Norbert and Smedley
Smedley started to climb back in through the Mini-Cooper’s window, but was arrested by Jonesy’s stare. “What now, Jonesy? Has my fly come unzipped? Or my shoe untied?”
“No, sir,” answered the butler, looking down his decidedly long nose at Smedley. “But perhaps you would consider opening the door this time? Mr. Norbert’s tux looks a bit worse for climbing out the window. I don’t know how many trips in and out like that it can take before he’ll be needing to buy himself a new one, and you’ve still got quite an evening ahead of you.”
“We hope I’ve got an evening ahead of me,” corrected Smedley. He opened the door and climbed in, then reached out the window to shut the door behind him. “I think I’ll leave the window open this time,” he said, “so I’ll have a better view. I don’t suppose you’ve got a comb on you?” He checked his tie using his reflection on the back of Jonesy’s shiny skull, then realized what he’d said. “For Norbert, of course.”
“Norbert carries his own comb, sir.”
“He would, wouldn’t he? Well, let’s go back to Miss Wainscoting’s apartment, shall we? There’s a private car park around the corner. I think I should like to have you accompany me, so you can vouch for my sincerity. Promise me you’ll do that, Jonesy.”
“Of course, sir. I shall be happy to,” Jonesy replied. He crossed his heart.
In minutes, they were driving past the empty bench, just in time to see a crowd running down the sidewalk.
“Look, Jonesy,” said Smedley, pointing. “There’s a Bobby running after someone. Shall we be heroes and try to head them off? Oh, lets. I’ve always wanted to give chase.”
“Sir, I suggest we stick to the task at hand.”
“Oh, right you are.” As they grew closer, Smedley watched with crestfallen interest as passersby, mostly teenaged boys, together with odd barmaid, paperboy, and construction worker, and a single clergyman, joined the Bobby, who was running as rapidly as he could after a man with a dog. “Why look, Jonesy! That dog looks just like Woofington. Do you suppose they’re littermates?”
“Sir, that is Woofington, and Mr. Norbert, too!”
Smedley did not wait for Jonesy to stop the car. Without thinking, he climbed out the window. Jonesy had the good sense to pull to the curb before Smedley could do himself serious harm, but Jonesy was not able to save the tuxedo. Smedley landed seat first on the abandoned remains of a cup of fish stew and a packet of crisps, so that the original white tux looked clean in comparison.
“Sir. Sir? If we could just rinse the worst off?”
Smedley, however, was oblivious to both Jonesy and the smell of fish. “Norbert’s going into Penelope’s building,” he said. “He’s trying to steal my girl. So that’s why he wanted my twitterbox!” Smedley took off running.
“But Sir, wouldn’t you like to think about this a moment? Sir? Please? Oh, blast it.” Jonesy left the Mini where it was, jutting part way into the street, and followed close behind.
Episode 17: Knock, Knock, Who's There?
Penelope exited the lift at the fourth floor and listened. When she heard voices, she flattened herself against the wall and waited there on the landing, rather than venturing forth into the hallway—she had no intention of suffering further embarrasment on Smedley’s behalf, no intention of explaining her early return to the likes of Sofia or Margaret. She waited until she heard a door open and close, then peeked slowly around the corner to make certain they were gone. When she saw the empty corridor, she ran for the door to her bedsit, fit her key to the lock, opened it as quietly as a mouse to step inside, then closed it behind her. That was when she caught sight of her frightened face in the mirror, peeking out at her from beneath a ridiculous mop of blonde hair that looked as if it belonged to a poodle. Combined with ghoulish green of her contacts, overdone make-up, and dress that left too little to the imagination, she looked like anybody but Penelope Wainscoting. She was lucky Smedley had stood her up. It embarrassed her to think she’d ventured forth looking as she had. Why… why… she looked like a… trollop. Of course, it was over with Smedley now. He was tired of her, that was clear. Norbert had ruined him. Probably introduced him to high society, taught him the finer things in life, and now he no longer appreciated a simple girl like her. A single tear trickled down her cheek, followed by another and then another, taking mascara and the rest of her make-up with it.
