The Impressions (4)

the impressions part for that evening. The impressions collected in the board room again, and everybody looked at Felicity. She didn't like speaking in front of groups, and this was an extremely peculiar group. She cleared her throat a couple of times before beginning and, well, I managed to find out who wants to buy the building. She said. It's a Russian company called Chris and over crystals their diamond merchants who want to establish themselves in London on goddamn commie bastards! Growled the American General from inside a cloud of cigar smoke. We should have nuked them back in general. Tippet said the lady from the Salvation Army with a strong Scottish accent. Can I remind you, Tow? Watch your language. The good Lord did not salon Sula raised his hand. General Tippett. Miss Murray, You remember our agreement? No interruptions. He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. Miss Appleby, please continue, Right. Well, Chris and over Crystals has offered a lot of money to buy this building. They want to knock it down and build something more modern here. The bank's directors, Mr. Rip Off, Mr. Too Bitter, Mr Grabber. Want to move the bank's operations somewhere cheaper outside London, so they're very keen to sell the building to Crisan over crystals. Is there any way to change their minds? Asked salons a lot. I mean, this is such a beautiful building. It has so much history. What about that young man you used to know Mrs. Result on Conrad Boil or something? Didn't he become famous? Conan Doyle turned into a writer, But this lot doesn't give a fig for history, snorted Mrs Twizzlers. Done, I even heard that idiot grabber talking to rip off about the wonderful business opportunities that would be created if Sim Paul's Cathedral could only be turned into a shopping arcade. But I get the feeling you haven't idea, Miss Appleby said Frederick, smiling Encouragingly, andare looking at Felicity with more confidence. And she felt herself. What is it? She gulped. History is actually something you could use. I was thinking you could apply to the Historical Buildings Association toe. Have the building listed as a historical monument. If you could show that it has a connection to an important event or person, or if you could argue that it has particularly important architecture, it would be protected. Well, there you are said Salon Salat triumphantly. This building is a superb example of late 19th century architecture. After all, it has an elegant entrance hall with columns a magnificent staircase onda ceiling with original light fittings. The group nodded. I like the idea, the Nigerian prince said to Felicity. But when you say you could apply, I see a problem. We can't apply for this sort off thing. She left to do it for a squeak, smudge or with dead his door. Mice, door nails much, said Frederick, not door mice. But Prince Jin Naza has a point. Miss Appleby. We really have to make an effort to be noticed by ordinary people. What do you suggest we do? That was the difficult part. Felicity had to admit. If she applied toe, have the building listed on the director's found out she would lose her job and couldn't help them anymore. The group discussed their options until it was decided that Felicity should open an email account in the name of Frederick Tumble. She would send everything from there to the Historical Buildings Association. I'll help fill in the papers, said Frederick. I know something about architecture. Shall we start? They worked long into the night until everything was prepared and sent again, Frederick insisted on escorting her home on the night bus. We must look like a strange couple for Felicity to herself, me in my office, clothes and him with the hat on top of his thick blond air, the sideburns going halfway down his cheeks on those dark blue eyes with such long lashes. Yet people hardly looked at them. Well, to be fair, this is London, she concluded. Most days, there are stranger things on the bus than a man in a top hat. Good night, Miss Appleby, he said when they reached her door with so grateful for your help, we would be lost without you until tomorrow. Let me bid you or Ed Uar. He bowed, took her hand, kissed it and disappeared back into the night. Well, said Paula, coming out of the bathroom in her nightdress and with the tooth brushing her hand, Julie was right. He has got a lovely voice. The next day, Felicity found it hard to concentrate on work. If Tricia or the directors found out what she had done, they would have her out of the door before you could say Historical Buildings Association. She continually checked the email account she had set up for Frederick. But apart from spam mail advertising Viagra on last minute cruise holidays, nothing arrived. If the association is slow and bureaucratic, she thought to herself, it might be too late to stop. The phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. Felicity, it was Joshua, the security guard from the building entrance. On the phone. There's a gentleman here from the Historical Buildings Association who says he has an appointment with Mr Rip off. Can you show him where to go? Please? Felicity hurried to the lift, her heart pounding. It was going to work. The doors opened on Why Felicity? Hello, said a familiar voice. How are you doing? You look a bit tired. Aidan the douche bag stepped out of the lift.