The Inept Butler

James is out of his depth

words 1718

Matilda turned the key in the door, half expecting it wouldn’t work, for this was the first time in her whole young life she’d held a key to her very own place.

Leaving home hadn’t been easy. Her parents tried to change her mind; told her it would be wasted money. “Why pay good money for a pokey old flat when you’ve a perfectly good home,” her mother had said.

Her father, insisting on inspecting the flat, gave her hug before saying, “You’ll be back home before you know it, this place is really spooky.”

Okay, it was a little spooky, but it was hers and so close to her part time barista job and college.

##

The first evening she’d spent alone she felt free for the first time. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her parents, she did, but she wanted to be able to come and go as she pleased without the need to keep them constantly informed.
It wasn’t until after she locked the door, checked the windows, and made sure she’d turned everything off before going to bed, did she have her first pang of doubt—after all Dad had always done those things, hadn’t he?

After doom-scrolling on her phone for half an hour, Matilda turned off her bedside lamp.

Oooooo

Sitting bolt upright in bed, she turned on the lamp. Matilda’s heart raced. Had she imagined that? Remaining absolutely still and silent for a minute or so, all she heard was the sound of her heart beating loudly in her ears.
At last, she forced herself to lie down again but slipped her phone under her pillow just in case she needed it again in a hurry.

Oooooo. Whoops. Sorry.

“Who’s there?” she shouted, sounding braver than she felt as she grabbed her phone and turned on the torch.

Don’t be scared. I live here, but don’t worry I won’t get in your way, a shadowy figure in the corner of the room spoke in a mournful tone, in fact you’ll barely know I exist.

“I must be dreaming!” Matilda decided.

After a few minutes and no more sounds and after she’d searched her room, she switched off the torch and lay down. All was quiet, she could hear nothing except for her own uneven breaths. Counting down from one hundred to steady herself, she was down to, “27-26-25…”

Are you alright? I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“For God’s sakes!” Matilda sat up and switched on the lamp.'

Helloooo.

“What do you want!”

Ah, that’s better. Now you do believe that I’m here.

“Well, what do you want?”

I don’t want anything except to be helpful. The apparition wavered and wobbled, like a hologram, its voice sounded plaintive. But no one stays around long enough to get to know me.

Matilda screwed up her eyes. “I can’t see you while you’re stuck in that corner. If you’re a real ghost, show yourself.”

Slowly the hologram became less transparent, and she could just make out a tall figure of a man. She could barely believe she wasn’t frightened out of her wits—she’d never been known for her bravado—and yet if anything, she felt a little sorry for her midnight visitor who gave a little bow of his silver-haired head.

When he spoke, his plummy, English voice sounded as if it was coming through a distorted speaker on low volume. Let me introduce myself. He stood as straight as his ghostly appearance would allow, James, personal butler to the late Lord Greaves of London

“London? We’re not in England. We’re in Australia!”

What! This isn’t 3, Willow Lane SW1?

“Er, no. This is Flat 6/3 Willow Lane. Sydney. NSW.”

Oh no. Why hasn’t anyone mentioned this before?

“Didn’t any of the previous tenants see you?” Matilda asked.

it seems as if you’re the first, although to be honest no one ever stayed here long enough to make my acquaintance.

“Mm, funny that!” Matilda sighed.

I’m so sorry, Miss Matilda. I seem to be terribly lost.

The look of abject sadness on his ghostly face made any cause for alarm, she might still have had, disappear.

And that was how Matilda met her ghostly flat mate. She knew no one would believe her and so she kept James to herself.

##

Several weeks had passed since the day Matilda moved into her flat and of course since she’d first met James. He’d been as good as his word and kept as quiet as a ghost, but he did have quite a few annoying habits. She couldn’t summon him at will but if she really need a word, she could generally get a cold feeling when he was hovering close by.

“James? Can I have a minute of your time?”

Miss Matilda? James suddenly appeared from behind her..

“Oh, I do wish you could give me some sort of warning before you pop up.”

I apologise, he droned, it’s my butler training. Lord Graves was not to be disturbed by the staff.

“That may be true, but I don’t need a butler and you must admit you’ve been butlering again, haven’t you?” Sarah shivered. “It’s freezing in here. Did you turn the heat down?”

I’m sorry Miss, I must have slipped into ghost mode for a moment. After all, this place is haunted and it was a little too warm, not really what you might call atmospheric.