She removed the green dress she'd borrowed from Margaret in a hurry so she wouldn't stain it with her tears, put on her fluffy robe and teddy bear slippers, then set a kettle on the cooker for tea. While she waited for the water to heat, she removed her contacts, removed the pins from her hair, and rinsed the mop of curls in the sink so she could get a comb through them before wrapping them in a turban. Finally, she slathered her face with cold cream. She was about to tissue off the goo when a knock came at the door. She ignored it. She heard another knock. She ignored it, too, but then the teapot began to whistle—a very very loud whistle—which seemed to encourage the noise at the door, as it progressed to a banging of such violence, she feared the door would cave in.
“Just a moment, Heather. I’m coming,” she called. Eyes closed against the cold cream, Penelope groped for her glasses. In her hurry, she knocked them to the floor. She got down on hand and knee and felt for them, but the noise in the hall was growing so rapidly, she soon gave up. Heather must have awakened everyone in the building to come and scoff at her. “Will you stop that infernal banging? I said I was coming!” she yelled. She reached for a tissue, but found only the empty box. Bloody hell! Heather must have used the last when she was doing my makeup! Groaning, she pulled up the corner of her robe to wipe the area around her eyes clear enough that she would be able to find her way to the door.
She pulled it open a few inches. “Couldn’t you wait? I said I was—” Penelope stopped mid-sentence when she realized who, or rather what, lay in wait for her on the other side of the door. She shrieked, and attempted to slam the door shut again, but a hand reached in and grabbed her by the wrist, while a foot wedged itself inside the door.
“Ouch. Blast it, there’s no need for violence,” said their owner.
“You!” said Penelope, and she began to cry.
Episode 18: A Duel?
Penelope turned and leaned against the door, sobbing. She didn’t try to pull her arm away from the hand that grasped it. What would be the point?
“Yes. It’s me,” said Norbert. “And I’m not leaving until you listen to what I have to say. Will you listen?”
“No,” said Penelope.
Murmurs erupted from the crowd that had gathered outside the door.
“Fine. I’m prepared to stay like this all night.”
“Fine,” said Penelope.
More murmurs.
***
“Sir? Might I remind you this is a women’s building? No men are allowed here. And, I believe, no dogs,” said the Bobby.
“Then you’ll have to arrest me officer, because I am on a mission of love,” said Norbert, to the cheers of a few of the women who were watching the scene unfold. “And I’m not leaving until I get what I came for. I do not think you can forcibly remove me without assistance, and I do not think you’ll find anyone here willing to help where it concerns matters of the heart.” He looked around, but no one stepped forward. No one, that is, but Smedley.
***
Smedley had arrived just in time to hear Norbert say “I am on a mission of love.” He felt his face flush and his heart pound. A white hot anger rose in his chest. “Then it is true. You did this, all of this, on purpose, so you could steal my Penelope. You knew all along that I intended to marry her, that I planned to propose to her tonight. You did everything you could to ruin it so you could get to her first and have her for yourself. Norbert Bennington the Third, I challenge you to a duel, and I name Wilfred Doohickey as my second.”
“Sir,” whispered Jonesy. “Duels are illegal, and, er, sir? Do you see the Bobby standing there? I don’t think you should have said that.”
“Er, I was just joking about the duel,” said Smedley. “But I mean to take you out.”
“Now, now, young man,” said the clergyman, stepping between Norbert and Smedley. “Violence is never the solution. Let us find a better means to cope with this matter of the heart. This young man, your friend—”
“My former friend,” interrupted Smedley.
“Your friend,” the clergyman insisted. “This young man has not stolen your sweetheart yet, and God willing, we may yet find common ground. Let us put hatred aside and seek peace, my sons. There is a better way.”
Norbert grabbed Smedley by the collar as best he could without letting go of Penelope's wrist. “Smedley, are you daft? I’m here on your mission, not my own. I came to explain everything to Penelope, to beg her to give you another chance. By the way, where the bloody hell were you? Penelope says she was sitting on the park bench for over half an hour waiting for you.”
Smedley opened his mouth and his lips moved, but no words came out. If he had gills, he could have passed for an overgrown guppy.
“If I may speak, sir,” said Jonesy. “She wasn’t. Sitting on the bench, I mean. We only saw a gorgeous blonde there.”
“Jonesy! Can’t Smedley speak for himself?”
“No, sir. He wasn’t the one doing the looking.”
“What?”
“He couldn’t see, sir.”
