34. Going to the Room that Doesn't Exist

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Remember how I said life with Mr Ambrose would never be normal?

Don't get your hopes up. Nothing particularly exciting happened.

There wasn't another theft. No two villains staged a sword-fight in the middle of my office or anything like that. Oh no. What happened was far more mundane, and far nastier:

For the very first time, Mr Ambrose did not get rid of me early. For the very first time, I ended up having to working the entire day. The entire day, do you hear me?

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not lazy or anything. It was staying at the office the whole day meant that, for the first time, I had to deal with some basic needs that I hadn't been concerned about before. The half hour Mr Ambrose allowed us for lunch took care of one of those needs: I ran out of the building and purchased something to stuff myself with. With what money, you may ask, since I hadn't received my first pay check yet?

All right, I admit it. I was a bad girl. I had pawned uncle Bufford's walking cane. Since he hadn't gone out walking for years, I figured he wouldn't miss it. And I'd get it back as soon as I had my first wages. I had promised myself that.

So I wasn't hungry when I returned to work. Yet over the course of the afternoon, another more pressing need made itself known to me. You could stay alive for several weeks without eating anything, I'd heard, but this need in the lower half of my body required more immediate release. Especially since Mr Ambrose kept me on my feet, hurrying around the room, fetching files, which didn't exactly combine well with the building pressure down there.

Another message landed on my desk with a 'plink'.

Mr Linton,

Bring me file 29IV229.

Rikkard Ambrose

I stood up – and suddenly knew that file 29IV229 would have to wait a little longer. I hurried out of the room into the hallway. Mr Stone looked up from his paperwork as I approached.

"Excuse me, Mr Stone?" I squeaked. Quickly, I cleared my throat. "Excuse me?" That was better, though my voice was still slightly higher than befitted my role as a gentleman. "Do you know where the bathroom is?"

"Certainly, Mr Linton." He pointed down the hall. "Two floors down, then take the first door on the left."

Ugh! Stairs. Would I survive that? I could only hope.

"Thank you!" I squeaked, and hurried off.

Shortly afterwards, I returned, my steps a lot more measured and careful. My voice was still unnaturally high, when I inquired:

"Err... Mr Stone?"

"Yes, Mr Linton?"

"Are there any other toilets in the building? Maybe some that actually have cubicals?"

He frowned. "No, I don't think so. Why?"

"Never mind!"

Back in my office, I saw two messages on my desk. Just as I closed the door behind me, a third landed beside the other two.

Mr Linton,

I refer back to my previous message. Bring me the aforementioned file.

Rikkard Ambrose

And the second one:

Mr Linton,

I'm waiting.

Rikkard Ambrose.

And the third one.

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