24
The noise from the playgroup never seemed to get any quieter. It was raining, and the children were all indoors, as shrill and bright as a small cage full of budgerigars.
He went in and saw Helen. He thought she’d seen him but her upward-turning lips which always seemed to smile might have been acknowledging or might not. She was wearing a white, open-necked linen grandad shirt and looked like a healthy ghost.
Larry was going to get in with the in-crowd. A man had to have some ambition, didn’t he?
And once he was in with the in-crowd, he would make friends with Helen.
Larry sat down and checked where Bill was. Then he rested back in the child’s chair, not too far from the women, and tried to feign comfort. Emma came through from the kitchen and gave him a brief glance. ‘Don’t say you missed us,’ she said to him before returning to her throne.
He winked. It was a good sign. He would take it as a good sign.
‘It’s a bugger,’ he heard her say, continuing an old conversation, ‘even in this weather I get cold feet at night.’
Larry grinned. He hadn’t lived with Ruth for three years for nothing — this was something that he knew about. Cures for every occasion. He straightened, stood, picked up his chair and sauntered over.
Time to win their hearts, he thought.
A man was as good as a woman any day. Better. ‘Ginkgo Biloba,’he said, setting his chair down right by them.
They looked at him, baffled, and he wondered for a moment whether it had come out right, so he said it again. ‘Ginkgo Biloba.’He still wasn’t sure it was right. ‘For circulation,’ he said.
Emma took her hairband off and put it back on and looked at him again through narrowed eyes as though her hairband helped her to see better. ‘I’ve been using socks,’ she said.
‘Oh?’ he replied politely.
It was only the raucous laughter that told him she wasn’t, after all, talking about some sort of root. He joined in the amusement himself. Briefly.
‘So...’ Jean, Jean with the screwed-up face, legacy of years of peering through cigarette smoke, looked at him carefully. ‘How’s being a mother suiting you, Larry?’
The way she said Larry, lashing it off her tongue, made it sound like an insult.
‘I like it. Shame I don’t have all a mother’s accessories, I could go to bed by myself.’ This set line, this witty comment, this bit of repartee, was some old joke he’d read when he was about twelve. Where the hell had it come from after all this time?
Emma seemed to smirk. Perhaps she thought it funny. ‘Are you going to join our aromatherapy massage class?’ she asked.
For a moment he thought he was being rescued, but the laughter jerked around him again.
‘How does that work, exactly?’ he asked.
‘How does that work, exactly? The council kindly pays for the unemployed to be occupied during their spare time. And to that end they send to this establishment a teacher of massage, who for a fiver gives us six aromatherapy lessons in the next room — there — the one we leave the pushchairs in, whilst in this room, the children continue to be looked after by whomsoever does not want to do the course.’
Well, she had the accent all wrong, he thought. No one had laughed at Emma’s little speech but there was that sort of relaxation about the table, a knowledge that if that wasn’t so funny then at least the next thing might be. ‘Is it five pounds a session?’
‘Who could afford that? Five pounds the course. Interested?’ Larry shrugged.
Emma picked up the clipboard from the table in front of her. ‘I’ll put your name down,’ she said.
Bill came hurrying up and the conversation went on without him for a moment, but as Bill left Jean was telling a story about someone she’d met in a pub, whom she’d liked, until she’d been given the tip-off ensuring she was never going to see him again.
‘What was wrong with him?’ Emma asked.
Jean narrowed her eyes at them, as though peering through cigarette smoke. ‘What was wrong with him? If you found yourself fancying someone, and someone told you something about him, what’s the worst thing you could think of to put you off him?’
‘Him being a nonce,’ Emma said without hesitation.
‘Yeah, a nonce,’ Becky said. ‘They’re bastards, they are.’
Larry nodded in agreement, wondering what the hell a nonce was, whether it was the same as a ponce.
‘Wrong,’ Jean said, with satisfaction. ‘Worse than a bloody nonce. He was a copper.’
