by Abi Silver
James poured himself a glass of water and drank it down.
‘Would we have to move to France?’
‘Maybe. But not if you’re happy here. I can probably continue to manage everything from here.’
‘Toby rang.’
‘Here?’
‘He says you have a big Cinderella meeting tomorrow and that you’ve asked him to go. That was nice of you.’
‘Like I told you, I am giving him some more responsibility. I pay him enough. And I haven’t managed to close the deal on my own, have I? Maybe Toby will be my fairy godmother?’
‘Does that make Peter an ugly sister?’
‘Oh, very good!’
‘Is that why you called it Cinderella in the first place?’
‘The project name came first, I think, before I met any of them. It’s just a name,’ he said. ‘We give all our projects names. No real significance. Like hurricanes.’
‘But it has a happy ending, Cinderella.’
‘If you say so.’
‘You don’t know the story?’
‘Of course I do. Maybe the name suits it, after all. I mean, they’re a pretty dysfunctional lot, each awaiting their prince to change their fortunes.’
‘And you deserve him, more than the others. That makes you Cinderella. Ha!’ She laughed softly.
‘I think you should keep that to yourself. I’m not sure that’s the image I’m going for. And that would mean that, what, Alan was Prince Charming!’
Martine laughed. ‘You will keep a close eye on Toby at the meeting, won’t you?’
‘Course. What are you worried about?’
‘He might come out with some nonsense, like that emissions comment again. He might not be the best person to help you out, with all the other things that are going on.’
‘You worry too much and I’ve already asked him. But, yes, I will talk to him before we go, and I’ll have him in my sights at all times. You know I do keep hoping that Josh will want some involvement in the business.’
Martine closed the magazine and added it to a burgeoning pile. ‘He’s just not interested. You can’t force it.’
James re-filled his glass.
‘Why don’t you want to show Peter what you do, in the lab?’ Martine asked.
‘Pride in part, but it’s more than that. It’s also the principle. It’s none of his bloody business what my company does with its data. It really makes me laugh. They go on about our systems being hacked, when we’ve employed the highest quality technicians and used the most sophisticated security systems. It’s the MPs who are always leaving their papers in taxis and dropping unencrypted memory sticks in the street.’
‘Toby also said the expert report came through, on your car.’
‘Yes.’
‘He says it says you were driving. That’s not good, is it?’
‘Well, it’s not good for me, but, clearly it’s good for SEDA, or as good as we could hope. If I was driving, then they can’t blame the car. It puts SEDA back on track. Well that’s the line I’m going to take at the meeting. I’d rather not talk about it now though. I’m very tired. Maybe we should stay in and have the lamb after all.’
‘You mean that if you were driving, then they might try to say it was your fault?’
James walked through to the lounge and sat down on the sofa. Martine followed close behind.
‘You’ve guessed it,’ he said. ‘That’s why I have to go to the police station tomorrow. Apparently, they wanted to arrest me at Kings Cross! My lawyer managed to persuade them not to.’
‘You’re being arrested?’
‘Arrested, charged, prosecuted. Whatever they call it. Because of the report. So yes, if I was in control of the car, they think it was my fault.’
‘What do your lawyers say?’
‘They’re being optimistic. Said I’ll get bail between now and the trial.’
‘Trial?’
Martine wrapped her arms around James’ neck. ‘There’s something else he said too,’ she said.
‘What? What’s Toby flapping about now?’
‘Bruce has called an emergency meeting of SEDA’s directors for eight o’clock tomorrow morning.’
‘That’s keen of him. I didn’t think he got out of bed before nine. What’s on the agenda then?’
‘You are. He says you can’t run the company and that you might have to sell your shares.’
A strangled cry came from the back of James’ throat. ‘He can’t do that!’
‘I didn’t think he could. So you’ll tell him that tomorrow morning.’
James shrank back into the cushions of the sofa.
‘Maybe it’s not so bad, all of this. You said you wanted something to happen,’ Martine said, ‘Remember? That you were fed up with waiting around. You wanted to mix things up a bit.’
‘Mix things up! This isn’t a cake. Two children are dead, I’m about to be arrested and possibly imprisoned and Bruce wants to take my company away. We might lose everything.’
‘It won’t happen.’
‘We were so close,’ James said, making fists with both hands, ‘so close to what I’ve worked for all these years. To see it snatched away, I’m not sure I can bear it.’
‘It will come right,’ Martine said. ‘I just know it. In a few months this will all be forgotten.’
‘And I promised Imogen. I promised her.’
Martine bristled at the mention of Imogen’s name. She sprang up and marched over to the window.
‘Even if I don’t go to jail, if I lose the company and I have to begin again. It may be too much.’
‘I won’t let that happen,’ Martine said calmly. ‘Ride the storm. It’s not like you to accept defeat.’
48
NEIL SAT AT HOME in the bedroom which used to be Bertie’s. It was the place he felt closest to his son.
