by Carmen Reid
‘I do spend most of my day making awkward phone calls and persuading people to talk to me,’ he told her as the international ringing tone began beeping in his ear.
She’d fled to the other end of the room and sat listening to Don’s side of the conversation with a mixture of horror and relief.
‘Hello, Professor Browning,’ he’d begun. ‘This is Don McCartney, Bella’s husband. How are you?’
‘No, no, she’s fine. She’s really well. In fact, she’s expecting a baby and very nervous about telling you!’
At this point, Bella had buried her face in her hands. It had been excruciating.
‘Well, you know,’ Don had given a little laugh. ‘What with the two of you refusing to meet me and so on . . . I think she’s feeling a little awkward.’
There had been a long pause then as Don listened and Bella wondered what the hell her father was saying to him.
Then Don had said: ‘I hope so . . . I think it would do us all good to meet up. When are you next over here?’
Bella had looked up to see Don giving her the thumbs up and she heard: ‘Great, OK then, I’ll put Bella on now,’ before the receiver was thrust at her.
‘Dad, hello,’ she’d managed.
‘Hello darling, congratulations,’ her father had said, sounding genuinely pleased. ‘Is it going well?’ he’d asked. ‘How far on are you?’
‘Four and a half months.’
‘Well done, Bella,’ he’d said.
There was a little pause and she was grateful that he didn’t ask why she hadn’t told them sooner.
‘Your mother is going to be thrilled,’ he’d said.
‘Is she, are you sure?’
‘Yes, darling . . . She’ll phone you as soon as she gets back in.’
Then after a small hesitation, he’d added: ‘You know, maybe we’ve made a bit of a misjudgement . . . about your husband.’
‘Don.’
‘Well . . . he sounds like a good guy.’
‘He is, Dad,’ she’d told him and for a moment pictured her father, mother and Don all together round a table chatting, eating, hanging out like a normal family. Maybe it would happen.
But her mother’s phone call later in the evening had felt like a dampener. Celia had of course gushed that she was delighted, but had immediately listed the reasons why they couldn’t come over until the baby was there: so busy, a lecture tour, building work on the house, looking after the neighbour’s property when he was away, etc., etc.
‘Maybe you and Don could come and visit us?’ she’d asked after what sounded suspiciously like Bella’s father talking to her in the background. ‘What about Christmas?’ she’d added.
‘Don’s mother is coming here.’ Bella was grateful for the excuse. ‘We’ll see, Mum. We haven’t got a lot of time off before the baby’s due. But you will come then, won’t you?’ she asked, wondering what on earth that would be like.
‘Of course,’ her mother had gushed. ‘A grandchild, how exciting!’
But to Bella, even this had sounded somehow insincere.
On the night of the Merris Christmas party, work wound up at 4 p.m. so that everyone could go home and get dressed up. The annual party had always been a ball at the Dorchester for employees, clients and various guests. Bella had been somewhat taken aback to learn it was going ahead this year, but she supposed the board were making every attempt to quell rumours that the company was ‘in difficulty’.
Just before she left the office she rang Don, who assured her he was going to get away on time. She was still soaking in the bath when he arrived home, so he came into the bathroom and perched on the loo seat.
‘Hello, hon.’ He took his glasses off because they were misting up and she could see the tired circles under his eyes. But he still looked lovely, she thought, smiling at him.
‘You’re gorgeous,’ he told her. Her hair was piled on her head, her shoulders were peeping out of a vat of foam and she pointed a toe, with perfectly painted pink toenail, in his direction. He took her foot and began kneading it.
She sank back into the bath and closed her eyes. Don massaged her foot, then leaned over to stroke up her calf. He knelt by the edge of the bath and let his hand run gently down her thigh into the water.
‘Don.’ Her eyes snapped open, her legs shut. ‘We haven’t got time for this.’
‘There’s always time to enjoy yourself,’ he smiled.
