Dear Sir, I’m writing this letter becus you awt to no that your daughter Miss Julia Howerd did the wrong thing over New Year. Ellen gazed towards the window where her mistress stood in a cloud of dense cigarette smoke, gazing out. ‘Have I got to do this, Miss?’ ‘If you want that bonus I promised you . . . and if you want to keep your job.’ Sighing, Ellen licked the lead at the end of the pencil. ‘I don’t know what to say.’ ‘Goodness, you ignorant little fool. Just say that Miss Howard was under the influence of drink and drugs and you saw her on the bed with three naked men . . . You saw it yourself, so you know it’s not lies. Tell him she’s now the subject of gossip.’ ‘I don’t know how to spell all them words.’ ‘It doesn’t matter how you spell them. Just do it!’ Miss Howerd drunk and took some dope, then she went to bed with three naked men. Everbody is talking about it, and I see’d it with my own eyes. Shameful, it were. ‘How shall I sign it, Miss?’ ‘Anonymous.’ Anoneemuss.
