“I can’t! It’s stuck!”
“Give it a shake!”
“What the hell’s going on?” Jennifer got up from her chair and walked round the side of her desk. As she approached the door, there was a loud explosion and a champagne cork cannoned awkwardly off the ceiling, hitting her sharply on the toe and making her jump back with the fright.
“What the hell is…?”
Sam’s balding head came round the side of the door.
“Who happens to be a genius?” he said, his face set in such an asinine grin that it looked as if he were trying to get used to an oversized set of false teeth. “Who’s just won us the Tarvy’s contract?”
Jennifer felt her jaw quite literally drop open and she put her hand up to her mouth.
“What! But how? When? The phone hasn’t rung for well over an hour.”
Sam entered the room, shaking a fax above his head. “Maybe it hasn’t. But who said anything about them using the phone?”
Jennifer clapped her hands to her head. “Oh my God! You mean we got it?” she said breathlessly, scarcely believing what Sam was saying.
“No!” Sam exclaimed, pumping the fist that held the fax in the air. “You got it, Jennifer! You got it for us!”
She staggered unsteadily backwards towards her desk and sat down when she felt its support behind her. “We got the contract?” she asked quietly.
Sam’s face took on a look of impatience. “How many more times do I have to say it? Yeah, we got it, we—got—the—Tarvy’s contract!”
Jennifer stared blankly over the top of Sam’s head. “We got the Tarvy’s contract,” she stated as if in an hypnotic trance.
Sam put on his madcap grin again and stood nodding his head furiously in front of her. Russ came round between them and, handing her a glass of champagne, he gave her a kiss on the cheek. “What a wonderful woman you are, Jennifer Newman!” he said with a wink.
Jennifer’s face suddenly broke into a smile as the news finally began to register, and putting her glass down on the desk beside her, she leaped forward towards Sam, threw her arms around his neck and began jumping up and down.
“We got it, Sam! We got it!”
“I know! I know!” he said, trying to get into step with her bouncing.
Jennifer pushed herself away from him. “Well, let me have a look at it!” She grabbed the fax from his hand, and began to read every word of it out loud.
7th July
FAX TO:
Culpepper Rowan
FOR THE ATTENTION OF:
Sam Culpepper
Managing Director
FROM:
Adrian Thompson
Managing Director, Tarvy’s Gin Ltd.
RE:
US Advertising Campaign for Tarvy’s Gin
Jennifer turned and smiled excitedly at her two colleagues before reading on.
Dear Mr. Culpepper,
Having given due and careful consideration to the proposals that were tendered for the above campaign, we have the pleasure of informing you that our marketing committee has unanimously agreed to offer you the above contract.
It should be known that the decision was reached, not only on the basis of your excellent proposals, but also on a recommendation made to a member of our committee by an associate within the drinks industry, namely that yours is a company that would be in the position to take immediate action in implementing soonest an advertising campaign for Tarvy’s Gin. We see this as being an integral part of our projected plan to secure for ourselves a share of the U.S. market within this coming year.
I have already taken the liberty of booking a flight to New York for both myself and our marketing director next Monday. We will be arriving at 2 P.M. U.S. time, so I would be grateful if you could confirm both acceptance of this contract, and also a meeting for 3:30 P.M. on Monday 13th July.
With best wishes, and again many congratulations on an extremely well-thought-out campaign!
Yours sincerely,
Adrian Thompson
Managing Director, Tarvy’s Gin Ltd.
Jennifer’s voice tailed off as she ended the fax, and she looked up with an incredulous look on her face.
“We got it, Sam! We goddamned well got it!”
Sam and Russ held their glasses up to her, and she in turn raised hers.
“To Tarvy’s Gin!” Sam said with a laugh. “And long may it pour!”
They drank a long toast, and Russ came forward with the bottle to replenish Jennifer’s glass. “So?” he asked, looking at her out of the side of his eye as he filled her glass.
Jennifer gave him a puzzled look.
“So,” Russ continued, “who’s this secret contact you have?”
Jennifer looked down at the fax again and quickly read it through once more. “I don’t know. I—I was going to ask you the same question!”
Sam pulled on Russ’s arm and guided the champagne bottle back to his glass. “Oh, who gives a damn!” He cast his eyes to the ceiling. “But whoever it is, may God look down on him or her at this precise minute, and lay a kiss on his or her brow!”
With a laugh, they raised their glasses up once more.
The combination of fast intake of champagne and a complete mood swing from one of deep depression to flying elation suddenly took its effect on Jennifer. She walked round behind her desk and fell back heavily in her chair.
“God, I feel completely and utterly emotionally drained! I have been sitting here all day thinking about it! I never imagined for a moment…”
Her voice tailed off and she glanced sideways out the window, picking out once more the two window-cleaners opposite. They were in exactly the same position, still continuing with their idle banter. God, in the last three minutes, right here in this office, future direction had been changed, not only for herself, but for Sam, for Russ—in fact, for the whole company! Yet out there, it was like a time warp—as if someone had pressed the “pause” button on a video machine.
She looked round at her colleagues, seeing immediately that their expressions had altered from ones of joy to querying concern. Sam stepped forward to the front of her desk.