Sometimes, when Therese and Ruby were asleep, he would creep in and lie down on the bed, surrounded by Bertie’s toys and stare up at the ceiling, as his son would have done. He tried to imagine what perspective Bertie might have had of the world from this cosy vantage point. And occasionally, Neil would open the wardrobe and stroke his son’s clothes or take out the buggy board, now relegated to the bottom shelf, and hold it tight, as he had once held his son.
He did occupy Georgia’s room too from time to time, but only if he was certain Therese was elsewhere. Therese had turned it into a shrine, with photographs of Georgia plastered all over the walls, and she had shrieked at him when he entered, once, and found her curled up in the corner. Therese never went into Bertie’s room, so his hours spent there allowed him the additional benefit of time alone. He wondered fleetingly if Therese had always favoured Georgia quite so much when the children had been alive and he had failed to notice.
A message popped up on his screen from Inspector Dawson, politely informing him that a decision had been taken to prosecute James for causing the accident which had killed his children. He would be in touch, he said, shortly, to arrange a time to speak to Therese again.
Neil flicked on to his Twitter account. The Department of Transport had not replied to any of his tweets, but a supporter had sent him a series of articles which suggested the Autonomous Vehicles Bill was stalling. One of them maintained it would not move forward until more testing had been undertaken on the vehicles. Another, that nothing would happen, pending the resolution of the investigation into James’ car.
Neil picked up the toy dog he had bought for Bertie the day he was born, which had been his constant companion in his hospital crib. Then it had accompanied Bertie in his car seat on the day they brought him home from hospital; another bright sunny day which had begun full of promise. He held it against his face and thought again about his poor, dead son.
49
‘WHAT’S WITH the suit
?’ Juan slapped the back of his hand against Toby’s lapel and then wafted it in front of his face. ‘Has it been in the closet?’
‘We say cupboard, not closet…or we say wardrobe,’ Toby snapped. Sometimes, Juan could be over-familiar.
‘OK. But why so smart? That’s right isn’t it? You do say “smart”?’
‘I have a big meeting. I thought I should wear a suit. It’s not really dusty is it?’
‘I was joking with you. It looks great. You look like the CEO when you wear it. Move over James! What’s the meeting?’
‘Cinderella, with the guys from the Department of Transport.’
‘The big men. Is the Transport guy called Mears?’
‘Yes, Peter Mears.’ Toby felt his cheeks heating up. ‘Why?’
Juan leaned against the kitchen worktop and grimaced.
‘I don’t think I like him much.’
‘You know him?’
‘He contacted me,’ he said.
‘Did he?’
‘He asked me to meet him.’
‘To meet him?’
‘He wouldn’t say why. Said he would tell me when we met. I didn’t, of course. I said I was too busy.’
‘Oh. Right. What do you think he wanted?’
‘I don’t know for sure, but I talked to some of the other IT guys I know, at other companies. They said he likes to find out things, get inside knowledge. I should be flattered, perhaps, that he thinks I have inside knowledge. Do you think you should tell James? He’s having all these important meetings with this Peter guy and then the guy is going behind his back?’
Toby shook his head violently. ‘I think James has enough to deal with at the moment. Best just to ignore it and delete the messages. Maybe you could ask the other IT guys in your team, quietly, if they heard from him. I can do the same around the factory.’
‘Sure,’ Juan said, without sounding terribly sure. ‘You’re deputy CEO. But don’t leave any secret papers on the desk when he’s in the room.’ Juan laughed heartily. Then he tapped Toby on the arm.
‘You do look really great, Toby. I mean it. You really look like a serious businessman.’
This time Toby beamed.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Let’s get going if you want a lift. I have another meeting first which I’m not looking forward to, but I really mustn’t be late.’
50
JUDITH SAT IN the park close to her apartment and stared out over the grass. She had wanted to return here today, by herself, to reflect, before the conversation she was planning to have with Greg this evening.
They had been here together only a week earlier. They had sat on this bench after a long, exhilarating walk through the trees.
It was funny how everything could change in an instant. How you could imagine you were blissfully happy, well, perhaps that was overdoing it, but certainly compatible and content. And then a few incautious words and gestures and you weren’t any longer.
But Judith knew that, of course, after Martin. She had shielded herself from another attack with all the weapons at her disposal; shoes and clothes, precision haircuts and barbed words. Then Greg had come along and he hadn’t asked for much. But that was part of the problem. She knew, deep down, he must want more. She had allowed herself to be taken in, because it was nice to be wanted. Or she had pretended to herself that she was enough for him, that he was busy with his various businesses and all he wanted was intelligent conversation, companionship and uncomplicated sex.
What had he said to her when they had sat down here, on this very bench? It had been innocent enough, a gentle enquiry about her work.
‘How’s it going, the car case?’ he had said.
That had been it. And she had told him, in as sympathetic a voice as she could muster, that she anticipated the driver would be charged and that they would have an uphill struggle trying to find reasons why the car had malfunctioned so badly. And how it was complicated because the driver, James was his name (although, of course Greg already knew that from the newspaper reports), didn’t want to lose his company too. She had been careful how she had expressed it, not referring directly to anything James had told them. Everything she said was in the public domain.