“And why was that, Jonesy?”
“He was, sir, in the rear seat of his, er, ahem, Mini-Cooper.”
“Well, I could see after,” said Smedley.
Jonesy winked at Smedley conspiratorially. “I was going to leave that part out, but seeing as how you’ve revealed your, er, indiscretion,” Jonesy turned to Norbert, “Mr. Smedley cleaned the window with your cummerbund, sir. By the time he got a look, the blonde was gone.”
***
Penelope sat on the other side of the door, listening. So Smedley did love her. It had simply been a misunderstanding. She spoke through the crack. “Smedley, my Prince?”
“What, Snow White?”
“I forgive you.”
Norbert released Penelope’s wrist and withdrew his foot.
Penelope shut the door and wiped her face on the hem of her robe. Then, so as not to reveal herself to the crowd of onlookers, she opened the door just wide enough to to stick her arm out and grab Smedley’s hand. She pulled him through, locked the door and locked him in an embrace, kissing him more fervently than she had ever kissed him before. When he did not return her ardor, she opened her eyes. She could not see his face clearly between her lack of glasses and the residual cold cream, but she saw clearly enough to know that it was not Smedley. She shrieked again.
Episode 19: Ladies' Choice
Penelope continued to shriek for quite some time.
“Father McMurray!” yelled Smedley. “What are you doing to my Penelope? Unhand her this instant!” He tried the door handle. When he found it locked, he sank to his knees and pounded his fists against the polished wood. “Penelope,” he howled. “My dear, sweet Penelope. Are you okay? That beast isn’t hurting you, is he?”
Woofington had a good sniff at the seat of Smedley’s pants and consumed a piece of fish stuck at the hem, then joined Smedley’s howl and scratched helpfully at the door until Norbert yanked him back.
“Woofington, that will be enough.” Norbert looked helplessly at the crowd of onlookers. “Can somebody shut that dear boy up before he has a fit of apoplexy? I’m afraid I’ve run out of ideas.” Woofington whined and pulled towards Smedley. “I’m sorry, old boy,” said Norbert. “But I do think, dear Woofies, that our Smedley has gone over the edge.”
***
Once the threat of violence passed, the accountants and construction workers started to straggle homeward, but the Bobby, the barmaids and the buildings’ residents remained, eyes wide and watchful, commenting as the scene unfolded. Heather was amongst them, and had been since the commotion began. It had been something to behold, she thought, but for the sake of her dear friend Penelope, she could remain an observer no longer. It was time to act. She pulled Margaret and Sofia aside.
“Girls, Penelope needs our help. I’ll take Norbert. Margaret, you take Smedley and the butler, and Sofia, you take the Bobby. On the count of three.”
“Take them and do what?” asked Margaret.
“Lock them in your rooms, of course,” answered Heather. Margaret had to be the one who asked, thought Heather. She was the dull one of the bunch.
“And then what?” asked Sofia.
“I’m sure you’ll figure out something,” said Heather. “That Bobby is quite a looker. It’s Margaret who’s got the tough job. I’ll phone her with instructions.” Didn’t Sofia have a brain in her head, either?
“Why do I get Smedley?” asked Margaret, plaintively.
“Because I’ve rather got a fancy for Norbert,” said Heather, primly. And it was true—she had. She’d dropped dozens of hints to Penelope as to how she’d like an introduction to Norbert, but Penelope hadn’t taken a single one. Now Heather had an excuse for making the introductions herself without coming across as too forward. Wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea, and all that. “Have had for quite some time. Now, girls. One, two, three!”
Sofia opened her robe as wide as she could short of public indecency, simpered up to the Bobby, lifted his handcuffs and billy club while his attention was still focussed on Smedley, kissed his cheek, and headed briskly down the hall to her room, with him in pursuit. She waited until he was inside her room before slamming and locking her door behind her.
Heather tiptoed up to Norbert, ran her fingers along his jawline, and whispered in his ear. “Norbert, darling. If you want to fix this for Smedley, I think you’d better follow me.” She allowed her breath to fall on his cheek as she spoke, and then let her fingers to play in the curls of hair at the nape of his neck before running them down his arm and fastening them tightly on his wrist to pull him after her down the hall. She glanced over her shoulder, and smiled to herself when she saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down and his face color to match the red of her bathrobe.
