Miss Prunella Poppins

Andrew’s routine was set – until she made it practically perfect in every way

A practically per fect story

Andrew Walker checked his diary. Bold black writing warned him he had wall-to-wall meetings all day. As he kept his own diary, this came as no surprise to him.

With unnecessary precision he undid the three buttons of his jacket before placing it on the back of his ergonomically designed, dark green chair. Carefully smoothing out any wrinkles from the tailored grey material, he then sat, and scanned his diary once more. Without needing to look for it, he took his Montblanc gold-nibbed fountain pen from the precisely arranged top drawer of his desk – pen next to ink bottle, ink bottle beside metal ruler, and the Rubik Cube he fiddled with daily in the hope that the momentous day might come when he would solve the stupid puzzle and be able to throw it out.

Nodding at the notes he’d made about each meeting – objectives, preferred outcomes, obstacles – he ticked each one with his pride-and-joy pen, a treat he’d given to himself the previous Christmas. However, as he leant back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the mahogany sheen of his desk, the two furrows on his brow deepened. A nagging suspicion had started during breakfast, but now it wriggled like a mess of worms in his belly. He’d forgotten something vital, taken his finger off the pulse, his foot off the pedal. But what? He sat, drummed his fingers louder, glaring at his diary as if it might have the missing piece of information secreted between its blue lines.

When the diary revealed nothing, he swivelled round on his chair and gazed out of the high arched window. Oblivious to the view, he consulted his watch. His first meeting on Wednesday the tenth of July would begin in fifteen minutes, so he’d best prepare, attach notes to files.

Then, like a sharp tap on the head with a little rubber hammer, it hit him. Not unpleasant, more an awakening.

“The tenth of July! It’s Eleanor’s birthday!” he said aloud. All he’d forgotten was his wife’s birthday.

Nothing important at all. The furrows on his brow vanished as a satisfied smile spread across his face.

“Jane.”

No need to shout. He liked that. Just projecting his voice in the direction of the door would cause his secretary to drop everything and come running.

Jane would sort out a birthday present, book a table for dinner at the usual Chez Nous and collect his dry-cleaning, leaving him to get on with the more important tasks of life.

When his secretary did not appear, he checked his watch. Ever punctual, Jane could be relied upon to be seated at her desk by 8.45am. So he cleared his throat and, raising his voice a little, called again. After an endless silence he marched across the room and yanked open the door.

The woman sitting at Jane’s desk looked up.

“Good morning,” she said. Her suit, lipstick, manicured nails, everything about her was immaculate. Even her smile. She was the sort of woman who

He checked his WATCH… his SECRETARY was always PUNCTUAL

ought to be wearing an elegant hat.

Andrew blinked at her. “Who are you?” he said, with a new frown skittering across his brow.

“I’m afraid Jane is ill. Instead, you have me, Prunella Poppins, Miss.”

“When Jane is off they always send Elizabeth Wilson. I’m used to Elizabeth Wilson,” he said, still frowning.

“Change is good for the soul. So here we are, you and me. Shall we get started, Andrew?” Her smile never faltered.

He warned himself to get a grip.

He had no reason to be wrong-footed by this woman. After all, she was just a temp.

“Right. Well, as a priority I need you to buy my wife’s birthday present…”

Her snort of derision stopped him mid-sentence.

“How funny you are, Andrew! Someone should have warned me. I thought that sort of secretary died out in the 20th Century. You’ll be asking me to collect your dry-cleaning next!”

Andrew bit his lip. Red heat rose up his neck as he debated risking asking her anyway. Prucilla someone-or-other smiled as she slit open an envelope with a paperknife.

“Well, perhaps fetching a coffee is not an impossibility even in the 21st Century!” he barked at her.

“Thank you, that would be lovely. Mine’s a Number 3, whipped,” she said.

For the first time Andrew Walker marched back into his office and slammed the door. He paced for a while, thinking hard. As a mature man with a wealth of experience of handling

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women, he figured if this Patricia woman couldn’t be reasoned with, then he’d have to resort to using charm.

Peaking round the door he gave her his warmest smile. “I have wall to wall meetings today, Per…”

“Prunella Poppins, Miss!”

“Quite. So, I’d be very grateful if, just on this one occasion, you could purchase a present for my wife’s birthday,” he purred.

“When is your wife’s birthday?” “Today,” he grinned, chuckled a bit. “Very careless planning on your part, wasn’t it, Andrew?”

