2 - Perfect Beginning

"Perfect"...

I hated walking fast. That was the only thing I could think of as I struggled to keep up with Sheila. Well, that and there was no way I could possibly find my way back through the maze of streets she was leading me through. What did this girl think she was doing? Racing the streetcars?

We passed one tall building as we neared the wharves that Sheila motioned to as being where she worked. Soon after, she slowed as we reached the waterfront. She pointed out a rather ramshackle building built up on a dock several rows down.

“There it is. Have fun! If you get the job, meet me at my building and we can find some lunch together.”

I nodded my thanks and started rather nervously down the dock as she sped off again. I couldn’t help but feel eyes on my back the entire time… just as if I was running a gauntlet. Really. I thought. It’s not like the idiots hadn’t seen a girl on the docks before.

By the time I started the ascent to the shoddy building up on the pier, I could hear yelling erupting from the thin walls. I remembered what Sheila had said about the Mr. Magnus being a… er… bit ferocious, and winced as some rather salty language rang out.

Reaching the door, I paused awkwardly. I instinctively felt those eyes still on me, and I wholeheartedly wanted to bolt through the door and get out of the sun. But the argument was still going on, and I hated to get off on the wrong foot.

I was still standing by the door (thinking subconsciously how odd it was to be standing on a stable footing while seeing the water lick up at the sides of the lumber pilings), when the door flew open and out came a whirlwind of a person, with his hair in a curly disorder, yelling back insults over his shoulder.

I attempted to melt into the wall, and was apparently unsuccessful, because he caught sight of me out of the corner of his eye, turned, flashed a grin, and said “He’s free now. Rough him up some more for me.”

I stood there, trying to process all of this when a low rumble came from the inside of the room and a balding, graying, red-faced man in fisherman’s overalls came stomping to the door, and then stared at me like a dying waterfowl. I stared back, equally at a loss for words.

We gaped at each other for a while, probably the object of amusement from any passing person. When I finally gathered my wits, I stuck out my hand towards him.

“Uhm, I’m Bess Hiram, I heard you were looking for a secretary, and I’m here to apply.” I said in a gust.

He jerked his head towards the inside and I darted in, then tried to suppress a jump as he slammed the door shut and stormed behind a desk, slouched down in a chair, and drilled his eyes into me.

“Well?!” he barked.

I fumbled with my bag. “I… um… I have a letter of recommendation from my last job…” I finally found it and held it out, at which point it was promptly jerked from my fingers.

“Says here you can take dictation and type. Can you check figures?”

I screwed up my face. “As long as it’s nothing complicated.”

“You’re hired. I need this room straightened up. Keep everything in piles and make sure you know where everything is. We’ll get you a desk sometime soon.”

And with that, the man got up and blustered out the door, slamming it shut and leaving me alone with a room of bedlam.

Outside, a seagull squawked indignantly.

Somewhere a clock struck noon. I looked up from the desk, now only slightly buried with stacks of paper. I sat looking at the door for a few moments, then, when no one entered, I blew the hair out of my face, reached for an empty scrap of paper, scribbled Gone to lunch - Be back in 45 minutes on it, picked up my bag, and scurried out the door without taking a look back.

Reaching the tall building Sheila worked in, I stood outside in the bustle, feeling very in the way and feeling rather lost. Then I caught sight of her bright red head fighting the crowd toward me. As soon as she reached me, rather breathless, she said, rather matter-of-factly: “So, you got the job.”

I could feel my eyes widening as I coughed. “Yessssss… Sure did.”

She finally laughed at me. “Come on. There’s a drug store down the street we can get lunch at.”

Settling in at the counter with our sandwiches the red-head swiveled her chair around and looked at me with those rather flashy dark green eyes. “So. Tell me what happened. Did you get to see Magnus’… explosive side?”

I was drinking water through a straw and almost choked. “Quite a bit of it, actually. Then he took one look at my letter and hired me… left me alone and stormed out the door.”

Sheila laughed with one hand over her mouth. “Who was he arguing with? Alec?”

I described the scene and her face took on its funny angle again. “Have fun with that. Happens all the time.”

I shot her a look. “I’m not sure whether I should be thankful for you telling me about this job or not.”