“I don’t need atmospheric, thank you, and while I have your attention, what’s with the turned down bed and ironed undies?”

Well, Lord Graves was a stickler for starched underwear.

“And me? Not so much.”

I understand, Miss Matilda. Will there be anything else? His tone gave Matilda the impression he felt slighted.

“I have the feeling I’ve upset you, James.” Matilda said. “I’m sorry if I have, I didn’t mean to.”

Not at all, Miss. One needs to develop a thick skin to be in service, although as my skin is now transparent, perhaps I am a little more vulnerable to perceived slights.

“I can only apologise, James. Perhaps we can sit and have a chat. You know, air our grievances?”

I’d like that very much, Miss Matilda. Lord and Lady Graves were totally disinterested in the well-being of their staff. Would you like some tea before we begin?

“You just sit there, James and I’ll play butler for a change.”


Matilda walked back into the room with a pot of tea and a plate of Gingernut biscuits. She sat down. “Do you miss drinking tea, James?”

I miss many things, Miss, he sighed wistfully, gazing into space, as if remembering better times. He spoke again as if to change the subject, I noticed your choice of biscuits is the Gingernut. Lord Graves, being lacking in the tooth department had difficulties with those, he preferred a shortbread dipped in his tea before attempting a bite.

“What else do you miss, James?” Matilda prompted him to keep speaking.”

I miss being useful, Miss Matilda.

Matilda looked into those wavering eyes and imagined the man he used to be. She had a thought. “James, I have an idea. I don’t need waiting on, nor do I have silver to polish, I really despise starched undies and I can manage my own climate control, but how about I teach you what a butler would do in the 21st century?”

James’ body seemed to grow, to become more solid, even though he was still see-through. He smiled with anticipation.

“I’ll teach you about the internet. You could be my entertainment manager, sift through the rubbish programming and filter all the scams. You could manage the dishwasher and make smashed Avo on toast.” Matilda’s mind rapidly sifted through all the tasks she hated doing. “And if you’re feeling up to it, run the vacuum cleaner over the carpet.”


James’ smile widened. Thank you, Miss Matilda, it would be my privilege.

##

We are short of milk, Miss Matilda.

“Thank you for stating the obvious, James. I can see that.” Matilda muttered as she tipped the last few drops out of the milk carton.”

I’m so sorry. It would never have happened at the Hall. Our milkman came daily with his horse and cart. Fresh milk, straight from the farm.

“I don’t have time to go to the shops today, James. It’s final exam day.”

Don’t worry, Miss, I’ll send an on-line order to Woolworths on your tap-tap writing pad.

“That’s great, James, and check what else we’re short of.” Matilda suddenly looked doubtful. “Are you sure you know how to use the iPad?”

Yes, you are a good teacher—Log on to the app, write a list, press send, and a man will deliver it to your door, just like the old days.

“Ok. See you tonight. Wish me luck.”

##

Matilda opened the door to her flat that evening, exhausted by the stress of the long day at College. “What the hell happened here?” she gasped.

I think Mr Woolworth got the order wrong, Miss Matilda.

“How many life’s of milk did you order?”

Two, Miss.

“And how many did they send?”

200, Miss. I think I must have made an error. James’ voice held even less power than usual; as if his batteries were slowly running down.

“It’s okay, James, I’ll think of something .” Matilda experienced a feeling she couldn’t explain. Was it sympathy? Or did she really care for her friendly, inept ghost? She decided it was the latter and wished she could give him a hug.

She sighed when she looked at 200 cartons of milk stacked around the kitchen resembling white barricades, “What are we going to do with all this milk, James?”

Lady Graves was very fond of milk baths. Is that something you like to do, Miss?

“No, James, and anyway I don’t have a bathtub.”

We could attempt to make a giant cheese by turning up the thermostat ensuring a swift curdling.

“Er, no, James, not a good idea. I’ll donate it to the food bank, I’m sure the homeless will appreciate it.” She made a quick phone call to the charity. “There, that’s settled.”

If you don’t mind me saying, Miss, James cleared his throat, you are the kindness mistress I have ever served.

Matilda’s cheeks reddened, “And you, James are the sweetest butler I never hired.”

Tea, Miss? And perhaps a Gingernut or two?

“Thank you, James. That would be lovely.”

Written for Journey through the genres contest.
Genre this month Comedy.