“I… er… yes.” His smile drooped at the corners, began to slither off his face. Feeling as if he was back in the headmaster’s office, he studied his shoes, discovering that now he was older he could glimpse his reflection in their brilliant shine.

“So what did you buy your wife last year, Andrew?”

“I… um… er…”

“You’re doing a lot of um-er-ing for a man in such a senior management position, Andrew.”

“It’s so long ago, I can’t honestly remember,” he blurted out louder than he intended.

“You can’t remember because Jane bought it? Am I right?”

“I’m a… a very busy man.”

“Indeed. Well, most likely Jane bought pearls. They’re always a safe bet. Everyone tends to buy pearls when they give neither the person nor the gift much thought,” she said.

When she paused, as if considering a better gift to buy, Andrew smiled, hopeful that, at last, she’d run off and buy the present so he could get on and prepare for his meeting.

“It’s very obvious to me, Andrew,” she said, the smile returning to her face.

“What is that?” he gave an encouraging smile back at her.

“That you are the best person to choose a gift for your wife. Besides, I have a luncheon appointment today, and to be honest I’d be letting standards slide if I started carrying out domestic chores.”

“Too perfectly manicured to get your hands dirty!” Andrew muttered as, for the second time that day, he slammed his office door. “Damn!” He glanced at his watch. he was two minutes late for his first meeting.

“You’re two minutes late for your first meeting!” Miss Perfect-pants’ voice sang out clear as a bell, even through the closed door.

Irritated, a hasty grab for his jacket sent Andrew’s chair collapsing backwards, crushing the pristine grey material beneath it. Kicking at the chair to nudge it out of the way, he snatched up the garment and shook it hard.

Taking a couple of deep breaths to calm himself, he put it on, then pressed his index finger against the nerve that had started vibrating by his right eye. “Have a good meeting, Andrew.” Miss Pain-in-the-Pants now stood in the doorway of his office, blocking any possibility of him ever getting through the door.

“Your wife deserves something more personal than pearls, don’t you think?” she blathered on as he danced round her trying to get past. Then she tutted at him, picked some fluff off his sleeve as, at last, he managed to slip past her and away to his meeting.

With his powers of concentration all awry, Andrew Walker’s meeting with marketing had not gone to plan. Worse still, because of Priscilla Pippins, Miss, he now had to rush out of the building to the nearest jeweller’s shop.

It took him less than eight minutes to select a nice string of pearls that cost £205. Generous enough, he thought and, with a flick of his wrist, reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. No wallet there! So he fished around the outside pockets, then tapped round and round his jacket and trousers. Still no wallet.

“I… I seem to have lost my wallet,” he said, with a flush of heat creeping up his face. He felt like a thief.

Racing back to work, he yanked open his office door. A quick search beneath his desk revealed nothing. Heaving up his chair, he cried out as a sharp pain shot through his left shoulder.

“Have you lost something, Andrew?” Startled, he leapt up – and immediately banged his head on the underside of his solid wooden desk.

“Yes!” he shouted up at Miss Punctilious Pippit, who was waving his wallet in the air just to annoy him.

“A simple thank you will do,” she said, as he snatched the wallet out of her hand. “No need to rush, Andrew. Look for something lovely. Remember pearls don’t send the right message…”

“Not bloody pearls! Not bloody pearls!” he found himself chanting like some mantra as he ran back to the jewellers, beads of sweat bubbling up on his brow. Now he’d be late for his next meeting too.

As Andrew rubbed his sore head and checked for blood, the jeweller flapped about with paper and ribbon, wrapping up the pearls.

He’d chosen pearls. Why had he done that? He didn’t even like them. While that pair of beautiful earrings glinted at him from the glass display box. Such an astonishing colour, the exact blue of Eleanor’s eyes.

“Wait!” he said. “Those stones, are they sapphires?”

“No sir. They’re the very rare and precious benitoite, a stone believed to stimulate the growth of joy and happiness.”

Pricey, but perfect.

“Leave the pearls. I’ll take the benitoite, please,” he said.

Miss Practically Perfect had the cheek to be late, still out at lunch with her friend, although he couldn’t imagine

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Why had he CHOSEN pearls for his wife? He didn’t even like PEARLS!

anyone as annoying as her actually having a friend!

