by Limey Lady
‘For fuck’s sake . . .’ he gasped.
Capper counted to ten then tried again, banging his head even harder.
There was a sudden flash of white light. He squeezed his eyes tight shut. In his heart he was afraid he had stunned himself and was going down for the count at the worst possible time ever. Then he felt a savage blast of heat.
Fire bomb!
Oh fuck!!
Part One
Destiny is a good thing to accept when it’s going your way. When it isn’t don’t call it
Destiny; call it injustice, treachery, or simple bad luck.
(Joseph Heller)
Chapter One
(Thursday 13th March 2008)
It was very warm in the villa, much too warm to be intimate, really, but Penny wasn’t about to complain. She clung to her husband and they stared at each other as they moved towards the first happy ending of the day. There was no need to use words to control this; their bodies knew each other far too well to need any directions at all. Endearments, however . . .
‘I adore you, Mr Rodgers,’ she said, only seconds before their final flourish.
‘I adore you, too,’ he replied.
Their climax started to happen and they carried on through it, moving in perfect unison, gazing into each other's eyes, telling each other how much they were in love until it was finally, finally over and they’d collapsed into a giggling heap.
Leastways, she’d collapsed into a giggling heap; Geoff had come over all macho during this holiday; he collapsed chucking manfully.
‘I really do adore you,’ she said, kissing his sunburnt forehead.
‘And I really do adore you,’ he said, kissing her nicely tanned nose.
‘In that case you won't mind checking how sunny it is for me.’
‘It's been sunny every day,’ he grouched. Then he kissed her nose again and padded across the marble floor to peer outside. As he parted the heavy curtains a brilliant shaft of daylight pierced the semi-darkness.
‘Turned out nice again,’ he said, predictably.
Penny had to laugh. Never mind the weather, she could see Old Faithful was still standing up proudly; there was a streamer of thingy hanging off him, catching the light like a strand of loose spider web.
‘What's so funny?’ Geoff demanded, back in macho mode.
‘Nothing,’ she said, her heartbeat starting to accelerate. ‘But do me a favour: don't open the curtains; just hold them a little wider.’
As he humoured her the shaft of sunshine ran along the floor and up onto the double bed. She was lying where Geoff had left her but had opened her legs as wide as she possibly could. The beam of pure sunshine scampered across her thighs before illuminating her thingy; it felt like hot fingers pitter-pattering over her skin.
‘Lo, there is light,’ she murmured. ‘Come here, I haven't finished with you yet.’
Afterwards he said he was going to shower before nipping out for the papers. Old Faithful still showed frisky signs of life but she let him go; it wasn’t all that long until they'd be back for their after-dinner siesta and besides, she did want to do some sunbathing today.
This was their first ever holiday alone together and it was fantastic. They were coming to the end of week number one in Costa Teguise and were already utterly chilled. It had turned out nice every single day and they hadn't done anything that didn't involve soaking up the sun, eating, drinking or making love. In every way it was the honeymoon they had never had.
She smiled to herself as she heard Geoff letting himself out of the villa. “Nipping out for the papers” was his euphemism for having a fried breakfast and a pint. Not that she begrudged him his little holiday treats. She would only be breakfasting on cereal but would be ready for a pint herself by the time they got to the pool. And calories certainly weren't a consideration just now; not given the way they were going at each other in the bedroom.
Penny got up and made her way to the shower, marvelling at how relaxed she was. Before the holiday she'd been afraid she'd spend every minute worrying about the terrible things Jamie might be doing to her lovely home. As it turned out it hadn't been like that at all. Of course her peace of mind was helped by knowing Sandy and Becky were both back from uni for Easter. The girls would make sure their brother behaved and kept revising for his GCSEs.
Or maybe the other two were making sure Becky didn't throw any wild parties . . .
She couldn't quite remember how she’d left it.
Whatever, she was speaking to Sandy every day and there hadn't been any emergencies so far.
And anyway, who cares? Fiddlesticks to emergencies; I’ll worry about emergencies after the holiday.
*****
It wasn’t quite so sunny and warm two and a half thousand miles away, in the not-so-quaint market town of Bingley. Heather Hunter did, however, have reason to smile. There had been yet another round of promotions at West Yorkshire Bank; another very favourable round as far as she was concerned. As planned long ago, she was catching up with her closest, sexiest colleague, even as she clung onto her coattails.
And she was catching up legitimately too, through good, old-fashioned hard work. She had every reason to be pleased with life.
Most of Heather’s new accountabilities had been assumed back in February. Today was official Handover Day. It was also the day when she officially stopped being Victoria’s personal assistant and warranted a PA of her own . . . assuming she ever got round to appointing one. Right now her everyday possessions were being physically moved and she was very much under the movers’ feet. Making it time to get out of their way.
