The Spy Who Couldn't Count

Chapter Two Strange Urges

"Now, you"re not to get upset about all this, darling," said his mother next morning, fussing over him as he was trying to leave. She straightened his tie and picked a cat hair off his shoulder. "I"m sure you"re imagining it."

Jyp frowned. "No, it was a cat hair. I just saw you take it off."

"Silly boy, I mean this business about your new job. You know your father wouldn"t talk about it to anyone else."

"Oh, yes? Was I imagining it when the postman handed me next door"s post this morning and said he couldn"t even read our number?" said Jyp, smoothing back his unruly hair back in agitation and jumping nervously at a knock on the door.

"Don"t worry, it"s only the milkman." She put her head out. "There you are, what did I tell you. Hello, Jim."

"Morning, Mrs Patbottam." He grinned knowingly at the sight of Jyp.

"Now, Jim, you know we only have one - not three. What"s the matter with you this morning? Not like you at all."

"Sorry, missus." He took two pints back with a laugh. "We can"t all be good at counting, can we? Bye now."

Jyp quivered. "You see! I told you, Dad went down to the British Legion last night."

His mother patted his arm reassuringly. "It"s just a silly old coincidence. Now get off to work, otherwise you"ll be late. What would your boss say then?"

Looking upset, Jyp jammed his hat on. "Probably ask me why I bothered to come in, as usual." He looked moodily along the road. "I won"t be able to look anyone in the face now. I bet they"ll be full of it on the train."

"What nonsense you do talk. I don"t suppose anyone will take any notice of you. They"ll all be too worried about catching it on time. And if you don"t hurry, you"ll miss it too."

"Don"t care if I do," he muttered setting off slowly. He aimed a kick at the lamp post as he passed. "At least you don"t have to worry about what time to light up - it"s all done for you."

As he turned in at the station approach, he heard a snigger from a group standing near the entrance. Someone shouted, "Don"t forget to put the clock back tomorrow!" And a voice piped up, "Better get a calculator."

The train was full to the brim as usual. In the scrum to get on board, Jyp pushed and shoved with the rest to lever himself in. Just then, Jack, the porter bustled up waving his flag, anxious to get the train away.

"Hurry up, get in, sir." He called inside. "Now move along, room for one more. Oh, morning Mr Jyp, I can count on you to sort them out, can"t I? Ha-ha."

With his face jammed in the back of a large beefy woman in thick tweeds, Jyp could hardly see a thing during the first half of the journey and spent his time torturing himself, wondering what people were saying behind his back. Every little chuckle made him squirm until the woman in front turned round indignantly and asked him what he thought he was doing. In doing so, she sent the other passengers staggering in all directions. Luckily, at East Croydon, the carriage half emptied as some of the more athletic city types changed trains and sprinted for a London Bridge connection.

Immersed in gloom, Jyp automatically sat down on the only seat remaining and left the woman fuming. At that, a military gentleman in pinstripes got up and offered the beefy woman his place, giving Jyp an icy glance before trying to read his paper whilst hanging onto the luggage rack. Oblivious to the glares, Jyp soon got bored and started reading snippets of news from the newspaper in front of him. Some of the items were so interesting, he asked the person opposite to turn back the page so that he could have another look, but the man lowered the paper with an indignant rustle and exchanged outraged glances with the military gentleman still battling with the motion of the train. By the time the train pulled into Victoria, Jyp found he had a stiff neck from constantly turning his head sideways and reading at a funny angle. He was still massaging his neck while fumbling for his ticket at the barrier.

"Thank you, sir," said the ticket collector, glancing at it. "Oh, Watlington, eh? Isn"t that where they"ve got that funny bloke who can"t count?"

"Really?" uttered Jyp faintly, and tottered past.

* * *

As he scurried into the office, he heard a voice bellowing in the distance and dropped his hat in a panic.

"Pratbottam!"

"Oh, my God, it"s old Benson."

He looked around desperately for a way to escape, but left it a fraction too late. As if sniffing his presence, Mr Benson burst out of a door marked "Head of Statistics" and bore down on him with a thunderous expression.

"Where are my death figures, Pratbottam?"

"Er, they"re…they"re in the other office, Mr Benson. Patbottam," he corrected automatically.

"Well, get them, Patbottam. I"ve been waiting for them the past half hour. They should have been on my desk yesterday, as you know full well."

"I"ll bring them to you right away, sir."

"Don"t bother, I"ll come and fetch them. Otherwise I"ll be adding another one to the figures - yours. Hurry, man, hurry. Patbottam," he snorted, as he watched him hurrying off. "I was right the first time."

Jyp led the way to his desk casting a stricken glance around the office for Patience, but her desk was unoccupied. He shuddered and went through the motions, turning over his papers.

"They"re not there, are they, Pratbottam, or whatever your name is?" trumpeted Mr Benson. "Right, that"s it…"

Jyp stood rooted to the spot, his mind frozen, unable to think up any more excuses. He opened his mouth soundlessly, like a goldfish.

"Well, what have you got to say?" thundered his tormentor.