‘Well, I’m not in the mood.’ She stood up and reached for a towel.
‘Nope, you’re certainly not. We haven’t had sex for ages,’ he muttered.
‘Yes we have. We had sex last weekend,’ she said as she wrapped the towel round and stepped out of the bath.
‘No we didn’t.’
‘OK, the weekend before that.’ She was a bit surprised herself.
‘Oh well, that’s all right then,’ he said irritably.
‘I’m sorry, I’ve been very tired, what with work, being pregnant, the baby scare.’
He was instantly contrite. ‘I’m sorry, hon, come here.’ He held out his arms and she snuggled in.
‘It’s OK.’ She gave him a light kiss on the lips. ‘Come on, let’s get ready to party.’
‘I’ll jump in the shower.’
‘OK.’
Tania had lent her a long gold slip dress, which clung to her every curve and bump, but it came with a wonderful floor-length gold taffeta coat she didn’t intend to take off, which hid everything.
She put on a pink underwired bra, tiny black knickers and hold-ups, then pushed her hair up and applied full-on glamour make-up.
The dress coat was on and she was just sliding into her shoes when Don came through.
‘Wow.’ He moved in.
‘Don’t touch, don’t kiss or crush.’ She pushed him away playfully. ‘The cab will be here in fifteen minutes, will you be ready?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
She gave him the once-over as they got into the lift. His dinner suit was secondhand and a bit shabby, he was wearing a not perfectly ironed shirt with a not perfectly tied bow. But that was why he looked so sexy, the aura of just having got out of bed and just dying to seduce you back in clung to him more than to anyone else she’d ever met.
‘I totally love you, Don,’ she said.
‘I totally love you too,’ he answered. ‘You look fantastic – not at all pregnant.’
The lift doors pinged open and she walked to the taxi, obsessing about whether that meant he wasn’t going to find her fantastic when she did look pregnant.
They arrived at the Dorchester just after nine to find a lavish party well under way. Champagne glasses were pressed into their hands and one of the senior execs came over to welcome them.
After the ‘hello, how are you? lovely you could comes’, they were alone again.
‘I think I’ll take up a seat at the bar, that’s where my type hang out,’ Don said.
‘Sad old alcoholic soaks,’ she teased.
‘Ha ha. Now, you go off and network like a good girl. I think that crowd of boring old farts in the corner are praying that you will go over and talk filthy facts and figures to them.’
‘Bella,’ one of the men in the group Don was indicating stood up and waved her over. It was Mr Merris himself.
‘See you later, hon,’ Don said as they parted.
‘Bella, I want to introduce you to some of my old cronies,’ said Merris. He went round the group making introductions as Bella shook everyone’s hand.
‘This is Bella Browning, our troubleshooter. She’s not just absolutely ravishing, she’s also damn clever and that is a compliment, coming from a man who’s never put a woman in a top position before.’
Loud chortles from the group. Oh bloody hell, thought Bella, welcome to Jurassic Park.
‘Well, we’re all equals now, Tony.’ She flashed a megawatt smile and deliberately used Merris’s first name – something she’d never heard anyone do before, in fact, his first name was Anthony, maybe no-one ever c
alled him Tony. That would shut them up.
‘Yes, yes of course.’ He was even more impressed with her now: what an extraordinary nerve!
‘So, you’re the type who comes in, has everyone over the age of 40 fired and then calls it a cost-cutting efficiency drive?’ asked one of the dinosaurs.
OK, they clearly weren’t going to be happy with a nice little chat about sure bet investments or property prices.
‘Something like that, except we now prefer to fire everyone over 20 because teenagers are so cheap these days and so good with computers, you’ll find they can do everything you need.’
Startled silence, then finally laughter. Phew.
Now she went into her gentle pitch for business, handed out a few cards, then patted Merris on the arm to draw him slightly to one side.
‘I’d really appreciate the chance to have a chat with you before the Christmas break. It’s very important,’ she told him.