Humming cheerfully, she strolled along the third floor central corridor and went into Vic's new, mega-impressive and freshly refurbished outer office.
‘This is the first time I've seen the finished version,’ she said, looking appreciatively around. ‘It’s very nice.’
Vic's new PA, Nina, grinned at her saucily. ‘What, me or the decor?’
Heather’s smile widened. Talk about being appreciative! Nina was twenty-four with long blonde hair, even longer legs and yes, she looked very nice indeed. As she was, in her own words, “well on the lezzie side of bi”. Heather couldn’t fail to approve of the girl. ‘Both,’ she said. ‘Is her ladyship in?’
‘But of course. She's expecting you.’
The inner office was much bigger, although decorated and furnished in a similar way to Nina's den. The only obvious difference Heather could see was the meeting table by the window and a large video conference screen opposite Vic's embarrassingly tidy desk. Vic broke away from her telephone call and pointed to the plates of sandwiches and jugs of tea and coffee on the table.
‘Help yourself. That's our elevenses.’
‘There's enough for eleven. Are others joining us?’
‘No, just us,’ Vic said, waving her towards the food and going back to her call.
Heather peeled the cling-film from one of the plates and tucked into the beef and salad before pouring two cups of coffee. She was pulling the film from another plate, eager to get at the salmon and cucumber, when Vic rang off and joined her.
‘How’s the move going?’
‘They’ve told me to bugger off out of the way for a couple of hours.’
Vic frowned. ‘I hope you don’t think you’re camping down here. I’ve a million things to do.’
‘Don’t worry. I only plan to snack with you. I’ve a meeting with Joanna in half an hour.’
‘Good.’
Heather picked a second salmon sandwich and used it to gesture round the room. ‘I like your new digs. They are très tasteful. I'll have to get your old place made over like this . . . if the removal men ever let me back in.’
‘Make sure you submit your CAPEX quickly then. The purse strings are about to tighten.’
Heather raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought everyone agreed that this Credit Crunch wasn't really going to happen?’
‘Everyone did . . . last month. But now I’m beginning to have my d
oubts.’
Heather noted her lover’s uncharacteristically creased brow. ‘What’s changed?’
‘Hmmm, let me think. There’s been an emergency bail-out for one of the major American banks. The Dollar’s hit an all-time low against the Euro. Dow Jones and FTSE have gone into meltdown. Sub-prime skeletons are jumping out of closets everywhere you look . . .’
‘So there’s nothing new, then,’ Heather took yet another salmon and cucumber, ‘apart from that teeny bail-out. That was a bit of a surprise.’
‘Teeny? It surprised everyone on the top floor.’
‘Something like that had to happen in the States sooner or later. At least it'll give those lazy reporters something different to talk about, instead of Northern Rock.’
‘Never mind Northern Rock,’ Vic countered, ‘the media are starting to criticize bankers' bonuses. I was in the Board Meeting this morning. There were suggestions WYB should set an example.’
‘You don't mean . . .’
A knock on the door made them both turn. It was Nina, brandishing a blue envelope. ‘I’m sorry for interrupting,’ she said brightly, ‘but I was told I had to hand-deliver this straightaway.’
Vic took the envelope although she didn't seem in any hurry to open it. ‘Do you want to take some sandwiches with you? Before this fat pig eats them all?’
‘Do you mean Ms Hunter?’ Nina chuckled. ‘I've never seen anyone less fat, except maybe you.’
Heather smothered a laugh. No doubt about it; Vic was taking an interest in her new PA's bum while, seemingly unaware, she loaded sarnies and a couple of slices of pork pie onto a plate.
No way does that girl have to fret about her figure. Not unless she thinks she’s too skinny.
‘Quick question,’ Heather said mischievously. ‘Honestly, Nina, who do think is slimmest between the two of us?’
‘There can’t be much in it.’ Nina shrugged, her chest moving in a slight but intriguing way. ‘I'd have to see you side by side, in the altogether.’
‘We can't really do that in working hours, unfortunately. Let’s save it for the next team-building event.’
‘Okay,’ the new PA said, leaving, ‘suits me.’
Vic waited until the door closed before saying, ‘Hands off, you.’
‘My hands haven't been anywhere near her. I wouldn’t dare, even if she does fancy me. And even if she’s not your usual type.’
‘Don’t stereotype me.’
Heather shook her head pityingly. ‘Have you?’ she wondered.
‘Have I what?’
‘You know what. Have you?’
‘No I have not! It wouldn’t be ethical. Besides, I don't even know if she does.’
‘I’d bet all those bonuses she does. I more or less invited her to a threesome then. And did she turn a hair?’
‘You don’t like threesomes.’
‘I wouldn’t mind having one with you and her.’
