to superiority was she'd been pushed out a countess's vagina.

She pointed at me. 'You're that woman.'

I turned the page back. 'Mrs O'Connor is not so resplendent in blue silk today.'

She looked around as if she was expecting someone to jump out and reveal some surprise. 'What's going on here?'

'It's simple.' I carefully folded the spine of the magazine over to hold it open. 'I decided to diversify my portfolio and I expect some return on my portfolio so I'm making some changes at this magazine.' I threw the magazine onto the desk, open at the antisemitic description of Josef. 'Starting by getting rid of you.'

She picked up the magazine and skimmed it then snorted. 'Oh, you're not taking that personally.'

'What do you think I'm taking personally?' I arched my fingers.

'The implication that you and Sir Josef are –'

'Oh, please, I had his cock halfway down my throat two hours ago.'

She stared at me in utter horror. Fine ladies weren't supposed to acknowledge in public that such things even happened, it was not polite, but I'd never claimed to be a fine lady, or polite.

'It's the policy of this magazine to never accept or endorse Jew hate.' I gestured towards the door. 'Pack up your desk and off you go.'

She rolled her eyes. 'You're being silly over a –'

My boots hit the floor with a thud.

She jumped. 'I...' She swallowed. 'Everyone does it.'

'But it's you I caught doing it, so you'll be my example.' I got up and circled the desk to stand in front of her. 'Any questions?'

She shook his head. 'You can't do this.'

'Oh no, are you feeling a little... discriminated against? Does it not feel good being singled out and told you're a piece of shit because someone doesn't like something about you?' I pouted. 'You see, the way it currently works is money gives you power. I have money. I've used my money to exert power over you. And, I suppose, if you don't like it, you'll just have to pull yourself up by your bootstraps.'

She'd gone so red in the face it was amazing her head didn't pop. 'I'll drag your name through the mud!'

'You go right ahead. My name's already in the mud. Or did you miss the bit where I made my money hiring out my vagina.' I nodded. 'I read your back catalogue. You didn't say that but you did really.'

'My husband will –'

'What?'

She hesitated. 'My father will –'

'What?'

'They'll hear of it,' she spat.

'I look forward to it.' I smiled but it disappeared in an instant. 'Oh, one small thing.' I gestured with my finger and thumb. 'Tiny really. You called Josef, Sir Josef Mathers. His title is, The Lord Cliffe.' Then I walked out.

I really shouldn't get so much pleasure from doing things like that.

But I did.