‘He’ll have to get to the back of the queue.’
Eli shot me a swift, supportive smile, which made me feel slightly better.
‘Nevertheless, yesterday, in the House of Commons, Sir Reginald warned of the danger of the asset manager’s growing power. He was well supported and this could mean problems for us.’
‘Losers always squeal. You taught me that.’
‘Well, now. I have an idea. Coffee, Nina?’
‘Mm, please.’
He pressed a button and sat frowning at his desk pad. ‘I have more bad news, but we could easily leave this for another day if you’d prefer to.’
‘Black Monday. Let’s get it over and done with.’ I’d learned to take the ups and downs of our investments in my stride, so I wasn’t really paying much attention.
‘It concerns Ralph Dorrington.’
A bucket of cold water in my face could not have shocked me more. Did he know? Did everyone? In-house affairs were strictly frowned upon, but Ralph and I had been discreet. Our social life took place far from the City’s prying, calculating eyes. I stood up with a swift, tense movement and gazed through triple-glazed windows at the bare branches of the sycamore tree trembling in the wind.
‘Why do clever women always pick the dunces? My dear, he’s not for you.’ Eli was trying to be gentle, but he was being impertinent.
‘Perhaps because clever men choose young, dumb blondes, Eli.’ I didn’t have to turn round to know I’d scored a hit. Eli’s third marriage had scandalized the bank’s personnel.
‘Listen to me, Nina. At twenty-eight you wield enormous power. You are my own discovery, a woman of rare perception, and your business instincts are infallible, if nothing else. At my age, I think I can be forgiven for taking a fatherly interest in my staff.’
‘Is this conversation about me or my job? There’s a world of difference. You must see that, Eli. I’m not screwing the business, only Ralph.’ I flushed because I sounded so gauche. ‘And could we cut the fatherly interest bit? It really doesn’t work with you. I like you better as yourself. And another thing. Since I’m going to be as blunt as you, do you employ the services of an investigator to spy on us?’
‘Yes.’ His eyes challenged me.
I suppose I had guessed, but his confirmation infuriated me. I had always admired him.
‘So why bother to flee the Nazis? You’d have felt so at home there.’ I wondered dismally where I would find another job that paid like this one.
Now his blue eyes were glacial, and when he spoke so was his voice.
‘I know your tactics, Nina. Shock the opposition off their guard, create a smokescreen and snipe from under it. I taught you, remember? Now shut up and listen. We’re investing people’s lifelines, so I must know if there are any weaknesses that might lead to bullying or constraint. I have to know if a duffer like Dorrington is hanging in here because of his fucking ability instead of his brains. The man’s a pompous schmuck masquerading as a banker.’
What could I say? I knew he spoke the truth, but loyalty kept my mouth shut.
‘There’s worse to come. He’s screwing your secretary too.’
I struggled to pull myself together. ‘You can’t expect to spy on people and retain their loyalty. Goodbye, Eli. I’m leaving. I’ll give it to you in writing today.’ I stood up and made for the door.
‘Hey, come on, Nina. Running away isn’t going to solve anything.’
I paused reluctantly.
‘Sit down. Hear me out at least. I’ve had an idea. With your permission, I’ll send you to South Africa for a few weeks. It’s only a matter of time before that economy opens up to the world. They can’t avoid change for ever. My agent there, a man by the name of Bernie Fortune, has put together a very interesting deal. A group of local entrepreneurs took advantage of US and British companies pulling out because of sanctions. They bought up these “dumped” companies for a song. Major names, huge undertakings, but the group is too big for them to handle. They want overseas finance and expertise and Bernie’s looking to us to supply it. He reckons there’s a fortune to be made. Have a look around, Nina. And keep your eyes open. If the South African government changes, we must be ready to act fast. There’s unimaginable wealth lying underground, some of it still untouched. Capital is what the country badly needs. Those who get in first will reap the benefits.’
Once, Eli found a new project there was no getting him off it. As I sipped my coffee, I was only half listening. Part of me was grieving over Ralph and hoping against hope that Eli was wrong for once, but he never was. Then Eli caught my imagination as he painted a scene of untold treasure.
