Home Time  


It was late. Film producer Ed Straker had left the office two hours ago, leaving me with a full signature folder of correspondence to be done before the last mail was collected. Not that I want to complain; it was my job as his secretary to handle his letters and notes, write notices of arrivals or budget cuttings and invite scriptwriters to meet him.

But this was only one part of my job. The other was my work for Commander Ed Straker, the first in command of Supreme Headquarters Alien Defence Organisation. And perhaps you can guess: this job was as stressful as my work for Ed Straker, boss of  Harlington-Straker filmstudios.

But back to my story. I locked my desk and turned off my radio. A last glance at the big clock above the door: 10 p.m. Again too late for Tesco’s, so the rest of my tomato soup and a slice of bread had to do for tonight.

I took the stairs, not the elevator down to the entrance, where Mr. Saxon, our always kind night doorman, waved at me. “Hello Miss Ealand, finally clocking out? Don’t forget your umbrella, it’s raining cats and dogs.”

He pointed out of the window and grimaced. Gosh. Doomsday outside. Heavy raindrops pattered against the panes of the big entrance door. And today of all days I wore my pink Chanel suit and white courts. Holy … okay, I shouldn’t swear, but I would ruin both  after ten steps through the rain.

Breathing a sigh I closed the buttons of my cotton jacket. Mr. Saxon arose and rounded the reception, a long rain cape in his hand. “Please wait. Can’t have you going out like that, not in this rain.”

He smiled and offered me his cape. I took it and slipped in. Of course it was too large and almost ankle-length; Mr. Saxon was head and shoulders above me! But I was so thankful for his help. What a kind man. Putting on the hood, I turned to him, returning his smile. “Thanks so much, Mr. Saxon. What would I do without you? Until tomorrow, and thanks again.”

I headed for the door, car keys in one and my bag in the other hand. “Miss Ealand. Adrienne!”

A familiar voice, not Mr. Saxon’s, called me back. I stopped, surprised because I was not the last who wanted to leave. Colonel Freeman hurried to reach me, his oversized umbrella under his arm. “May I take the liberty of taking you to your car?”

He offered me his arm, a winning smile on his face. Alec Freeman, a real gentleman from head to toe. “Or maybe I can invite you to a drink, or a small snack? Harvey’s should be a good choice.”

I’d got the picture. Womaniser Alec, taking his chances whenever it was possible. Or not possible. “Thanks, Colonel. I’ll take your offer.”

A hopeful expression covered his face until I carried on, “but only to my car.”





NOTE: Written to DRAGON's prompt ("It's raingin hard." Not more than 500 words.) Can also be found on The Shado Archive under www.shadoarchive.com. 


Back to Single Stories