“Listen, Jennifer,” Sam said quietly, “they’re not here until next week. I’m just going to reply to the fax right now and confirm everything. Know what I want you to do? I want you to get the hell out of this office, and I don’t want to see you back here until Monday morning.”
Jennifer looked at him. “But what about moving ahead with the contract?”
“There’s nothing to do until they come! You’ve done it all already! We’ll just be going over the proposals. So, as I said, get out of the office, go home to Leesport, and spend the rest of the week relaxing and spending time with Benji. Jeez, Jennifer, you sure deserve it!”
Jennifer closed her eyes and let her head fall back against her chair, the idea of being away from the office for nearly a week suddenly filling her with a euphoric sense of relief. She opened her eyes and looked at the two men who now both leaned forward on her desk, like a couple of praying mantises eyeing their next meal.
“Do you think I could, Sam?”
“Of course!” He smiled at her. “Just relax and get ready for the meeting on Monday!”
* * *
From that moment on, every action that Jennifer took seemed to be in total contrast to the frenetic way in which she normally ran her life. Having taken a taxi back to Barrymore Street, she spent an hour packing a suitcase that would normally have taken her ten minutes, and then, driving back to Leesport, she even found herself taking the unprecedented step of pulling over at a roadside restaurant for a cup of coffee. There was simply no hurry now. She had the best part of a week to herself, and she was going to savour every moment of it.
By the time that she arrived back at the house, it was half past four in the afternoon. Taking her suitcase from the trunk, she walked over to the front door and pushed at it. It was locked. Her immediate reaction to this was one of puzzlement, but then, smi
ling to herself, she sorted out her keys and unlocked the door. They had probably all gone to Fire Island. Anyway, wherever they were, there was no need either for explanation or for worry. David would no doubt be with them.
She let herself in and for a moment stood in the hall, listening to absolutely nothing, simply relishing the peace and quiet of the empty house. Then, carrying her suitcase upstairs to her room, she put it down on the bed, and crossing over to the bathroom, began running a deep and relaxing bath. As the water cascaded from the taps, she watched it transfixed, allowing her mind to indulge itself happily in the elation over her own success again and again.
The sound of the water beginning to gurgle through the overflow waste-pipe shook her out of the daydream. She turned off the taps and made her way back into the bedroom, and picking up the telephone, dialled Alex’s mobile number. While waiting for it to connect, she kicked off her shoes and began to undo the buttons of her shirt, listening to the hissing on the line before the staccato tones of a female voice machine cut in.
“The number you have dialled has not responded. Please try late——”
Jennifer replaced the telephone, and quickly slipping out of her clothes as she walked back to the bathroom, she slowly lowered herself into the steaming water.
An hour and a half later, having indulged herself for longer than she had planned, she stood in the still deserted kitchen dressed in a simple cotton frock, her wet hair pulled back into a stringy pony-tail. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Just before half past six. Well, there was no point in sitting around the house waiting for them to return. If they had gone to Fire Island, they would be taking the ferry back pretty soon. Okay! So why not go to meet them and give them a surprise!
She considered at first walking the half-mile to the marina, but uncertain as to what their normal arrangements might be, she realized that they could have gone their separate ways by the time that she got there—and she really did want to tell David about her triumph.
She ran back through to the hall, picked up the keys of the car from the table and let herself out the front door, locking it behind her. Then, jumping into the BMW, she reversed hard round and took off up the drive in a flurry of dust and gravel.
By the time she arrived at the entrance of the marina, she knew for certain that she had made it before them, there being no sign of them either there or anywhere on Shore Street. Pulling the car over to the side of the road, she got out, and leaning on the door, she shielded her eyes with her hand and looked out across the bay to see if she could make out where the ferry might be. Once she had become accustomed to the glare, she caught sight of the little craft about half a mile out from the shore, plying its way towards the marina, the Stars and Stripes fluttering from its mast in the gentle breeze.
As she turned to make her way down to the marina, she glanced to her left and noticed David’s orange VW parked farther along Shore Street beyond the Memorial Garden. She smiled and shook her head, never having realized before where he lived. She took a step towards the marina, then stopped. Maybe she could just go and sneak a look at his house. She glanced out towards the boat, and judging that it would take at least another ten minutes to reach the marina, she turned and made her way along the street.
She first became aware of the sound of music and laughter as she walked past the Memorial Garden. Her immediate thought was that it came from the garden, but as she passed the gate she could only see an old man walking slowly around the path with an equally aged dog on a lead. No, the noise was definitely coming from the house farther along the road.
She slowed her pace as she approached the gate adjacent to the Volkswagen, and standing to one side of the hedge, she peered round the corner and looked over the top of the gate. She could see nothing, the action seeming all to be taking place farther over to the right. She stepped across to the centre of the gate, and was just about to lean over to see if she could make out what was going on when a ball came shooting over to land beside her at the gap in the hedge. She took a step back and pushed herself against the hedge as someone ran over to retrieve it.