‘You make me feel like Ali Baba. All I need is the password.’
‘Easy! It’s Eli Bertram,’ he retorted modestly. ‘But watch out for the forty thieves.’
I couldn’t help considering what a complex, autocratic, yet caring boss he was. That was Eli for you, a loyal friend or an unforgiving enemy. That was why he was so loved and feared in the City. But I also knew that I could not endure being spied on. I’d have to leave the bank. I promised myself to make a move when I got back home.
‘By the time you return, this Sidor deal will be stale news,’ he was saying, with a self-satisfied smirk. ‘You’ll have forgotten about Dorrington, and we’ll settle back to normal. A month in the sun will do you good.’
Chapter 3
‘A farewell lunch,’ Ralph had called it. As I followed the waiter past blue and white gingham cloths to our special table, I pondered on the ambiguity of his words. Could he be referring to my coming South African trip? We often met in this modest Italian restaurant not far from the bank. Today, it was almost full and I noticed several women surreptitiously eyeing my emerald green Chanel suit.
‘Hi, darling. Hope I haven’t kept you waiting.’ So far so good.
As Ralph stood up and assumed his strictly-for-clients smile, I saw him rearrange his face into an expression of pseudo-compassion. He was intending to voice regrets and sadness like a paid mourner at a stranger’s funeral. Falseness was all about him. I saw it in the way he held his head sidelong and peered at me from the corners of his eyes and the way he squeezed my hand with both of his. But tell-tale triumph shone through his mock solemnity. He was looking forward to getting back at me.
For what? For not putting him on a pedestal? Men’s egos were so damned fragile, they needed constant puffs of admiration. Let them talk non-stop all evening and they would pronounce you fascinating. Beat them at anything, and they’d put you down. I’m just no good at adoring.
So it was true, Eli was right, I realized, as I sat down.
A wave of hurt gave way to irritation at my own stupidity. While Ralph studied the wine list, I examined the menu, and waited.
Ralph had worked his way through university by modelling, and he’d scored with his fashionable so-called Establishment look: chestnut hair ruffled by the wind, eyes shining with English candour, a strong profile and a winning smile. He was a karate black belt and he kept fit. At work, his self-assured image had bamboozled colleagues into believing in him. He played the role of banker perfectly, but his performance was flawed by his inability to accept that he might be wrong. He never second-guessed, never did his homework.
The wine waiter hovered. Ralph ordered ostentatiously, then turned his attention to me.
‘You look lovely, Nina.’
I nodded coldly. Too late, I saw that I had lost something I valued, for Ralph had made me feel wanted and feminine. I would miss him. Perhaps the coming month abroad would give me time to take a long, hard look at myself.
‘Ralph, listen, I have bad news and I’m sorry. Yesterday morning Eli told me that he’s dismissing you because of the Sherborne Insurance flop and the Bahamas Marina fraud, which he feels you should have been on to. I asked him for two months’ grace so that you can resign, to which he agreed. It gives you a chance to make a new start and save face. After all, you can tell everyone you’re leaving because… well, becau
se Diana works for me.’
There was a long silence. I decided to sit it out. Ralph gave in first and slapped the flat of his hand on the table. The cutlery tinkled.
‘So you found out about Diana and me. Dear God! Suddenly everything’s becoming crystal clear. Bitch! A woman scorned! Tell me about it.’
‘No, Ralph. I was about to call you when you called me.’
I could not tell him that I’d been protecting him for weeks. I could never sink that low, could I?
‘I’ve been protecting you for weeks. I covered up for you on both of these accounts, but Eli found out.’
‘Well, you won’t have to cover up in future.’
I took a deep breath. How the hell did he manage to keep that self-righteous look on his face and act as if I were in the wrong? There was no point in arguing because Ralph always believed what he wanted to believe, which was why he was so dangerous as an asset manager.
‘Let’s order,’ Ralph growled.
‘Salad Niçoise and a glass of water.’