‘Bloody hell. And you didn’t know?’
‘Couldn’t tell, could I?’ she said angrily and got up and went outside.
‘For a moment, Larry thought her feelings had been hurt but he saw through the glass her rising drift of cigarette smoke lift and tear in the wind.
He felt he’d been accepted. He was in. They might not be Barbie dolls, he thought, but at least he wouldn’t be bored.
He looked over at Helen and thought about how different she was from these women, and from Megan too, come to that. With her almost colourless hair and her gentleness, she was what women used to be a long time ago when men had the upper hand. That was, he thought, why she didn’t fit in. She was too gentle.
She was crouched down, talking to Bill, holding something out for him on the palm of her hand. He liked her for that, too.
Suddenly he was tired of the raucous women and wanted to be with her, to be in the presence of some of that gentleness.
He got up and walked over, negotiating the children and the little chairs. He’d thought of a good line. ‘Are you doing the massage course?’ he asked casually, patting Bill’s head as though it was why he was there.
She was smiling her kind, perpetual smile. ‘Are you?’ She’d obviously heard about it.
‘Yes.’
‘So am I. I usually try the courses out.’
Well now, that was something to report back to James. Not just pretty mothers but naked ones. Probably. You couldn’t do a massage clothed. The thought of a naked Helen gave him the sensation of a feather stroking down his spine.
He wouldn’t think about a naked Emma too hard just yet. Or even a naked Larry. He hesitated for a moment. ‘Any idea what a nonce is?’ he asked.
She gave him a strange look. ‘It’s a child molester. A paedophile.’
‘Oh. Thanks.’
‘That’s all right.’ She turned her back on him and went to the table where her daughter was sitting.
Larry felt she’d dismissed him. He couldn’t think of anything else to say to bring her back. He was lost for words, somehow, when it came to Helen.
He went back to his little chair by the women.
‘You fancy her, don’t you?’ Emma said on his return. Larry laughed at the joke. But he wished she hadn’t left him, all the same.
*
Later that morning it stopped raining and the doors to the playground were opened to let in some fresh air. Bill was outside in the Cozy Coupe.
Being in the Cozy Coupe was a bit of a scoop because he wasn’t the type to pull anyone else out of it and he wasn’t the type to cry to get in so mostly he didn’t get to go in it, which was a shame because it was the car he liked best. He liked the Cozy Coupe best because it was the only car in the playgroup which had a roof which was a warm yellow colour, like being under the table at home. He’d been lucky to get it — wouldn’t have, probably, if the previous occupant hadn’t wetted on the seat and got out crying.
The damp seat had been cold at first, and uncomfortable, but now it had warmed up nicely.
Suddenly he felt something sprinkling in his hair and he turned round in the damp seat to find a girl putting woodchips on the shelf in the back.
‘Stop it,’ he said.
‘Will you be my friend?’ she asked him.
‘No.’ He pushed his feet against the ground and moved himself and the Cozy Coupe away. Then he tried to brush the woodchips off the shelf. He knew that the easiest way to do
it would be to get out, but if he got out someone else who didn’t care about the woodchips would jump in and that would be that. So he stayed in and picked some up and flung them out of the hole that was the back window.
‘Bill, stop throwing things,’ came an adult voice from nowhere.
He pushed his feet against the ground and moved away towards the fence.
Through the fence he could see the road that led home. At home, something funny was happening.
He didn’t like the feel of that. He turned the Cozy Coupe round and scuttled it towards the children gathered in the warmth of the doorway; aiming for where it was safe.
*
When they got home, Bill was restless. Larry had things to do but Bill wanted to be carried, and when Larry ignored him he hung onto his trouser leg.
Every time Larry prised him off, Bill’s arms would reach for him again.
Larry was irritated, then angry. In the end he shouted, and Bill, to his shock, began to cry bitterly, the huge tears washing his reddening face. He put him down to get some tissues, but Bill’s crying got louder and he picked him up again swiftly, not that it made any difference. The volume and intensity of Bill’s tears amazed him.