‘The father’s been Tweeting,’ Greg had continued.
‘What kind of things?’ Judith had asked.
‘First he said there should be a public enquiry. Then all kinds of stuff he’s found online about the cars being dangerous, and finally asking for signatures to postpone the cars being sold.’
‘I should ask Connie to take a look. Show us what we might be up against in court.’
‘And photos of his kids. Beautiful kids. And stuff about all the things he misses now they’re gone. Poor man.’
And perhaps it would have been all right if things had ended there, but then a mother had walked past with two young children – a boy and a girl – all three of them devouring ice cream. And Greg’s face had lit up. And as they passed by, the mother had smiled at Greg and he had grinned at her in return and ten metres further up the path, the boy had turned and stared at Greg, ice cream smeared around his mouth and Greg had waved to him, one of those fingers only waves, before wrapping his arm around Judith and pulling her close.
51
TOBY WAS WAITING in the entrance hall when Martine and James arrived for the impromptu board meeting Bruce had called. James marched straight past him at twice his usual speed, managing only a shallow nod to each of the receptionists, his face set hard. Martine walked behind, ensuring she greeted everyone she encountered in her usual friendly manner. Toby raced to catch up.
‘Hi James, Martine. Did you want to talk about anything before we go in?’ he began.
‘What is there to talk about?’ James barked.
Martine glared at Toby and he shrank back against the wall. James careered onwards and burst into the meeting room, where Bruce was dealing out papers, like a deck of cards.
‘I assume I am still allowed to sit at the head of the table,’ he said.
‘Yes of course. You’re still CEO. But I need to do this, to protect the company. It’s nothing personal.’
‘Nothing personal.’ James had just begun to pour himself a glass of water. Now he banged the bottle down on the table. ‘I should take you outside around the back and then we’ll see how personal it is.’
‘James!’ Martine was at his side.
‘Has someone put you up to this? Someone who wants me out.’
‘Let’s hear what Bruce has to say,’ Martine suggested. ‘It may not be so bad.’
‘Thank you, Martine.’
Bruce adjusted his collar and completed handing out the papers, choosing a seat at the far end of the table. James grunted loudly as he sat down.
‘So. Let’s start, shall we?’ James said. ‘I should have known there’d be loads of paper.’
‘I’ve prepared a number of resolutions which we need to vote upon,’ Bruce said. ‘Toby has told me that you are pressed for time. So I worked late last night to try to advance things as much as possible. Of course, if there are questions you need answering, we can postpone, but my intention is to keep things simple.’
‘Perfect. Simple is always best. I’m all ears.’
‘First of all, I have seen a copy of an expert report into the crash on 10th October, involving your car. That says that everything was in working order and that the car had been moved into manual mode when it crashed. Inspector Dawson has told me that you will now be charged with a criminal offence. I understand that your lawyer has negotiated that you will surrender yourself to the police.’
Martine cleared her throat. Toby tried to pour himself some water, but his hand was shaking uncontrollably and he gave up and returned the bottle to the table.
‘We are the four directors of SEDA,’ Bruce continued. ‘As its directors, we have t
o act in the best interests of the company. We also cannot vote on any matters where our own personal interests conflict with that of the company. So the first resolution on which we must vote, without your participation, James, is that you, James, must not be allowed unsupervised access to the data from your car.’
‘You think I’m going to corrupt it or throw it away? It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?’
‘It’s just a precaution, and it’ll protect you, too.’
‘Really?’
‘Second, I am recommending to the board that Toby take over the day-to-day running of the company, while you are helping the police with enquiries, and for the duration of any trial. There’s no reason why Toby can’t consult with you on all matters, apart from those relating to the cause of the accident, but he needs to be the figurehead over this difficult period. And if he has doubts he should return to Martine and me as his co-directors for support.’
‘You and Martine. That’s ridiculous!’
‘No. And you’ll thank me for it afterwards. You need to focus on your defence. You can’t run the company at the same time. I’ll be on hand twenty-four hours a day, as will all my partners.’
‘And what will you charge for that 24/7 service?’
‘As long as it doesn’t become too onerous, I won’t charge for my time at all. My partners will charge at their usual hourly rates.’
‘Thank you, Bruce.’ Martine had recovered her composure.
‘How will it look, Toby taking over?’ James asked.
‘It will look like a prudent decision by a sensible board of directors during a difficult and, I hope, temporary period. Third, I need to remind you that, in the unlikely event of your being convicted, the company’s rules provide that you must give up your shares…’
‘Do we have to do this now?’ Martine interrupted.
‘No, let’s hear it all. Let’s hear what the scavengers want to scrounge,’ James thumped the table, as Bruce tried to continue.
‘That’s uncalled for! The company’s rules provide that you give up your shares if convicted of a serious criminal offence. If the tables were turned you would want the same from one of us. There is a mechanism for sale. You’ll get market price for them.’