She chuckled and started eating her sandwich, glancing at the clock above the counter. “Let’s hurry up. Tell me about it on the way home.”

When we parted ways, I found myself running the gauntlet of the docks again. This time, many of the small boats were back and all of the fishermen were busy at work on the docks. The smell of steadily decaying fish threaded the air, and as I made my way through the nets to the office, I looked around me and tried to return some of the stares with a degree of careless confidence that attempted (rather unsuccessfully, I would imagine) to say that I belonged just where I was.

Opening the door to return to my work, I jumped slightly as I was greeted with a subdued roar.

“Where in the name of heaven are my receipts? I hired you to organize me, not wreck my business! Show me those receipts, woman! And now!”

I scrambled like a small terrier around to the desk and reached over his balled fists to point out a drawer. “They are all in there, in chronological order, oldest in the back, newest in the front.”

The old man’s roar receded to a grumble as he pulled out the receipts and began to hopelessly jumble them again. I sighed, dropped my bag, rolled up my sleeves, and began to work again. The papers thrown hither and yon across the room were not the only problem with the office.

To begin with, it was dirty. I hated dirty. And dull. Nothing had a shine. Everything was dusty. In short, it just so happened to repulse almost every sense I had, and I estimated would take a good week to set in order. Sol Magnus would never know what hit him, I thought, glancing grimly at the boulder of a man hiding behind the desk.

I kept making rounds around the room, the papers in my arms gradually growing as I sorted and read and stacked and resorted. It was no small task, sorting all the papers having to do with a fisherman’s business, I soon learned. There were receipts for a million things: boats, repairs, fish, and other things that had no function to my mind. There were lists. There were clippings on other fisheries. There were crew salary figures. There were cannery addresses. There were phone numbers. And so, the papers in my arms steadily grew while random piles sprouted up all over the room.

Near the end of the day, as the sun was coming straight through the one lone window facing the bay, I heard Magnus come plodding up to the office again. He opened the door, filled the frame of it, and looked around steadily. Then he grunted.

“Five o’ clock quitting time. Be back bright and early tomorrow.”

With that, he turned and left again. I blinked. Something about that man left me wordless every time I came into contact with him. Maybe it was because he used so few words himself…

I packed up and left the docks behind me, and followed Sheila back to our room. The walk was much more interesting than the morning’s had been. This was owed in part to my mind, which was not preoccupied with presenting myself at a job. At any rate, I was free to look around me, which probably explained why Sheila was forced to stop and re-direct my steps several times on the way. I couldn’t help it. I would see something interesting and then suddenly be headed straight for a bench or a light pole.

Anyway, the trip home negotiated, supper terminated, and the day slowly calming itself to a close, I found myself ensconced on my bed with Kay and Bridgette and Sheila chattering away. I told them about the day’s wharf experiences and enjoyed their laughter. I felt my cynical little heart warming to these new friends, and as I fell back in bed to sleep, my thoughts were happy.

Over the next few days, I was kept busy going back and forth from the fisherman’s wharf and the boarding house. I gradually got the office straightened out. Magnus occasionally looked around and grunted… without any explosions as of yet. That walk along the pier slowly became less of a mental ordeal as the week wore on. I still hadn’t really met anyone else other than Sol Magnus, and was becoming more and more curious about the business I was now involved in.

Near the end of the week, Sheila was helping me carry a broom and bucket I had borrowed from Mrs. Summers down to the docks. As I struggled to keep up (she still walked at a breakneck speed) I was telling her “I think I’m going to ask Magnus today about showing me what all they do down there.”

Sheila looked back at me “Why?”

I shrugged. I hadn’t really thought about why… “Just because, I guess…”

She shrugged back. “Whatever you say, dear.” We reached the office and she handed me the  bucket. “Enjoy yourself.”

I rolled my eyes at her back. Because we all know that cleaning is my favorite activity…

I suppose I really didn’t need to clean. I mean, no one had told me to. And I doubted anyone really cared. But I refused to work one more day in a room that made me feel dirty to walk in. So in I went with the broom and bucket.

By the time I had swept, the floor no longer crunched when walked on. Well, that and I seemed to have attracted most of the leftover dirt onto my person. I opened the door and swept the rather massive pile of dirt and other miscellaneous junk off of the platform into the water below.