‘No problem. Now go off and enjoy yourself.’
So she did. She swanned round the room chatting with the people she’d got to know at the company and their guests. She glanced over to the bar where raucous laughter was emanating from the small group which had gathered round Don and was about to go over when Mitch came up and introduced his hugely pregnant wife. Her enormous bosom was cantilevered up close to her chin and the big round belly billowing underneath her ballgown made her look like a large green velvet Easter egg.
‘When is it due?’ asked Bella.
‘February,’ said Mrs Mitch.
‘Gosh.’ Bella was going to be this big in three months’ time, it was a terrifying prospect.
‘Baby number three, I seem to get bigger and bigger every time. Stomach muscles stretched to the limit, baggy pelvic floor.’
Whoa, this was far too much information.
When she went off in search of the loos, Bella was directed down a shiny yellow corridor with little glass cabinets of expensive trinkets set into the walls. Her heels tapped along the marble floor. This was such a plush hotel.
She rounded the corner and walked into Don.
‘Hello,’ they both said at once.
‘How’s my corporate dynamo?’ He sounded nicely pissed.
‘I think at least another two jobs are in the bag.’ She looked flushed with her own success.
‘How sexy. Well, I’ve got about ten stories. Five usable, two libellous and three utterly unprintable.’
‘Have you been talking dirty to the ladies again?’ She leaned in to kiss him.
‘No, but I can if you want me to.’
He bent down and put his lips over hers. After a long, probing kiss, he moved to her ear and whispered, ‘There are no attendants in there, you know.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Oh yes.’ He kissed her again, scooping her up against him. She could taste champagne on his warm, familiar mouth and she couldn’t deny it, she was turned on, but maybe even more importantly she wanted to make up for his ‘no sex’ crack earlier in the evening.
‘Not the Gents, too many people I know might go in there,’ she whispered.
‘Go and see if anyone is in the Ladies,’ he urged.
She opened the pale beech door onto a whole, shiny, peachy little world. It was empty.
She beckoned him in and they rushed into one of the cubicles and banged the door shut. They turned to face each other and burst out laughing.
‘I’m getting you back for the bra changing room,’ he said, kneeling down in front of her.
‘Oh boy,’ she replied.
He parted the front of her coat, lifted the filmy gold dress up and let it fall back down over him. Bella shut her eyes and leaned against the wall as she felt him push her tiny knickers to the side and put his mouth against her crotch.
She giggled and he started to lick.
‘I want you inside,’ she said after a few moments, partly because she did, partly because she didn’t want to hang around the cubicle too long.
He stood up and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before kissing her.
She put one foot up on the edge of the toilet so he could slide in easily.
He felt very good; I might even come, she thought.
‘Too much champagne,’ Don said by way of explanation as he startled a serious-looking company wife by striding out of the ladies’ loos straight into her path. He smiled his extra-dazzling charm smile and she smiled back.
On Friday evening, Bella was getting dressed up again. She wondered why she was feeling anxious. This was office Christmas party night with Susan, Kitty, Chris and Hector. There was to be dinner, champagne, the works and they were all going to behave, especially her.
She was wearing the gold taffeta coat again, but this time with black trousers and boots. It looked surprisingly glamorous and very bump disguising. Don wasn’t there to give his opinion, he’d gone to the gym after work.
She had seen Tony Merris in the morning for the private chat and she couldn’t really tell how he’d taken her news. She’d listed all her concerns but it had been hard to gauge his reactions. He’d listened carefully and even made a few notes but she couldn’t honestly work out if he was surprised by what she was telling him or not.
When she’d suggested that the pension holders might win their appeal case and bring the company to its knees, he had told her that ‘friends in the right places’ had assured him this would not happen. It was only when she told him that she was going to recommend implementing an emergency action plan well ahead of her full report that he began to look slightly concerned.
‘What were you hoping to achieve by calling me in?’ she’d asked him.
