The Cinderella Plan

by Abi Silver

  ‘Is it nice there?’

  ‘I’ve met this girl and I’m staying with her for a few weeks, but I need a favour.’

  ‘That’s a surprise.’

  ‘I just need to use your address. Can you send it to me?’

  ‘Why do you need my address?’

  ‘Don’t be so suspicious. It’s for my payslips. I told you. I have a job, a proper job.’

  ‘And you can’t use the Swindon address?’

  ‘I’ve only just met her. I don’t want to ask.’

  ‘So it’s OK for you to move in, but not to use the address.’

  ‘Don’t be like that. I didn’t think it was much to ask from my sister.’

  Constance tapped her fingers on the table.

  ‘You know I’m a lawyer, right? So, if this is anything illegal…’

  ‘It’s just an address for my payslips…and other official stuff. I promise.’

  Constance squeezed her eyes tightly closed. When she opened them again, the world still looked the same.

  ‘All right. That’s fine. You have it anyway, but I’ll send it again. Maybe then you’ll come by some time. It would be nice to see you. As you’re only in Swindon.’

  ‘Sure. In a week or two when I’m a bit more settled.’

  ‘What is this new job?’

  ‘Sales and marketing. Pays well. Things are looking good.’

  ‘Will you call Mum?’

  Now there was silence from Jermain’s end of the line, permeated by background traffic noise. When he finally answered he was less upbeat.

  ‘It’s been so long I wouldn’t know where to start,’ he said. ‘She’ll ask me loads of questions.’

  ‘She misses you. Call her. It’s her birthday next week.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘And come and see me soon.’

  The line went dead. No asking after how she was. No commitment to visit. No thanks. No goodbye. But that was Jermain’s style. Constance contemplated telling her mother that he had called, that he was fine, had a new job and was living in Swindon, although she only had his word for all of that. Her mum would be upset that she had been singled out for a call. Would that be better than no news at all?

  She retrieved Jermain’s number again on her phone, typed in her address and pressed ‘send’. Then she buried her phone in her handbag, zipped it up and returned to her papers.

  17

  ‘HOW WAS DINNER at the boss’ house?’ Juan asked, as Toby slumped down on the sofa after a full day of failing dismally to concentrate at work. At least James had not been there, so he had managed to slink around without being subject to scrutiny.

  Looking around him with the fresh eyes of a day’s absence, Toby noticed, without displeasure, that Juan had deposited a few of his own things around the room. A brightly-painted, ceramic skull had found its way onto the coffee table and a small, rotund bowl with a watermelon motif now sat in the centre of the bar. And, in front of the sofa, hugging the laminate flooring, lay a cream-coloured rug with a geometric pattern in a rich shade of plum.

  ‘Is it OK?’ Juan followed Toby’s line of vision. ‘When you were gone and I was alone, it made me feel more comfortable. But I can take it away if you don’t like it.’

  ‘No. It’s fine. I like it. Very…authentic. And can I smell dinner?’

  ‘I’m just making something I like. To say thank you to you for letting me stay here. It’s…well Rosa, my wife, she used to make it. So I should say that it’s also good, what do they say, “therapy”, for me too.’

  Toby laughed. He could see that he would enjoy having Juan around, although he might struggle to eat much dinner this evening.

  ‘When is James back from Germany?’

  ‘He flies back later tonight.’

  ‘Should I put something in his diary about Project Connect?’

  ‘Why don’t you and I look at it together first, like we said? But not now, tomorrow. Don’t want to spoil dinner.’

  ‘Sure no problem. You’ve worked with James a long time?’

  ‘Three years.’

  ‘You must have been so young when you started. What’s he like to work for?’

  ‘He’s very decisive, always knows what he wants. He expects a lot from his employees, though. He wants to make SEDA huge, that’s his…well that’s our aim.’

  ‘You know people told me not to take the job…at SEDA.’

  Juan took two beers from the fridge, opened them and handed one to Toby.

  ‘Did they? Why not?’

  ‘Small company, British-owned, said it’s not going anywhere. But I thought it’s good to get in somewhere small, at the beginning, help it grow. And if I’d gone to one of the big boys I’d just be a nothing, no face. At SEDA I get to work on all the latest projects, have meetings with the boss…and to share a flat with the deputy.’ He saluted Toby with a broad grin, which Toby returned.

  ‘What is Mrs Salisbury like then?’ Juan said. ‘I can say to you, I hope, that I think she is a very beautiful woman. She comes in to the lab, seems interested in all our work.’

  ‘Martine?’ Toby felt his face burning up. ‘Is she? Yes, I suppose she is attractive.’

  ‘How was she away from work? She was friendly?’

  ‘Very friendly, yes.’ Toby took a large gulp of beer, even though he didn’t want one. ‘She cooked for me too…which was thoughtful of her. She has a lot of ideas…business ideas.’

  Juan flung himself down onto the settee with a thump, but Toby remained standing, holding the beer.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ Juan asked. ‘When you didn’t come home I was a bit worried. I don’t want to be like your mother, but I wasn’t sure if I should call you. Back in the USA they tell us London is more dangerous than New York.’