‘What can I do?’ he asked, several times, not of Bill but of some unknown entity. He paced around, marvelling with horror at the length of the wails, and thought of ringing Megan. He imagined her coming home in a hurry to find Bill had cried himself to sleep. He imagined the look on her face that would say, ‘Game’s over, Larry. Let’s get a proper nanny,’ and he would be back to the degrading business of looking for a job again.
As for the Triton search — well, at first he’d thought he hadn’t a hope in hell of getting that one, despite luscious Lisa’s invitation to lunch at the Savoy Grill.
Megan had said that Lisa had talked her into it and he didn’t doubt that. What Megan didn’t know was that probably the only position Lisa had in mind for him was woman on top. He’d heard rumours about Lisa’s reputation.
He would give it a go, not because of luscious Lisa, but because Megan would give him hell if he didn’t. And he would go informed. He would go with as much as he could find on Triton, from corporate culture right down to the MD’s zodiac sign and if he got it — if miracles happened — well, he would be a happy man. If he didn’t, no one, especially not Megan, could say it was his fault. It was good to have been considered. It would help his credibility. He would make sure Reeve found out, for a start, Reeve and his odd look when he had not found himself a job after a week.
He absently mopped Bill’s face with a pale pink tissue, and bits of it stuck to his cheeks.
Bill’s long-breathed wails had subsided and he was gulping in sobs of air.
Larry sat down and jiggled Bill on his knee but Bill stiffened again, so he gave it up quickly.
Bill’s small fingers reached for a button on Larry’s polo shirt. Larry was relieved, even when he twisted it. ‘Feeling better, little soldier?’
Bill looked up and gave another gulp. ‘Oh, Larry,’ he said sorrowfully to his father, clutching the twisted button, ‘when is Zoofie coming back?’
25
Lisa and Megan had decided to interview candidates for Triton together, where possible, at least on the initial approach, and if the potential candidate was able to come in.
One candidate, Steven Dean, was interviewed by Megan alone, as he’d told her he wouldn’t be interested if Lisa was involved.
The other candidate to be interviewed alone was Larry.
Megan had raised her eyebrows at Lisa’s choice of restaurant, but it never hurt to let people translate the choice of venue into a candidate’s potential worth. And Lisa had her own reasons for making Larry feel pampered.
Lisa was already at the Savoy Grill when he showed up. Boy, he polishes up well, she thought, watching him walk to the table as though all eyes were on him.
He greeted her with a nod. Nothing ingratiating about Larry, she thought, waiting for him to sit down.
‘What will you have to drink?’ she asked him.
‘Mineral water. Still.’
She’d been right in her analysis of him, and she felt her neck prickle with pleasure. This was not the nervous group head Larry, by any means. This Larry was senior executive material, not selling himself to her but seeing what she had to offer him.
Her particular interest, and problem, was in the real reason Burgess McLane had let him go when they initially had no one in mind to replace him. As a new client, Triton had to be impressed if they were to use Colgin again in the future. If there was a major weakness in Larry then she had to be aware of it and either not put him forward, or let Triton know of it and hope his strengths compensated for his weaknesses.
She had spoken to Burgess about Larry and Burgess had said that John King had suggested they let him go. She wondered what this good bloke Larry could possibly have done to upset him.
They were halfway through the main course when she mentioned what Burgess had said about John King, letting her knowledge of it drop like a hand-grenade in a supermarket. ‘John King wanted you out even though it left him short of a group head,’ she added.
She watched Larry stop with a forkful of food en route to his mouth, but the pause was momentary and then he carried on, not as if it was some great revelation, more as if she’d just told him something he’d already known but had forgotten.
‘Well? Aren’t you going to comment on that?’ She almost smiled. ‘Was it a personality clash?’
He did stop eating then. He looked at her and suddenly it was not business, not business at all. He was looking at her as though he was looking for something and wasn’t sure whether he was seeing it or not.