‘Well, I’m very happy with the way the business is run, but I’m aware it’s not growing.’
‘So you’d be surprised if I told you it is in fact declining and fairly rapidly at that?’
‘Hmm.’ He’d raised his eyebrows. ‘I’d need to see some figures.’
‘No problem.’ She’d reached into her files and slapped a folder on his desk.
He hadn’t picked it up. She’d glanced round the room and noticed the large formal portraits on the walls. ‘Your father?’ she’d asked, pointing at the one above his desk.
‘Yes and that’s his father beside him. I’m the third generation in charge here,’ he’d said gravely.
‘They look pretty fierce,’ had been her reply.
To her relief, he’d smiled and said, ‘Yes, they were rather. Both naval men, liked to run a tight ship.’
‘You run a very tight ship here. Very tight, very formal, very old-fashioned.’
‘Is that a problem?’ He’d raised his alarmingly bushy grey eyebrows.
‘It might be hard to change things.’
‘Hmmm,’ was his reply.
‘May I ask you when you’re planning to retire?’ She had held her breath and almost crossed her fingers for his reaction.
‘Well, that’s a little bit presumptuous, young lady.’
‘Have you not thought about it at all?’
‘I’ve thought about it, but I haven’t decided.’
‘It’s just . . . please stop me if I’m going too far, but real changes are needed in the organization and I just wonder if you’ll be here . . . well if you’re going to be . . .’ Jesus, should she really be telling the chief executive, the chairman, the grandson of the founder to consider his position?
‘Am I the right man for the job? Is that what you’re asking me?’ He gave a little laugh. ‘Well you certainly don’t stand on ceremony, do you, Ms Browning?’
She smiled a little and felt she had said enough. She didn’t really need to risk her position by spelling out to Anthony Merris that it was time to appoint a new chief executive and sod off to the upper echelons of non-executive directorship.
‘I know what you’re getting at,’ he’d said finally. ‘I will give the matter careful thought.’
He had drawn the meeting to a close by suggesting that she draft him a confiden
tial memo on all the matters she’d raised, so he could mull it over during the Christmas break. She’d spent the rest of the day writing it up and making it as bleak as possible in an attempt to spur him into action.
Glancing at her watch now, she saw she still had a little time, so she smoothed down the taffeta coat, lit a guilty cigarette and sat down on the sofa.
She hadn’t seen anyone from the office for several weeks now, so she was looking forward to the party, but then the pregnancy secret was a bit of a burden she still did not feel ready to share.
She could see her cab in the street outside, so she flung the cigarette packet into her bag and headed out of the door. They were meeting for dinner in a big, smart restaurant in the West End. She was the last to arrive and was greeted with a chorus of hellos by the gang of four, already seated at the table.
Everyone was dressed up: even Hector wore an unusually impeccable black suit. She sat down, felt instantly relaxed and realized how lovely it was to see them all again, her little office surrogate family.
‘Bella! Looking lovely as usual.’ This from Chris.
It would be fun to flirt but absolutely nothing else, no way, she promised herself.
Susan was on her right, Hector then Kitty to her left and she was opposite Chris. It was a round table, just slightly too big for everyone to have one group conversation, but that was a good thing. Hector and Kitty were chatting – Kitty trying not to drool – and she, Chris and Susan were no doubt going to talk shop for a while.
Susan wanted to know how Merris was going and Bella outlined the worst of it.
‘We can’t just tell them that they’re in decline,’ said Susan. ‘You’ll have to think of a way of making it look more positive. A shut-down and new start-up, a whole new direction for the company beginning on a small scale, maybe even a takeover or merger. If you’re telling them they’re on a ship that’s going down, in the next breath you’ll have to throw them a life raft,’ she added.
‘I know,’ said Bella, ‘and I’d really appreciate some input from you. I thought we could maybe meet up over the Christmas break so I could go through it with you and see what ideas you have.’