“S-s-sure,” he stuttered. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
“Heather,” she answered. “And it will be a pleasure.”
Norbert’s eyes bugged out of his head and beads of sweat appeared at his temples. He began to shake.
***
Margaret approached Jonesy. “We need to get Smedley out of here,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Do you think we could get him to my room? Heather has an idea.”
“Not without carrying him, Ma’am,” answered Jonesy. He looked down his long butler’s nose at her. The other two girls worried him, but this one looked harmless enough.
The plain girl with the mousey brown hair sighed. “Then I expect we’d better carry him,” she said. She pushed up her sleeves.
“If we must,” sighed Jonesy. This Margaret was not at all what he expected. In fact, she reminded him a bit of his sister, not afraid of a little work. She must have working stock somewhere in her genes. Well, seeing as how she was willing to pitch in with the smelly chap, Jonesy decided he’d better give it a go, so he grabbed Smedley in a bear hug from behind and started to drag him down the hall.
Margaret grabbed his feet.
Smedley kicked and screamed in protest. “Jonesy, I demand you unhand me this instant.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir,” said Jonesy. “And you must stop kicking or you will injure the lady.”
Episode 20: Norbert's Undoing (Rated PG)
Heather shut the door behind her and locked it as soon as she had Norbert in her room. “Have a seat, and make yourself comfortable,” she said, pointing to an over-stuffed chair. “I won’t be a moment.” She winced when Woofington jumped up on the adjacent sofa.
A shocked Norbert looked at her blankly. “Why, thank you,” he said and did as he was told.
She hurried down the hall to her bathroom and dialed Margaret. “Did you get Smedley?”
“Yes, but he’s not very happy about it. Now what do I do with him?”
“Get him out of those smelly clothes.”
“I can’t do that! I can’t have a naked man in my apartment. What will me Mum and Dad think? They’ll be turning over in their graves.”
“You can. First, they can’t see him. They’re dead. Second, he smells of rotten fish. Penelope deserves better. And third, I’m going to bring him some clothes. Put him in one of your bathrobes in the meantime.”
“What shall I do with his clothes?”
“What do I care?” said Heather. “Personally, I’d throw them in the rubbish heap.”
“Right-o,” said Margaret.
Heather glanced at her reflection in the mirror and decided to freshen her lipstick and blush before she returned to Norbert. She added a spritz of perfume while she was at it. Then she sashayed back down the hall, sat straddling his legs, and pushed him back in his chair to set her plan in motion. “Norbert,” she said between nibbles on his earlobes, “Don’t you think it’s a bit warm in here?” Nibble, nibble, then a nuzzle at his neck. Her fingers began to work at the top button of his shirt and she let her lips brush his cheek as she talked. She smiled to herself when his upper lip began to quiver, and his eyes widened. “I think you’d be ever so much more comfortable if we just loosened this shirt before we started to talk about your friend Smedley. Do you mind?” Nuzzle, nuzzle, nibble. “Is that button enough? I don’t think so. Maybe another button? Two? Three?”
“Perhaps,” he said, “we could just turn on the fan?”
“Broken,” she purred. “Too bad.” She made her voice extra breathy, and let her hands slip over the top of his shoulders under the pretense of opening the collar of his shirt. “Perhaps you’d like to take your shirt off completely? And maybe loosen the button on your pants, too?”
Norbert had never been the victim of a seduction before. Reality set in. “No!” he said. “Listen. I’ll take everything off, do whatever you say, but maybe we could have dinner and a few drinks first. You know, let me get to know you, learn your last name? What if we don’t even like each other?”
Heather slapped him. “What kind of girl do you think I am? You didn’t think I was going to let you take liberties, did you? I was just trying to get you out of your clothes of so I could give them to Smedley.”
“You were? Then why didn’t you say so.”
“I didn’t think you’d give them to me.”
“Oh. I thought perhaps…”
“No. Girls like that don’t live in women-only buildings—except for maybe Sofia—or haven’t you figured that out yet?”
"Could we still have a date?” asked Norbert.
“Give me the clothes, and I’ll think about it.”
“Kiss me some more, and I’ll give you the clothes,” said Norbert.
Heather leaned over Norbert, and promptly forgot about Penelope and Smedley. Woofington put his paws over his eyes and whined.