‘Is this to do with Triton?’
She felt her eyes narrow instinctively to keep him out. ‘Make no mistake, Larry, it matters,’ she said. ‘Burgess will give you a good reference and your reputation is excellent, but Triton will want to know what went wrong there and I’ve got to be able to tell them. I’ve got to be able to prepare them.’
He was still looking at her. Into her. ‘John King’s done the same to you,’ he said softly. ‘He’s pushed you out, hasn’t he?’
It was an effort for Lisa not to respond. Bull’s eye, Larry, she thought, and the pain of losing Chrissie returned momentarily, as sharp as it had ever been. She stared at her glass. ‘I’ve never worked for him,’ she said abruptly, ‘but he’s a bastard, Larry.’ She sucked in air between her teeth. ‘And a headhunter is in a good position to destroy someone’s reputation,’ she added, lowering her voice.
Larry passed his finger along his morse code eyebrow and rubbed the scar. ‘I don’t think you ought to tell me any more,’ he said. He looked tired. ‘You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to find some dirt on John King when a phone call would have done. Lunch really wasn’t necessary. Neither was a bogus interview.’
Lisa whipped her napkin off her knee with such force that it cracked like a towel in a changing room. ‘I’m not messing you around,’ she said angrily, ‘don’t insult me. The Triton search is genuine. And so is my interest in you.’
‘The Colgin Partnership is clean,’ Larry said, ‘and I’m thinking of Megan, not myself. If you muddy King’s reputation without foundation, they’ll know where the rumour began.’
‘So you think John King is on the side of the angels, is that it? You must wonder why he didn’t show you the same loyalty.’
‘King owed me nothing and any company studying my CV will have to look at the overall picture. John King is not my problem any more. But he’s obviously yours.’
She saw the speculation in his eyes. ‘I have not slept with him,’ she said sharply, and the force of her words seemed to come right up from her feet.
There was a silence.
‘Shall I take your plates?’ the waiter asked, and she waved him away.
‘What did you think when you found out he’d let you go and there was no one to take your place?’ Lisa asked, and s
he hardly recognised her own voice. Pleading wasn’t her style. It was her last attempt at finding John King’s weak spot and she had no real hope of getting an answer.
Larry rubbed the palm of his hand over his eyes as if to clear them.
Nothing, she thought, as Larry dropped his hand and looked at her, frowning.
‘I remembered his look of relief,’ he said.
Relief? She stared at him and saw the tiredness in his eyes. ‘Thanks, Larry.’ She didn’t feel as disappointed as she ought. Larry shrugged and she bent down and reached for some papers from her bag, businesslike once more. ‘These will tell you pretty well all you need to know about Triton,’ she said, handing them over. Her voice was calm.
‘I’ve done my homework,’ he said, but took them anyway.
‘We’re giving our list to Triton later this week,’ she said, ‘and then I’ll be in touch.’ She placed her Mastercard on top of the bill.
Larry glanced at his watch. ‘I’ve got to get back,’ he said. ‘Meg’s mother’s looking after Bill, but she’s got a dental appointment at three.’
Lisa smiled, not at the fact of it, but at his telling her. ‘I’ve heard of men like you,’ she said, ‘ones who care, but I’ve never met one before.’
This time he laughed. ‘What an indictment,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘that we make sure it’s so well hidden. Thanks for lunch.’
He held his hand out and she took it. His palm felt large and warm and dry against hers, like wood in the sun.
26
‘Look at this place. It’s all upside-down again,’ Larry said, folding his arms and staring at the mess. ‘Where’s my Maglite? It was on the table. Bill?’
Bill was looking at the room. He raised his head to look at his father.
‘Bill, we need a system. Newspapers can go in the bin; when it comes down to it I can’t see myself reading old news. Dirty clothes can go straight in the washing machine. See if you can throw them in and get a goal, Bill. Cups and saucers and dirty plates go in the dishwasher.’
Striking a Balance Page 15