Yet, she’d sorted all of his post beautifully, ready in a neat pile for hi im to look through. She’d even left a no te, handwritten in clear and shapely scr ript:

Dear Andrew, your meeting afterr lunch is cancelled.

Beside her note she’d left a local magazine lying open at an article reviewing the best local restaurants. With time to relax, he sat down.

“The Azure Room – Five stars,” heh read aloud.

Swivelling in his chair he gazed ou ut of the window at the busy city below… … there were so many people, all rushi ing about. But in the distance he could sees the green of the park, the place wher re he’d first met Eleanor…

It had been a chance encounter. She’d dropped her scarf in the lake. He’d fished it out for her. On their first date he’d taken her to The Azure Room.

He lifted the phone, dialled, held hish breath.

“You have a cancellation? A table for two, by the window, looking out at the park and the lake. Really? That’s wonderful! It’s my wife’s birthday,” Andrew said, surprised at how excited he felt.

“Everything all right?” Prunella Poppins, Miss, popped her head round the door.

“Practically perfect,” Andrew said, wondering where he’d heard that phrase before.

“That’s the way we like it,” she said.

After watching the sun set over the lake, and eating a delicious main course, the moment seemed right. Andrew handed his wife her present. “Happy birthday, darling,” he said.

She opened the box slowly. She looked surprised. No, startled, just staring at the contents, before she stared at Andrew with her tear-filled blue eyes.

“What… what’s the matter?” He’d forgotten how beautiful his wife was, how much he hated to see her cry. Doubt crept into his mind. Perhaps he should have bought the pearls. “I can take them back if you don’t like them?”

“It’s not that. It’s just… I was beginning to wonder if you remembered you even had a wife. All you seem to think about is work,” Eleanor said, stopping to blow her nose. “Actually, I did wonder if you might be losing your memory altogether, because ffor my llastt ththree bibirthdaysthd you’ve bought me the same string of pearls!”

“Have I?” Maybe he should check if Jane still had all her faculties about her! Although, what was it Prunella had said? Everyone tends to buy pearls when they give neither the person nor the gift much thought. Maybe Jane, just like him, had given his wife’s birthday presents no thought at all.

“The earrings – I bought them because they’re the colour of your eyes,” he told her.

When Eleanor smiled, he realised he hadn’t felt so happy for a very long time.

On Monday morning Jane, already at her desk early, sprang out of her chair as soon as Andrew walked in.

“I’m so sorry Andrew that you didn’t have anyone to cover for me on Friday.”

“But I did. The Agency sent Prunella Poppins, er… Miss.”

“But they said that they didn’t have anyone available.”

“Well she appeared from somewhere. You can tell the Agency I’m happy to have her again. Actually, no – I’ll tell th hem myself.”

“Did you say Mary Poppins?” the agency girl sniggered down the phone.

“No. I did not. I said Prunella Poppins, P er… Miss.’”

“Well, she must have floated down on he er umbrella like Mary Poppins, because w e don’t have anyone of that name on ou ur books.”

“What do you mean?” he said. “Maybe you’ve got the name wrong. What W did she look like?”

“Smart blue suit, blonde hair in a neat bo ob, very well-manicured nails, lipstick to o match, shoes polished.”

“She sounds practically perfect!” the gi rl said, then laughed.

“Practically perfect… that’s what I … w hy would you say that?”

“It’s a joke! You know, Mary Poppins, th hat’s what she says about herself, ‘I’m pr ractically perfect in every way.’ Pe erhaps Mary Poppins had a daughter na amed Prunella!”

“Is that possible? I thought Mary Po oppins wasn’t real…”

“Whatever! Anyway, I’m sorry, but there’s no Prunella or Mary or any other Poppins on our books.”

“Are you all right?” Jane said.

“Yes… Yes. I think I’ll fetch us some coffees. What would you like?”

“I…em… a number 3.”

His secretary was SHOCKED – never before had he brought her COFFEE

“Whipped?”

“No, flat.”

No wonder Jane looked so shocked. In all the years she’d worked for him he’d never thought to fetch her a single coffee. In fact he didn’t know the first thing about Jane. Or the practically perfect Prunella Poppins come to that.

As he waited in line at the coffee machine Andrew felt a tug of longing. He hadn’t even said goodbye to her. But just like Mary, this Prunella Poppins, Miss, had left her mark.

“Change is good for the soul,” he said to himself, and smiled.