‘The usual, huh? Even in a crisis, you never let up. No wonder they call you the Ice Maiden.’
Did they? And who were they?
‘What crisis?’
Ralph flinched and took a long breath. ‘Jesus, Nina…’ Suddenly, he was lost for the right answer. I could see that the silence was getting him down.
‘Diana and I are getting married,’ he threw at me, with a touch of flamboyant spite. ‘She’s pregnant. I’d call that a crisis, wouldn’t you?’
‘For you, yes, but not for her. She’s dumb and fat and ugly.’
I had spoken too loudly: heads turned at the nearest table and I flushed.
‘She’ll make a good wife.’ Ralph was enjoying his cruelty. ‘She won’t compete with me. I won’t have to prove myself nightly. Jesus, Nina, bed was the only place where I could be the leader. I nearly turned myself inside out to hang on to my advantage.’
At that moment, so many precious memories died of shame. Briefly, I mourned his beautiful body. Don’t men like successful women? Can they never bear to be beaten? Or was Ralph the exception?
‘And she’ll always think I’m the greatest. Don’t blame yourself for our break-up,’ he added, patronizingly. ‘I’m just not up to marrying one of the City’s most powerful operators.’
‘I don’t remember asking you. You were good in bed. That’s all.’ I was lying, but he believed me and flushed.
‘You don’t need anyone, Nina. You never did. That was the problem. I guess I should have told you sooner, though. Did Diana…?’ There was that false look again. ‘Diana and I—’ He broke off.
Diana and I said it all, but Ralph decided that he must tell me exactly what he loved about Diana.
‘If I hurt her, she cries and I feel a shit. You always bring out the big guns, a missile to kill a mosquito. You always have to win.’
‘Here’s to your marriage.’ I raised my glass, gulped some wine and hiccuped. Of all the times… Grabbing my napkin, I pressed it over my mouth, stifling my rising fury.
A new understanding hit me like a mystic’s revelation. A man like Ralph would not want the woman in his life second-guessing him and being the boss. So why had he wanted me in the first place? Job protection? And when had he found the time to screw Diana? Then I remembered his busy training schedule: karate on Monday and Wednesday, squash Tuesday and Thursday, jogging over the weekends. Ralph was getting a paunch, which should have told me something.
‘You’re getting flabby. I should have noticed.’
‘Please don’t go all female-bitchy on me, Nina.’
How many times had that remark stopped me in my tracks? Why had I let the bastard get away with it? This meeting was a waste of time. There was nothing left to say. I stood up quietly.
‘Ralph, you’re a cheat. You cheated on me, but who cares? I wish you’d stop cheating yourself. You actually believe all the comforting rubbish you tell yourself. Eli sacked you because you made too many mistakes. Face the facts and join the real world, Ralph. Goodbye.’
My exit was dignified and absolutely right. So why did I have to spoil it all?
Turning back, I placed one hand on his shoulder. ‘No hard feelings, Ralph. Let’s part friends. You made me feel like a woman and we had fun, so thanks. Good luck.’
His eyes lit up with a gleam of what I stupidly took for warmth. ‘Why, Nina,’ he exclaimed, gripping my wrist, ‘creating the illusion that you were a woman was a Herculean task. I could never have coped in the long term.’
That was when I threw his wine over him. Shit!
Later, I thought it could have been worse. We could have been at Annabelle’s.
Chapter 4
I left on a rainy, blustery December evening and as I filed on to the aircraft I was filled with the strange thrill of taking flight to unknown shores. I was glad to leave England, the media and the cold.
As I buckled my seat-belt, I considered my goodbyes. Last weekend had been disastrous. I had flown up to Edinburgh to see my mother and her third husband, John. Not wishing to stay at their home, I had booked into the Mount Royal Hotel in Princes Street and arranged to meet them in the restaurant at seven p.m. I had arrived with a magazine, since Mother was always late, but after an hour, I began to wonder what had happened. Then I caught a whiff of Chanel No. 5, heard a swish of nylon against nylon, and the click of her high heels.