  Toby swigged half-heartedly from his beer again. The door to Juan’s room was open and he could see a garish quilt cover had replaced the grey one he had provided.

  ‘I drank too much so I stayed over there,’ Toby said, finally sitting down and placing the beer down too, ‘in one of the spare rooms. Felt like shit all day. Some cocktail, probably Mexican.’

  Juan giggled.

  ‘Can we keep it to ourselves, that I slept there? James knows all about it but, well I wouldn’t want other people to get the wrong idea.’

  Juan picked up the skull and waved it close to Toby’s face.

  ‘Sure. I can keep a secret,’ he said, laughing. Toby looked away.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Juan asked.

  Toby sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair.

  ‘No, just hungover,’ he said. ‘What time will dinner be ready? I’ll go get showered and changed first.’

  PART TWO

  18

  JUAN WAS BACK at work, sitting behind his desk, watching video after video of SEDA’s cars moving around London’s roads. As was his habit now, first he watched them in regular format, from film captured on each car’s elaborate camera system. Then, he studied the coloured boxes of the parallel digital format, their position and trajectory and whether and how well each green box, representing a test SEDA, navigated its way around them.

  His current subject was progressing along the north circular in a clockwise direction, and he scrutinised every action as it, correctly, predicted the movement of a lorry into its lane and braked accordingly, then moved out when its own lane became blocked by slow moving traffic. He was pleased with today’s session. There had been nothing unusual, erratic or worrying. No hazards they hadn’t anticipated.

  He could only manage around thirty minutes of this level of concentration at a time. But that was fine as he had a number of other tasks to complete. Project Connect also encompassed exchanging information with other manufacturers and trial runs connecting up with their vehicles. His Spanish speaking had been a tremendo
us advantage on this part of the venture, helping him build rapport with the US-based operations, as well as with SEDA’s own small outfit in Madrid.

  Toby had let slip that while James was in Germany he would meet some of those contacts and Juan wanted to ensure that he was invited along on the next trip. James couldn’t possibly know the right questions to ask the technical staff, but Juan needed to work out the best way of demonstrating this to James, without appearing insulting.

  He already had a few proposals for improvements to the system in any event. He knew Toby wanted to hear them first, but he might hold back one or two things for James’ ears only. He didn’t know Toby very well yet and the last thing he wanted was for Toby to appropriate his ideas and present them to James as his own.

  Next up was a new podcast on hacking, put together by two ‘white knights’ who were keen to illustrate potential weaknesses in the latest autonomous vehicles. Juan had concerns that SEDA’s system was not as robust as it might be, despite James having attended the latest conferences and upgraded their software as a result. He knew how much value he could add in the cyber security space too, if only James would allow him. But James liked substance, he could see that already. So he needed to ensure he could back up his anxieties with hard evidence, before he said anything at all on that subject. And for now, Connect had to take priority.

  19

  JAMES’ FLIGHT from Berlin had been delayed and he had only managed three snatched hours of sleep at home. Arriving at the office, he diverted from his usual routine and took a stroll outside in the fresh air. After all, he had chosen this location because of its green outlook, but he so seldom had the opportunity to take advantage of it himself.

  At the far side of the man-made lake, he sat down on a newly-installed bench. He questioned why he did not do this more often; take ten minutes ‘time out’ to reconnect with nature.

  As he sat quietly, enjoying the warmth of the early autumn sun on his face, a family of mallards, with the mother leading the procession, waddled past him and hopped one by one into the water. The last duckling, and by far the smallest, was lagging behind and the mother gave him a sharp ‘hurry up’ call before turning her back on him and striking out for the centre of the lake. ‘Shorty’, as James nicknamed him, struggled to catch up. His lateral swaying was more pronounced than the others and by the time he reached the water’s edge, the rest of the brood were long gone.

  Shorty stopped and spun through 360 degrees, probably wondering where everyone was.

  ‘They’ve gone that way,’ James told him, flicking his wrist, amused by his own attempts to communicate with the duckling.

  A loud quack from the water sent Shorty back on track, but as he tried to clear some weeds in the shallows, he suddenly lost his balance entirely and turned upside down. For a few seconds, his head was fully submerged, his tiny legs thrashing the air ineffectually.

  Then Shorty came up for breath, but he couldn’t right himself. He lay, on his side, one leg hopelessly tangled beneath him. James gazed out over the expanse of water; the mother duck was some distance away and preoccupied marshalling her remaining young. Shorty tried desperately to free his leg, but to no avail, and his head plunged downwards again.

  Suddenly, a young woman in brightly-coloured Lycra, flashed past James and knelt down at the water’s edge. She picked up the tiny duckling and lifted him high out of the water. She surveyed the lake, ran twenty metres on and, as James watched, she stretched out and set him down on the surface, ensuring he cleared the weeds. Shorty paddled out towards his mother, who turned and came to meet him, quacking angrily all the time, no doubt scolding him for his tardiness. James moistened his lips with his tongue. The young woman cast a quizzical look in his direction, before running on.

  James turned his attention back to the factory. From his vantage point, he could see the reception staff chatting away, Jane was on the telephone, Carol was accepting a delivery. He could also see two of the factory workers sharing a cigarette at the back of the assembly hangar. He checked his watch; it was their official break time so he wouldn’t complain.