"Excuse me, Mr Benson, are these the figures you were looking for?" A demure voice broke the spell and Mr Benson, looking thwarted, snatched at them.

"Ah, Patience, I might have guessed you wouldn"t let me down. Why can"t you be like her, Pratbottam? Someone I can rely on, all the time."

"But, Mr Benson, I didn"t prepare these." Patience looked up at him earnestly.

"No?" Mr Benson"s fingers began to twitch, a sure sign his blood pressure was rising.

"No." She smiled sweetly. "Mr Patbottam asked me to type them out for him yesterday - that"s why they"re so late. I"m afraid it"s all my fault."

Jyp let out a strangled sigh of relief.

Mr Benson shot him a look of brooding suspicion. "Oh, I see. Right then. Looks as if I"ll have to let you off this time." He turned away reluctantly. "See that it doesn"t happen again, or else."

As his footsteps died away, Jyp subsided limply into the nearest chair.

"Don"t I get a little something for being so good?" cooed Patience, leaning over him, blotting out the light. "Oh, Jyp," she cried passionately, pressing his face in her vast enveloping bosom, leaving him gasping for air.

Re-focusing his eyes, Jyp smiled uncertainly. "Ta, ever so, Patience."

For a moment, Patience stood there beaming, then making up her mind she waddled over to her desk and extracted a bag coyly from the bottom drawer.

"Oh, here"s a copy of those figures."

"Thanks." Jyp stuffed them carelessly in his pocket with the air of a man who"s passed through the storm and was gently relaxing with nothing to fear from anyone.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Patience pulled out an unrecognisable object. "I bet you don"t know what I"m doing, Jefferson, dear."

"No, what is it, Patience?" asked Jyp straightening himself out after the onslaught.

"I"m doing a little knitting."

"That"s nice."

"D"you know what it"s going to be?"

"No, surprise me."

Patience it held it up against herself. "Go on, have a guess."

Jyp glanced up idly from a book he was reading and made a puzzled guess at the lengthy unfinished woollen garment she was looking at lovingly.

"A football supporter"s scarf?"

"No… think of bells."

"A bell ringing scarf?"

A strained smile appeared on her face. "You remember what you said to me at the last office party, Jefferson, dear?"

Jyp thought for a moment. "No?"

"It was awfully romantic."

"Was it when I emptied the brandy into Mr Benson"s punch when he wasn"t looking?"

"No, you"re not concentrating, Jefferson. It was about us…"

As Jyp continued to look blank, Patience dropped a hint.

"It"s a wedding dress…"

"Is someone getting married?" He looked fogged.

"Oh, Jefferson. I think you do it on purpose. You are an old tease. Look," she fished out a piece of paper from the bag. "I used a pattern out of "Tomorrow"s Women". Don"t you think it would go with that blue and orange suit you wore on New Year"s Eve?"

"I don"t think you could wear it with my suit, Patience."

He couldn"t remember whether it was the fifth murder he was reading about, but as he caught the expression in Patience"s eyes he had some idea how the victim must have felt.

"I wasn"t proposing to wear the suit, dearest. You are."

Jyp"s mouth fell open as the significance of her conversation began to strike him. He was about to tell her it was the suit her dog was sick over when he caught sight of the paper she handed over.

"What"s this, some sort of application?" he asked brightly. "Oh, look, it"s got our names on it. And they"ve spelt my name right for a change." He looked up, smiling nervously.

"That"s right, dearest, I made it out for us, so we could get fixed up at the registry office before the Bank Holiday rush starts."

"Fancy, a registry office. I"ve never been a witness before. Is it anyone we know?"

"Oh, Jefferson, how could you!" Her soft dewy eyes blazed with indignation, and she seemed to swell up in front of him with such pent up emotion she would have been snapped up instantly by a producer casting for a starring role in a wartime epic about barrage balloons. Controlling herself with a supreme effort, Patience decided that the time for shilly shallying was over. It was now or never.

"We are getting married - next week, my dearest," she cooed. "You and me. In a registry office. You proposed at the party and I accepted." She grabbed him as he started sliding down out of the chair with a dazed expression. "You called me your little fairy, I shall always remember that."

"Married?" Jyp stammered. He rallied in desperation. "There"s been some mistake. I-I didn"t call you a fairy."

"You did, my darling. Oh yes, you did," she spoke firmly, bearing down on him with the determination of a Sherman tank advancing on enemy lines.

"No, no…" He searched around frantically. As his eye fell on her knitting pattern, he cried out with a flash of inspiration. "I meant I was a fairy, not you. Me." He took fresh heart as she paused in astonishment. "You see, I"m not like other men - I have these strange…urges. I go completely out of control. If you must know," he shut his eyes and sent up a prayer for help.

"What I really wanted to do at the party, was to…er…wear your dress."

"My - what?"

While she was still reeling from the shock, Jyp scrambled to his feet and felt wildly behind him for the door handle.

"I don"t know how to tell you this, but ever since I first met you all I wanted to be was…a woman, just like you." He winced at the ghastly thought it conjured up, and dived at the door as her mouth opened wide and her screams followed him down the corridor.