The Impressions (1)

the impressions. Part one. It was Monday morning on time for work. Felicity Appleby looked in the mirror at the office, suitable clothes she'd bought herself in Oxford Street on Saturday. The gray jacket felt too small on the pockets weren't large enough for anything useful, like a package of tissues or a phone. The matching skirt was too tight, and the high heeled shoes pinched her toes. How could this be happening? She wondered. Felicity had left University with an excellent degree in English literature. Andi found that nobody in London was interested in what she knew about plot development in Charles Dickens's novels or the economic realities behind marriages in Jane Austen's novels. After several weeks of being rejected for any positions that sounded interesting, she was forced to take a job at Rough Tumble on bound to be associates on investment bank that have Bean, founded in the 19th century aunt, had stayed in the same building near Sim Paul's Cathedral ever since. Although she liked the office is on the location, she was not so impressed with the job. She was called a director's assistant, But the impressive title really meant secretary pay and status were very unimpressive. As if that wasn't bad enough, she quickly learned that the clothes she favored floral dresses combined with dot marching shoes and a black leather jacket with large pockets were not seen as suitable office. Where now I don't mean to be rude, the office manager, Tricia had said, fully intending to be extremely rude. But our director's expect a certain level of style and elegance from us in the office. I mean, they're all dressed up in suits, aren't they? We can't go around looking like hobos. Felicity would like to have walked out of the job at that point, but she had a large student loan to pay back and no alternative sources of finance. So she had swallowed her pride, studied the others on put together on office wardrobe. She turned from her mirror with a sigh, put on a respectable raincoat, gave her leather jacket a sad little pat on Gwent, down to catch the first of two buses that would take her all the way from north London down to the bank. It was a long ride and quite pleasant when Sonny she liked sitting upstairs, seeing how the streets changed as the bus approached Sim Paul's. She liked imagining the lives of the other passengers or the people who were walking to work. But today it was rainy, windy on cold. The other passengers smelled damp on the streets were mostly empty. Things didn't improve When she got to work. Tricia called her and the other two directors assistance into her office. Mr. Rip Off told me something dreadful this morning. Girls, Can you imagine what he discovered when he sat down in his business class seat on the flight back from Moscow yesterday afternoon? There was a silence as everybody tried to imagine a seatbelt guest Felicity. Finally, somebody laughed but stopped as Tricia gave them an icy stare. No Felicity on dial, Thank you all to take this seriously, He found that one of you had booked emus eat next to the toilet, the toilet. Now I. After a 30 minute lecture on the importance of making sure directors were booked seats where they wouldn't be offended by airplane plumbing, they were allowed to get back to their work. Felicity had just finished checking a document about the sale and development of some building to Russian investors. When one of the directors, Mr Two bit put his head out the door of his office. Could you pop out and get me a pastry? He asked the usual please on make me a coffee when you get back. His a tenner. Get yourself something to the rain had stopped, and a winter sun made the task quite a pleasant one. She liked the streets around Sim Paul's. They were very old, with names like Blackfriars Lane, Wardrobe Hill or Puddle Dock. On Walking Down Them, she could imagine she was a character in one of the Victorian novel she loved. Felicity Appleby hurried along Watling Street, her hand firmly pressing her new bonnet to her head to stop the wind from removing it. The fresh air raised her spirits. Andi, as she entered Madame Hortense, is patisserie in garlic hill. It was with a sparkle in her eye. Onda smile upon her lips, which did not go unnoticed by the elegant gentleman with the side whiskers and a BRAC frog coat holding the door. How is strange? They're really wasa man in an old fashioned black coat, holding the door for her as she went into the pastry shop he raised his hat a top hat to her before crossing the street. Did you see that man in the funny clothes? She said as she paid for the pastries. Is he an actor or something? Man, I didn't notice, said the man behind the counter. That would be £8. 75 please. Back in the office, she delivered pastry and coffee to Mr Tube. It on was in the kitchen with one of the other assistance emptying the dishwasher when Tricia walked in. Now that's enough chatting. You get back to work. When you finished in here on, make sure you shut all these top cupboard doors properly. I hit my head on one of them earlier this week. Wouldn't want that toe happen to any of our directors, would we? It was a long day. Felicity have a lot to do on. Nearly everybody had left the office before she was finished. She put some things away in the kitchen. On was just bending down to close the dishwasher when Miss Appleby, could you spare a moment? We need your help to center voice. Felicity jumped up with a little cry of surprise, banged her head on open cupboard door above her on, landed with a crash on the floor