Major William Jefferson Clayton was a mild mannered man. He rarely lost his temper, and was rarely cross. But when he was cross, people knew about it.
He stormed into his office on his return from Downing Street, without pausing to say ‘afternoon, chaps’ as he normally did, spun his peaked cap towards the hat-stand as he always did, and missed, which he never did. To crown it all, he slammed his office door behind him. Well, that door hadn’t been shut for … well, weeks if not months.
Captain Brian Foley and Sergeant Catherine Wilson, who had stood up when he crossed the outer office, sat down again.
They looked and each other in disbelief.
“Is he cross, or something?” asked Foley.
“Not exactly his usual bright self, is he,” responded the Chief Clerk.
They looked towards the closed door.
“Do you think we should do something?” asked Foley.
“I’ll put the kettle on,” replied Wilson, helpfully. “And you can take the tea in when it’s brewed.”
“No thanks. That’s a woman’s job.”
“I hope you’re not going to pull rank, sir, at a time like this.”
“Oh, no! Of course not,” replied Foley. “It’s just that a woman’s touch is probably what’s called for ‘at a time like this’ in my view. So you can take the tea in to him.”
“You are pulling rank,” said Wilson.
“I’ll have a cup, too, while you’re about it,” said Foley, as if to end the discussion.
“Do you think the visitors’ china is called for ‘at a time like this’?” asked Catherine Wilson, “or would his old mug make him feel more at home?”
“I shouldn’t think he’d even notice, or care.”
“Mug, then.”
“On the other hand,” said Foley, “it might be a good idea to leave him alone for a bit, y’know. Shutting the door like that might be a sign.”
They looked towards the door again. Foley edged towards it, and cocked an ear.
“Not a sound,” he said. “He’s not on the phone or anything.”
“At least he’s not throwing things about.”
“Perhaps we should wait a bit, to see what happens,” decided Foley.
“And what if nothing does?” asked Wilson.
“Then you can take the tea in,” said Foley.
They agreed to wait, and didn’t have to wait long.
“I’m going to the toy hospital,” announced Clayton as he emerged, grabbing his hat from the hook where Foley had put it.
“But it’s only Thursday,” ventured Sergeant Wilson, immediately wishing she hadn’t.
“If the phone rings, I’m out,” said Clayton, and went out.
Foley and Wilson looked at one another again, still in disbelief. Nothing like this had ever happened before.
“I’ll make the tea anyway,” said Wilson. “In case he comes back soon. I can’t believe this will last.”
“And what if it does, and he doesn’t?” asked the Captain.
“Then I’ll have to go and get him,” said the Sergeant. “A woman’s touch is probably what’s called for at a time like this.”