  Another woman in sports kit sprinted by, breathing heavily, and her appearance dragged him back to the Shorty episode. James peered across the lake, but the ducks had now disappeared. Even so, he had retained the image of the duckling in the weeds, struggling and helpless, and it troubled him more than he could explain.

  He wasn’t sure whether he was an animal lover or not; they had no pets, he hadn’t been allowed them as a boy and with their own children being away so much, he had never considered keeping one now. And he liked his roast beef as much as the next man, although he would never tolerate cruelty to animals.

  The duckling had survived, but only because the woman jogger had intervened. Of course, in nature, there were many casualties; it was part of natural selection. But human beings had a duty to protect those weaker than themselves, including animals. James was certain there was something about it in the Bible. That was what separated humans from other animals.

  No, what really bothered him was his own inertia. Faced with a dilemma which could easily have resulted in the duckling’s death, he had merely sat and pondered, taken perhaps a macabre interest in what might happen next. There wasn’t even any downside for him personally. He just had to step forward and pick up the tiny, helpless creature, as the young woman had done. But, instead, he had been paralysed. And perhaps that was the problem with his business too. He simply wasn’t dynamic enough any more. He was sitting back and watching and letting other less able people pave the way for what was coming next. Worst of all, being brutally honest, at the moment it just wasn’t working.

  James had never been superstitious and his contact with religion had begun and ended with school prayers, but as he checked his watch and marched back towards his place of work, he queried if this had been a sign, if it was significant and if it meant something. And, if so, if he should do anything at all about it.

  ***

  ‘Hi James. How was the trip?’

  Toby poured them each a glass of sparkling water and hovered by James’ arm. James downed it, smacked his lips and motioned to Toby for a refill.

  ‘We did make progress,’ James began, ‘but I am worried we are falling behind. Google and Tesla are already fully licensed in France, and Germany is probably only a month behind. I so wanted our first European launch to be here in the UK, but I think we may have to cut our losses and begin somewhere else.’

  Toby nodded his understanding. ‘Are they willing to share?’ he asked.

  ‘Share?’

  ‘Data. Their processes.’

  James stared at Toby. ‘Who have you been talking to?’ he asked, sharply.

  ‘No one. I…I thought that was what you went to talk about, with the other car manufacturers.’

  ‘Look. They will work with us once we are out on the road. Until then, they consider us nothing, of no importance. And the damned German rep, do you know what he said?’

  ‘No.’ Toby leaned in, pleased at James’ sudden and unprompted willingness to share confidences.

  ‘He tried to exclude me. Said that they couldn’t risk discussing details around me until we had the green light. Said if our own government didn’t support us, we weren’t in the same league as them. One of the others, Spanish guy, persuaded him to back down. He told me he’d been talking to Juan. I think he was impressed. I knew Juan was a good hire. Otherwise I would have had to pack up and leave there and then. God, I think I need something stronger to drink!’

  Toby sat back. Was that a cue for him to try to find some alcohol? Evidently not, as James sipped furiously at his fizzy water.

  ‘At least I got their agreement for their UK representatives not to share anything about cyber security with the Department for Transport, for now anyway. Peter won’t be happy. He’s the civil service intermediary between us and Alan, the Ministe
r for Transport. I’ve told you about him before.’

  ‘He’s the man you meet every few months. The “Cinderella” project.’

  ‘Yes, among others. I doubt the Minister’ll let this drop, though. But now I have everyone else’s support, he probably has no choice. Ah! Alan Tillinghurst. Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.’ His eyes wandered around the room before alighting on Toby.

  ‘James?’ Toby’s hands shook as he attempted to put into words his thoughts of the last few days. He resorted to sitting on them, as James’ heavy gaze swung around to hold him fast.

  ‘Hm.’

  ‘You have so much on at the moment. You could lean on me a bit more.’

  ‘Ha!’ James’ half-laugh, half-shout echoed around the room.

  Toby’s legs started to quiver. But then James sat back in his chair.

  ‘You are absolutely right,’ he said. ‘Thank you, that’s much appreciated.’

  Toby stood up, hyperventilating but relieved.

  ‘I could lean on you more and I should. From now on, “Operation Lean on Toby” is underway. I’ve another Cinderella meeting coming up in a few weeks, with Peter and the others. Fancy helping me out? I warn you. It’s likely to be quite tricky if we’re making a stand on the data stuff, and it would be good to know someone was watching my back.’

  ‘Yes. I know I can help.’

  ‘And, Juan. Why don’t you catch up with him, find out how he’s getting on? You can brief me together.’

  Toby’s eyes sparkled.

  ‘Yes. Of course. I won’t let you down,’ he said.

  ‘I’m sure you won’t,’ James replied.

  ***

  James strode along the chilly corridors towards the technology laboratory, at the furthest corner of the site. He knew he had asked Toby to catch up with Juan, all part of his new resolution to delegate more, but he suddenly decided there would be no harm in speaking to Juan, himself, too, just for five minutes. As the doors swung open, he thought he heard the tinkling laughter of a woman.