Except a yell reached my ears as I turned back around to the door. I tentatively looked over the rails. It seemed there was a boat… in the water… and several persons in it looking up at me with not the friendliest expressions… Smooth, Bess…

“Sorry!” I yelled down.

A sandy blonde yelled back up “Next time throw yerself down here instead!”

I made a face and went back inside as some roguish laughter sounded in the boat.

Finding soap and water for the floor washing was another ordeal altogether. It seemed that since there was an ocean on the doorstep, the demand for fresh water lessened considerably. But find the water and soap I did, and soon was down on all fours scrubbing the tar out of the floor. It was my goal to shock old Sol Magnus with the overall decency of the place when he came in after lunch, and by golly I was gonna do it if I became a cripple scrubbing the floor. Which was highly likely since my back was already going into spasms…

Nearly three hours later I tiptoed in my nyloned feet across the wet floor, carrying my shoes and the bucket with sordid water out the door (this time glancing around before I dumped the water out into the bay currents).  

Sitting down and letting my legs dangle off into space under the rails, I squinted in the sun and unwrapped a sandwich I had brought with me. The door I had left open squeaked as the wind circled around it, pushing it back and forth. Munching on the dry sandwich, I watched the seagulls sliding in tracks of wind over the expanse of water. It was rather quite on the sea front, other than the sound of the gulls. They made the most obnoxiously pleasant noise I had ever heard. Obnoxious in the fact that, well, it was obnoxious… but pleasant because somehow it just fit in with everything else on the bay in a rather seamless and unbroken fashion. Put it all together with the lapping water, the squeaking door, the odd yell or two wafting in from the water, and the traffic along the wharf, it sang a flawless song of the maritime.

I sighed and put my shoes back on, disposing the crust of my bread to the gulls. Standing in the doorway, I surveyed the work of the last four days. Not to sound too gratified, but I believed that it was something to be proud of, what I had done with that place. The dank floor was at least liberated of at least most of the grunge, and the papers, instead of being scattered across every flat surface available, were either filed in the corner, or set in two neat piles on Magnus’ desk. The one window was washed, and the chairs pushed in correct corners.

And with that, I had nothing to do. I still hadn’t gotten my desk.  And what other work was I supposed to do now that all of this was done? I needed to ask Magnus all these things… If I could get the guts up to do it. Somehow speaking to him didn’t seem like the easiest task. I sat down in a chair to wait…

The tenants downstairs were making a huge racket coming up the stairs, yelling and thumping all the way up… I groaned. Not another argument… after the weeks of quiet… I could scream with all the yelling…

I opened my eyes just in time to hear Magnus yelling outside before the door opened. I was still waking up when the man, his face red, backed into the room, still yelling, followed by the dark-haired person that I had partially met on my first day. They both crossed the room, Magnus thudding down into his chair, still yelling.

“Don’t tell me how to run a fishery! I’ve been running this since you were born, you "” Here he stopped and apparently realized I was in the room, glanced my way, and finished lamely “" fishmonger!”

Then he looked around, and looked back at me, opened his mouth, and yelled, his face still red: “What did you do with those receipts? I can never find the receipts!”

I was still half asleep. The boy looked at me, seemingly amused. Magnus was staring at me, his eyes bugging out. Apparently I am not quite in my right mind when not fully awake, and all at once some force inside of me got the better of me, and I snapped up.

“Stop bellowing at me and look in the drawer!”

It was very… well… silent. I think even the seagulls felt that a squawk would be out of order. They were both staring at me, with two entirely different expressions. Magnus was wearing a blank face. The boy was wearing a barefaced grin.

Could I have done anything anymore stupid…

No… no… I don’t think so…

The silence was excruciating. Finally Dark Hair leaned against the desk and chuckled. “Look at that, Sol. You seem to have found someone else willing to give you some of your own.”

Magnus stared at him with steely eyes, completely soundless.

“Well you heard her.” He said, motioning to the desk. “The receipts are in there.”

“Alec,” he snapped “Stop smirking and get out.”

“What? No longer proving your point?”

Magnus snapped his hand toward the door, and Dark Hair saluted him and rambled out.