‘I’m sure you wouldn’t, but that doesn't mean she isn't still out of bounds. Like your own PA will be out of bounds. If you ever get round to appointing one.’
‘Oh, we’re back to that, are we?’ Heather let herself laugh out loud this time. Part of their master plan was to avoid relationships with other workmates. This wasn't really an inconvenience, but she often made out that it was . . . and occasionally ignored it, come to that.
‘You big spoilsport,’ she went on. ‘I suppose you’re going to tell me I can forget my bonuses as well.’
Vic opened the envelope and read the flimsy sheet of memo paper inside.
‘Mr Carmichael has gone back to basics,’ she said. ‘He must be afraid emails might fall into the wrong hands and end up on BBC News. Here, have a read for yourself. But remember: it's supposed to be for my eyes only. Not a word to anyone.’
Heather flicked down the personally addressed, numbered memo, taking in the instruction at the top to SHRED IMMEDIATELY AFTER READING. The stark message was that, as of right now, the Bank was tightening its lending policies. Half a dozen immediate examples were bullet pointed.
‘
I don't see the need to be cloak and dagger,’ she said. ‘These look like sensible steps to me; with us being responsible lenders, that is.’
‘They are sensible. And WYB doesn't need to take nearly as many steps as most. But they are also steps in the wrong direction for ambitious souls. Look at the way he’s highlighted buy-to-let. Some lenders have been using buy-to-let to rewrite their accounts. From now on we’ll be lucky if we do any of that.’
‘I’m confused. I thought we were paid on profitability, not risky sales.’
‘Not where we’re aiming we’re not.’
‘Isn’t everything supposed to filter down?’
Vic snorted. ‘I finally got to see the calculations. It’s ninety-nine per cent sales-driven. Real profitability hardly gets a mention.’
Heather had another look at the flimsy blue paper. ‘So these tiny changes will cut all the exec bonus payments?’
‘They’re bound to. By being even slightly responsible we’ll be less competitive and lose business. The calculation is quite simple at the top. Less business equals lower bonuses. And the really big bonuses are paid for achieving really, really irresponsible targets in the first place.’
It was hard to be surprised but Heather tried. ‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘Another illusion shattered.’
‘Yes,’ said Vic. ‘And that's before they start on bonuses as a separate issue.’
‘So is it time to review your plan?’
‘It's our plan, not my plan. And no, we’re nowhere near that yet. It’s only the rewards that are moving, not our actual goalposts. We are bang on track, so we continue. Agreed?’
‘Agreed,’ Heather said after barely a moment's thought. ‘No need to panic. In a couple of years we’ll be joking about how jittery everyone got. And what’s the worst that can happen if there is a crash? We might have to work a bit longer to earn our millions. So what? Global shopping can wait.’
*****
Penny got out of the shower and examined herself in the full length mirror. Not bad for nearly forty, she concluded. Regular gym sessions were still paying dividends. And her boobs hadn't changed since she'd been a teenager. At one time she'd fretted because they were on the small side; nowadays she was glad they were springy and pert. A lot of women her age weren't nearly so lucky.
She pulled a face at herself in the glass. She liked what she saw and most of the men around here did too. She could feel eyes on her every time she went out of the door, never mind when she stripped down to her bikini at the pool.
She wasn't looking for a new man though; she'd had one of those ever since Geoff ditched his law degree and concentrated on being a good father and loving husband. Or to be more precise, ever since he’d ditched his degree course and pretended to cut down at work. He was still doing far too much and she was still keeping a weather eye on the trusty stress barometer known as Old Faithful.
This time she didn't need to pull a funny face to produce a smile. The thought of what she might look like pregnant was enough.
Having a baby had been Geoff's idea, but it was starting to grow on her. Although she wasn't totally convinced, not quite, she’d got to the stage where she was starting to forget most of the big arguments against. And that dreaded motherhood redundancy was nearly upon her; two more years and her nest would be empty, even Jamie would be gone.
Having a baby was not, of course, about doing something to keep her from being bored. The idea had much, much more to it than that. And Geoff's claim (that a baby now wouldn't be in any way divisive) did make sense. But it was a big step and she still wasn’t absolutely sure, even if she was slowly beginning to believe.
Just as well, really, because they’d agreed to do without contraception for the holiday. The idea had been to let Mother Nature have the last word: a fortnight to decide, that sort of thing. And they really had been bonking like crazy from the moment they’d got here. At the r
ate they were going they’d give dear old Mother half a year’s decisions to make in just fourteen days.
Yes or no? Penny wondered. And does it matter if it doesn’t happen here on the island?
Secretly she was sure she was going to catch. The thrill of making love without “protection” was such that she simply had to. After all the years of making love and trying not to create, she’d been astounded by the difference. She and Geoff must have tried absolutely everything to improve on perfection whilst missing that simple trick.