Mother relied heavily on female aids, chiffon scarves, scents and jewellery. She looked fabulous in a powder blue Versace suit, with a white silk blouse. Heads still turned when she passed. She had been born beautiful, but God knows what efforts maintained her schoolgirl figure, her youthful complexion, her dark red hair without a trace of grey at the temples, her smooth throat. The amount of planning that went into her survival strategy could run a fair-sized business, I mused, and then wondered why I was mentally sharpening my claws. Five seconds later, I knew the answer.
‘Darling. You look tired.’ She stepped back, tilted her head down and glanced at me, pouting prettily as a child might. ‘Aren’t you gaining weight?’
‘No.’
Something about Mother’s diminutive size and her ultra-feminine attitude had always made me feel too tall. She clasped me delicately and planted a near miss of a kiss on each cheek. My nostrils tickled as her hair brushed across my face and I swallowed a sneeze, which made my eyes water. John hovered, a big, awkward, florid-faced man who had once suffered badly from acne.
‘I think we’d better go straight into the dining room.’ I took my mother’s arm. ‘This way.’
‘Tell us the news,’ Mother purred. ‘When are you and Ralph getting married, Nina? We’re dying to know. How is the darling boy?’
‘We’ve split. He was screwing my secretary.’
There was a long, uneasy silence until we reached our table.
‘I always knew he wasn’t right for you,’ Mother murmured bravely, as she sat down.
That had surprised me. Was she letting me off lightly?
‘The trouble is, he worked for you. Let’s face it, Nina, you can be very bossy and thoroughly intimidating. It’s your brains, I’m afraid. No woman should be saddled with brains like yours. It was hard enough living with your father, and he was a man.’
But not man enough for you. Particularly after his accident. I never voiced the hurtful words.
‘Water under the bridge, Mother. I’d rather not talk about it. Let’s order the wine, shall we?’
John gave a booming laugh. ‘Ease off, Rebecca. If Nina wanted a husband, she’d get one.’ His fat red fist closed over my hand. ‘She’s looking even lovelier, or hadn’t you noticed? Your looks, but she’s fresh and new.’
That must have hurt, but Mother knew how to take her punishment. John was a moody, spoiled, difficult man who needed my mother, but hated her for being old. Now he was punishing her by flirting with me. Mother would retaliate, of course. I could almost write the script as I clung to my role of neutrality.
�
�Believe me, Nina. Pushing thirty is not the end of the world. You’ve been dumped, but I’m sure Mr Right will come along. I’ve known women land husbands even later than thirty.’
Did she dislike me, I wondered for the first time. I grabbed my wine impulsively and sent it flying. ‘Oh, hell!’ Why do I let her get under my skin? ‘We live in different worlds, Mother. Profits is the name of the game for me, not husbands.’
‘You still have periods, I suppose, or do you only produce balance sheets?’
She had plenty of spunk, but the hurt of John’s disloyalty smouldered in her eyes. How could I hurt her more by hitting back? I opted for unconditional surrender and remained mute throughout the cut and thrust of her verbal ripostes and feints. Finally, around ten, after I had listened to her interminable monologue on fashion, Mother made the final thrust. La belle!
‘I haven’t heard you laugh all evening, Nina. You never did have a sense of humour, but this City job of yours has made you terribly dull. Thank God you’re getting away for a break.’
She pushed back her chair and stood up.
I rose to mumble my goodbyes.
One down, one to go! I flew to Inverness the following morning to see Father.
*
When I arrived, Father was sitting at his easel in his study. He glanced over his shoulder and gave me a quick, shrewd scan before turning back to his painting.
‘It wasn’t necessary to come all this way, but good of you to make the journey,’ he said, in his clipped, expressionless voice.
Father painted wildlife, mainly birds, and his paintings were meticulous, but as lifeless as the poor stuffed creatures he used for models. How sad he looked. His scant grey hair was awry, his long, bony face thinner than ever. His watchful eyes sunk deep into brown shadows reminded me of a wistful owl. It was hard to remember that he was Commander Charles Ogilvie, DSO, DFC and Bar, almost a legend in British Intelligence.
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