I felt my insides wilt as Magnus turned his balding head to me. The tips of his ears were red.

“So I yell, do I?” he asked, wearing a slightly sardonic smile.

I cleared my throat. “Yes, sir.”

“Well gooood.” he almost purred, which I found to be rather ironic, giving his bulk. “Get used to it,” he snapped, “Because I like to yell. And I will yell. Is that permissible to you, Miss Hiram?”

I nodded, rather against my will.

He glanced around the room. I couldn’t help but smirk slightly. It certainly was much improved since the last time he had seen it. Let him see for himself what I could do, I thought.

He nodded at me begrudgingly. “You, Miss Hiram” (putting a large amount of emphasis on the ‘Miss’ for some reason) “Have gotten this place put together. Today’s work is done.”

I stood there, as he started rummaging in his desk. He looked up several minutes later.

“Are you just wanting to do extra unpaid work?”

“Not particularly…” I said, and then tried to word what I was saying carefully. “…I wondered what the rest of my job would entail…?”

He leaned back in his chair, slitting his eyes. “You’ll continue filing papers. You’ll add my figures. You’ll make phone calls, run errands, keep the midnight oil burning, and keep the office in order. Any more questions?”

I fidgeted again. “Well, yes.”

He leaned forward and drilled his eyes into me.

“I, ah’m… wondered if you could show me what the whole fishery was about… so I could know what I was doing on the paperwork end and how it affected the… uhm, trenches… so to speak…” I ended lamely.

He leaned forward more, that small sardonic smile growing on his face.

“Do you own a pair of trousers?”

“…yes…” I said, uncertainly.

“Goooood.” His smile got bigger. “Be in them here at five in the morning tomorrow. We’ll show you the ‘trenches’.”

I nodded and hurried out and away.

Outside, the yelling mate of Magnus unfolded himself from the wharf and kept up with me. “Alec. Nice to meet you, Bess.” He said, sticking his hand out.

I regretfully stopped and shook it, looking for a quick exit. He laughed at me. “You going with us tomorrow, apparently.”

I sighed. “Yes. What of it?”

“Oh nothing.” He kept grinning. It was getting on my nerves. “See you tomorrow!” he said, waving as he went off the opposite direction.

Sheila was waving at me from the sidewalk of the store. “I see you’ve met someone properly.” She said, as we fell in together. I groaned, and told her about the events that had conspired. After all of that, she looked at me.

“You have a pair of trousers?” She asked.

It was not exactly the remark I had expected after the story I had just told her.

“Why shouldn’t I?”

She laughed. “No reason. It’s just if anyone would have them, you would.”

Author's Note

Does the argument between Bess and Magnus work?

Reviews

[Von Alis]

Keep going! The characters are getting so interesting I can't wait to see how this all plays out! The entire story is excellent, I like the setting especially, when America as we know it was still young. I can tell that Bess' adventures are only going to get more and more intriguing!

[Leigh]

Yes it does, nice flow, keep going with it, its building

[Austin H.]

Well, I can't wait to see what whimsical adventures Bess encounters at her job and with her friends. You've kept the plot rolling quite well. I like how you've clearly contrasted Magnus and Bess. I bet they one day gain a grudging respect for each other.

One thing that's just something to me is your use of the trenches. Now, I'm not an expert, but from what I've read, trench warfare did not gain much notice until its employment in the Russo-Japanese war, which didn't occur until 1904. Even then, America pretty much was unaware of the event, except for Roosevelt's involvement. Trenches really didn't gain infamy, or usage in common references, until the Great War began in 1914. Just my input. I'm a stickler for history, especially of this time period.

[R.G. Bennet]

Excellent. Excellent, excellent. I am in love with this book and look forward to seeing more. Roll out them chapters, sweetheart' ;)

[Carmen-Rose McGill]

I'm liking this story more the more I read it. The argument works quite well, and Mangus is a very beleviable character. Reminds me of an old coach of mine. I like Mangus a lot. (maybe because I don't like my characters to all be sugary-sweet. Salty people are much more realistic.) Keep up the good work!

[AK]

Very nice:) I really liked the story and where it's going. If you ask me, it's perfect. Keep writing so you don't lose the flow of the story and then you can come back and see what you like and don't like..