“All right, Benji,” she heard Gerry Reilly’s voice call out, a weariness dulling its usual bright Irish tones. “That’s it! You boys have won. I think we should call it a day.” There was a short pause. “Oh, for crying out loud!” he continued softly, as if talking to himself. “Who the hell’s idea was it to start a conga?”
Jennifer slowly stepped forward from the hedge. What was going on? What was Gerry doing here? She moved towards the gate and, unsnibbing it quietly, she walked through into the garden.
The music came from the small house that was set in the corner of the property, the doors of its porch open wide to allow the music to filter out into the garden. A conga line was threading its way down towards a flight of steps at the front of the garden, led by a large, middle-aged man with an abundance of sleeked-back grey hair who wore the gaudiest shirt that Jennifer had ever seen. A man of similar age clung on around his middle, while behind him, Jasmine kicked out her legs to the side and threw back her head in laughter. As the line began to descend the steps, the tail of the conga flicked round, and Benji, who was taking up the rear, was catapulted off and rolled across the lawn with a shout of gleeful annoyance. He jumped up, and was just about to head off to join on the end again, when he suddenly did a double take, seeing his mother standing ten feet away from him. He ran towards her, rubbing his hands up and down the seat of his pants.
“Hi, Mom!” He turned towards the rest of the party. “Hey, David, it’s Mom!”
Jennifer looked around. “What’s going on, Benji?”
“It’s a birthday party for Sophie, Mom! She’s sixteen!”
As the line broke up, Jasmine made her way across the lawn towards Jennifer with a grin stretched across her face, but then slowed to a standstill when she noticed the look of utter bewilderment on Jennifer’s face. David appeared from the centre of the now-silent melée and walked towards Jennifer, scratching nervously at the back of his head. Jasmine caught this action as he passed and grabbed at his arm.
“You never told her, did you?” she exclaimed, her voice aghast at the realization that Jennifer knew nothing about the children or the party.
David shook his head. “Not yet. I was going to on Thursday.”
Jasmine hit her head with the palm of her hand and put her fists on her hips. “Oh, David!”
Jennifer stood shaking her head, her brows furrowed. “What is going on? Who is this Sophie whose birthday it is, anyway?”
David approached her. “Listen, I was going to expl——”
“She’s David’s daughter!” Benji cut in excitedly. “David’s oldest daughter!” He looked around to see if he could find Sophie, but she was nowhere to be seen at that precise moment. He grabbed hold of his mother’s hand and dragged her past David and Jasmine to where the others stood. “And this is Charlie!” He pulled his new friend forward out of the crowd, and then did the same with Harriet. “And this is Harriet! They’re all David’s children, Mom. Isn’t it great?”
“Is this your mummy, Benji?” Harriet’s sweet little voice cut through the commotion like a razor blade.
“Yup,” Benji said proudly.
Jennifer could do nothing but stand and stare at everyone, her head suddenly feeling as if it were about to explode beneath the pressure of the countless emotions converging all at the same time. David was married? Her friend David was married? And he had children? And he hadn’t told her? Everyone else in Leesport seemed to know about them, but he hadn’t told her?
“Listen, this is really all my fault…” David started, but Jennifer stepped back, holding up her hand to stop him from speaking further. She cupped her elbow in her hand and covered her mouth, knowing that her bottom lip had begun to quiver involuntarily.
At that point, the door of the house opened, and she turned to watch a tall young girl appear, carrying a jug that clinked with iced lemonade. She stopped when she saw that
everyone was looking at her.
“What’s going on?” she asked in a subdued voice. “Why’s everything gone so quiet?”
Jennifer looked down at her feet. So, this must be Sophie. She shook her head, suddenly realizing that she didn’t care who the hell any of these people were anyway. Oh, she had been feeling so good, so … happy—and now? She looked up at David, feeling the tears begin to well up and burn at her eyes.
“Yeah, why stop the party?” She began to back off towards the gate. “I’ll just…” She turned and hurried away.
“Jennifer!” David called after her, but she had gone.
“Oh, for heaven’s sakes, David!” Jasmine cried out.
“I’m sorry, Jasmine, I didn’t think—”
“No, you obviously didn’t, did you? Don’t you realize that it now looks as if Benji and I were part of some sneaky plan to hide it from her?”
“I know. I’m sorry, but I promise you, I’ll explain everything.”
Jasmine shook her head slowly and turned away from him. “Ain’t it a little late for that?”
David swore to himself, then moved off towards the gate. He turned. “Listen, everyone, I’m sorry about this, but could we just put everything on hold for a minute?” He looked at Clive. “I think it would be a good idea if you and Peter took Jasmine and the children back to Barker Lane for now.”
Clive nodded. “Of course.”
“What on earth is happening, Dad?” Sophie asked.
“It’s really nothing, darling,” he said, walking towards her. “Just a stupid misunderstanding that’s come about through bad timing on my part.” He gave her a kiss on the forehead. “But the party will continue later, I promise you.”
He turned back towards the gate and as he reached it, he felt a hand clutch at his elbow. He turned and looked down at Benji. “David,” he said, a worried expression on his face, “I think Mom’s crying.”
David ruffled the boy’s hair. “Yeah, I know, Benji, but I’ll get it sorted out, okay?”
An Ocean Apart Page 39
